SumLightCat
Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 14, 2009
- Posts
- 76
I came across this fragment somewhere and thought someone might get some fun out of reading it, I wonder how it ends, but truly do not know. The strange things a person comes across while cleaning a computer, I suppose. 
Have you ever come across stuff like that?
Dear Reader,
I surely have not written for a while, but it has not been the drugs’ fault. The fault lies entirely at my door, for how else could a month have elapsed in a day’s worth of events? No, it could not have been the drugs. But I will have you know that all I write is true and verbatim, flawlessly mirroring the strange events of this last unending day.
It all began with the cat, the black cat. Small but quite cat-shaped, the black cat began his or her morning on the back seat of my car. I truly did not check the cat’s sex, but I am sure you, dear Reader, will forgive me my lack of attention on this one small point. I awoke in my car with a stiff neck, mouth that felt like I had smoked far more than the two cigarettes I assure you is all I smoked, nose blocked by a good night’s worth of dust and eyes reddened by that same dust. At first I was not sure what had caused me to awaken from my well-earned rest, but the cat’s insistent meowing and clawing slowly made me realize the source of my disturbance.
I do not know how the cat got there, but first I thought he wanted me to let him or her out. Perhaps to relieve itself (I guess it’s better I refer to the cat as it, rather than him or her, for I do tire of writing ors and eithers). I opened the door and a pile of wet snow fell on my arm, while the cat shied away, obviously averse to the snow and perhaps also to the idea of bowel relief. After it pointed to it’s mouth several times, I realized it was perhaps hungry, but I had no cans of tuna in the car. I put on my jacket, coughed once or twice and set about looking for a way to get the cat some food. Obviously no food was forthcoming in the car so I made to set off, but the cat set to meowing and howling so vociferously I understood it would be quite impossible to leave it behind.
First I tried to carry it by holding it under it’s forelimbs, making it stretch like a black fluff slinky, but it’s protests and weight made me give up on this idea and look for alternatives. Finally I found a large plastic bag, which seemed like it could carry the cat. I put in a cardboard shoebox and then the cat on the shoebox, so it wouldn’t feel trapped inside the plastic bag. It seemed comfortable that way and purred to let me know I could set off for the fishmonger.
Heavy plastic bag in hand I walked through the heavy, slippery snow, trying to make out where the fishmonger could be. I wasn’t quite sure where I was and quickly realized old Walter’s fish and chip shop wasn’t going to be my destination today, even if I was in the same town of T— as yesterday evening, in all the snow I wasn’t going to find my way. However, the cat seemed to have a better sense of direction than I, so I submitted to it’s yowls and gentle scratching and wandered where it led me from inside it’s shoebox.
A half hour later I stopped to refresh myself with a drop of bitter before entering the store the cat had found. It seemed a fairly innocuous place, dear Reader, the kind you would pass by without a second thought fifteen dozen times a day, if you felt like walking that long, that is. The cat seemed quite adamant and though I squinted, I could not quite make out the store name. I put down this fact not to any defect in my eyesight, but rather to the poor legibility of the snow-covered storesign. You may be assured, as you read this text, that I saw everything that I will recount with utter and absolute clarity.
I stepped inside and a car freshener odor assaulted me, obviously to hide the smell of fish, for indeed there was a large lobster and shrimp tank to one side. The cat howled, so I let it out of its bag, and it made it’s way to the back of the store like it owned the place. I thought it better not to annoy the cat, so I merely followed behind the counter and past the bank of refrigerators. There on the green tiles was a small bowl with the name Whiskers on it and the cat set to eating. Obviously I had brought it to the right place, when a leg caught my attention. It was a fine example of a human leg, slender but not anorexic like you see in the girlie magazines for teens, and it slotted into a strappy black shoe at one end and a red short skirt at the other. I caught myself staring and looked up guiltily, but she seemed to take it in stride and flashed me a quick smile between lavender tinted lips. Why would anyone tint their lips lavender, I wondered, for surely burgundy would be a better match for her dark brown eyes. She broke my train of thought then.
“Hello L—, you took your time bringing Kitty home, didn’t you?”
“Umm,” I fear to admit it Reader, but my mind scrabbled like a panicked beetle trying to find something to latch onto while thinking about how her left ear looked like a little pink mouse hiding behind her black locks, “I came as quickly as I could, my Dear, as quickly as I … umm … could.”
She smiled, winked then reached out and trailed her polished nails down the front of my woolen sweater. Lavender nails. Why not a nice simple red? Or dark blue, sapphire? I hate lavender, but I digress, dear Reader. The owner of that fine leg that had caught my eye first was wrinkling her nose, and I admit, the pall of smoke hanging around me may have been a bit heavier than two cigarettes. Perhaps there were three.
“Yes, it could be worse, couldn’t it? Well, at least he’s home now. I guess that means you accept the audience. Go through the black door and don’t forget to clean yourself up a bit.”
“The black … oh, right. Through there?” I said, babbling slightly. Even the cat looked at me in annoyance.
I made off for the black door before catching another look. Such fine legs shouldn’t be giving such looks, I thought, as I opened the old brass door handle and went through. The small washroom had two doors, the black one I had entered, and another black one in the opposite end. I took off my leather jacket and sweater, thought about shaving but realized the three-day beard would have to try and pass for manly-if-scraggly instead. I washed up, lathered and pulled on my jeans and shirt again. The rest of my clothes I put away in the rather generic closet.
I hesitated with my hand on the second door handle, wondering what I should be thinking, but dear Reader, the past endless day had been strange enough and I did not feel like thinking twice about a smiling woman letting me clean myself up, so I opened the door towards myself. Beyond heavy drapes obscured a narrow corridor, the floor was carpeted and soft. Everything was a suffocating quantity of black fuzz, like walking inside a narrow tunnel entirely carpeted in black cat fur. Something white caught my eye through the drapes and I walked towards it, when I saw it up closer, my breath caught for a moment.
If before I have been slightly lyrical about a female leg, dear Reader, this time I came upon an entire female hindquarters. Emerging as from a womb, the whole back end and legs of a beautiful, pale, smooth female form was kneeling on a footstool. Perhaps you are acquainted with that rather perverse entertainment known as the glory hole, well this was similar, save that an entire female from the waist down was displayed for perusal. The female on display was also naked.
There was no more, but perhaps it could be turned into a bit of a story for Literotica, perhaps not. I'm not sure, I'm probably not the right person to write it up though.
Have you ever come across stuff like that?Dear Reader,
I surely have not written for a while, but it has not been the drugs’ fault. The fault lies entirely at my door, for how else could a month have elapsed in a day’s worth of events? No, it could not have been the drugs. But I will have you know that all I write is true and verbatim, flawlessly mirroring the strange events of this last unending day.
It all began with the cat, the black cat. Small but quite cat-shaped, the black cat began his or her morning on the back seat of my car. I truly did not check the cat’s sex, but I am sure you, dear Reader, will forgive me my lack of attention on this one small point. I awoke in my car with a stiff neck, mouth that felt like I had smoked far more than the two cigarettes I assure you is all I smoked, nose blocked by a good night’s worth of dust and eyes reddened by that same dust. At first I was not sure what had caused me to awaken from my well-earned rest, but the cat’s insistent meowing and clawing slowly made me realize the source of my disturbance.
I do not know how the cat got there, but first I thought he wanted me to let him or her out. Perhaps to relieve itself (I guess it’s better I refer to the cat as it, rather than him or her, for I do tire of writing ors and eithers). I opened the door and a pile of wet snow fell on my arm, while the cat shied away, obviously averse to the snow and perhaps also to the idea of bowel relief. After it pointed to it’s mouth several times, I realized it was perhaps hungry, but I had no cans of tuna in the car. I put on my jacket, coughed once or twice and set about looking for a way to get the cat some food. Obviously no food was forthcoming in the car so I made to set off, but the cat set to meowing and howling so vociferously I understood it would be quite impossible to leave it behind.
First I tried to carry it by holding it under it’s forelimbs, making it stretch like a black fluff slinky, but it’s protests and weight made me give up on this idea and look for alternatives. Finally I found a large plastic bag, which seemed like it could carry the cat. I put in a cardboard shoebox and then the cat on the shoebox, so it wouldn’t feel trapped inside the plastic bag. It seemed comfortable that way and purred to let me know I could set off for the fishmonger.
Heavy plastic bag in hand I walked through the heavy, slippery snow, trying to make out where the fishmonger could be. I wasn’t quite sure where I was and quickly realized old Walter’s fish and chip shop wasn’t going to be my destination today, even if I was in the same town of T— as yesterday evening, in all the snow I wasn’t going to find my way. However, the cat seemed to have a better sense of direction than I, so I submitted to it’s yowls and gentle scratching and wandered where it led me from inside it’s shoebox.
A half hour later I stopped to refresh myself with a drop of bitter before entering the store the cat had found. It seemed a fairly innocuous place, dear Reader, the kind you would pass by without a second thought fifteen dozen times a day, if you felt like walking that long, that is. The cat seemed quite adamant and though I squinted, I could not quite make out the store name. I put down this fact not to any defect in my eyesight, but rather to the poor legibility of the snow-covered storesign. You may be assured, as you read this text, that I saw everything that I will recount with utter and absolute clarity.
I stepped inside and a car freshener odor assaulted me, obviously to hide the smell of fish, for indeed there was a large lobster and shrimp tank to one side. The cat howled, so I let it out of its bag, and it made it’s way to the back of the store like it owned the place. I thought it better not to annoy the cat, so I merely followed behind the counter and past the bank of refrigerators. There on the green tiles was a small bowl with the name Whiskers on it and the cat set to eating. Obviously I had brought it to the right place, when a leg caught my attention. It was a fine example of a human leg, slender but not anorexic like you see in the girlie magazines for teens, and it slotted into a strappy black shoe at one end and a red short skirt at the other. I caught myself staring and looked up guiltily, but she seemed to take it in stride and flashed me a quick smile between lavender tinted lips. Why would anyone tint their lips lavender, I wondered, for surely burgundy would be a better match for her dark brown eyes. She broke my train of thought then.
“Hello L—, you took your time bringing Kitty home, didn’t you?”
“Umm,” I fear to admit it Reader, but my mind scrabbled like a panicked beetle trying to find something to latch onto while thinking about how her left ear looked like a little pink mouse hiding behind her black locks, “I came as quickly as I could, my Dear, as quickly as I … umm … could.”
She smiled, winked then reached out and trailed her polished nails down the front of my woolen sweater. Lavender nails. Why not a nice simple red? Or dark blue, sapphire? I hate lavender, but I digress, dear Reader. The owner of that fine leg that had caught my eye first was wrinkling her nose, and I admit, the pall of smoke hanging around me may have been a bit heavier than two cigarettes. Perhaps there were three.
“Yes, it could be worse, couldn’t it? Well, at least he’s home now. I guess that means you accept the audience. Go through the black door and don’t forget to clean yourself up a bit.”
“The black … oh, right. Through there?” I said, babbling slightly. Even the cat looked at me in annoyance.
I made off for the black door before catching another look. Such fine legs shouldn’t be giving such looks, I thought, as I opened the old brass door handle and went through. The small washroom had two doors, the black one I had entered, and another black one in the opposite end. I took off my leather jacket and sweater, thought about shaving but realized the three-day beard would have to try and pass for manly-if-scraggly instead. I washed up, lathered and pulled on my jeans and shirt again. The rest of my clothes I put away in the rather generic closet.
I hesitated with my hand on the second door handle, wondering what I should be thinking, but dear Reader, the past endless day had been strange enough and I did not feel like thinking twice about a smiling woman letting me clean myself up, so I opened the door towards myself. Beyond heavy drapes obscured a narrow corridor, the floor was carpeted and soft. Everything was a suffocating quantity of black fuzz, like walking inside a narrow tunnel entirely carpeted in black cat fur. Something white caught my eye through the drapes and I walked towards it, when I saw it up closer, my breath caught for a moment.
If before I have been slightly lyrical about a female leg, dear Reader, this time I came upon an entire female hindquarters. Emerging as from a womb, the whole back end and legs of a beautiful, pale, smooth female form was kneeling on a footstool. Perhaps you are acquainted with that rather perverse entertainment known as the glory hole, well this was similar, save that an entire female from the waist down was displayed for perusal. The female on display was also naked.
There was no more, but perhaps it could be turned into a bit of a story for Literotica, perhaps not. I'm not sure, I'm probably not the right person to write it up though.
