Hello all -
My lady friend arrived on schedule late last night. I think she could
tell I was feeling badly about something. After she had dropped her
bags at the door, she asked me if something was wrong.
I didn't want to tell her about the kitten. I was so ashamed that I had
let her down so. But she is a kind sort, and put her arms around me as
I began to sob. I became lost in the intoxicating scent of her hair and
the graceful curve of her body.
I stammered "it's just.. that I haven't stopped thinking... about
grinding your pussy for the last few days."
Then everything went and got ballsed up. Her hand flew to her purse,
and back again, whereupon she promptly maced my eyes and kicked me in
the bollocks. My world became white light, and I crashed to the ground.
Then she stomped me in the teeth as I thrashed around holding my
The last I remember was being dragged out into the front yard by one
ankle and left in my driveway.
I never thought that she would take the death of her kitten so badly.
I've got to make it up to her. I may take my acoustic guitar and go to
her window tonight. The power of song can't bring back her kitten, but
a nice slow rendition of The Diviynls "I Touch Myself" may make her
feel a bit better.
I will let all of you know how it turned out. For now, though, my
scrote is killing me. I am going to soak in the tub.