>The braided tail of her golden hair is starting to fray, but you watch her eye roam your body from head to needy erection, and that dangerous glint is still lurking in the crystal blue depths of her stare. One day you’ll figure out how a woman can cum in her pants, and three minutes later still be in complete control of a situation. Right now, you focused on the fact that she seems to be planning something and you’re might be in for more than a one-and-done situation. >She starts undoing her dress shirt, a smirk on her face as she keeps her gaze focused on your reaction. You’re too busy staring at each button as they pop free. You realize that this is the first time you’ll ever see her show some skin - er, fur. Most of the time she’s covered from head to toe; you’ve never seen her wear shorts or a t-shirt, even when the summer sun was threatening to melt concrete. >The last button comes free, and you get a teasing slit of fur peeking out from between her undone shirt. Your eyes stick to her chest and you’re partially relieved to see a plain tan bra hiding just out of sight. You’re not sure you could survive seeing black lace on white fur. Ari stands there, a raised eyebrow as if she’s waiting for something. Her shoulders relax and her shirt falls off her arms and onto the floor. >It’s a spectacle that catches your eye for a moment, watching her top hit the ground before your eyes race up back to her chest. When your surprise shows on your face, the feline in front of you only snorts. You suddenly understand why she stays so covered up. Dull pink gashes of scar tissue decorate her torso. Her arm, stomach, and even her breasts have scars defiling the white fur of her body. --- >She doesn’t seem to mind, reaching behind her back to undo the clasp of her bra as you look on slackjawed. Well, she seems to mind something. “What are you doing?” Ari asks as she peels her bra off, dropping it off to the side before resting her hands on the brim of her pants. “This isn’t a show. Get undressed.” Ten seconds ago you were certain this was a show, but the look on her face says that wasn’t a suggestion she just gave. >Kicking of your own pants in a hurry, you sit up and forward to pull of your shirt. When it comes off over your head, she’s already stepping out of her pants, underwear hooked into her thumb as she pulls the clothing down. You’ve never been one for pubic hair, but that was with humans. With Ari, you have to admit there is something kind of appealing to the neatly trimmed half diamond of golden fur resting between her legs. It was probably the contrast against the white coat that covered the rest of her body. >There are more scars on her thighs and one on her ankle, but the moment she steps out of her puddle of clothes, she looks up at you with a grin and begins strutting back to the futon. She owns the look. Anyone else would be ashamed of such a heavy collection of scars, but they’re just part of her. >Granted, this is only confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that merely interacting with this woman is shortening your life expectancy. Yet there is an appeal to the danger, as your dick has now informed you of twice now. Speaking of your lower half, you pull your pants down to your knees before kicking them off to the floor. -- >When you bought this futon off a guy on craigslist for forty bucks, you had spent another twenty renting a steam cleaner and trying your damnedest to get the odd stains out of it. Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on this thing naked had made your skin crawl, and now you were in your birthday suit, as relaxed as you could possibly let yourself be around an undressed Ariannis Labbate. >When she makes it over to you, she puts a hand on your shoulder before giving you a guiding shove down onto your back again. Whatever she has in mind doesn’t involve you sitting up it seems. While you turn over in an attempt to get comfortable, she waits for the perfect moment before straddling your waist. >She doesn’t bother giving you heads up when she pushes over your cock to sit on its length, pinning it between her now heated snatch and your stomach. Both of her hands land on your chest, and without a word she begins rolling her hips back and forth. This must be something she enjoys, because it didn’t take long for her to start biting her lips. >It’s quickly becoming something you enjoy too; the sensations of her slick femcum coating your dick as lube, her warmth pressing down along your shaft, and her soft fur brushing against your skin is something even a penny pincher like you wouldn’t mind paying for. You can’t tell if she’s trying to get you cocked lubed up for a proper fucking or if this is her way of returning the favor. It could be either one with how eagerly she’s grinding herself against your dick. -- >Her tongue starts to stick out from her mouth, the pink top of it hanging over her bottom lip as she picks up the pace. The sound coming from your crotch and hers isn’t just wet; it’s sticky. You can hear and feel the fur of her thighs having to pull itself off your skin thanks to the warm arousal drooling out of her pussy, coating your lower stomach in a thin layer of the stuff. >At this point, it’s hard to keep track of things beyond how fast she moving. She might as well be letting you screw her with how firmly she has your cock pinned down, using your own body as part of an pseudo fuck-hole. You’re not even sure when your hand found her scarred breasts, fingers squeezing and massaging the flesh and fur in your palm regardless of the long past injuries that had marred it. Your other hand had a death grip on her ass cheek, pushing and pulling her along to help with her efforts to grind your dick down until it was flat. >You weren’t even aware you were rocking back against her until you saw her smug grin as she was looking down at you. “Finally loosening up, are you?” She purred, slowing down her hips as she teased. The moment your fingers slacken their grip on her thigh, her own hand snaps down to yours. You can feel blood trickle down as claws stab into the back of your hand, but Ari hardly gives you moment to dwell on that fact. >She only smiles as you grimace through the wincing pain. Your dick is equally unconcerned about what’s happening to its usual dancing partner, since the feline sitting on top was keeping its attention. Even your most primal part of your brain is having a hard time caring about the fact that you’re bleeding because of how worked up you were feeling, and there was aching pressure building beneath your gut that told you your balls were just about ready to tap out. -- >And your fear that she’s aware of your approaching limit seems based in reality when she finds a short rhythm of sawing her hips, trying to simulate the last minute frenzy of rutting thrusts. The cyclopean woman is practically attacking your stamina directly, pushing you to edge as fast as she could take you. Before you laid your head back and submitted to her assault, you had a moment to noticed how furrowed her brow was, lips bitten in concentration. >At this point it was only a matter of time before you get off. The space between her legs and your body having now become hot enough, wet enough, and tight enough to function to fool any man this close to climax. Your reflexive squirming is kept under control by the hand on your chest, though at some point she was using that hand for balance as well. >This whole affair, Ari had been mostly silent. Excluding her purring and pants of exertion that were being mixed with your own, she hardly had said more than a handful of words. Perhaps it was that relative silence that gave her next words so much power. “Come on, cutie. Kitty wants her cream.” She mrowled, slowing down to almost a crawl as she dragged her nethers against your cock. >Immediately you started thrusting to make up for the change, both of your hands grabbing her by the waist as you drag yourself across the finish line by any means necessary. You’re not sure what Ari’s reaction to this is, since she had leaned forward and put her hands on your shoulders. Her partially scarred rack was in the way, bouncing lightly thanks to your efforts pushing her whole body. -- >When you finally cum, it feels like a burden has been lifted, and you let yourself relax as your balls begin to empty. The feline on top of you will allow for no such slack; the moment she heard your groan of relief and pleasure, her hips went into overdrive, pressing down and squeezing your length almost as if she was trying to empty a tube of toothpaste. >You’re not sure for how long or how much you came, but your balls are somehow feeling sore; Ari did her best to milk you without using her hands, and you could feel your jizz pooling on your abdomen and it’s hard to ignore the trace tickling sensation of a trail or two escaping down the side of your body. >It seems like opposite day. You had simply laid there and let her bring you to orgasm, and you’re the one exhausted. The cat who did all the heavy lifting was snickering to herself, grinning wide as she lifted herself off of the sweating human she had been using as a lurid steed for who knows how long now. You’re pretty sure there is now a permanent you-shaped dent in the futon cushion, and that you’ll never be able to get the scent of sex out of it now. >While you’re contemplating your future life with a futon that reeked of debauchery, Ari lowers herself down the couch. You’re aware of her body weight laying onto your thighs, but before you can fully pull your head up it’s sent back into the cushion with force as she squeezes one more moan out of you. >A rough tongue is rolling up from the base of your cock to the tip, and it doesn’t even make it halfway to the top before you’re covered in goosebumps and robbed of any energy you had left. Instead, you’re stuck holding onto the futon’s bars for dear life while trying to not fall off of the planet. -- >Your consciousness is only allowing for three things at the moment; the weight of your landlord laying on top of you, her tongue slowly rolling across your skin as it collects every drop of cum it can find, and the constant, almost droning, purring that is filling your ears. >She spent a little time making sure your cock head was nice and clean, before she moved on. The soft, sandpaper like texture glided over your stomach, lapping at your body multiple times to clean up the pooling seed from the weaker half of your orgasm. She even leaned to each side to catch the escaping dribbles before moving higher up your body. >Once she’s done with the sloppiest part of your climax, she puts her hands on your shoulders and drags herself up your chest. Her tongue was kept firmly planted against your skin, little barbs tugging as she chased every rope that you had let off mere moments ago. She did her best to collect each one in a single lick, only letting up to start at the base of another creamy line. >Ultimately she finishes with a dramatic lick of your collar bone. There is a triumphant exhale before she finally lays herself down on top of you completely, her foot idly wrapping around one of your legs while her tail flicks in the air. You feel her nose press against your cheek, nuzzling it before planting a kiss. “Getting pretty dark, stud, and your Cinderella here has an appointment she needs to shower for now. You got a clock in here?” >At the moment, you’re borderline comatose and too overstimulated to remember what a “clock” is.