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CATS: BDSM, Fetish, Group, Toys

*****

Intro

Wives Polly and Paula—whom fate apparently willed to unite on first-name basis alone—were married for ten years. Paula Jordan cherished and treasured Polly Farrely beyond words. The devotion knew no limits, no bounds. The day they walked down that aisle and declared their eternal love was the happiest of their lives. They were never to fall out of love. They were, however, soon to discover that marriage came with its unique and intense trials.

Paula, a 40-year-old attorney, was ruthless and tough as nails in the courtroom, but soft and sweet as a kitten at home. Polly, 39, worked behind the counter at Walgreen's pharmacy. Paula and Polly were high school sweethearts, though both fuzzy on sexuality at the time. Before actually falling in love, they bonded over the fact that both seemed gay. And ostensibly in one hell of a minority. What with the lack of maturity in their environment, the lasses were hesitant to show public displays of affection. They'd quickly learn what happened when they kissed. Boys cheered, whooped and hollered. Girls laughed, shouted and covered their eyes. Inevitably, they'd be told to get a room. And oh, how they wanted to.

Despite the generous concentration of gays and lesbians in Juniper, Polly and Paula finished high school before meeting many of their own. Paula saw and accepted this as the reality it was. Polly reacted with an air of resentment and disappointment. She didn't love being part of minorities to begin with, and felt Paula was the one person who understood her. Her family loved her, but never quite got her "lifestyle choice," much as she explained to them that wasn't what it was. She couldn't help but feel even a bit jealous of her beloved, as Paula's family embraced the girls' queerness.

To everyone's delight, both were accepted into Denmore University. Paula studied law and Polly focused on her core courses, unsure yet what she wanted to do. But college supplied them with a delightful distraction. As beside academics, legions of students studied intricacies of sexuality, Polly and Paula were treated to unorthodox PDAs. Same-sex interaction—particularly of the female variety—was widely represented. Paula, for one, could highly appreciate such a phenomenon. Polly was ecstatically fascinated. The internet was still relatively new, and it failed to occur to Polly to seek outlets online. And this, also new, was very exciting. Girls held hands, kissed, or full-on made out on campus. Many young men looked on with admiration and approval. Polly spent most of her nights sneaking off to Paula's dorm, not only to be with her...

But also to listen in on a couple of girls on the other side of the wall.

*****

Flashback: Gettin' Friggy Wit' It

Thursday, November 5th, 1998, 7:48 p.m.

Up curled 19-year-old Paula Jordan to the corner of her bed, holding a drinking glass to the wall. She grinned roguishly, hearing girl-on-girl action on the other side. The voices and inflections therein turned her on. She was about to slip her hand under her jeans when the knock came at the door. Polly poked her head in.

"Hey—"

Paula threw her two quick hand gestures in succession: "shhh!" with the finger to the lips, and "c'mere, c'mere!" with the wave over. Polly shut the door, scampered on tiptoe and popped onto the bed quiet as she could. To the same wall went her own ear.

The mid-timbered voices they heard belonged to girls sounding about their age. There was soft moaning, kissing and sultry laughter. Polly and Paula tingled, quivering with excitement. They covered their giggling mouths, relishing the show. They didn't know how long it was to last, but figured they could start making their own entertainment at any time.

Polly slipped her arms around her girlfriend's middle, grinning as she burrowed her nose in Paula's hair. Oh, she'd chosen the cherry blossom shampoo today. Polly's favorite. She melted into Paula's back just a bit, as her roguish right hand slid down, just where Paula's had been about to go: under her blue jeans. Paula gasped, whipping her cherry blossom-scented head Polly's way.

"You bad girl!" she giggle-hissed, feeling her pussy groped, trying to keep her voice down. Polly only laughed under her own breath.

"Gotcha."

Paula smirked at her. "I'm gonna getcha back, bitch."

Polly scrunched up her face, crinkling her nose like a bunny.

"Never."

With that, she grasped Paula's wrists, sprang from the knees, and pounced her. They play-fought and wrestled for who got to be on top, as their "performers" opposite the wall did similar. Polly won. Naturally, Paula lamented to herself; Polly always won. Not to be gotten wrong: the romps remained fun, as Paula was sure they'd be the other way. Yet she wished she got to find out. As lovely as being topped by Polly proved, Paula wished once or twice to (literally) gain the upper hand, to (literally) come out on top, to make Polly eat her cocky words. How sweet would that be. In the meantime, though, she'd hardly (literally) have it any other way.

Paula decided each time to just enjoy it. Polly had her to the mattress by the wrists, giving Paula a delightful simulation of being restrained. Her legs too were pinned, as if her extremities were cuffed from under the bed. Paula was a switch-hitter, and enjoyed positions of both sub and domme. Her sweetie Polly was a domme by nature, and damn good at it.

They thought they could still hear Paula's frisky neighbors, but on their side of the wall, things weren't so funny anymore. They settled into an Eskimo-kissing session, letting the tips of their noses do the work as Polly went on verbally taunting.

"You're mine, bitch," cooed Polly's glossed smiling mouth.

Limbs helpless, Paula tilted her face upwards, opened her jaws and tried to bite Polly. Her efforts were circumvented as Polly leaned forward and bapped and buffeted her face with two generous 36Cs. Paula playfully laughed and swore as her face was filled with boob and fabric. She was afforded no time to react for real, as Polly proceeded to shove her tongue down her throat. Paula felt her senses intoxicated, her faculties dazed, her girl-bits activated as the frenching ran course. Before much longer, they found it tough to care whether the girls opposite the wall could hear them or not.

Polly saw this as time to up the ante. She slid her front paws up to meet Paula's and linked their carpals. She clamped her hind ones around Paula's gams and held tight. And she began humping and grinding their pelves together. Paula could barely move, and wanted to resent Polly for it, but couldn't. Polly was very simply stronger, and one passionate lover. Paula couldn't fault her perpetually winning top position in bed. Things were still relatively new in their love life, and so Paula didn't anticipate a lifetime of being dominated in the sack. Right now, she'd have been fine with that.

Gradually and sure enough, both pussies dampened through their jeans, and all four nipples twitched to life. They heard less action opposite the wall, but no longer really listened for it. Polly pushed up and lifted her top over her head, revealing a set of smooth, taut abs. Paula hastily unbuttoned her own shirt and whipped it open to reveal two bra-less, naked tits. Polly's face lit up at the girls' exposure. So round, so supple... so impossible to resist. Polly frantically unfastened her jeans, and a bit of struggling later, off they came. Hands free for the moment, Paula wrestled down her own at the same time.

Paula's lavender panties bore a few purple wet spots. Polly, who on the whole needed less foreplay, had a gray column of damp down her white undies. Her brain wanted to act faster than her paws could, so she fumbled with her bra a bit. Hook bras were annoying, she thought; one of these days she'd have to start wearing string bras. Inevitably, it came off and was flung to a corner of the room. Paula reached next for her panties, but Polly wanted to tease her a bit more. So before she could get the girl-briefs on down, Polly re-seized her wrists, and returned them to the head of the bed.

"He—" Paula started to react. Polly shut her up with another dazzling, dizzying kiss of fire. This time she added the touch of bringing Paula's mitts above her head, crossing them at the wrists, holding both down with one hand, and gently tickling her underarm with the other. As Paula was already a bit riled being disallowed to free her pussy, this only riled her more. Which Polly planned and relished. She loved tormenting her girl in such tantalizing, libido-torching ways. She also loved intoxicating whiffs of their stained panties on the way to the wash with them. She loved being a lesbian. She loved hot, cute chicks.

Keeping Paula's legs ajar with her knees, Polly lowered back down atop her. She balanced carefully, leveled her pelvis to pelvis, and began to grind. This was one of her favorite techniques. She called it the "honey bun hump." Polly Farrely, very much into yoga and pilates, invented lots of positions and tactics like this, and cute names to go with them. For but starters, there were the tribade trib-angle, the Sapphic scorpion, the lesbian locust, the whorey warrior, whorey warrior II, the boink bend, the firefly fuck, the pussy plank, the downward dive... and once they were done, the afterglow relaxation.

Some of these positions catered specifically to one participant, some to both. Understandably, with each new pose it was a bit harder to come up with more originals. But one thing was certain: whichever pussy-tion was played out, Polly was top and Paula bottom. As the years went on and the girls' relationship solidified into marriage, Paula wanted more and more to be on top. But Polly never let her. She worked out and toned her muscles—which frankly wasn't for Paula—and so could easily overpower her bride. Yet, her passion and lovemaking finesse was too intoxicating for Paula to become upset, or to reconsider their union. The girl was her rock.

Still holding her by the wrists, Polly at last removed both their panties. Freeing her own wet pussy felt lovely, but not as good as seeing Paula's, pink and drenched for her. The only playthings Polly needed tonight were on her right hand. Back down Polly went, bringing their lips into contact once more. Her other set of lips kissed Paula's right thigh. Tongues swam and intertwined. Polly's dominant right paw rested on Paula's quivering tummy, waiting for just the right moment to make its move. When she sensed it, Polly surprised her with a quick, sharp grasp on her cunt. Her digits dug in, storming Paula's womanhood. Paula tore the kiss off and whipped her head back.

"OHHHHHHHHFUCK!"

Polly leaned down on her, pussy in her squeezing grip.

"And don't you fuckin' forget it either, young lady," she growled.

Another entire layer of passion was forced from Paula's captive coochie. Polly loosened her hold, burrowed her ajar, and pressed two nimble fingers inside, winning herself another groan. Had they hushed at this moment to listen, they'd have realized they could no longer hear the voices of the girls in the other dorm. What was more, sound traveled both ways, enabling said girls now to hear them. In a nice ironic twist, the performers and audience had switched places. And as Polly and Paula let themselves play louder, their wall neighbors listened more and more attentively.

Polly released Paula's wrists, grabbed her by the back of the hair, and forced one more mind-scrambling kiss on her. A short ways into this kiss, her digits found their target, and began frigging her off like mad. Realizing her hands were free, Paula threw her arms around Polly, clawing at her nape and back. She held on tight, flopping and gyrating like a landed fish. She let herself be rocked to and fro with each thrust. Hair flew over and pasted to her face. Sweat flooded her glands and spread.

Paula broke off another kiss, unable to breathe adequately through her flaring nostrils. She hugged Polly tight as possible, trying to get her trembling left gam to interact with the others. She wanted to trap these intrepid soldiers in her private lady-cave and hold them prisoner forever. Raw, animal passion ate her alive. Her craning head slammed in the pillow, so far back Polly could see nil but her chin. Polly also saw her left hand need no longer perform a task, so she slid it out and planted it in the mattress at ease. Her right went on, endlessly jilling the hell out of Paula, minute after minute after explosive minute. Paula howled bloody havoc, forced nearer orgasm every second. Polly grinned down at her chin, loving having her figuratively and literally in the palm of her hand.

Faster and harder, rougher and quicker, the soldiers invaded Little Paula, driving her owner into oblivion and over the edge. She had a small and mere matter of seconds to last. Paula rode the mattress, driven and slammed to her pillow time and again, till stars began exploding in her eyes. Finally, her dam fell to smithereens as she came. She dropped swear bombs through drooling lips, impossibly drowned in perspiration. The tables had turned completely from a mere hour ago, as the girls opposite the wall now pressed their ears to listen in on Polly and Paula. They wordlessly marveled to one another with wide open-mouthed grins. It was now they who couldn't help but wonder if their noisy neighbors heard them.

Paula and Polly couldn't care about such trivialities at the moment. Polly was in the zone, throwing home everything she had as Paula, frantically grabbing fistfuls of mattress, screaming like the devil's banshee, came like there was no tomorrow. The sensations were so intense, she could swear she felt her cum cum. It splattered down her rumbling thighs, bathing Polly's paw and forearm in thick, musty froth. Polly saw her hit the apex as her quivering back arched in the air. And inevitably, her screams began to die down.

Paula's muscles unclenched. Her shaking hands released the bedding fabric. Her back straightened and allowed her to nestle in the mattress, feeling the wind sucked out of her. The equally satisfied Polly extracted her cum-covered hand and climbed down from the bed, giving her wet throbbing wrist a gentle massage. She looked around for towels, finding some in the closet, and laid a few over the bed. Their girl-companions on the other side heard the big finish, and wanted to give a kneeling ovation through the plaster. But they didn't want to embarrass Polly and Paula. One showed her respect with a silent hands-down bow.

Towels laid, the naked, also sweaty Polly returned to bed. She lay beside Paula, holding her hand, idly rubbing her own pussy with the other. She'd no intent of making herself cum tonight. Her wrist and fingers were spent for the evening, and she was happy and proud enough already. She shut her eyes and sublimely smiled.

"And that, my friends," she soundlessly mouthed, "Is how you knock your girl out ice-cold."

*****

So Are The Ways Of Our Wives

twenty years and change later: Wednesday, July 31st, 2019, 2:11 a.m.

March 2009 brought marriage to the couple who were now the Jordans, Paula and Polly. Their relationship naturally evolved as the years went by. They took it at what would be considered remarkably glacial for a lesbian couple: eight years to move in together, and another three to be wed in Canada. Little did they know that in their beloved Minnesota, same-sex marriage would be legal in just four more short years. But Polly and Paula could wait no longer.

From the day they moved into their new home and unpacked their boxes, the Jordans boasted a perfectly textbook marriage. They slept together, they dined together, they went on wedded dates together. They grocery shopped, cooked meals, ordered in, went out to eat, people-watched, and admired comely girls. They kept a lovely home, handling most maintenance and repairs on their own. Each day gave the house a new memory, in the form of a knickknack, get-together, or intimate christening. The girls hosted the occasional dinner party or holiday outing, learning more and more about being married all the time. They quarreled now and then, but only because they ultimately loved each other and cared so much. Nine fights out of ten ended in mind-blowing make-up sex.

Day after day, month after month, year after year passed by. Inevitably, the novelty of the union wore off, and the Jordans let a bit of complacency set in. No couple meant to, but it happened. As much as they loved one another, eventually, neither could deny relief for some alone time. Or for her spouse wanting a nap. Polly could do her yoga and Paula could enjoy her Netflix shows. The flip-side of this coin, however, was when both were in the mood. As they learned more about each other's sexual quirks and kinks, this information was put to brilliant use the next time. To complement these, they amassed a stash of sex toys to experiment with and keep the bedroom fresh. If things weren't fresh, they were in trouble.

Though a few things changed, a few stayed the same. While Paula sometimes questioned if Polly's love for her ran still so deep, her own adoration for Polly went unchallenged. Paula couldn't stop loving her if life depended on it. She loved Polly so, she didn't mind as much that Polly liked to flirt outside the union. Polly remained fascinated by the encounter of fellow lesbians, just as in college, and couldn't help herself. They'd discussed the topic of flirting before, and Paula knew where upon it her wife stood. Polly loved to flirt. She lived to flirt. The woman was a born romantic. And as long as her heart belonged to Paula and she came home to her every night, they could live with this little quirk. Besides, Polly obviously had lovely taste in women. Paula even caught herself tossing a bit of flirtation at these radiant recipients. One of the advantages to being a same-sex couple was mutual attraction to a gorgeous fox.

With Paula moving up the corporate ladder of MD&M Enterprises and Polly opening her own "yoga-lates" studio, they were able to vacate their semi-cramped one-story for superior quarters. They found and inhabited a secluded two-story cottage-style in a sleepy hollow of Juniper's countryside. The address was 23411 Green Road. Surrounded by wooded land, their closest neighbors were about a half mile on either side. A majestic indigenous tree greeted them in the front yard, where they set up lawn chairs, enjoying tasty beverages and watching glorious sunsets. Sometimes when the weather and timing were just right, the sun shone through the branches to cast a shadow that looked like a giraffe. Nature's shadow puppets. Life was good. And sweet.

But one summer night in 2019... something went wrong.

Polly did not come home until very very late, in fact into the wee twilight. A brief bit past 2:00 a.m., her car rolled quietly down Green Road, off the pavement and onto the pebbly driveway. Off went the lights, but she stayed behind the wheel another moment before getting out. She finally vacated, a weak jelly-like feeling in her limbs. To the front door she slunk, unable to help but feel every chirping cricket was judging her. And rightly so; I know I'm judging me right now.

Clickety-click said her house key. The creak of the door and floorboards taunted her further. The entire house felt hostile. She turned to lock the door. The corner of her eye caught the front hall bathed in light. Before rational thinking kicked in, she spun back around.