Chapter 5

I’ll be a Very Obedient Pussycat for You

Elenora slept the sleep of angels. I tried to fall asleep too by spooning against her back side and nuzzling my finally relaxed penis in the crease of her nicely rounded ass. In this nice position I was also able to cup her breast in my left palm. “When you do it, when you shoot your semen all over my chest, my boobs will no longer be mine, they’ll be yours, my friend.” I kept thinking about what she said and how wonderfully soothing it felt to have a handful of a woman’s breast in my palm at night. I squeezed her flesh ever so slightly, admiring the succulent, puffy nipples ringed so beautifully by her light brown areolas. I could stare at them forever. Smelling the back of her neck between the locks of her hair, a musky, intoxicating scent of earth and flowers and sex filled my nostrils. I wondered if she swallowed my semen before falling asleep or let it slowly dissolve in her mouth like a hard candy or piece of chocolate. I liked the fact she didn’t swallow it right away, but savored it between her luscious pink tongue and pretty, pouting red lips, relishing the taste. I was proud, actually honored, that it was my seminal fluid, mine, oozing down the back of her throat while she drifted off to sleep. I must say I appreciated and respected her all the more for giving the gift of this experience to me. Was it love blossoming in my heart? Could Elenora ever have feelings for me? Only time would tell. Shutting my eyes, I tried to sleep but couldn’t, my mind filled with guilty, dirty, sexy thoughts. I imagined her voice, piercing the silence of the night. “I bet you have a lot of nice creamy semen you’ve been saving up for someone just like me.” Where did I leave the melatonin? Slipping out of bed in the dark without waking her, I put on my old bathrobe and plodded out of the room, feeling for the walls and handle of the door knob like a blind man.

By some miracle I reached the bathroom without tripping over anything and banging my knee or shin. When I turned on the light, reality hit like a lightning bolt from the heavens. The person staring back in the mirror looked unrecognizable to me. My hair was a tangled mess. I sported a three day’s growth of primate fuzz on my face. The whites of my eyes turned a conjunctivitis red. Tilting my chin up, I saw my nose was filled with disgusting, ugly little black hairs, just like a boar’s nostrils, pointing this way and that without meaning or purpose. My open bathrobe, with its fraying lion’s tail of a sash trailing behind, revealed a drained, dangling ball sack hanging low upon my thigh, like a turkey’s snood, a vulture’s wattle. Is this the man I had become, depraved, gripped by the demon of lust? I had to stop my life from spinning out of control. Sleep. Sleep is what I needed. Grabbing the melatonin with shaking hands, I immediately popped two in my mouth. I swallowed them with a handful of metallic-tasting tap water and hoped for the best. Rather than going back to bed and tossing and turning next to my Goddess, I grabbed an extra blanket and pillow from the storage closet and tried to get comfortable on the old lumpy couch in the living room.

Still restless and unable to sleep, I got up and wandered through the dark, silent, ghostly corridors of the church. Soon I found myself on the steps leading up to the alter where I preached from every Sunday, directly below the statue of Jesus, his hands held out to bless the empty congregation. Overcome with a feeling of guilt and remorse, I dropped to my knees at the feet of Jesus to pray. But instead of praying or just sitting in silence, the words of Aphrodite came to mind. “Get the spoon. Feed me, darling. Hurry! I don’t want to waste a precious drop.”

Resting my brow against the cool stone feet of the statue, the melatonin finally kicked in and I stumbled back to my quarters.

I awoke on the couch after only a few hours, groggy, my heart racing. Overcome with panic that Elenora slipped away in the night, I rolled off the couch, knocking my elbow painfully against the coffee table, and burst into the bedroom. She was still there, thank God, blissfully asleep. I took a deep breath, shut the door softly, and made a pot of coffee. I may have dozed off once or twice on the couch for a few minutes, but the second cup of coffee did the trick and I was able to stay awake and stand guard over her.

Before I became completely unwound, I had to come up with a plan. I decided to pretend nothing unusual had happened between us last night. In the light of day, I summoned my self-control and made a vow to reign in my animal instincts and hold myself to a higher standard. I took a quick shower, shaved and dressed in a clean white shirt, tie, jacket, pressed trousers and black leather shoes. Then I went into the kitchen, opened a can of soup and heated it up on the small stove. I heard her stirring and brought the bowl to her as she sat up in bed. My penis was tucked so tightly in my trousers that the sight of her lovely breasts did not enflame my desire.

“Good morning,” I said, holding the tray.

She stretched, her breasts growing larger as she moved her arms over her head, her nipples pointing directly at my eyes, as if watching me. How I loved to stare at her nude body, the apple from the Tree of the Knowledge, ripe for another plucking. I took a breath to calm my heart. I kept telling myself, don’t look at her breasts, don’t look at her breasts. I set the tray down and sat discretely on the edge of the bed.

“What time is it?”

“Around noon. You slept a long time.”

“It was so restful here, Pastor. That’s the best I’ve slept in days. Thank you.”

“I think your fever broke. You look much better.”

“I suppose I didn’t have the virus, after all. My only symptoms were a mild headache, a slight fever and the uncontrollable need to masturbate.”

I shut my eyes and forced a chuckle, trying to erase the memory of the white substance oozing out of her vagina. Don’t look at her breasts. Don’t look at her breasts.

“You clean up nice, Pastor.”

“Oh, yes. I’m trying to look presentable.”

“You look a lot younger today. How old are you? 31?”

“33.”

“I’m 28. OK, 29. It’s nice being with a man closer to my own age. I’m usually a magnet for perverted old men and drug dealers, not men of the cloth. Especially not a young man like you.”

I smiled inside, trying not to reveal how happy her compliment made me feel.

“Well, I think everyone has aged a year because of this terrible virus.”

“And you’re so… well-dressed. I like a man in a suit. It’s a sexy look for you.”

Suddenly, the Goddess made a very realistic meowing sound, bared her claws and turned into this extraordinary feline creature before my eyes. It was a stunning transformation. Making her hands into fists and turning them inward, she placed them under her chin like paws and stared at me. Without breaking eye contact, she began to slowly lick her tongue over the outside of her wrists and hands. I watched her imitate the behavior of a cat, riveted. Perhaps I had a strange look in my eye, for she tried to comfort me as she licked her skin and rubbed her hands on the sides of her face just like a cat cleans itself.

“Don’t worry, Pastor. I need my costume and tail to fully enter my kitten space. I’m not going to scratch or bite you, so don’t be afraid. I just want to show you I can be a very nice affectionate kitten, once you get to know me. You’re a pretty kinky man, I think. You might like it. Do you want to pet my fur? It’s very soft.”

Moving close, she gently nuzzled the side of my arm with her cheek, looking up at me with sad and hungry eyes as if she wanted her nightly bowl of cream. It stirred something deep inside me, a longing to take care of her and treat her as my human kitten. Unable to resist, I petted her several times, cupping her plump breasts in my hand and stroking my fingers through her pretty hair from the top of her head, over her shoulder and down her back. She purred in response, continuing to rub her cheek against me. Her eyes were shut and her voice was altered. She began to have difficulty talking.