In the Pink

Restrained, and spread across the bed, blindfolded and purring. That was me. Yes, purring.

Honestly, in terms of moments I can specifically recall in a session, it was one of, if not, the best.

I don't know if you can call it subspace, i wasn't feeling my traditional float-above-myself-and-watch feeling, but I was blissfully happy. Blissed out, even.

Bliss.

My ability to move was, understandably, extremely limited. I wasn't complaining, nor did I mind the fact that my eyes were covered -- it not only added to the deliciously expectant tension, but it heightened my sensibilities so that I could have heard a pin drop. Felt it, even.

When the evil cat demands that I cover my eyes, I never know what to expect. I had a feeling we might be about to engage in some mild abrasion play, when i suddenly senses his head at the side of my waist, and I heard a long, inquisitive "snifffffffffffff".

Curiosity being what it is, second nature to a cat and all, I couldn't stop myself asking.

"Er.... Don Gato, what are you doing?"

No reply, just further and more tactile sniffing. His head moved around my generously curvy waistline. and up one edge of my body, thoroughly covering the area under my arm and slowly moving ever upwards until he reached my shoulder -- whereupon he sighed happily, and bit me. In a nice way.

Rawrrrr.

I thrashed my head about hoping to make some sort of contact, and finally succeeded -- although I think he was throwing me a bone**, so to speak, by moving towards me -- as I felt my lips make contact with the side of his head. Planting tiny, affectionate butterfly kisses up wherever my mouth met skin: on his cheek, his forehead, his nose, his eyelids -- while he continued to smell me, returning the occasional soft kiss here and there.

"Hello you," I whispered, feeling his breath on my neck.

"I love this neck," he murmured into it, continuing to smell me. "I love the scent of you, I love gathering it into my lungs -- all of you."

I felt myself blush. I pride myself on being clean, and I often tend to wear a lovely French perfume, but like any human being, why I sweat, it's not Dior droplets that escape. And in a session -- well, while I love everything that happens, and personally adore the combined smell of our bodies, and the various escaped fluids -- it doesn't exactly smell like roses.

"Really?" I couldn't help myself exclaiming.

By now his inquisitive feline nose was examining the area around and under my breasts, currently covered in a light, slippery sheen.

His answer was clearly genuine.

"I love inhaling your scent from under the Girls, your cunt, your neck, your back -- everywhere. I leave you, and you're still with me for hours. It's all such a part of you."

I wished my blindfold would melt away so i could see his face -- and almost magically, as if he heard me, he removed it.

Blinking somewhat, I stared up into that glorious blue twinkle, radiating in the warmth of the love emanating from his eyes.

"You like how I smell?"

"I love how you smell, all of you. Up here (snifffffffff), down here (snifffffffff), under here (sniff sniff sniffff)."

I was speechless -- an event in and of itself. Felling him inhale along my body was the most unbelievable turn-on, as if I weren't aroused enough already.

Grabbing a handful of my hair with one hand, he pulled my head back and around and leaned in towards me, his other hand squeezing the right Girl in one of his continual attempts to get either her or her twin lactating.

He kissed me, an incongruously soft and tender kiss, given the circumstance. And then landed me a good whack across the first Girl, and then the second. And then bent his head to sniff them again, and smiled. I shivered happily.

It just doesn't get any better than this.


** I will have to pay later for using a canine cultural reference in a piece, I hope you all know the lengths I go to and the risks I take in the name of art, and specifically for you, gentle reader.