Kagenou
Why you little ......
My fingers rejected the cooking-knife - extending to the vegetables - after shuddering uncontrollably in molten rage and emotions.
The mature feline responsible took a prolonged graceful sip from her glass. Probably - or not yet - aware of the effects her hefty words had.
Flaming reflective crimson-eyes validated my ire across the glossy surfaces.
"Their interaction says it all ...." She confidently defended, craning to face me - amethyst eyes and all - while crossing robust motherly-thighs that no longer held allure or attraction to me.
It's the gin. She's already drunk isn't she ?
A part of me scoffed and nudged me to playfully agree .... make a joke about it. Anything to dissipate this upsetting atmosphere.
It was impossible. I could not.
The empty-glass clicked audibly onto the table when she finished and elegantly began stretching out - with malicious feminine sway, before twirling for me.
She managed a supportive poutish-smile, and ambled in approach - willing a lovely gloved-arm in offering.
There .... on it, sat Zeta's device.
Stolen when they exchanged parting hugs.
I weakly accepted it. Immediately noticing the unbarred icons and applications, absolutely devoid of any security or protection.
How could she stoop so low ?
"You can start with the messages." She helpfully directed, in a voice sounding monstrously like Zeta.
So I did ....-
Relief.
A breath I didn't know I was holding.
The texts were destructively well-made.
But I was familiar and intimate with all of the seven's individual diction - Zeta's especially.
She sighed and seemed sensibly annoyed when I tapped and unhesitently deleted the fabrication - resignedly rocking, and awaiting my chosen judgement.
This cat deserves a beating.
My eyes sought hers.
She boorishly waited. The former engaging actress gone.
I waited too. For a very genuine apology.
The door creaked open and gave her a fitting opportunity to flee.
She re-appeared - in what felt like a millisecond - upon the sofa, legs already pendulating. As if the ordeal had never happened or occurred.
I would have been impressed.
Her - more decent and trustworthy - half tiredly strode inside, one heel at a time. Feline ears and features drooping in exhaustion.
Poor Lilim.
You do not deserve this.
"I left my hand-held, didn't I ?" She noted, lilac eyes acknowledging her elder before blinking into mine.
The traitorous culprit didn't even look slightly remorseful.
Zeta slid off her black tie; freeing her imprisoned breasts; kicked away her daffodil heels and - I won't get tired of saying it - violently jumped me.
I ensured my balance with a well-timed backstep, clamping her waist and somehow managing to pry her down.
I espied her meaner half. Already reaching for a retributive glass of gin.
A hungry tongue punched itself into mine. A hand reaching and squeezing my scrotum - furry-tail tastefully veiling this action from our guest.
Digits slid and seized my length, ushering and tugging me up the stairs by it - whilst serving me a rounding firm view of tight-skirted globes.
I think I already ejaculated.
I woofed, and earned a deprecating sweep of her tail against my nose. And a tighter disastrous grip at my enraptured organ.
Droplets of semen gushed and grained the stairs we trodden.
I momentarily forgot all about the newly drinking woman.
