When he sank deep into his large recliner, she gracefully took up her postin his lap purring softly to assure him that all was well.From the moment they found each other she knew that this one wasdifferent. Her distant ancestors from Temples of The Queen of Cats wouldhave recognized him, as did she, as one bearing the Gifts of The Lady.Sometimes a cat is just a cat, except when she's not. The Queen chooseswho wakes and who sleeps. Boots, as she was to be called by The One,wondered if the reason The Queen of Cats woke her, was because of TheLady's Gifts he bore.Precious indeed were her Gifts, and Boots wondered why this male had them.As a male he was unable use those wondrous legacies meant to enrich thelives of others. She had considered that perhaps in this one's last lifehe might have done some terrible wrong and was being chained to this maleclay as his punishment on this turn of the wheel.Boots discarded that notion for while fate might condemn such a one to alower form to learn a. Castor had learned early on in their affair that Roger either wouldn’t go down on his wife or he simply did a lousy job of it. Not that he minded. Gina had a sweet-tasting pussy with fur she kept neatly trimmed into a nice black triangle. She never had to ask him twice. He pressed his skin against her warm body, smelling the slight musk of her night time sweat lingering in the bed. Her hands reached around his head as he kissed the side of her neck and she pushed him down. Following her lead he kissed his way down her body, pausing briefly to suck on one nipple, then to circle his tongue around her belly button, then down to the musky sweetness that emanated from between her legs. With her thighs parted and knees bent, access to her pussy was easy. She was already wet, maybe with desire, maybe she had been masturbating while waiting for him. Dragging his tongue across her tight black curls, Castor tickled her clit, then slipped down to her wide open pussy. Gina sighed as his tongue.
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