A few months ago, we found a kitten on the side of the road. He was skin and bones and scruffy. Tall and long for his age. Hardly had a tooth to speak of in his mouth. We were barely scraping by feeding ourselves and the animals we had but he let me pick him up. I at least wanted to bring him home, give him a meal and then get him to a shelter.

At first M said no. What if he belonged to someone else? But the little guy purred in my arms from the second I picked him up. He stared up at us both with big, inquisitive, still mostly blue eyes and batted at my nose. I almost cried when I put him down.

He followed us half a block before I became determined to hold my ground and convince M somehow that we needed to bring this baby home. And all it took was a lick on M’s fingers. Wish it was that easy for me to change His mind. (Okay, no I don’t.)

The cat has been dubbed Bash, which is short for “Headbash”, which is what I called him all the time when we brought him home because he likes to climb up your chest and bash his forehead into yours to say hello.

Yesterday, he started regularly playing fetch. He’d do it a little before, but we just bought him a new ball that’s easier for him to carry in his mouth. Every few hours, he’ll carry the ball to me to throw for him, and then bring it back. Which is super awesome except… He did it all. night. long. Every few hours, he’d kick the ball under the bedroom door and meow until one or both of us woke up, all “Playing fetch made you laugh! Laughing’s more fun than sleeping! Come play with me!”

M was annoyed. Me? I’m not seeing the problem. I mean, we got some kick-ass morning sex out of the deal.

I got up and played with the cat just long enough for him to get bored with me and occupy himself, then crawled back into bed. M rolled over and snuggled his face in my boobies, and we cuddled for awhile while He bit and sucked my nipples. Then M pushed my thighs apart and slipped His fingers between my lips and started working my clit.

Oh. My. God.

His mouth found mine and he pushed His tongue inside. His fingers followed his tongue, plunging inside my pussy, exploring, thrusting. I gasped, mouth open wide, and He covered my mouth with His and pushed His tongue in again. Then He almost effortlessly rolled me on top of Him and slid inside me.

There was nothing kinky about it. No real S or M. Just a man and his dirty slut wife straight sexin’ in their bed first thing in the morning.

And then I stopped moving. My body that is. My pussy was hard at work. I tightened and released the muscles, tightened and released, until M was groaning and shuddering with the intensity of His orgasm. And I smiled. I always do when He comes. There’s nothing hotter to me than watching the pleasure I’ve caused work its way over His body and face. The wrinkle in His forehead. The grimace on His lips.

When He was finished, He shoved me off and told me to get myself off. And there I lay with my legs spread and my fingers on my clit, getting myself off with our combined fluids.

Writing about it is making me horny. Sitting here, I can smell myself, my wetness. Excuse me while I go try to seduce a repeat out of my man over lunch.