Hello, kitty

We were on the phone, chatting about when we’d see each other later that night. He was coming to my house, and I was excited to have him in my space, as I always am.

“Do you have any strong preferences for how you’d like the night to go?” he asked.

“N-o-o…” I replied, chewing my fingernail. I want to play! was what I wanted to say, but I didn’t want to be pushy. “I can make pasta for dinner, though, if you want to eat in.” I thought about what I might wear. Maybe I could show him I wanted to play…

“Is your roommate home tonight?”

“I don’t know about later,” I replied, “but she has an appointment right after work, so if she is home, it won’t be until after 8.”

“Okay,” he said.

I waited for more. Finally, since he didn’t seem to want to be forthcoming, I prodded him a little. “Do you have plans for tonight? Do you know what you’d like to do?”

“I know what I want to do when I walk in the door,” he said. “Not sure about after that.”

I grinned to myself. Well! Better and better…I’d have a chance to influence him. To maybe give his imagination a little nudge.


Later, on the phone again while he is driving to my house. I’m dressed in a hot LBD with some amazing red spike heels that I’ve been wanting to find an excuse to wear for awhile. I’m feeling pretty sexy, indeed. And to top it off, new kitty ears! Meow!

“I assume you’ll have my drink ready for me when I arrive?” It’s become kind of a ritual on nights he’s at my house, to meet him at the door, drink in hand; just as bringing him coffee in bed in the mornings and cooking together has. I love having things that we only do at my house, that make staying at my place special in some way.

“Yes,” I said, “I’m making them now.”

“Good. Let me know when you are done. What are you wearing, by the way?”

“You’ll have to wait to find out,” I teased. Then, “I’m finished with the drinks. Oh! Let me hang up, I want to go –”

“Not yet, kitty,” he said, interrupting me.

“But I –”

Kitty…” his voice held the “pay attention/focus tone” that he uses when I’m going off on a tangent and he wants my full attention. It always stops me in my tracks.

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, stopping on my way to the stairs and trying to estimate if I’d have time to run up and put lipstick on before he arrived.

“Good,” he said. “Listen carefully.”

I listened.

“Go to the front door and unlock both locks.”

“Okay…” I said, puzzled.

“Now, do you have bottoms on?”

“I…um, no.” Nothing but this slinky black dress, Sir… I grinned to myself, thinking about meeting him at the door all sexed up.

“Good. Now, get down on your knees in the entryway, hike up your skirt or dress so your ass is bare, and get into your devotion pose. I want your ass up high – and towards the door.”

“You… Wait, what?”

“Now,” he said sharply. “You heard me.” I did as I was told. I know that tone of voice.

“Are you there?”

“Yes, Sir,” I said, from my position on the floor.

“Good. Now touch yourself. Make yourself wet. Think about the fact that anyone could come through that door and see you there… And wait for me. And don’t you turn around.”

I reached down, between my legs, my cheek pressed to the hardwood floor of the entryway, and started rubbing my clit. I was already a little excited by him giving me orders. (I’m easy, what can I say?) I enjoyed the feel of my soft lips, and pushed my fingers inside when I felt myself getting wet. Moments later (he had to have been already parked on my street) I heard the door open. I heard him come inside and set down his backpack. I peeked over my shoulder —

“Turn back around!” he barked, which I did, hastily. I couldn’t tell if he had something in his hand. Was he going to cane me? Or —

There was the sound of his zipper. And I felt him kneel behind me. My breath came short as I felt him nudge the folds of my cunt with his cock.

He was going to fuck me, right here in the entryway of my house.

And I loved it. Did I mention I’m easy that way? Heh.

I pushed back against him, straining to pull more of his cock inside of me. He grabbed my hips, and began thrusting, slowly, rhythmically. I moaned and spread my legs further, tried to rock against him faster, wanting him harder, deeper.

“You can touch yourself,” he said, feeling me wriggling against him. But just as I started to feel that tightening, blossoming build-up, he pulled out. “Turn around,” he said. His voice was a little strained. I liked to think that he’d had to restrain himself as well.

I did as I was told and he pulled me down to suck his cock. He was wet and musky with my juices and I lapped him and me up. But just as I started to think he was going to come, he pulled back. “You better leave a lot of spit on it,” he said, still holding my face near. I glanced up at him quickly, then did as he said. I knew what I was in for next.

Funny thing, I hadn’t guessed that was in the cards, even after he had told me that morning that he had been fantasizing about having my ass…

No matter how often it happens (and it’s not that often) I always feel a kind of…shock…run through me when I first feel the head of his cock pressing against my little rosebud asshole. I tighten up involuntarily, even as I tell myself to relax. And he isn’t (usually) brutal about it, but still, there is that moment of violation, of wrongness. Even lubricated, there is momentary burning and my body resists of its own accord. But then, as he presses inexorably into me, as I stretch and loosen to accommodate him, as his length and girth fill me, the discomfort gives way to pleasure. Pleasure mixed with embarrassment. (He’s doing that to me! And I like it!) And he begins to stroke, shallowly at first, then, as my body relaxes, deeper and harder, and this delicious cocktail of desire and humiliation and sensation washes over me, until soon I am pushing back against him, wanting more and more…and then I am rubbing my clit and there is juice and spit running over my fingers, and I am moaning and arching back against him, and his hands go from my hips to my shoulders and back again, and his breathing is becoming labored. There are mewling sounds coming from my throat and I am saying words, I don’t know what. “Come,” “Yes”, “Oh god.” And then he says, “You may come,” and I do, shuddering beneath him as I feel him explode in my ass.

We stay that way, cum dripping down my thighs, his body draped over mine on the floor of my foyer, as his penis softens and slips from my body and our breathing normalizes. Finally, he turns me around to face him. In all this time, we haven’t exchanged a word.

“Hello, kitty,” he says.


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