That Cat

A group of us pooled our resources and hired a cottage for the spring break, down by the sea. Even pooling our resources, the only reason we could afford it was because it was a bit off the beaten track. Still, it suited us. The beach was right there, and if we needed anything from the shops or wanted to go elsewhere we had our cars or, in my case, a motorbike.

We were evenly divided into male/female and were all legally adults, even if I had doubts about the mental adultness of a couple of the group. None of us were actually partners but I suspected Paul and Irene might be going steady by the end of the holiday. These things don't always work out the way you expect but that was the way it seemed to be heading. With Irene effectively out of the running that left me a choice of Marie or Bronwyn. In theory, anyway. In actuality, Marie and I were like cat and dog, which left me with Bronwyn if I wanted a peaceful time. (Possibly I should say Marie and I were like cat and mouse, while being unsure who was the cat and who the mouse.)

Mind you, Bronwyn was a very nice girl but we had friend-zoned each other very firmly. Kissing her would be like kissing my little sister. Polite and passionless. I had mentally resigned myself to going without any nookie for the duration but that was OK. One never knew what other opportunities might arise.

Don't get me wrong about Marie. Just because I didn't get on well with her didn't mean that she wasn't a very nice young woman. It was just that I found her to be ultra-competitive whereas I'm far more easy going. I was competitive enough and quite adept at getting my own way, but I tended to be subtle about it, as opposed to Marie's in-your-face philosophy.

The first few days at the cottage passed peacefully enough. Sometimes we went about as a group and sometimes we went our individual ways. We were just relaxing and winding down after the stress of exams and such stuff.

On the fourth day I woke bright and early and actually got out of bed. Yeah, I know. Morning is the accepted time for sleeping, especially when you're on holiday, but I woke up feeling restless and needing to be on the move.

When I got downstairs I found Marie in the kitchen making coffee. This didn't really surprise me. I figured she was the sort of girl to get out of bed the moment she woke up. The only thing that did surprise me was that she was still in her pyjamas. If asked I'd have guessed that she'd have been showered and dressed before she left her room. It appears I'd have guessed wrong.

She looked surprised and irritated to see me. I saw her flick a glance down at her pyjamas and suspected that she was feeling a little uncomfortable being caught still wearing them. I don't see why. They were flannelette and covered her better than a blanket would, and were baggy enough to totally hide any semblance of a figure.

"How come you're down so early?" she asked, sounding as though I'd made a grievous faux pas.

"Why not?" I asked in reply. "It looks as though it's going to be a fine day and I thought I'd get an early start on it."

She muttered something under her breath, clearly disgruntled. I suppose she liked being first up, patting herself on the back for not being as lazy as the rest of us. Too bad.

Seeing the coffee was on I reached for a mug. Somehow, coffee always tastes better if someone else makes it. That could, of course, be a sad reflection on my coffee brewing abilities.

Did I mention the cat? The guy who leased us the place told us about him. He had appeared one day and adopted the cottage as his home. The owner didn't mind as he kept the place free of rodents and did his personal business outside the house. He did specify that we shouldn't feed him. Apparently the cat was supposed to hunt up his own dinner.

Have you ever seen a cat do a berserker run? They'll be sitting quietly one moment and the next they're charging around as though someone has stuck a rocket up their bum. I'd just poured myself some coffee when the cat appeared.

He came streaking in from the hallway doing about 90mph. A nimble leap and he was on the table and disaster struck him. He didn't actually land on the table. He landed on a table-mat that was on the table. Cat and mat went sliding across the table and off the other side, slamming into Marie.

Now cats, if they are falling, use all those little hooks attached to their feet to latch onto something to arrest the fall. In this case the something was Marie's pyjamas. The cat's claws hooked onto the pyjamas and the cat held onto his grip. It was just unfortunate that the pyjama bottom was loose enough, and the cat heavy enough, to allow gravity a say in the situation.

Cat attached, the pyjamas slid down, revealing one reason for Marie being slightly uncomfortable with my presence. She didn't wear underwear with pyjamas.

Marie squealed and slapped her hands in front of herself. Too slowly to keep me from seeing everything, but she did try. At the same time she was swearing at the cat and telling me not to look at her. Or was she swearing at me? Might have been, I guess.

I was all consideration.

"Are you OK?" I asked, moving towards her. "Did the brute scratch you at all? Cat scratches can be quite nasty. Better let me take a look."

At the same time I was plucking at the top of her pyjamas, moving them away from her legs while I checked for damages.

Marie indicated that she hadn't been scratched and that there was no need for me to look. I was, quite frankly, shocked. I hadn't dreamed that such a well brought up young lady would know words like that, let alone use them on me.

"No, really," I protested. "I was just trying to be helpful. You shouldn't say things like that. You could hurt my feelings."

"If you fucking laugh it will be more than your feelings that hurt," she said through gritted teeth. "Go away. You're too close."

Way too close, actually. Too close for her to bend down and grab her pants and pull them up. She could have crouched and grabbed them but wouldn't that have given me a nice display.

I changed position slightly, not that the change met with her approval. I reached out with one foot and pressed down on her pyjamas, preventing any chance of her pulling them up.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"Taking unconscionable advantage of your misfortune," I said equably. "I'm not budging until you stand up properly."

I'm a large young man. Very large. Quite strong, too. Marie didn't have a show of moving me unless I wanted to be moved. She knew it, too. She straightened up, standing tall and daring me to look her over. I did.

"Pervert," she snapped. "Can I pull up my pyjamas now?"

"Um, no," I decided. "Take off your top for a minute, as well."

"I will not, damn you, and you can't make me," she told me. She was seething.

"I have no intention of making you," I said. "I'm just going to stand here. Ah, might I point out that some of the others could come down at any moment. Won't they get a surprise?"

I say a flash of horror cross her face. Bad enough that I'd caught her like this. To have someone else come down and witness it? Unthinkable.

She used a few more choice words on me but she was resigned to the inevitable. She whipped her top off and stood there, giving me a look of loathing. Me, I was giving her a look of sincere appreciation. No bra, but a wonderful pair of breasts.

"Are you a virgin?"

Marie looked rather blank at the sudden question.

"Ah, what has that got to do with the price of fish?" she asked.

"Nothing to do with the price of fish but of keen interest to me. If you're not a virgin I'm going to drag you away to some man-cave and have my wicked way with you. On the other hand, if you are a virgin, I suppose I'll have to toss you back as being too small."

A glance at her breasts and I tacked on a little extra.

"Um, not that I'm saying that your breasts are small. They look the perfect size to me. I'm sure they'll fit my hands very nicely."

"Do you think I'd just stand here and let you have your way, as you so quaintly put it?"

"Ah, honest answer? No. I think you'd do your best to fuck me to death in an attempt to show that you're not intimidated by me and can handle anything I dish out and more."

She didn't seem to know if she'd been insulted or flattered. She contented herself with looking daggers at me. I waited, both of us regarding the other.

"Well?" I asked, when it seemed that she wasn't going to break the silence.

"Well, what?" she demanded, sounding a trifle confused.

"Well, are you a virgin, or not? Surely you know the answer to such a simple question."

"No, I'm not," she snapped.

Fair enough. I'd told her what I was going to do. I took her by the arm and turned her towards the back door, pausing for a second to pick up her pyjama pants when she found herself stepping out of them.

"What are doing?" she demanded. "Where are you taking me?"

I steered her through the laundry and out the door onto the back veranda.

"Are you insane?" she asked, sounding indignant and nervous. "I'm naked. I can't be outside naked."

"Relax," I told her. "Look around you. We have a roof over our head so no-one in the house can look down and see us. There's a wall behind us and everyone is probably still in bed anyway. No neighbours overlook the place and while you can see the beach from here you can also see that there's no-one on it. Even if there were they'd be too far away to notice us."

"You're still mad," she snapped. "Give me my pyjamas. I want to put them on and go back inside."

I simply said, "No," and cupped her breasts with my hands, pressing lightly against her nipples. Nipples that were, I was happy to see, already aroused and pointing.

"Will you stop that," she said, slapping at my hands.

Another easy question that was met with another, "No," as I started massaging her breasts, enjoying the feel of them rubbing against the palms of my hands. She back up a little, and then a little more as I followed her, until she was bumping against the railing around the veranda.

Now I took my hands down, needing them to slowly undo my belt and trousers. Her eyes opened wide and she was watching as I pushed my trousers down.

"You're bluffing," she stated. "You wouldn't dare."

Seeing my erection was standing tall and firm I thought that she was calling my bluff more in hope than expectation.

"The question is not whether I dare or not, but do you want to watch as I take you. If you want to watch just stay leaning back like that, but move your legs a little further apart. If you don't want to watch, turn around and bend over the railing."

I reached down and stroked her pussy, taking my time and letting her feel the firm movement of my hand against her private parts. Her eyes were flicking from my face, to my cock, to where my hand was rubbing her, and then the same thing in reverse. She was breathing hard and I could feel the heat and moisture coming from her mound.

She finally concentrated on where my cock was slowly approaching, shaking her head and denying that this was happening.

"It really is," I murmured, my cock now lightly brushing against her. "Just watch and see."

She gave a squeak and spun around, leaning on the railing. My hand slipped between her legs again, recapturing her hot flesh, rubbing it some more.

"Look down at the beach," I told her. "One of these days I'm going to lie you down on that golden sand and lower myself onto you, pinning you to the sand while I slowly ravish you. You'll have to hope the others aren't looking towards the beach when that happens."

"Not going to happen," she muttered, shaking her head, then gave a gasp as I parted her lips and moved the head of my cock between them.

Positioned just right, I held myself steady for a moment while my arms went around her to take hold of her breasts. With her breasts comfortably resting in the palms of my hands I pressed against her, slowly starting to sink in.

She squirmed slightly as my cock started to make inroads, pressing slowly but firmly into her. She wasn't trying to pull away, just squirming, her breath coming harder and faster.

"You stop that right now," she gasped. "You can't do this to me."

"Um, I think you'll find I can," I said softly, squeezing her breasts and pushing in a little deeper. She was wet and slick and, even though her passage was tight, I was having no problems sinking deeper. If I'd wanted to I could probably have taken her with one hard thrust, but I though this slow drive was better in this instance. Another time I'd take the hard thrust, and I was already promising myself there would be other times.

She squirmed a little more, still protesting, but her heart wasn't in it. She finally gave a little groan, grumbled, "Oh, fuck you," in a decidedly put upon voice, and pushed firmly back to take the rest of my advancing cock, helping it to nestle firmly into place.

From that point on things got very exciting very quickly. I was driving in hard, giving her everything I had as hard as I could, and she was twisting and gyrating under me, taking me deep and grinding her groin against mine.

I was also massaging her breasts and her hands closed over mine, holding them against her while we came together in heated abandon.

"I hope you realise," she managed to gasp out, "that this doesn't mean I'm giving my approval for what you're doing to me. I'm doing this under protest."

"Fine," I gasped back. "Just promise me you won't stop doing it."

"I'll outlast you," she retorted. "Any woman can outlast a man."

True. They have an unfair advantage. They get multiple orgasms. We get to take breaks while we try to reload. Guns run out of bullets but the target's always ready.

Mind you, I was bound and determined to bring her to a climax. As long as I did that before I collapsed I'd count it a draw. She'd probably say she was ready for more and claim a win but I'd be happy to last until that first climax.

I was taking long hard strokes, almost withdrawing the full way before driving back in, with Marie lifting her hips and pushing hard back against me, doing her best to drive me insane. I was getting to her, though. She was gasping and groaning with effort, demanding more and more. I could hear the stress in her voice as she slowly yielded to her passions, the excitement gradually overwhelming her.

It was all too much for me. Win, lose, or draw, I was ready, and I was ready now. I shortened my stroke, meaning I could put more in in the same time, speeding up my delivery. I could literally hear Marie approaching her climax and I was thinking JACKPOT, just as I exploded into her, hearing her yowl softly as her own climax ran through her, teaching her she was a woman.

She leaned against the railing, totally relaxed, and I leaned against her, spent. It was a few moments before I could bring myself to disengage and straighten up. Still, I managed to do it before she got her act together.

She suddenly snapped to.

"Right," she said. "I suppose you're going to insist that we do it again. I don't care. I can handle it."

"Actually, I was going to suggest that you might like to put your pyjamas on and go and relax with a shower before dressing," I said, hoping she'd take the hint. "After you've showered and dressed I'll take you to the beach. Once at the beach I'll find a secluded nook and peel your clothes off and take you on the sand."

"Do you really think that I'll agree to that?" she demanded.

"I wasn't asking for agreement," I pointed out. "I was telling you what I'm going to do. Me Tarzan, you Jane. Tarzan not ask. Tarzan screw Jane. Go and have your shower."

She pulled her pyjamas back on, muttering noises about arrogant, high-handed men, who thought they were god's gift to women, just because they had a little cock to wave around. Some men, she observed, were going to be in for a hell of a shock if they tried anything funny.

Pyjamas on she was storming back inside when the cat came bolting out.

"And do something about that cat," she yelled at me. "I know damned well you trained it to do what it did earlier."

Trained it? That'd would be a good idea. All girls like cats. Now if I could train it to rip their clothes off on command, things could get interesting. There again, it was a cat. Not going to happen.