The Cat

A small, sleek black cat jumped up on the window ledge and entered the bathroom through the open window.  Delicately, it picked its way over the sink and down onto the tiled floor.  There it sat, its dainty nostrils testing the air, picking out the tiniest of noises.

It made up its mind.  Silently it padded through the corridor and stopped in front of a door.  The door was closed.  The cat pressed its nose to the crack under the door and sniffed for a while, as if confirming what it already knew.

Finally, the cat sat back and stared, tilting its head on way and another.  Its hind legs bunched underneath, its entire body coiling like a spring.  Its leap was powerful, graceful and precise.  The cat hung off the door handle, its weight pulling the door handle down.  A tiny click signified that the cat was successful in its purpose.

There was a bed on the far side of the room.  A man was sleeping in it, sheets crumpled around his waist, exposing his naked upper torso, arms by his side.

The cat ran quickly across the room and jumped onto the bed.  It walked towards the man's head and sat there, watching the man's face intently.  He was young, no older then twenty-four, his face relaxed and beautiful, his hair tousled on the pillow.  The cat put its face next to his.

Tom has a disturbingly realistic dream.

A woman was sitting in his bed, watching him.  He reached over and turned on the bedside lamp.

His breath caught in his throat.  Never in his life had he seen a woman so beautiful!  Her long, smooth hair was jet-black, her eyes green and luminous like emeralds.  They were large, almost  too large for her face, tinlted at the outer edges and framed by sooty lashes.  Her cheekbones were high and exotic, nose straight, lips full.

Tom was so captivated by the woman's face that it took him a few minutes to realise she was completely naked.  She was small, but perfectly proportioned, her limbs long and delicate.  Her body was smooth and sleek, but it gave an impression of strength and power.  There was something very unnerving about her unblinking stare.  It pentrated Tom, exposed him like an open book.

He reached to touch her hair, wondering if it was a silky-soft as it appeared.  She recoiled so fast that for a moment Tom wasn't sure if she really moved at all.  One moment she was so close, the next out of reach.  There was no fear in her, just wariness.  He held his hand out to her, and she did something strange: she sniffed his fingers first, and then touched them gently with her lips.  She gently took his forefinger between her lips, lightly touched it with her tongue and finally nibbled on it.  Tom felt tingling, like electricity, spread through his body.

The woman moved slowly alongside him, pressing her body against his and nuzzling her face against his throat.  There was something feline about her movements.

Feline or not, the woman's movements excited him.  The muscles moved sensuously under her creamy, soft skin and her touch continuously sent shivers down his spine.  There was nothing rushed or ungainly about her.

Tom ran his hand down her back, and she stretched sinuously, arching her body to his touch.  He couldn't believe how smooth and pliable her sking was, or how strong and powerful were the muscles underneath it.

Tom put his hand on the back of her head and drew her towards him.  Her hair was as silky as he imagined it to be.  Softly, he placed his parted lips against hers, and she quickly pulled back, wary again.  Tom was confused, but willing to wait and see what she was going to do.

The woman seemed to have made up her mind.  She approached him again and mimicked his kiss.  For a moment she just brushed his lips with hers, but then she started experimenting with her tongue, its tip flickering gently, exploring his lips, then his teeth, and finally, his own tongue.  Each flicker of her tongue sent shockwaves of sensation through Tom's body.  He trembled with desire and waited for her to proceed further.

Tom couldn't believe how much his efforts to restrain himself heightened his senses.  He was aware of every point at which their bodies touched, every breath of hers that tickled his own face, every twitch of her muscles.

The woman started to kiss and lick his neck and chest playfully, gently scratching his sides.  It was all too much!  Tom knew he couldn't stay still any longer, and she must have read his mind.  She climbed on top of him, pressing and rubbing herself up and down his body.  Finally, she sat up and manoeuvred his hard, aching cock into herself, moving, rocking, swaying her hips.  He was lying underneath her, even now not daring to touch her, a willing slave to her passion.

The only indication that she came was when she arched her back and closed her eyes, her soft, moist lips parting.  Not th etiniest noise escaped her even then.  Her fingers dug deeply into his shoulders, and Tom felt he was finally permitted to come.  The force of his orgasm left him drained ,helpless, exhausted.  The last thing he knew, before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep, was the feeling of loss as she moved away from him.

The little black cat jumped out of the open bathroom window.  It looked around and, satisfied that it was safe, sat down in the moonlit patch of grass and started daintily washing its face with its paw.