Here's one that's a little different for you. My pre-publication research seems to indicate that you have to be a girl with a vivid imagination and maybe a cat to enjoy it. Proceed cautiously...
She was a cat. Oh, not all of the time of course. Most of the day she pretended that she was a little girl, hiding her real self from the world at large. Her name was Nalia; at least that's what the man called her. She was a well-behaved kitten, the kind who would sit in his warm lap and purr for hours. He sometimes brought her a saucer of cold cream which she would lick up daintily. He would scratch that special place just behind her ears and say ludicrous things like, "Good kitty," and "Pretty kitty."
The comments were only ludicrous because she knew the truth. Her real name was Bathsheba. She was a proud and vicious warrior, cunning and sly. The teeth of a tiger had nothing on Bathsheba's sharp fangs. She could run faster than the wind, and woe be unto those who opposed her, for her claws were sharp. She was convinced that her man knew nothing of her real nature, and she was haughty with her unshared truths.
She twitched her nose; a Morse code signal to those who knew how to read it. Catlike she crawled slowly towards me on all fours, the flexing of her muscles plainly visible underneath her bare skin. It always drove me mad with desire to see her like this. Somehow her feline nature accented her nakedness. A shimmer of sweat covered her body, and I watched intoxicated as the muscles in her thigh rippled with her sensual movements.
I was never sure which kitty I would see. One time she would be the rough and ready lioness who took what she wanted with wild recklessness. She was perfectly capable of treating me as she would a wild gazelle, fresh meat! dragged down by her powerful jaws. The next time I might see the kitten – soft and playful, mewing with abandon in her pleasures, lost in delight and rolling on her back as her tummy was petted just so...
Bathsheba crawled towards the man, playing and teasing as cats are wont to do when their prey is hopelessly trapped. This person wasn't so tough. He wasn't so big. Why, with a swipe of her mighty claws he would be torn asunder, and his demise would be her due. She thought that perhaps, afterward, she might bathe herself. Even ferocious cats had pride, and cleaning herself after inflicting such horror would show all who witnessed that she cared not one fig for the hideous results of her true nature.
It wouldn't do to show the jungle her true self and not give the same consideration to her prey. Even if he was soon to be gone, he should be taught a lesson in the ways of the predatory feline. She would tease him, impress him with her power as she pretended that she might yet let him live. Bathsheba sat on her haunches a few feet in front of him, pretending boredom as she began to lick her paw.
It always drove me crazy when she did that. She licked the back of her wrist, her tongue glistening and wet as she bathed herself. Occasionally she would rub her paw over the top of her head as if she was washing behind her ears. As she licked her shoulder she looked at me from under her bangs, bobbing her head and pretending to be uncaring about whether I'm watching her. As if I could be doing anything else.
She was so sensual – like was a wild animal who may give you the pleasure of her company for a while, but would always keep a part of herself locked inside so that she could withdraw her attentions and her body on her own terms. She paused for a moment to sniff the air, and I suppressed the urge to jump to the floor and ravish her there. Good things come to those who wait, I thought...
Bathsheba paused, her point made. See? Her prey was paralyzed by her very presence, unable to even entertain thoughts of fleeing while in such close proximity to the bringer of his doom. She put her front paws to the hard ground and walked slowly towards him, her head hung low. Bathsheba kept her eyes focused on his, alert to the possibility that he might yet develop enough audacity to flee her terrible wrath. But he sat still, resigned to his fate as she drew close.
She was enjoying herself. She could smell the fear on her victim, and she found it bracing. She drank it up as she would her saucer of cream. But how to toy with him further? Bathsheba gave it some thought, and then had an idea. She would mark him as her own before she devoured him. The man would be quite torn between hope and resignation if he thought that she was only going to tease him and then leave instead of conforming to her true nature. Slowly, firmly, she rubbed her cheek on his leg, smearing her scent on him.
She rubbed her cheek on my bare leg, her hair tickling me as I gazed down at her. How could such a simple thing be so wildly sensual? My eyes drank in the sight of her on her hands and knees as she caressed me, totally absorbed in what she was doing. Her tiny waist swelled to her perfect hips, and I wanted nothing more than to jump behind her and plant myself inside her. My dick knew this too, because it was angry and red, dripping with the precursor of the fluids that might soon be spurted into her. I was so ready for her that I couldn't help myself as my lust threatened to overtake me and I began trembling...
...with fear, which is as it should be. The man's terror at the proximity of such a fierce predator had him shaking. Bathsheba knew that he would not move, believing that to do so would only hasten his horrible end. Satisfied that she had instilled the maximum amount of horror in her victim, she began to contemplate the choices for their final dance together – razor sharp claws or her powerful and mighty teeth? After a moment's consideration, she chose claws.
Bathsheba began to sharpen her claws on the man's chair, spreading them wide as she scratched the rough fabric. The man can wait – she wanted the deadly weapons on her paws to be as pointed as possible, the better to work their lethal magic.
She curled her fingers under, making her tiny hands into cat's paws, and began to stroke the side of my chair – sharpening her claws no doubt. She was a wild animal, inured to the violence that her living brought others. Her feral nature was asserting itself, and my mouth watered at her nearness. God, how I wanted her...
But what's this? The hint of a familiar scent drifted past her nostrils, and she stopped sharpening her claws as she struggled to identify it. Her head tipped to one side as she analyzed the new information. The smell was so out of place that it took her a moment, but then she recognized the odor and she was puzzled. The man was in heat.
Bathsheba was confused. This could not be. The man was terrified, paralyzed with fear, unable to offer even the slightest resistance to her feline appetites. There should be no ardor in him now, only the terror that arrives side-by-side with the coming of the mighty cat. Perplexed by this apparent mystery, her feline inquisitiveness asserted itself – after all, it isn't only tiny housecats who succumb to their curiosities.
She put her paws on his lap, her deadly claws retracted as she gathered herself for the leap up. Then in one nimble bound she gracefully launched herself, the muscles in her powerful hindquarters easily propelling her into the man's lap. Bathsheba snuggled there, straddling his legs and resting her front paws on his chest. Curious, she gathered information in the way that all wild animals do, and she leaned her head forward to delicately sniff his breath.
Kitty kisses, that's what they were. Her nose came so close to my lips that I couldn't help myself and I tried to steal a real kiss from her. But all cat owners know about kitty kisses – she just wants to inspect your scent with her sensitive nose, and touching isn't allowed. And so she ducked away from my hungry lips, dodging me with the grace of the cat she believed herself to be as she continued to sniff my breath.
Well, I thought, maybe I can't touch her with my lips. But everyone knows that all kittens like to be petted. I ran my fingers down her back, starting at the nape of her neck and applying gentle pressure as I slid them slowly down her spine. As I neared her ass she pushed herself against my hand, her body craving my touch as a look of supreme satisfaction came over her face and she slowly closed her eyes in mute pleasure.
What's this? Bathsheba couldn't believe what was happening. All thought of terror and destruction fled her brain as she gave herself to the sensation. Her desire to rend and rip had simply vanished as if it never was. The combination of the man's touch and his musky scent had driven such thoughts from her mind. She closed her eyes, the better to concentrate on his fingers.
To her surprise her ferocious teeth were no longer weapons of destruction, but instead they had been transformed into implements of lust. She felt the need to gnaw on his flesh, to taste him. She gently kneaded her paws on his bare chest as she reveled stroke of his hand on her back. Her mighty roar, known to instill fear in all who heard it, had been subdued somehow. A low growl escaped her lips as she lowered her mouth to him and she began to chew gently on his neck.
Having a wild animal gnaw on you isn't nearly as frightening as it sounds – take it from someone who knows. There's something primal in it, and also something submissive. Not too mention erotic. The give and take of life and death is as close to sex as you can get. As her teeth touched me my hips jerked forward involuntarily, straining to touch her. I could feel her teeth snacking on my neck, my flesh being chewed as if it was simply food for her replenishment. I twirled my finger in her hair and began to scratch that special spot behind her ear. She didn't stop chewing for a moment, but a low throaty rumble arose from deep inside her, and as it settled into a steady rhythm I realized that she was purring.
With her legs spread wide as she straddled my hips, Nalia began to pant as I reached down and cupped her in my palm. She was wet and slippery, and I rubbed my hand around in circles, massaging her entrance as she nibbled on my neck. I would wait no more, and even the cat in her knew it.
Bathsheba leaned back. She didn't know exactly what had come over her. An instinct, perhaps, although all cats refuse to acknowledge that their actions might be influenced by anything other than their wits. Slowly, deliberately, she crawled down to the floor. She arched her back and looked over her shoulder to see if the man was watching, and of course he was. Then, with an air that said unquestionably that she didn't care if he followed or not, she walked away. She twitched her tail back and forth, beckoning with it as she moved.
When she got to the piece of furniture the man called a sofa (although she knew for a fact that it was nothing more than a large and comfortable bed) she put her front paws up on it. She spread her powerful hind legs wide, leg muscles flexing as she lifted her tail high and straight into the air and waited. She stayed still, absolutely certain of his imminent arrival. The complacency in her manner belied the hunger deep inside her. Bathsheba needed him badly, though she wasn't exactly sure why. But it wouldn't do to let him know that, for such is not the way of the big cats. Why, she cared so little that the man come over that she began to wash her paw.
I could wait no more. Not one minute. Not one second. As she kneeled there casually licking the back of her wrist I was taken over by an animal lust stronger than any I'd ever experienced. I crawled over behind her on all fours and I kneeled between her spread legs. I put my hands up on her back and paused for just a second or two as I lined up my hungry member. Then I slid myself deep inside her.
As she was impaled her back arched and she moaned, a low growl that seemed to come from deep inside of her. I began pounding myself into her as hard as I possibly could, sliding in and out and slapping her taut little bottom with my hips. She met my every thrust with one of her own, and she began to pant involuntarily, her gasps timed to our rhythm. I reached up and grabbed her hair, tangling my fingers in her silky locks. I pulled her head back hard, exposing her throat and making her feel exposed and vulnerable. Faster and faster we went, until, with an animal moan of my own, I came.
We froze together, her head pulled back as I emptied myself deep inside. Her moaning stopped, starved for air as she came around me, her body trembling with the pleasure. After what seemed like eternity that went by in the briefest of moments, I was emptied. I leaned forward, and wrapped my arm around her and held her close to me. Slowly my breathing returned to normal and I was able to disentangle myself. I let go of her hair, gently removed myself and fell back to the floor, exhausted.
Bathsheba crawled down from her position kneeling on the couch. She wasn't sure what had happened, and she wasn't sure if it would ever happen again. Living in the moment, as most cats do, she simply had no idea. She walked over to the man, her manner languid and satiated. She knew that she was contented, certainly just as satisfied as she would be after a large meal of wild gazelle. Obviously it was time for a nap. She kneeled by the man, resting on her haunches. A little warmth now would be good, wouldn't it? She gently rested her chest on his, pressing her breasts into him tucking her front paws under. She closed her eyes to doze. The soft purr that escaped her lips was indeed the very resonance of feline satisfaction.
I tangled my fingers in her hair, and scratched her special place. She pressed her head against my hand, asking for more. She opened her eyes just a little and gazed at me through the slits. "Good kitty,' I whispered. A trace of a smile materialized on her lips. For the first time she spoke, a low sound that was equal parts voice, growl and purr.
That was a little different, wasn't it? I hope you liked it. If you're inclined, please vote and send me your opinion – I'd love to hear what you think. I can't quite decide whether or not to try more like this one.
If you like stuff that's a little more conventional, please check out my other stories. Thanks for reading...!