My Little Kitten

No. I had to stop myself. I could come back to them and enjoy their perfection but for now I had other things to get to.

I bit the soft flesh of her flat belly and then teased at the fine hairs above her crotch. She mewed and purred and I could smell her and I wanted her but I first had her legs.

I had to force myself. I had to be patient and it was difficult. I licked and kissed and caressed. She raised her knees closing her thighs on my face, impossibly soft flesh cradled my cheeks. She giggled. I pressed her back open.

I planned more but I found myself propped between open legs. Her breasts looked down on me, her head lay back, her eyes and smile hidden behind her chin and bared neck and despite everything else I had in mind to do to the youthful perfection of her body I could not one second more delay. My lips met her delightful pussy and she sighed as my tongue first lapped at the edges of her, tracing the outline of soft lips before plunging just slightly inside of her so that I could trace my way to the warm wet nub I suspected waited.

Unlike Suzy, who swelled into a thumb sized target I could take in my teeth or Celeste, the lesbian who had fought so hard to get me to fall in love with her whose clitoris was tiny but became firm at the slightest provocation, the center of Natalie's pleasure was elusive and I found myself probing and testing and teasing. She writhed about breathing deeply but I found myself growing frustrated. I used a finger to probe more deeply inside of her to no avail. Whatever I tried just seemed to cause her to roll about. Finally I placed two fingers on her lips and separated her and, like the vulgar gesture we all made in sixth grade before we had a clue what it meant, I pressed my tongue into her and licked in a slow long motion my tongue forced wide as I moved slowly over her and then, just when I was about to consider this move also futile, the girl shook and froze. I was there. I pressed her open and moved my tongue in long slow passes. In response her abdomen quaked her breath coming in short bursts.

I should have relented except that she had reached down and gripped my hair. I should have stopped and teased her but she pulled and I felt the pain in my scalp and the pushed pressing me firmly to her. I should have done absolutely anything other than what I did but in my mind I imagined what I would have liked done to me if someone had me that close and so I pressed my mouth to her, sucked in firmly until the folds of her cunt were pressed against my teeth and I used my tongue to force her clit against my incisors.

The sound she made, somewhere between a squeal and the shrill howl of a hyena penetrated the house and walls and sent a shudder of terror through me like I have never felt before nor anticipate to feel again. My heart raced as my clumsy body failed to move. Natalie, my sweet young Natalie was similarly paralyzed and simply lay there shuddering have clasped her hand firmly at the back of my head holding my mouth to her. I had only a single moment to moan helplessly, trapped as I was her fingers laced into my long hair.

Her father, my brother was the first to find us, the locked door entirely insufficient to stop the tall man having just heard the blood curdling cry of his daughter. When his weight hit the door it flapped open helplessly and he stumbled into the room to find his forty-one year-old sister clasped between the legs of his young, (but legal! I had checked, Goddamn it, she was legal) daughter. When he regained his balance I expected, reasonably, to be yanked off of her and thrown about the room. It would have been fair but Doug was not like that. He sighed, a deep and sorrowful sigh, and then turned from the room. As he passed through the doorway he seemed to make himself half his natural size to pass by his wife who stood there looking down on us. When I first looked up at her she had been clutching a white flowered robe closed about her body but I suppose the graphic manner in which her daughter and I were clutched together made modesty a bit unnecessary and as I unfolded myself from Natalie's legs she approached us, her robe falling open to reveal her abundant chest. I could also see that she was thoroughly groomed but fought hard not to look any more closely than that.

It was a matter of seconds before Natalie lay crying pulled into a ball and although I wanted to comfort her, that seemed out of the question. I dressed myself and gathered my things. I would leave my car and come back for it in the morning. As I left I passed my brother and cowered to avoid the look of pain and disappointment.

I haven't talked to my brother yet. It's been six weeks. I call him every morning and the fact that he hasn't even mistakenly answered at least once suggests he had blocked my number. I don't hold it against him.

My sister in law is another story. She called me there very next morning. She soothed my nerves a bit by letting me apologize. She assured me Doug would recover and reminded me it took six months for him to talk to me after our coke-fueled adventure all those years ago. She has several times invited me to meet her for a drink. I have so far luckily had a date or other odd thing to do every time and I say luckily because I have a suspicious feeling she is not just wanting to get together and chat because more than once she has reminded me what we did together once.

I wrote a letter to Natalie. I felt an apology was in order and I rewrote it multiple times to assure that I worded my apology in a way that she understood she was not in any way to blame and that her desires, whatever they were, were normal and natural and that she did not need to feel bad about having them or acting on them but that perhaps she needed to choose more appropriate people to explore them with. I didn't mail it though. It's still sitting on my desk.

I shouldn't admit this but what the hell, this is all anonymous, is it not? I never had to send the letter because it was only three days later that I came home from work and saw her little red Honda parked in front of my townhouse. As I pulled into the garage I saw her sitting on my stoop. Her long thin legs extended beautifully from a pair of too small denim shorts. When I had parked I saw that she had followed me into the garage. I said something about it being good that she was there because we needed to talk. She responded in that little kitten voice of hers that we could talk later.

Fuck, I wish I could stop. I am hoping, when she leaves for northern California other distractions will take hold of her and she can forget her dirty old aunt. I hate myself for all of those afternoons we wasted in my bed but cherish the memory of each one. At this point I have avoided planning a weekend to visit San Francisco but I don't know for certain if that will be the case for long. I don't know if I mentioned it or not but I have terrible decision making skills.