cat maid

Once she’d finally found a good spot, she remembered what she was trying to do. Slowly and steadily, she brought her hand up and over his chest, the light sheet rippling above her the only thing keeping them from the warm autumn night. Again, she brought it down past the end of the hair on his belly and only stopped once she felt that rough patch of hair just above his groin. With only the moon filtering through the sheet above she could barely make it out as she peered over her dad’s waist. Short and curly, much curlier than his armpit hair, pitch-black, though most of his hair was with only a bit of grey poking through.

One day she definitely knew the effect she had on me, even if she hadn’t before. I was writing an essay on The Grapes of Wrath and asked Mrs. B when she came by if a word was spelled correctly. She leaned over, her silky red hair brushing against my cheek and her breast lay against my left shoulder. My cock stiffened instantly—and uncomfortably. Without thinking, I reflexively reached down and maneuvered my throbbing dick into a more comfortable position. It did create a sizable tent pole in my pants that I tried to push down and hide, which only drew attention to my crotch. Mrs. B blushed noticeably, stood up while stifling a laugh and muttered an apology.

“Oh Brucie! Wake up, Brucie!” I called, the big German Shepherd dozily raising his head from where he had been asleep on my bed. He liked my smell, so he'd pretty much claimed it as his, now that I was no longer sleeping there myself. “Play time, Brucie!” I said, widening the door so he could see I was naked, giving my pussy a few gentle slaps. That sure woke him up in a hurry! His claws kicked my blanket up behind him as he scrambled down to the floor, eagerly shoving his muzzle between my thighs and beginning to lick.