Guest post! – A Kitten Play Erotica

A few months ago I met another kink author!
SomethingFlirty writes and sells erotica – Full time!!

The dream

We spent a good chunk of the night having great chats about our writing and of course I chewed his ear off about pet play!

Following this he ended up writing some pet play themed erotica that i just have to share!

With permission of course!

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Where is he?

You’ve been padding around the house for what feels like forever. You stare at the door, accusing it of withholding your human from you. It’s half-past third nap, this is the time he is meant to come home… it’s not fair.

Your ears perk up as you hear the crunch of gravel from the drive. That has to be him. You don’t have much time, and quickly scurry to the couch and curl up in your corner, stretching your body out to work out the kinks, doing your best to not look like you’ve been staring at the door since your last nap waiting for him—

“Hi honey, I’m home!” your human says as he opens the door, finally. He kicks it closed behind him as he sees you lying supine on the couch, your ears perky and your tail firmly in place. You open your eyes slowly and give him a bored stare, as if your heart isn’t pounding just looking at him.

“Oh, you’re in one of those moods, are you?” he teases, throwing his messenger bag on the other couch. He unzips his hoodie and shrugs it off, tossing it at you. You make a muffled yelp of protest, even as —your face hidden from his gaze – you inhale his scent, his clothing made musky by the walk home.

You feel the couch cushion depress as he sits next to you and you fling the hoodie off your head in mock-anger, to see his beautiful stupid face staring down at you, his hand stroking your hair and scratching behind your ear.

“Did you miss me, precious?” he says, and you shake your head, making the bell on your collar jingle.

“You’re a fucking liar,” he says, honey dripping from his lips. “We both know you always do.”

You make a mewling, pouting sound, but he’s right.

He’s often right.

He lifts you up by your shoulders and repositions you so that he’s sitting on the couch with your head in his lap, his big soft hands stroking your hair and patting you between your perky ears.

You can’t help it. You start to purr.

“That’s right,” he says, satisfied, and you can feel him relax into the couch, the tension from his workday soothed from petting you.

“That’s a good kitty.”

You nuzzle his inner thigh with your forehead, and you can’t help but notice the movement of your favourite toy under your head, hidden beneath his slacks.

You smile to yourself, making a happy mewling sound. Your human is fairly predictable in that respect.

“So,” he says, momentarily nervous – you’re not sure why, you’ve never denied him anything, but it’s still kind of cute the way his voice hitches whenever he asks this question – “uh, I suppose you must be a little hungry, pet? After all, it’s been a long time since this morning…”

You consider teasing him and playing coy, but the truth is, you are feeling a little starved. Instead you roll off the couch and get on your knees, your front paws on his thighs, looking up at him with eager eyes and nodding your head to the chimes of your bell.

“Mmm, I thought so,” he says, more confident now. “But have you been a good kitty or a bad kitty today?”

You make an indignant meep of protest, stiffening your spine. Of course you’ve been a good kitty. When have you not been?

He cups your face in his right hand, his long slender fingers curled under your chin, his calloused thumb stroking your cheekbone. Instantly you melt, the affront to your dignity forgotten.

“I’m only teasing,” he says, smiling. “Of course you’re a good kitty. And good kitties get to play with their toys…”

His other hand moves to his belt and starts slipping the end back through his belt loops, the thick black leather difficult to manipulate with only one hand. You stare at the belt buckle, lowering your eyes, fixated on every tiny movement, knowing that once the buckle comes free you can—

You can taste it.

Oh goddess, you swear to yourself. Please, please please—

The tongue of the belt is free now, and he pushes it back through the buckle loop, moving infinitesimally slowly. Your mouth is watering, the only sound you can hear is the soft whisper of leather sliding on leather. He pulls the belt taut, straining against the buckle so that the prong pops free, then suddenly all at once the belt comes loose from his waist and you can’t wait any more—

You pounce, your paws scrabbling at the button and zip that dares to stand between you and Him, he lifts his ass off the couch cushion so that you can slide the pants and boxers past his hips and down to his ankles in a single frenzied, hungry motion, you gasp as He pops free and stands tall and erect. You tongue shoots out of your mouth and you lunge forward—

Only to find yourself caught short as he grabs the back of your collar.

“Ah-ah!” he says, chiding you gently. The collar strains on your throat in a way that is simultaneously frustrating and reassuring.

“Not so fast precious. Where are your manners?”

You pout. Your eyelashes flutter as you look up at him, your lips bent in a perfect bow of disappointment. Your fingertips dig into his thighs, pressing your nails into his skin. With every fiber of your body, you beg, but if anyone ever tries to tell you that this is what you’re doing, you will scratch their eyes out.

“Mew?” you ask, your voice as artfully pathetic as you can make it.

He raises his eyebrows for a second, then nods, releasing you.

His cock is perfect. Ramrod straight, with three strong veins visible and blue through the velvet-soft skin covering his muscular hardness. His foreskin retreats with his erection, revealing a bulbous thick head with a pronounced ridge that you love to tease, the tip of your finger tracing the soft, sensitive underbelly before you take Him into your mouth.

Goddess, this is where I belong, you think, sliding your head down his length, applying only the softest of pressure with your upper teeth in the manner you know he loves. Your tongue relishes in the fleshy, slightly salty taste of him. Your hunger should be satiated, but as always, you need more.

The tip of his head settles against the back of your throat, your lips finding the point where his shaft ends and his balls begin. Your lips are taut around his girth, and you can feel his cock pulse as he contracts it.

His fingers are nestled in your hair, and he makes a low, deep, satisfied moan.

I have you now.

Slowly, using every bit of self control you have, you retreat back up his length, leaving a sloppy trail of spit in your wake. Inch by inch you savor the power you have over him, looking up at him through hooded eyes, imprinting the memory of his face in this moment into your mind forever.

Then, when you have naut but the helmet of his cock in your mouth, you really get to work.

Faster and faster, the reassuring weight of his hand on the crown of your head, you inhale Him as if your life depended on it. Your paw joins in, massaging his cock when it leaves your mouth, getting out of the way as you take him inside you. Your spit aids in this, giving a gliding soft surface for you to work with.

Sloppy, speedy, and loud—just the way you both like it.

You can feel him try to restrain himself. Silly human. He never wins at this game. Try as he might, you always get what you want. The twitching of his cock-muscles as he squeezes his inner muscle tight to try and keep his cum from spurting out, like everything else about him, is cute – in the same way that captured prey is cute once it is at your mercy.

It’s adorable, feeling him struggle in vain.

One final time your lips meet his balls and he surrenders. He pulses as burst after burst of warm, salty cum fills your mouth. You moan in appreciation, the vibrations of the sound stimulating him further, drawing yet more of your reward from inside him.

The moment is eternal and too short. Your victory is satisfying yet brief.

He’s still hard when you withdraw from Him, keeping your lips tight so as not to waste a drop. Still, a small trickle of cum leaks out of the corner of your mouth. You swallow, then lick the spillage up, grinning at him with your best Cheshire grin.

He collapses back on the couch and you return your head to his lap, his cock against your cheek, purring, your mind fuzzy and satisfied and delighted.

You don’t know how much time passes, his hand patting your hair.

“That’s a good kitty,” he says absently. “That’s a good girl.”


By
SomethingFlirty