In the Very Merry Month of May
_Toonces, the Driving Cat, the Cat Who Could Drive a Car
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All the worst stories begin with the description of a breeze, and this day was particularly breezy, so this story will be particularly bad. The wind was brisk, rustling the leaves and cooling the foreheads of park goers who had come to populate the city oasis that particular autumn day. Autumn, spring, summer, winter... all the seasons have six letters in their names. Were you aware? You are now. Coincidence? Yes, probably. Still, though...
Concentrate, concentrate... ok, ok. It was a nice day. It was a beautiful day. People were out. People wouldn't be out if it wasn't beautiful. Not this many people, at least. Not people jogging, definitely nobody picnicking, and definitely nobody sitting on a bench with a stack of books and a pencil tucked in his ears. I can say somebody's doing that because, clearly, as I will illustrate, a college aged cat-fellow was doing it. He had picked only the best traits of the nerd stereotype. The thin, stringy body. The wire frame glasses set upon his small nose that twitched as if the glasses never stopped itching. He always had a pocket electronic dictionary with him. Don't think that's sexy? We can't be friends.
He knew what he was doing. He was an educated little kitty-cat. He was well versed with the library's filing system and could honestly, actually, critique an academic review of a novel. He had a favorite Russian translator for his Dostoevskies and Tolstoys. Seriously. If this one guy didn't translate it, he wouldn't buy it. A little too picky, I would say, but hey, the guy's smarter than I am so I won't question him too much.
In all his life, he had misused apostrophes three times. Ever. When he was four.
He was a smart guy. As much just has to be understood. In fact, he was reading a particularly thrilling scientific journal (quasars, so fucking awesome) when he, and how could he not, saw in the corner of his eye a package jostling about inside snug spandex shorts. Shorts that truly justified their name. Anyone who cared to look, and many elderly people and young children did, could clearly see two meaty balls bouncing back and forth in rhythm with the dog's jogging pace. Even at a distance the feline could see the sheath's outline. He was interested by this out of a unique curiosity not wholly situated in attraction (because he was not gay). But, oh how thing did change when the dog passed. The cats eyes fixated immediately on the doggy ass, hugged tight by the shorts, the glutinous hunks of muscle bobbing up and down with every step. The cheeks were full, not fat, but threatened to tear out of the strained fabric at any moment. The already unmodest shorts had ridden up, exposing just a hint of the light brown cheeks under the peppy tail.
Concentrate, concentrate... the cat turned himself back to his studies, because studies are important, and he's not gay, he's not gay, no no no no he's not in any way gay at all. The only reason we couldn't take his eyes off that luscious ass was because, well, women have asses too. So not gay. Quasars. Read about Quasars. How could anyone who reads about quasars be gay? His white paws searched the journal as his eyes scanned the pages. He took his mind off the round, wonderful ass and the big bouncing balls. Wasn't thinking about them at all.
I mean, except for when the dog would circle back around the park again, when the journal would again go ignored so the cat could take another long, hard look. Each time the sweat was a little thicker on the dog's brown fur, and the spandex become a little more like a window. By the fifth time around, not that he was counting, the dog's athletic body was dripping. He wasn't bulky, though his muscles were toned from countless hours of physical activity. They looked hard, but didn't bulge out of the skin. The only big thing on him and the only soft-looking thing on him was his butt, which under the soaked white fabric could be seen more clearly than ever. The cheeks curved so gently, so generously, and the cat was lost in the way they jiggled only slightly when a paw hit the ground, the way a small bead of sweat would sometimes fly off of them, the way the shorts seemed to be tailored perfectly to display the magnificent perky cheeks, the way they shook when he tripped over his shoes and fell to the pavement, the way...
Oh.
Oh, uh...
Somebody should do something...
He looks hurt... where'd everybody go? Is no one going to help him?
He'd help him but he's not gay.
Wait... It's not gay to help people.
Sooooooo...
The cat put the journal down and ran to the dog's side to administer some excellent first aid. He was honestly a little flustered to be touching the dog's body, feeling the ankles for swelling, cleaning the scratches... everything cleared, he put his paws around the dog's chest (a wholly unnecessary action) to help him up. I'd tell you what he tried to say to the dog, but you've never seen someone stammer quite so much. Eventually the cat had to settle to pronounce at least the pauses in his sentences correctly, and the dog laughed and flashed a smile nerds typically only see on bullies. The dog was decidedly more confident, enunciating every syllable of the question, "Cat got your tongue, kitty?" He moved closer to the cat, who wasn't gay despite what his Google search history says, and as such took small steps back... but not enough to prevent the dog from getting closer as he lurched. The cat was a speech teacher's nightmare, a blushing mess of nerves and a trembling jaw as the dog stepped further into his personal space. The cat had to keep stepping back, as he wasn't gay, no matter what his ninth grade summer camp might have testified against him... he found himself against a tree. No escape.
Something about the glasses, the small frame of his body, the buttoned shirt with the pens tucked safely in the pocket... it reminded the dog of high school, when he used to be the only person to peek into advanced math classes and pant to himself. People fantasize about jocks, but true jocks know what drooling idiots most other jocks are, and for an athletic guy who find nothing sexier than a sharp mind with a sharp pencil... he had stumbled across a wet dream.
The dog had his blushing, muttering prey pinned, and he attacked... with a simple lick to the grey-red fur on the kitty's cheek. The cat melted on his tongue like cotton candy, then sprang up with a kiss that caught the dog by surprise with its veracity, pushing him backwards as the kitty's arms trapped him in a lusty hug. He wrapped their legs together and held the dog still with a firm grip on the ass, kneading the mushy buns in his fingers as he slurped at the dog's muzzle. Years of repression poured out through his lips and the dog was seemingly unprepared for it, forced backwards until their legs tangled and he tripped, landing on his back with the cat following him to the grass, not missing a beat as he slurped and sucked at the dog's lips more, his glasses crooked and fogged, his paws searching every inch of the slender, strong body. The dog had to hold the cat the bay for a moment, recompose himself, then roll over so that he had the advantage, now returning the enthusiasm and he pressed his muzzle into the cat's, sneaked a paw up the buttoned shirt and felt the thin body heaving in passion.
Children watched.
It really wasn't appropriate.
The dog was suddenly aware that what they were doing was horribly inappropriate. He dragged the amorous cat behind a curtain of trees to a small empty clearing. They continued.
The dog slipped the cat's pants off and exposed two perky cheeks. They were a little big for his frail body, and dimpled near the top, though mostly they were just average cheeks, squeezed by a tight pair of briefs. Which is hot, too, don't get me wrong, you don't have to have a big butt to be sexy... I mean, with the cat lying in his stomach, the small body seemed so graceful and alluring. The dog had to grab the cat's tail to keep it steady, and then after pulling the undies down to the cat's knees he dipped his tongue into the tight virgin hole. The feline's toes curled and his body shook as he his breathing became short and quick, gasps of resounding bliss from the slippery tongue in his rear. The dog went slowly at first, only darting the tongue shallowly in and out with quick motions, lapping at the hole and painting it with with a sheen coat of saliva. When he buried more of his long tongue between the cheeks the cat's body jerked and quaked like bursts of electricity were going through him. He meowed shrilly and passionately, and a mile away this was mistaken for the call of a rare bird. A mile in the other direction, a wine glass shattered.
Cleanliness is next to Godliness, for cats especially, and the Dog thanked furry God (who is an otter) that this was so. His tongue curled deep inside the tight hole. His tank top caught a few dribbles of drool, and his snug spandex shorts had become remarkably more cramped. He had to relieve the pressure. He unzipped his shorts, lowed them so that his underwear was exposed. He was wearing a silk pair of shorts that stretched to cover his hard member, which he pulled out, then slipped the eastic under his balls. The pants and silk undies were only lowered, still on his thighs, so that his dick and balls hung out and the top half of his ass was visible now.
He flipped the cat over, knocking the pencil out of his ear, and kneeled over the effete body, his cock pressing against the cat's nose and his balls resting on the lenses of the wireframe glasses. He pulled the legs toward him, bending the cat's body so that his ass was high in the air, then buried his tongue in it again. Pre dripped from both cocks, staining the wrinkled, buttoned shirt.
Soon the nerdy feline took to his instincts, licking the rod in front of him with his raspy tongue. He traced the bottom of the shaft, wetting it with his spit. He found a spot just below where the dog's head met his shaft that made the muscular fellow shake in pleasure, and he teased it with the top of his tongue. He took one of the balls in his mouth and indulged himself in licking the sack clean of sweat. This was a new pleasure for the dog who moaned into the cat's ass as he slurped and smacked his lips at the hole, his tongue twisting and rolling inside the rear. He spread the cheeks apart to sink deeper in, all the while the grey tail slunk happily back and forth, brushing against his nose.
Our bookish little protagonist finally took the head in his lips, creating a tight seal around it as his tongue revolved around the tender head, the rough texture of it filling the dog with incredible delight. The dog's wet balls slapped against the cat's face as he sucked the stiff rod. It slipped back into his throat and pressed against the back wall. Despite it being his first time he was sucking like a pro, even though he was only a little gay, if the right person came along. His throat vibrated against the head as he was unable hold in moans of pleasure at the the dog's probing tongue.
All good things must come to an end, and this rimjob was no exception. But like most good things' endings, that ending was going to involve getting fucked. The dog gave the cat a last lustful lick and a soft slap. He flipped his little bookworm over again, who was still dressed except for the pants around his knees. He rubbed his shaft against the cat's slick hole, pants encumbering him slightly but left on in case a wandering parkgoer necessitated a quick escape. Slowly, with surgical precision, he split it open to accommodate his prick. The pucker opened slowly to a low, concerned whimper. The cat gritted his teeth and grabbed clumps of grass in his paws. Pens tumbled out of his shirt pocket. The dog advanced slowly, his thick member curving ever gently into the cat's lining. He couldn't restrain a loud moan as the stretched hole enveloped his cock. Both tails went at a frenzy as the dog finally buried his full length inside. Emotions fought for supremacy inside the cat's confused head, with All good things must come to an end, and this rimjob was no exception. Also like the endings of most other good things, this ending was going to involve getting fucked. The dog flipped the cat over again, the back of his shirt muddy and his balance as he tried to stand on all four affected by the pants around the knees. The jogger rubbed his shaft against the nerd's exhilaration and lust beating back the forces of shame and discomfort.
The dog grabbed the belt still looped inside the cat's pants, using it as a handle, and started to thrust, slowly pulling the cat toward him with each slow push. Faint grunts and determined groans rose from the cat's throat, who was determined to make his first time a memorable one. Or, at least, more memorable than any sex, good or bad, first or last, that takes place in a public park inherently is. Put simply, he hadn't felt this liberated since half the football team dropped out junior year. The dog's undies had slipped lower so that the elastic was now caught beneath his cheeks, resting in the groove between ass and thighs. The cat's buckle flopped around making a clicking sound and assorted change, keys, and a flash drive jingled against the dictionary in his pocket with each thrush. The various fabrics made for a keen disguise and a handy escape should anyone spy, but mostly, the two were simply too anxious to even take off their shoes first.
Soon, the cat was meeting the dog's thrusts, leaning back into each hump with fervor. The dog spread the cat's cheeks to thrust deeper, biting his lip trying to hold off with the hole squeezing his cock firmly. The cat felt shocks of pleasure from spots inside him he never knew he had. With every few thrusts the dog would hit the cat's wall, and the grey tabby would yelp and arch his back, then lean back into the thrusts again, looking for the jolt until it came once more. Concentrate, concentrate. OHH! There it was again! Such a sharp pain that melted so quickly into an incomprehensible pleasure that begged to be uncovered again.
Need more, need more. Paws gripped his shoulder and thrusts became harder, quicker, the dog's balls slapped against the cat's and his cock leaked pre like a fountain. The dog groaned loudly, bit his lip, shut his eyes, and pounded forcefully. He seemed unable to temper his exaltations, which carried through the park and got the attention of the parkgoers. He gasped, sunk his cock deep inside the before untarnished ass, slowed down, and stopped. He rested on the cat's back, breathing heavily. He pulled out, wincing as his sensitive head leaked remnants of the seed he had just planted.
That can't be all. The cat turned around and watched the dog sit back to catch his breath. Oh no, that can't be the end at all. He kicked off his pants, straightened his shirt, then shoved the dog onto his back, and despite the dog's pleas that his cock was too sensitive after an orgasm, took it in his paw and sat down, impaling himself on the long rod. The dog's face contorted and he gasped as the cat rode him, stroking his cock with maddening fury as the dog's body beneath him shook and quivered, panting as the sensitive member was overloaded. The dog couldn't tell pain from pleasure, but the cat knew for damn certain that at least he was enjoying it. In this position the dog's curve grazed against his prostate, and each penetration sent a wave through him. He'd cry out in joy when he'd hit his wall and get the sublime jolt he craved.
The dog was the one grabbing pawfuls of grass now, his body seemingly dealing with more stimulus than it could process. His tender head was beaten against the cat's insides, hot with bloodflow and bright red now if anyone could have seen it. The cat's balls bounced on his stomach. His glasses dangled crooked on the tip of his nose. His small body shaking with every inch in and out of it. In a euphoria, the dog's body spasmed and shook as the cat's tight ass coaxed a dry orgasm out of the beaten cock. The throbbing proved too much for the kitty himself, who unloaded with impassioned shouts and grunts all over the dog's tank top. Thick, thick jets of cum, as if it had all been waiting for the poor guy to finally give in to his denied desires. And after this apex, this finale, the cat could only collapse in a heap on top of the dog. He dreamed of quasars.
He came to still on the half-dressed dog's body. His shirt was soaked in sweat, and his pants had gone to a better place. Had to get back to the dorm to study. What to do? Concentrate, concentrate... who gives a damn? He went back to sleep on the dog's body. He dreamed of dicks this time.