Kitten In Heat

I.

It was 6 a.m. and Kitty was down in the kitchen making eggs. Her usual uptight mannerisms, developed over the course of a two-year marriage to man that resembled a dopey eyed sloth, were suddenly being replaced with an easy grace as she shuffled around the kitchen.

Her full c-cup chest shifted comfortably in a small blue baby t-shirt as she wiggled her hips every so often to a happy beat that she hummed to herself.

Katherine, Kitty to her close friends, cracked three delicate white eggs and dropped the syrupy contents into a pan.

Franklin, Kitty's 19-year-old step son and guest for the summer, wandered down into the dining room. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he groggily shuffled into the kitchen.

Kitty's loose pair of baby blue cotton pajama pants swayed dangerously low on her hips, their yellow waistband curling around her full hips and "bodacious" ass (bodacious was a word Franklin used), but she didn't seem to mind so much.

Daily rituals can begin with the first face you see of the day. According to upbeat and unnaturally chipper morning television show scientists, this "first face" will usually define how most of the rest of the day will go for a person.

Franklin looked up to a perky round face with an elfish pointy nose and large brown eyes that seemed to settle easily on his own – his beautiful stepmother, Katherine "Kitty" Clark.

He decided today was going to be an unusual day.

Franklin began trying to decide exactly how he was going to keep his hands off this creature – today or any other day. They had developed a naturally flirty relationship.

He had been so bold as to kiss her on the lips on several occasions. This resulted in his young, beautiful stepmother allowing for longer and longer durations, growing used to their mouths slowly and gently tumbling over each others lips.

She would bring these intimacies to sudden halt, never mentioning them except in passing.

Part of the shift in Katherine's mood was due to having a young and exciting man like Franklin around. Her stepson had a darkly comic sense of humor labeling %99 of the world full zombies and wondering aloud in public why zombies were always so gosh darn hungry for some brains. His sea blue eyes often rested easily on Kitty as if they were sharing a quiet secret with her alone.

Plus, Franklin had a habit of calling her Kitty. Sometimes "Kitten" and no one ever called her that. It was always when no one was else was around, like he imagined she was a luxurious, feline creature - something he desperately needed to pet, to paw, to ravage - but he always behaved with the greatest amount of restraint around her... she was glad that Kitten was his pet name for her – better than Wife-O-Mine. "Kitten" was better than her sloth-like husband's preferred nickname for her.

Sometimes Kitty wondered why she married an even dumber version of Fred Flintstone.

As all these thought turned in Kitty's brain, Franklin watched her waist band slip lower and lower over her hips. The slinky internal rhythm of her body's music caused them to reach the edge of her "bodacious" bottom.

For Franklin, the combination of his own raging hormones and the idea of illicit sex always made Katherine seem irresistible to him. It was all he could do most days to catch glimpses of her firm Milfish body when he believed she wasn't aware - and it was killing him.

Katherine acknowledged his presence with a crooked smile from over her shoulder and reached up on her tiptoes to a reach into a kitchen cabinet for something.

As she did, her loose pajama bottoms continued to sag slightly downward revealing the fading tan lines that bordered on her plump, shapely ass cheeks. Her frame was petite but her ample bodily proportions of breast and ass gave her an amazing hourglass figure.

Katherine pretended not to notice how much of her was plainly visible to Franklin.

She knew he would steal looks at her body. It was at least half the reason she would go to the gym and pour sweat imagining his hands on her hips, his tongue tracing rough ovals between her legs.

As she leaned upwards, Katherine felt cool air around her taut midsection like invisible fingers racing across down to the top of her barely exposed ass cheeks.

In this moment, Franklin made up his mind. This was his opportunity to move in for a closer inspection. He moved like a determined sleepwalker over to his sexy stepmother.

Kitty stole another look over her shoulder at her approaching summer guest, looking over his broad shoulders tapering down to the bulging muscles in his arms and legs. When her gaze stopped at his boxers she realized that she was getting too turned on.

Franklin, never taking his eyes off her beautiful hips, stretched amiably as Kitty continued scooping out ingredients for breakfast from a cabinet.

"Aaa-h--h-h-" Franklin yawned, making for the ceiling with his fingertips.

Putting a finger in the corner of her mouth Katherine asked in low, hushed tone:

"Um, Franklin, honey, can you please reach this?" Kitty cooed.

She had to have known what she was doing to him – the combination of revealing clothing and sultry tone in her voice screamed that she wanted his affections.

"Maybe for a kiss?" Franklin asked masking his lust with sleepy, half-smile.

"You should do it because you love me, Franklin." Kitty said, playin the part of the helpless ingénue.

"I'll take my payment in advance, please." Franklin said.

Kitty spun around to meet his gaze. Her face rested just few inches below Franklin's own. Her delicate face and brown eyes upturned to Franklin's modest demand.

"Pucker up, mister." She whispered.

Some kisses are made with so slight of an effort that they seem resigned to their own uselessness. This one not one from that category. There was a desperate but soft tenderness in their brief kiss – the lips pulled away the way two lovers hands would unwillingly separate full of unfulfilled desire.

Now for paid for his efforts, obligingly, Franklin lumbered over to the corner cabinets where Kitty was having difficulty.

Was she really as turned on as he was? Franklin thought.

"Which one, Kitten? I can't see it." He said.

Kitty turned around in the small corner of the kitchen, unwittingly pinning herself between the cabinets and her tall, young stepson. She pointed to a yellow box at the top of the open corner cabinet.

"Up there." She said back on tip toes enough to completely expose the lightly toned area of her body from the middle of her spinal column to the dimples of her rounded bottom.

Franklin, his mornig wood shifting gradually into a full-on erection, leaned roughly ( while building a pretense to feign some sort of innocent biological accident). His firm cock pressed into her delicately undraped body as he reached up to grab the box of pancake mix from the top shelf. Franklin felt short bursts of Kitty's hot breath on his chest as he feigned a struggle for the box.

Katherine, much to her growing excitement, found herself completely pinned between Franklin's hard-on and the stovetop. She suddenly began trying to decide what was hotter: yanking this 19-year-old's cock out of his boxers and engulfing it in her mouth or leaning back into the stove top and enjoying the moment.

In the corner of the kitchen, pressed upward with her shapely hips all but revealed, Kitty's lips grazed the side of Franklin's cheek as he fumbled for the box. Her thoughts seemed to echo Franklin's own.

Franklin looked down from his task for a second and caught Katherine appraising the firmer southern details of his body. It looked to Franklin as if she was trying gauge his next move.

Her eyes flickered up to meet his. Something wild glimmered in those big brown eyes – a pent up need to do more than just look cried out in those sultry eyes of hers.

Katherine had been thumbing trough Franklin's rock magazines, mostly Bizarre and Rock-A-Billy, the ones he kept scattered over his bed room, to get an idea of what kind of woman that young men like Franklin fantasized about. She wondered if he noticed the small changes in her appearance she made after carefull examination of the pin-ups, models and female rock singers that these magazines tended to feature.

Her sloth-like husband Edward, Franklin's only parent after his mother had left them, had very mediocre sexual tastes. Edward Clark was a fan of the bland and banal - often asking Katherine to emulate vacant peroxide blondes like Brittany Spears or Madonna's bleached, tanned appearance. Katherine indulged him in traditionally lackluster rituals that usually ended with her unsatisfied in a cheerleader's outfit (G-O, T-E-A-M!) and Edward fast asleep.

In response to what she felt that Franklin found attractive, Kitty had let her honey colored complexion gradually fade into a milky white tone. Her blonde tresses got darker and darker until they reached the jet-black tone that Franklin's adorable pin-up girls favored.

Her efforts to be more Bettie Page must have worked.

Ignoring the pretense of helping his stepmother cook, Franklin took a long straight tress between his fingers appraising it like a feather from a rare black bird.

Franklin, as Kitty looked on, studied it with some confusion, maybe remembering an ex-girlfriend or trying to reconcile his intensely sexual feelings toward his hot, young stepmother.

"Um...Franklin...– the box?" Kitty asked quizzically. She never shifted from the rock hard cock that was brushing up against her ass.

Franklin forgot all about the pancake mix. Dropping from her long dark hair, his arms wrapped themselves around his stepmother's waist. His fingers, snaking around her hips, delicately touched her bare stomach.

For a few volcanic seconds, time stopped. Franklin found the back of her neck with his lips – grazing her flesh several times, lightly, with is own.

"Oh my, Franklin..." Kitty began.

Much to her surprise her hand found the side of Franklin's face and pressed his mouth deeper into the flesh of her neck and throat.

Still sorting through her conflicting emotions Katherine found that her handsome stepson's body had made up her mind up for her, she allowed his throbbing erection to rest south to north between her nearly bare bottom..

Kitty, cornered in her own kitchen, was enjoying the sudden flash of heat that raced from Franklin's lips to her throat to the center of her hips. The electricity raced through their bodies.

She'd been so good to that Man-of-hers upstairs! And all he could do was grunt at her - she needed more than that.

That thought cleared away the pure enjoyment of this moment coloring her mood with guilt.

"Frank-Lin..." she chastised, trying to twist away from his brash intensity.

Katherine attempted to turn around, and thereby away, from her young stepson's quick embrace but inadvertently pressed the his cock directly into her abdomen.

Twisting back again, Katherine found she had now re-wrapped her ass against that dull, hard throb as she tried to break the surprise embrace.

Franklin's hands grabbed her hips from behind - pulling her ass to him. As she was pulled backwards, she again unwittingly pressed her ass harder against his crotch in natural response – grinding Franklin's cock into her roughly.

In a sudden shock, Katherine realized that she loved this. This could be her release.

Franklin guided one of his hands down her waist and pulled his stepmother's pajama bottoms down around her thighs baring her twin mounds of pale flesh.

Franklin gasped in awe at the twin arcs of her white bottom protruding from the soft confines of her clothing. The yellow waistband caught itself around Katherine's milky thighs.

"Jesus." He breathed.

"Kitten – you were hiding this from me?" Franklins said, a hushed betrayal in his awed whisper.

Her ass was everything he'd secretly dreamed. It was ample without a single blemish or mark - like pale peaches in the growing twilight. Her pouty pussy lips gleamed from their hiding place, full rich and gently rounded.

It was now Kitty's turn to gasp.

Her stepson had not only turned her on but was evidently about to take exactly what he wanted from her.

"Frank-Lin!" she said pronouncing each syllable of his name in a sexually charged version of outrage.

Feeling unbound from social regulations or shame by his need to take this beautiful creature, to explore the hidden reaches of her body - Franklin pressed against down on the small of Katherine's back - leaning her over the breakfast counter. Adrenaline roared in Franklin's ears and heat flooded Kitty's pretty little pussy.

Kitty, in the grip of her own desire, offered the slightest amount of token resistance as a last show of prudish frigidity. She looked back at him with her big brown eyes full of fearful anticipation.

Franklin, wordlessly caught one of her hands making it's weakened, token gesture of resistance and directed it directly towards his cock.

Kitty, perhaps due to the lack of sexual gratification or some barely hidden burning desire of her own - wrapped it around his shaft, at first delicately - then with a firmer measure of enthusiasm as her desire asserted itself fully.

Much to Katherine's surprise, she also began jerking it - right through his boxers, pumping roughly and pulling it, and Franklin, towards her.

Something deep, primal and savage had taken over her actions – she wasn't being forced – she was willingly submitting to his advances.

"Please, Kitten?" Franklin asked, his two word question badly masking his demand for sexual release.

He gently held her hand around his cock, counting on her desire to make up her mind for him.

Katherine soundlessly mouthed a worried "Nooo..." and offered another pained expression to Franklin but she did not make a move to cover her delicate, and exposed, ass cheeks – nor did she stop her hand from pumping away at Franklin's prick.

"Take them off, Kitten?"

Katherine silently answered with a long jerk on his cock, not making a move to remove her pajama bottoms.

Franklin pressed the strength of his case: "I want you. No, no – I need your pretty little pussy." He whispered - just inches away from her ear.

She didn't stop pulling at her 19-year-old's cock her brown eyes just focused on his sea blue eyes lost in conflict, lust – heat.

Franklin momentarily released his captive. With some simple direction, he allowed her to pull her pajama bottoms around her ankles. And she did it. She did it so dutifully, not robotic or in a blank trance of lust, but ritualistically, with a kind of deep reverence for the oncoming act of sex – each muscle poising itself for the act itself.

His eyes traced the flesh of her perfect legs, lightly toned and nearly as milky white as her beautiful bottom. Although her baby t-shirt was still clinging to her chest, the outline of her hard nipples pointed at Franklin from the jutting twin arcs her beautiful breasts.

Franklin tore at his boxers, revealing the fat, firm 8-inches of tool that had brought this woman to a boil so suddenly this morning.

An evil grin from Franklin melted the last bit of her resistance. She stood there knowing that this was the crossroads from which there was no return. She chose another life in this moment and sprinted down that road.

Katherine, laying with her stomach on the kitchen counter, draped herself forward over the plates and shakers scattered there – her ass hanging over the counter with her legs spread out in an upside down V, now fully poised.

After weeks of coaxing and stolen kisses, Kitty was finally offering her dripping hot pussy to him. Part of Franklin believed he was still dreaming – she was beautiful...so willing now.

Nearly imperceptibly, Kitty parted her ass cheeks with each hand on her hips to allow the pretty pink smile of her pussy to gleam. Her face, expectation and an evil grin of her own spreading wider, rested heavily on the counter.

She was his in this moment – a submissive, trusting creature that only wanted to fucked into a deeper state of submission –to prove that even in this precarious moment his trust in her was justified.

Franklin knelt underneath her and caught the musky deep perfume of her cunt in his face all at once. If he had the time he would explore every hidden wrinkle of her body with his hands and mouth – pressing them in deep into her flesh – but he didn't have this luxury.

Playfully, and very lightly, he smacked the length of her pussy causing his stepmother to hop forward on the counter. His long bright red long lept out of his mouth to caress the line of her pussy lips – tracing a careful oval around her.

"Oh Jesus, Fr-ank-lin..." came an urgent whisper.

Upstairs, something stirred and slammed doors. Franklin got to his feet, reluctantly abandoning his oral ministrations over the hidden treasures of Kitty's vagina.

"He's gonna catch us, Franklin!" she fearfully hissed as Franklin pulled him cock completely free of his plaid flannel boxers.

"He's dumb but he's not that dumb!" she warned.

"No one is ever gonna catch us, Kitten" Franklin replied quickly, breathlessly.

Franklin held her there with one hand in the center of her back, just for moment, as he examined the captured Kitten. The promise of a well-deserved and savage dicking had a profound effect on her. He realized that they would not have time to finish – in fact, he was almost counting on it. He simply needed to be inside of her – to known the forbidden fruit of her dripping hot pussy. He needed it.

He wished he had more time to absorb every detail of the change in her – from her full lips as they pouted a soft "no" as her hourglass figure that screamed "yes" as it pressed back around his cock. But there was no time for this.

From upstairs, a dull sound of footsteps pounded a slow chorus back and forth.

With his free hand he took one of her wrists loosely and held it to her side knowing that some part of her needed to believe that this was all him sex taking her.

Even if his grip was loose and playful around her wrist, it was what she needed to feel like he was in control of her.

Franklin was right. This faux rough method of sex allowed Kitty a much larger degree of satisfaction. Yet, in this moment, she was indeed, a captured Kitten.

Leaning forward, Franklin dipped his big white cock between her slender legs. He parted her soft ass cheeks to find the tender folded entrance of her body they each released a soft breath. Franklin pressed into and pulled out of her pussy, gliding wetly, he thumbed the bulging head against her doughy pussy lips roughly between strokes.

She was very wet, from the first, when he drove himself into her. The first penetrations parted her serenely – harpooning her tender cunt with the savage instrument of his lust.

A heavenly sensation erupted inside each of them. All the complex rituals of dating, mating and marriage led up to this moment of clarity when flesh meets flesh. The truth of it could not be denied.

"-oof!...MMmmmm-" was all Kitty could say, all of these realizations flowed through her brain like an out of control freight train. Each deep thrust sent white-hot howls through her consciousness.

Franklin grinded into the velvet folds of her hot snatch – a tight rubbery mouth desperately wrapped itself around his cock, firmly holding him in place.

"Why are you still fighting me?" Franklin whispered desperately.

His breath was heavy and hot against her ear. There act was desperate one, made all the more desperate due Edward's imminent arrival to breakfast.

She responded by lightly freeing the web work of musculature that she had been seizing so tightly around his shaft. She felt her wrist in Franklin's large hands and instead feeling helpless - she felt safe, turned on, captured!