Saving a Lost Kitten Ch. 02

The author thanks all of his readers, especially those of you who took the time to vote on my story. Here's the next installment, and once again, the disclaimer: All the characters described herein are over 18 years of age, fictional; and any resemblance between them and anyone, living, dead, or imaginary, is purely coincidental.

Although Chapter II can be read as a stand-alone, I'd really encourage you to read Chapter I first, if for no other reason than the character development, unless you're merely looking for just a "stroke story," of course, in which case you'd probably prefer to read some other author.

Enjoy!

- Ham Sandwich

***

How the hell could she still be a virgin, or not have ever had an orgasm, I wondered as we dried ourselves. She'd obviously been living with that guy. I was dying to ask, but the expression on her face told me this was a painful subject to talk about, so I switched my countenance quickly to non-judgmental.

"OK," I said, as nonchalantly as I could. We could discuss this some time when she could handle it better. "Well! Since we're both up and moving around, how about we fix some breakfast?" It occurred to me that she'd probably not had any food for a while now, so I wasn't surprised when she said that eating something sounded great.

I retrieved her now-clean clothes from the dryer and found something for myself as well, although she'd shown no sign of embarrassment at being nude. The thought formed that Pluto probably required her to be naked most often, as slaves were frequently treated that way.

Into the kitchen we went. "Now," I began my lecture with mock seriousness, "the first rule of making a fine breakfast is fine coffee, of course." Kitten began to smile a bit, and I began to realize that an easy, light approach worked best with her. "And," I continued, "the first rule of fine coffee is that fine coffee is strong coffee, so we'll put a lot of it into our little four-cup drip machine here," and Kitten's eyes got a bit wider as she saw how much I was shoveling into the filter basket.

"Won't that be awfully bitter?" she asked, as she crinkled her nose in anticipation of the harshness.

"Ah, grasshopper," I joked, "second rule of fine coffee: Add-pinch-of-salt-to-coffee-to-remove bitterness!" She giggled openly at my foolishness, which I took to be an encouraging sign.

"There," I said, pouring in the cold, fresh water and flipping the switch, "we'll let it do its thing and move on to other matters. Since I'm so exhausted from all that heavy lovemaking we did this morning," I said with a wink, "we'll bake up a batch of tasty strawberry muffins, which won't be too difficult since they come to us in these little bags to which we only need add milk and eggs." Kitten was getting into my clowning around. It was encouraging to see her beginning to feel at ease here in my home with me. It only took a couple of minutes to whip together the dry muffin mix with the milk and eggs and to portion it into the muffin pan.

"There," I said, "into the pre-heated oven it goes. Twelve minutes until we enjoy those hot, delicious muffins. And look, our coffee's ready!" I poured out two cups and customized them to our liking. It turned out she preferred sugar and plenty of cream, same as me. The cups sat there on the counter waiting for us.

"Kitten, I can't drink mine until you sample yours and pronounce it worthy. You're the guest of honor."

She wasn't entirely sure I was joking as she lifted her cup and brought it to her lips. She took in a little sip and swirled it around her tongue to taste it. As I observed her closely, assessing and judging the hot java, I so wished it was my semen she was enjoying instead. Easy, boy, I said to myself. Remember, control, always be under control.

"It's really good! I love it!" she said, taking a big swig, and I had to remind both myself and my stirring penis that she was referring to the coffee rather than my fantasy.

"Great!" I said as I picked up my mug and clinked it against hers. "Here's a toast to the simple pleasures in life," and several of those pleasures came to mind. She laughed out loud and I thought, though she might be considered a little plain, she became an archangel when she laughed.

There was the "ding" of the oven timer announcing that our muffins were done. I popped them into a bowl, covered it with a festive looking towel to retain the warmth, and brought it, some plates, some knives, and the butter bell over to the table. Kitten had never seen a butter bell before, so I got the opportunity to seem smart and sophisticated when I explained its function to her.

She was really hungry! She wolfed down a half dozen muffins to my three, and I decided that I'd need to make nutrition a priority for her. We ate and chatted about inconsequential things, and then I said I needed to check my email to make sure nothing pressing was happening that would keep me from taking the rest of the day off.

She volunteered to clean the dishes, and I was inwardly pleased with her sense of domestic order. Already, I was beginning to think of her as belonging here. I just hoped I'd be able to handle the breakup when it happened. Well, just be grateful for what you're given while you have it, I said to myself.

Three quarters of my email miraculously disappeared once the spam got gone, and none of the rest needed my immediate attention, so I was free for the rest of the day and told her we were going out.

"But I don't have anything to wear!" she replied, and it occurred to me that, on this one day in all of recorded history, a woman was making that statement and it really was true. Well, almost! I wondered to myself if there had ever been an instance where a man told his wife they were going to a nudist colony only to be informed by her that she didn't have anything to wear. I held onto that smile as I moved my mind back to the present.

"Kitten," I said with authority, "it's a girl's lucky day. We're going to take you shopping for clothes, and we might even visit a shoe store or two!" Now, I ask you, gentle reader, do I know the way to a woman's heart or what? She squealed in delight, and out to the car we flew. As I helped her into her seat, I was pleased to see she was getting accustomed to my opening doors for her, in both the literal and the figurative senses. It made me feel purposeful for a change. I reminded myself that good deeds were to be done for their own reward and not as a pretext for obtaining something in return.

First stop was the mall. Almost every store we visited had her sizes, as she was easy to fit. To my gratitude, I noticed that she invariably went to the sale racks first to ferret out the best bargains. She'd try every item on and then present herself to me for my opinion of it. Actually, she looked good in everything, and after only an hour or two, we left the mall with a good assortment.

Next we cruised several of the thrift stores and found some wonderful deals on lightly used items for her day-to-day wear. We found several pairs of blue jeans there that were already broken in and contoured her awesome legs and ass to perfection. She looked great in her new clothes, and she also looked great without any - a perfect woman.

It was lunch time already. I told her I wasn't quite up to taking a woman to a shoe store on an empty stomach, so we stopped to eat and enjoyed some soup, salad and pasta dishes at an Italian place I knew. Kitten was in heaven! It did my heart good to see her so happy and animated. Such a turnabout from the horror of the previous night!

Six bags of clothes, two bags of shoes, and two people stuffed full of good Italian food later, we were back on our way home. It really was a chore carrying all that stuff into the house, and then we had to remove all those stupid little plastic tags and hang it all up, but Kitten had the beginning of a modest wardrobe once we were through.

She just stood there in front of the closet taking it all in silently. There was a long pause, and then I heard her small, quivering voice ask, "Why are you doing all this for me?" as if it were all some sort of fanciful dream that would vanish into thin air when she woke up.

I couldn't think of anything particularly clever to say, so I spoke the simple truth: "I'm doing it because it's what you need right now."

And suddenly she was in my arms crying her little eyes out. "Gary, nobody ever cared about me before and now I've fallen into your life and you're doing all these things to take care of me and make me happy and give me pleasure and. . ." And a new freshet of tears began.

I held her for a minute and then pulled her away so she could see me talking to her. "Kitten," I said, "look at me. I said, look at me." And when she did, I reached into her soul with my eyes and told her, "You don't even know anything about happiness and pleasure yet, but, believe me, they're coming. Oh, yes, I swear to you, they're coming!"

My back was to the side of the bed, and Kitten suddenly pushed me the two steps it took for me to be on it with my legs hanging over the edge. She was on her knees with my zipper down and her lips wrapped around my manhood before I could even realize what was happening. That cock of mine was like a sports car, and it went from zero to sixty in about five seconds. If I'd ever been serviced with such skill and enthusiasm before, I certainly couldn't remember when it was. She was worshiping that thing! I could feel my ardor rising up through my groin as I approached my climax. For one brief moment, I debated the rules of sexual etiquette about ejaculating in her mouth. I decided that any woman who was that skilled a fellatrix would already know what to do, and she didn't miss a beat when I came a minute later. She took all of it! Once the room stopped spinning, and I was able to see again, she made sure I was watching her when she purposefully licked her lips, tasted and swallowed. I could tell she genuinely liked it.

To my amazement, my earlier fantasy had come true.

And it occurred to me that something else was also true: In less than one day, I had already fallen hopelessly, helplessly, irretrievably in love with her.

Oh, damn. DAMN.DAMN!!

(to be continued)