Oxford's Cock
This time last year, I was living with the Librarian Girlfriend in a flat in Pittsburgh, with a roommate who shall remain nameless (for politeness' sake). Said roommate had a cat named Oxford, who was a funny little beast, as cats tend to be.

Oxford wasn't allowed outside, because we lived on quite a busy road. I've never lived with an indoors-cat before. It was strange, and a little sad to see him perched on the radiator against the window, gazing out at the birds and wondering where they go when he can't see them.

I have a theory about indoors-only cats. They're all nuts.

Oxford, in particular, was a fat, filthy little fucking pervert who had the horn for my girlfriend and was not in the slightest bit shy about it. He'd scrabble against the door trying to gain entry when we were having (or trying to have) some "alone" time; he had a perverse fascination with the bathroom and would try his best to follow if he heard you open the door to pee; he adored waking you up by waving his fuzzy little balls in your face (and, sometimes, farting at you too); he enjoyed the occasional shoe humping, and, perhaps most disturbingly, the LGF's underwear would occasionally go missing and turn up in his litterbox, liberally smeared with every conceivable form of feline bodily emission.

Anyway. On to the partially-accidental cruelty. Partially because I did actually mean to do this and freak him out just a little bit, but I didn't expect it to have such a dramatic effect.

LGF was at work. I'm at home, in the bedroom, on the bed, laptop out and trying to get some work done while the first load of laundry goes through. Stay-at-home husband, and all that. Oxford is lying next to me - not so he can be cuddly and close like a nice cat, you understand, but because I have a Dell laptop and it gets so hot it'll warm the room up in winter. I feel movement, and Oxford's sitting up, yawning, stretching and leaving the bed.

A few minutes go past. I hear the occasional rustle of fabric and fur. Eventually, I begin to wonder what's going on, and I look towards the source of the noise. Oxford has left the bed, and climbed into the pile of worn female underwear awaiting the next wash. He's rolling from side to side, entangled in a pair of pink panties, grinning a little kitty grin.

He also has a tiny, glistening pink erection.

He stops rolling momentarily as our eyes meet. I can tell he's pondering whether to carry on shamelessly, or whether to slink off and keep a low profile. He takes a pair of faded pink panties into his mouth, and chews thoughtfully, his swollen kittycock twinkling in the morning sun.

Now, I've never seen a cat with an erection before. I didn't know that they were all... well, lubed-up like that. To this day, I don't know whether they just come like that, or if he was licking it before I looked down. Anyway, "That glisteny wetness," thinks I, "will make for good thermal transfer. I wonder what would happen if..."

I lean over towards him, slowly so as not to frighten him and spoil the fun. He stops chewing and watches me. When I'm about a foot away from him, I purse my lips, and blow directly at his cock.

It's a cold room, and the skin is wet. Think about rubbing an ice cube on your genitals.

There's an immediate result. Oxford jerks and rolls over to escape his own freezing willy, but it doesn't seem to work, so he rolls the other way - still not working! He kicks off from the floor with both feet, propelling himself like a furry, horny rocket as fast and as far away from me as he can - but his back legs don't quite catch up exactly right. They're entangled in pants! He's falling! He's sliding across the shiny wooden floors - all the way out of the bedroom, across the hall and into the kitchen! What's more, he's been struggling and rolling all the way, fat bastard that he is - and he's managed to get himself even more tangled in the pants!

I step over to what is now a hissing, spitting ball of hatred with a pre-worn pair of knickers somehow simultaneously trapping three feet and covering one eye, and gently remove the panties. Oxford slinks off to sulk in the corner, but not before giving me a look that seems to scream "You disgust me."

Length: about an inch and a half, with a furry base.
(CavemanJoe lives on improbableisland.com, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 11:46, 7 replies)

arf!
My brother's (female) cat used to writhe around orgasmically in his piles of dirty boxers and shirts. It was a bit disturbing.

Mind you, his new cat does it too. Perhaps he somehow just smells of male cat?
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 11:51, closed)

*clicks*
I read, I laughed, I clicked.

It would be a seriously brave cat willing to tackle my post-gym keks...
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Wed 12 Dec 2007, 11:57, closed)

haha
what an odd cat!
( Firkinfedup last shat on your wife's tits at, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 12:01, closed)

Henry
I had a cat called Henry (sadly the farmer has kept him...it would have been unkind of me to take him away from his farm home - the cat, not the git farmer). Henry used to attempt to hump me every evening. I would push him away from me, he'd miaow in a most alarming manner and then retire to the corner of the room to lick himself very intently. If I pushed him at the wrong moment he'd bite me.

Kinky cat.

Mind you I think the cat probably misses me more than the farmer does. Certainly I miss the cat more than the git.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 12:35, closed)

mine is the same
it plays with my gf's underwear, would love shoes like crazy (it is now fixed thank god), and generally loves anything my girlfriend touches. Won't come near me half the time though.


Oh - it is female
(bamboozled Can hear you getting fatter, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 12:40, closed)

OK,
Let me get this straight. You,. Blew. A. Cat.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 14:54, closed)