Pussy Cat

It was the cat that gave him the idea - and the opportunity. It was a cream and chocolate Siamese, a thoroughbred; elegant, pampered, well groomed and beautiful. Just like its mistress, Delphine Fraser.

There were eight of them at the dinner table, Christine, Jeff's wife, was diagonally opposite him at the far end of the table, listening to their host Geoffrey Fraser, while he amused her with tales of life in the embassy. She was enjoying Geoffrey's descriptions of the underside of diplomatic relations, laughing at his sardonic observations on foreign customs.

Directly opposite Jeff, June Hemingway was listening to Nigel Starr's stories of his early acting 'career' with a provincial repertory company. To his left, Nigel's unexpectedly mousey girlfriend, Georgina Smith, and Gerald Hemingway, a West Country antique dealer, were deep in a discussion of Japanese netsuke.

Which left him with the undivided attention of Delphine. She was telling him risque tales of her girl's public school, of her classmates' -and her own - obsessive interest in anything in trousers.

She was finely boned but big-busted, the full curves of her breasts shown off to their best, snuggling in the low cut neckline of a soft, loosely knit woollen dress in a shade of cream which almost exactly matched the colour of the cat. She was not wearing a bra. The dark circles of her nipples showed through the dress and her breasts jiggled heavily as she moved. He fancied that lower down, below the slight swell of her stomach, he could make out the dark triangle of her pubic hair, but the wool was knitted tighter there and it may have been his overoptimistic imagination. On the other hand, the wool was tightly stretched over her delectably curved arse and there was no trace of the tiniest of ridges outlining the edge of her knickers.

He could well imagine Delphine Fraser dispensing with that particular item of underclothing. She was mischievious and basic enough for anything. She had already leaned across him to ask Gerald Hemingway his opinion of her necklace. It was an open invitation for Jeff to ogle her tits, though the thickly bespectacled Gerald took it seriously enough, peering short-sightedly at her pendant. Jeff had ample opportunity to study her breasts, naked and no more than inches from his face, with their rounded fullness and their big, brown circles and button nipples. Her black hair covered her eyes as she stayed leaning forward for Gerald to complete his examination.

Under the table she had pressed her knee into his thigh and her hand lay lightly over the back of his on the stiff white table cloth. As Gerald leaned back after his examination and delivered his considered opinion, she teased Jeff by holding the pendant in front of her breasts and breathing a suggestive: 'You like?'

"Gorgeous," he replied, and then in a soft aside to her, "and the necklace."

She laughed, giving her hair a shake, her brown eyes twinkling in delight at his compliment.

"Thank you," she said and her hand gave his a conspiratorial squeeze before withdrawing,

Then she started telling him the tale of her first necklace and the time of her forced incarceration at a her girls' school. Within minutes she was telling him of their obsession with the boys of the nearby school, of excitement of sixth-form dances and illicit meetings.

Suddenly she was talking about hand jobs. The girls had made much mirth with one technique called the cola method. Could he guess why? And in answer to his grinning shake of the head, her right fist made a rapid up and down masturbatory motion and then she raised her thumb and imitated the sound of a fizzing release of liquid: 'Psheeoow'. And she leaned back in her chair and laughed, her breasts jiggling.

It was at that moment that the cat jumped onto her lap. As it settled itself, she absentmindedly tickled its head. The cat's eyes closed in pleasure.

Jeff was not a cat lover. Pussy yes. He loved pussy. Cats no. But the sight of the lush cream skin as the cat nestled onto her thighs drew his hand. He stroked the cat's back, which curved away from him, enjoying the feel of the short hair and the skin underneath, moving the skin with his fingers over the cat's body. As his hand started the second stroke, Delphine made the smallest of movements iii her chair, pushing her body slightly forward and it was this oh so delicate repositioning of her lush body which made him aware of the possibilities.

He reacted immediately, leaning forward and resting his arm on the table so that Delphine's lower body, now turned towards him, was hidden from his neighbours who continued their animated chatter about ivory pieces. This time his fingertips lightly traced the soft wool on her thigh as his hand sped slowly over the cat's back. On the next stroke the pressure from his fingers was more deliberate. His fingers ruffled the texture of the wool as his hand passed once more over the cat's back and he enjoyed the feel of her sleek thigh underneath.

Then he changed tactics. He altered the position of his hand so that his fingers led down the cat and then curved down over its haunches into Delphine's lap. The next stroke was more deliberate still and his hand lingered to push his knuckles gently but firmly against the padded flesh of her cunt. She accepted the attentions of his hand without reacting to what he was doing. He moved his hand up to the cat's neck and tickled it, relaxing the tension.

Delphine's eyes were slightly duller now as she looked up at him.

"You obviously have a liking for soft, furry animals," she murmured, looking down in her lap at their two hands moving over the cat's skin.

"I haven't come across such a superb specimen in a long time," he breathed. "She seems to like being pampered."

"Can't you feel her purring?" Delphine's low enquiry came from under hooded eyes looking brazenly into his. "She can't get enough of it, I think the greedy little minx wants more."

She tilted her head slightly and looked up into his face, her dark mischievous eyes daring him to resume his ministrations to her cunt.

Once more he pushed his hand down the animal's back and while Delphine stroked the cat's head and neck, the backs of his fingers, hidden from sight behind the animal's rear end, concentrated on slowly but firmly masturbating his hostess through the soft wool of her dress. There was no pretence on his part now to use the cat as an excuse. He was intent solely on pleasuring her. Could he make her come, he wondered?

He could feel the firm cushion of her pubic hair and then below, as he pushed the back of his straightened fingers into her body, he could clearly make out the long line of her outer cunt lips peeling open to the probing touch of his finger tips. With the bent knuckle of his middle finger he began working the top of her cunt and Delphine, unable to remain still under the spreading heat generated by his knowing fingers, started moving her bottom towards the source of the pleasure and opening her thighs to help him.

Sensing the warm cushion beneath her beginning to move, the cat woke and sprang down to the floor, stretched its back legs and jumped up into an easy chair, looking back at them both with a just a hint of disapproval at what they were doing.

"What a shame," she said to him. "She was so enjoying that."

She pulled her chair back under the table. Her thigh rested against his knee.

She smiled a slow dreamy smile, "They are very selfish animals. Sam would let you stroke her all day - if you had the stamina." And there was a provocative emphasis on the 'if' . Clearly Delphine had quite a capacity for enjoyment.

He reached his right hand under the table and pushed the hem of her dress back up over her thighs. Her legs opened for him. He went straight for her cunt, palm travelling swiftly over the sheen of her stay-up stockings and onto her warm bare flesh.

She was not wearing knickers. And she was very, very wet. His fingers slid into her cunt with ease and then, coated with her juices, he sought amongst the slippery flesh for the little button of her clit.

"She's a very beautiful animal," he said, looking straight into her half closed eyes. "Quite delicious. I could play with her for hours."

"Mmmmmm," agreed Delphine, skilfully adjusting her body to his gently probing fingers. "She'd like that."

I would welcome an email from any woman reader whose erotic imagination has been tickled by this story. Please share your pleasure. I could do with the encouragement. I find women's reactions to the erotic fascinating - and liberating.