Smitten Kitten

"And just why do you think I want to stay in a spare bedroom? It's in your bedroom, in your bed, and with your cock in my little body, or no deal, and I go back to the boat. You got that!"

"Uh, I got it. OK! But you have to give me time to get some of the pictures off the wall and put the porn tapes away."

"Fuck that," she smilingly snarled, "you gotta let me see everything. I'll pose just like all your pictures. We'll watch all your tapes, and I'd do whatever the actresses on the screen are doing, only mine'll be wet, warm, and 'in your face'. And I wasn't kidding, I wanna see that golden pole inside some other bitch, while I watch the action and embarrass the hell outa of her. Man, I really wanna direct all the hot action, and squeal for her if she isn't a talker."

"Wow," I exclaimed, as we both increased our movement.

More soberly, I added, "little kitten, you do know that we can't fuck all the time. You might be able to, but I can't. I'm in my 40's, and I have to rest some time. I have to work, some of the time, and there's grocery shopping, you know, the mechanics of daily living. We'll have neighbors, and they'll talk and gossip, even in Ocean Beach. And we'll have disagreements and arguments, 'cause we're human, and you're a girl and I'm a guy. You might want to go back to school, or college, or something. Stuff like that."

She nodded soberly, saying, "Sure, I know all that. But nothing we can't handle. Remember, you're never gonna be grumpy from not having sex. And you're not gonna be bored, probably ever, 'cause I got a really good imagination. I love to show off, and you know it. You know, I like to dress up and I like to dance: think about it, you old perv. When you get older, so will I. We'll work things out. Remember, you have this boat, and if you need some space for a little while, you can come here ... or I can. The reunions after our fights are gonna be real fun."

She finished, " now shut up, and finish doing me. I got that thing in my 'thang' and I want it. Tha's right, push. Go, man, PUSH. Tha's right, no mercy, give it to me. Yes, yes, yes, ohhhhh, yesss, I can feel it in me, it's getting bigger. I want it, I. Want. It! Give. It. To. Me! Yes, yes, yes, I'm your little girl, sex me, Daddy, come on, sex me now, yes, yes, cumming, close, cummung, close ... close. YES, YES. SEX. ME. RIGHT. NOW!"

And then a series of screaming, "YEAH!" as I spurted into her, with another "YEAH!" for each spasm of my pulsing penis. Head thrown back, mouth open to scream the words, and fingers grasping her own boobs as though she wanted to pull them off. "YEAH!" as her body jerked with each powerful pulse of my penis, now dry but still jerking in my own orgasm.

Then a half-whispered, half-moan, "Yeah" as she slumped forward over to me, adding, "I love what you do to me, Daddy. It's so sweet. Ohhh, you're getting soft, I like that too, let me feel you getting soft. Yesssss, that's so nice, you're real soft now, you're gonna fall outta me now. Yeah, there it goes. Ummm, that's nice, too."

We waited a time, as she untangled herself from my arms and spent body, and took a long time to inspect my shriveled manhood. Then, delicately, she took the super-sensitive penile tip between her lips, and gently hummed her lips around it, as she worked my now-tiny organ between her lips, many times smiling up at me. I fell asleep watching my little stray kitten mouth and tongue my declined sex, as she tongue-worshipped the last end-game of my worn-out body. Smiling still!

- - - - -

We moored at the Isthamus at the northern end of Catalina Island, and took a bus into Avalon the next day. Clothes prices were horrible, but I decided my little stray kitten had to have things to wear. I got quite a surprise when she said 'no' to more than a new pair of sandals and new deck shoes, a new bikini, and an evening wrapper. She said, "If we're gonna get me clothes, we're gonna get good value for the best price, and that's not gonna be here in this tourist money pit. Besides, I want into that bikini."

Which was hard to describe, except to say that every surface was 'skimpy,' her nipples stood out at the least stimulation, it had a thong back, and rode low over her 'fur line'. I've never seen a bikini bottom ride so low: another half-inch and the top part of her vaginal cleft would have started to show. The brand ... hard to say ... something about a Weasel.

[ Not that she had any fur, by then. That disappeared just after we moored, shaved off with a couple of disposable blades while seated in the cockpit. I didn't know it was possible for a person—young or not--to spread their thighs and legs that wide or high, and still stay upright. Neither did the crews on the boats surrounding us, as she gestured me to stay down in the cabin, while she displayed her fur-removal sex play, appearing totally engrossed in the project. She was the center of attention for men and women around us, on power yachts and sailing craft. ]

We returned from out excursion to find a invitation note from the power trawler-type boat moored two boat widths away, named the CHISOLM TRAIL. The invitation stated, "just very casual clothes, for dinner aboard, at 7 P. M." The word 'very' was underlined about three times, and the note was accompanied by three Polaroid photos. One showed my little stray kitten, one leg straight up in the air, the other spread wide, back against the cabin wall, pretty face looking down, tongue-tip between her teeth, pussy exposed to the tender mercy of the shaving cream and second disposable blade, apparently totally engrossed in her effort. By now, I knew better. My little stray kitten was posing every second of the time, and knew exactly what she was doing.

The other illustrated a buxom babe, overflowing an inadequately short black party skirt outfit, complete with mesh hose, heel pumps, and bare back, and with a husband by her side. The third photo showed just the babe, in a sheer semi-transparent mesh bodysuit, obviously with an open crotch. Britt looked at me, and raised an eyebrow. I quivered, "whatever you want, little kitten."

The dinghy came over to us exactly at 7, and we boarded the power yacht a couple of minutes later. Our hosts were the Andertons, Paul and Sylvia. Paul was a thin, fairly hard-muscled man in his 40's, partially balding, wearing glasses, and looking for all the world like an accountant on a holiday. He certainly didn't look like a Hollywood special-purposes animal supplier and "cat wrangler." If you see a housecat in a film behaving, it's probably Paul Anderton's animal. He has the scratch marks and bites to prove it.

He was also the author of the popular computer game, 'Herding Cats,' which he laconically described as having derived from his work, being, "an entertaining, endlessly engrossing, un-winable, futile exercise in geometrically-increasing impossibilities."

Sylvia, on the other hand, was a dead ringer for Jessica Rabbitt. Like from the now classic film, "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" You remember, the one who said, "I'm not bad, I'm just drawn that way," while moving in all directions like Mae West. Sylvia flowed out the bottoms of her white boating shorts, and out the top of a leatherette bustier. She's the only woman I remember seeing in a half-dozen years who actually stood up and balanced in high-heel pumps on board a boat. Long brunette hair, deep brown, complimented her flowing figure.

Despite this, she was demure and even a little shy. She covertly stared at the much younger Britt, who'd chosen to attend the dinner invitation in her old bare-midriff top and recently-washed white shorts, with one of my light sweaters for evening chill, and who was barefoot. Despite looking like a charter member of Slut-Pussy, Inc., Sylvia tried to downplay her luscious looks, much to Paul's secret amusement, as he repeatedly caught my eye.

Dinner was steaks and grilled potatoes, with bell peppers and garlic bread, with a light white wine for openers. No one mentioned that Britt was probably too young to be legal for alcohol. The wine had its usual effect on everyone, allowing easy small talk, and turning on my stray little kitten.

But it was Paul who quietly handed my little Britt the Polaroid camera, and, looking her in the eyes, firmly said, "I took just that one picture of you, no others. My promise to you." Britt was startlingly mature, as she leaned back against the seat in the galley dining area, winked at Sylvia, pulled up one leg in the classic 'inviting' soft-porn pose, and said, "take another." Following the flash, and with Sylvia's fascinated gaze on her face and hands, Britt stood and pushed the front of her bikini bottom down, until the cleft of her sex was obviously about half exposed. "Another," she demanded, and then again, "Close-up, this time. Again!". Finally, she edged the top of her bikini up across her left breast, firmly grasping the nipple and barely shielding it with her thumb and forefinger, demanding, "last one." Paul snapped that last picture, waited for the camera to extrude it, and we gathered around to examine the suddenly displayed pictures. Britt pulled the cockpit, 'shaving' picture from my shirt's top pocket, and placing it at the end of the other pictures, simply said, "now it's a series. It's yours!" and pushed the pictures into Sylvia's hands. And she sat down on the cushion, looking like a kitten with a saucer-full of cream, next to me, while Paul and I gapped at her.

My stray kitten continued to amaze me, as she continued, "My daddy and I love each other. We've known each other a long time, about three days now. He's going to take me home and let me stay in his house, sleep in his bed, and make love to me as often as he can. As long as he's around, I feel really safe. The wine makes me hot and horny; can I have some more, please, Daddy? Sylvia, you're so beautiful, can I kiss you? Would you like the guys to watch, please, Sylvia?"

Suiting actions to words, Britt took the four steps over to where Sylvia sat, next to Paul, and knelt down with her knees on either side of Sylvia's thighs, settling her bottom on Sylvia's legs. She motioned to me, to sit on the other side of Sylvia, so that Paul and I were opposite each other, looking across his wife and my girlfriend. Britt slowly advanced her face and lips toward Sylvia's, and starting to extend her tongue as their lips met.

Sylvia started to struggle, but just for a moment, as she relaxed, closed her eyes, and succumbed to the sexy charms of my stray kitten. Their tongues started to play, as did their hands, around each other's necks, shoulders, waists, and started snaking up to their respective breasts. I was raging hard and erect by now, and I guessed that Paul was, too, as the girls started to moan and make little slurping noises. Sylvia broke loose, just for a moment, gasping, "I'm not even gay," to which Britt replied, "neither am I, but you look so sexy and generous, an' you're falling out of that little outfit, I just gotta ..."

My Britt caught me with her sideways glance, and deliberately wiggled her torso and hips. The message was pretty clear. Catching Paul's glance, I quirked an eyebrow. Grinning, we both reached over and pulled on the tie string holding up Britt's bikini bottoms. The tie loosened simultaneously, as the bottom of her suit was pulled off and dropped on the floor. Our hands went next to her top ties. Paul took the neck and I, the mid back tie. Two quick pulls and these went the way of the bottoms. Sylvia's eyes widened as a very bare, young kitten body snuggled up against hers.

Another quirk, and I gestured an exaggerated 'hands-off' posture, as Paul leaned toward his now moaning and hip-moving wife. Several quick motions and the bustier lay unzipped atop the bikini fabric on the deck. A few more pulls and tugs, and Sylvia's shorts joined the growing pile. The pace of deep kiss slurping and frantic girl-groping increased, eight limbs now thoroughly entwined and writhing.

Paul surprised me by whipping out his erect cock, and starting to stroke it. I quickly joined him. My God, the man was hung. I'm probably over average, but his cock must have been 10". Britt cried, "Daddy, let him do me, please, pretty-please?" I nodded, and in one smooth, slow, controlled thrust, Paul buried his monster manhood into my girl's pussy from behind, and began a slow, careful reaming rhythm, while his wife watched breathlessly, locked in a sensuous dance of entwined girl-girl sex play. Britt got her right thigh between Sylvia's legs, and slithered her now protruding pussy lips against Sylvia's lips, with Paul—still inserted into her pussy from behind—continued his measured male love-humping.

Britt ordered Sylvia, "come on, luscious girlfriend, bump my pussy, you can do it. Bounce your tits. The guys are loving it. Look over my shoulder, look and your man putting his meat to a little, barely legal teen. That's right, watch it go in and out. You love it going in and out. Yeah, that's it. You love to fuck, don' you. Bet you want your man to pump you deep. Come on, Paul, get in here and jam that big man meat inta your woman. Yeah. We're coming, come on girl, over the edge, RIGHT NOW!"

Both women groaned and thrashed, then stiffened. My Britt threw her head back and closed her eyes, but Sylvia literally squealed and her eyes rolled up in her head, looking like she was having a seizure. Her generous boobs quivered and shook, and her nipples fell and re-erected themselves. The evident orgasm went on for over a minute.

Paul continued to thrust in and out of my cumming girl. Then, in one swift penile motion, he pulled out from Britt, pulled her firmly away from Sylvia's legs, and jammed his monster meat into his wife, between her thighs, from the front. Sylvia's eyes went wide, and she started to shudder and shake again, entering a multi-orgasmic state, as her husband slammed into her in a steady rhythm. I watched her have a full-blown orgasm every half-minute, head jiggling on her shoulders, arms flopping, and body generally under the sole control of her lover's impaling manhood.

I pulled my quivering pole from my hand, and plunged it into my girl's sloppy pussy, where Paul had just been, between her thighs. I sank to her deepest depth with no effort, barely able to feel the slippery walls of her engorged womanhood, as I literally floated in slurpy female excitement. Britt put her hands behind her back, to grasp mine, and bent her head down to suck and slurp on Sylvia's massive breasts, working first one nipple and then the other. The effect on Sylvia was electric. She gave a strangled scream, arched her back, and appeared to slip into constant ongoing orgasmic seizure pattern. Paul speeded up his thrusting, as he grunted, his wife squealed, my stray kitten hummed and slurped loudly, and I gasped and groaned, feeling my orgasm approaching.

Yeah, that kind of thing only happens in porn films or in books, but the four of use reached orgasm about simultaneously. Paul roared and spurted, time after time, into his wife. That seemed to spark Britt, who jerked and bit down on the nipple in her mouth. The sexy pain of the nipple nip set off Sylvia, who flopped and jerked enough to cause Paul and Britt to collide. That set me off, as I screamed and shouted, dumping more hot sperm into my new girlfriend in spasms of orgasm.

Britt ordered us not to move, until our softening cocks fell out of their respective womanly caves. Sylvia watched dreamily as my little girl joyfully sucked and cleaned both our cocks, as they were presented to her in his wife's close view.

Britt reclined in the cabin berth, while Paul and I carried his half-comatose wife to the stateroom berth, sponged off the spunk and girl-goo and into a deep sleep. She was still jerking and twitching, with mini-orgasms. Coming up from below, we found Britt now fast asleep. Quietly, Paul and I dressed, and got her sort-of stuffed into her outfit, bundled into the dinghy. And back to the Smitten Kitten. He and I looked at each other, wordlessly, and he pushed off, going back to his boat. I wondered if I'd ever see either one of them again.

I struggled Britt down below to the catboat's cabin, and into our berth. That girl was totally out! Then, starting to undress for the night, I prodded my conscience. No guilt! Damn, she was fine in my memory, with Paul's stiff cock sliding into and out of my girl. I remembered seeing her mouth around Paul's dick, as she slurped and cleaned his sperm and his wife's juices off the shaft and head, with her big eyes half turned to me, and a little grin playing around the corners of her lips. I also remembered her lips sucking on Sylvia's engorged breast and of the two of them, legs and body's locked, slithering over each other, groaning and moaning with girl-girl slut sex.

I realized, as I slid toward sleep, that I wanted to see my little girl do more of that.

- - - - -

I heard a muted 'thunk' of something landing in the cockpit, and more muted engine sounds, fading away. Sunlight splashed on my face through the small porthole and open hatch. I felt full of energy and zest. My sleeping companion, though, was still asleep. Completely out. I quietly fixed coffee from the thermos, made yesterday, and went on deck. It was the usual Southern California summer day: hot, dry, bright, with only a little wind.

The 'thunk' turned out to be a padded envelope, inside a waterproof baggie. Since Paul's powerboat was gone, I had to assume that he and Sylvia had pitched it into my boat's cockpit as they left. Opening the envelope, I smiled with good memories as page after page of digital printer photographs were revealed, showing over and over that Sylvia had, indeed, become much more like 'Jessica Rabbit,' and a lot more relaxed. My little girl was a good example for her.

I rigged the sunshade over the boom, and then the net hammock under it, and settled in for some reading, and just plain drifting off into space. Some hours later, I heard the toilet tank being pumped, and then my little girl kitten poked her head up from the cabin hatch. She looked around, bleary and squint-eyed. Did I see a little hangover?

She looked over at me, and distinctly said, "fuck you!" then winced at the sound of her own voice. She went back into the cabin, and I heard the sound of a gentle, girl type vomit into the head, some more pumping, and then some gurgling as she drank a bottle of water. Then I heard the delightful sound of my electric razor, as I guessed she was trimming off some beginning fur. When she started to emerge again, I reminded her, "you might want to put something on, little girl." I heard a distinct "Ah, fuck, I keep forgetting (giggle)." Some more banging, and a final emergence as she emerged, in the new barely-there bikini. She slipped into the hammock with me and stretched out, completely relaxed. I said, "Aspirin, water, something to eat a bit later. You'll be OK soon."

"I'm OK now. Yeouch. You and Paul were pretty hard on the Beaver. It's sensitive up in there. But I liked it, 'specially with Sylvia's body under me, all slippery and squirming."

She waited some long moments, looking inwards, as her face turned serious. "Uh, Skipper, you're not mad or anything, are you? Please don't be mad?"

"Why should I be mad, kitten?"

Well, uh, I kinda made out with another woman, and, uh, I kinda told another guy to stick it up me, and he really reamed me out. An' his dick was bigger than yours. An' you saw me take all of it. And I screamed and came. You know."

Ohhh, that was the problem. My little stray kitten was getting set for some guilt. I countered, "Britt, you were amazing. You posed, very sexy, for some people we'd just met. Then you slithered all over Sylvia, and invited her to have girl-girl sex while her husband and I watched. Then, when she was cumming, you invited Paul to take you. You were really awesome. Maybe I'm something of a pervert, but I really liked seeing you two girls make out. I really liked to see his cock disappearing into your pussy, and coming back out, shiny and slippery, over and over. I want to see you do all that, again."