My cock stirred. With just a flip of the skirt, I could have him bare under me. I knew he wouldn’t resist. He would allow me to have my way with him, but I couldn’t. No matter how hard my cock throbbed between my legs. Accepting that I was attracted to Kit and touching him like that—kissing him—were two different things.
“What are you doing?” I asked when he pulled another cushion from the sofa and piled it on the floor with the others he must have gotten from his bed.
He turned, those silly kitty ears once more so fitting for him. “If I can’t pet the kitties, then I might as well be a kitten.”
He went down on all fours and pawed around on the cushions as if trying to find the best spot. When he was satisfied, he settled on his knees, hands down in front of him, spine curved with his ass in the air. He looked up at me expectantly, and I froze.
This isn’t what I signed up for.
If he wanted to be a kitten, it had absolutely nothing to do with me.
He let out a meow that shouldn’t sound so real. Then he shifted his attention to the tassel at the corner of one of the cushions. Kit batted at it, dismissing me completely.
And that’s my cue to go.
I backed out of the living room, but instead of the front door, I ended up in the kitchen.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I mumbled as I opened and closed cupboards. Finally, I found what I was looking for. A wide bowl that wasn’t too high at the sides. I poured milk into it, then stuck the bowl into the microwave for a few seconds to warm it up.
This was nothing more than a peace offering. At least that was what I convinced myself when I returned to the living room. Kit continued to ignore me, even when I placed the bowl on the floor next to his “bed.” I took a seat on the long sofa and waited. Purely out of curiosity of what he would do.
After a few seconds, he gave up playing with the tassel and moved to the bowl. I’d seen many things before, but nothing as fascinating as Kit pretending to be a cat. He didn’t just drink the milk like I thought he would. He examined the bowl first, then sniffed it. A “paw” came out to bat at the milk. Only when he was satisfied did he lower himself and lapped at the liquid. He was all feline charm and grace, purring each time he rested from a robust bout of licking.
He cleaned the bowl, then nudged it aside. I expected him to return to playing with the tassel, but he crawled toward me. I stiffened.
This happens when you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.
Pouring him a bowl of milk didn’t mean I knew anything about taking care of a kitty. I’d never considered myself an animal lover before, but if I ever got a pet, it would be a dog.
Meow.
He rubbed the side of his head against my leg, unfurling his body and pushing his way between them. Sitting pretty in the V of my spread thighs, he placed his front “paws” on my thighs, peered up at me with enormous eyes, and meowed again.
“I don’t know what you want, Kit.” The words came out all strangled.
He rubbed at my thigh with his head, and then he pounced, launching himself next to me. I froze, but I didn’t seem to need to do anything. He pawed at my thighs, then settled down on the couch with his head in my lap.
My heart pounded in my chest. What the hell did it mean that my cock was as hard as a rock from this boy pretending to be a cat? He was so pretty and delicate. I had no trouble at all seeing why he would have chosen such a pet to emulate.
Pet.
Was that what he wanted from me? To pet him?
I raised my hand and slowly brushed his hair. He sighed contentedly and pushed his head back into my touch when I pulled it away. Jackpot. I stroked him more deliberately this time, over and over. He kneaded my thighs with his “paws,” nudging his head into my stomach, and then he turned over onto his back, baring his belly to me.
My chest rose and fell as he peered up at me. It was one thing to stroke him when I didn’t have to see his face and the pleasure reflected there. His cheeks were flushed.
Meow.
His meow was almost questioning. I rubbed his bare belly, caressing his flesh, and his eyes drifted shut. His breathing became labored, and he panted. Kit opened his eyes, and the blue orbs found me. Begging. Wanting.
I can’t do this, can’t lead him on, knowing nothing will ever come of this.
But maybe only this once. If I never got to touch him again, I would have this. And as long as I was already touching him…
I slipped my hand lower, pushing down the waistband of his skirt. The elastic band easily slid down his narrow hips until the lace of his underwear showed his cock straining against the material. He was rock hard.
“Is this okay?” I cupped him through the lace.