Years ago, I had a cat named Ketchup, who despite his many idiosyncrasies and chronic health problems was just the sweetest cat. This is the story of how for a little while, but still far too long, he managed to make my sex life really, really weird.
My wife and I have been together since college and I’m still in love and in lust with her. We’re not melting each other’s brains every night like we did when we were teenagers, but we still have sex a few times a week: slow and romantic sex, fingering her over the kitchen sink, sleepy morning sex, quickies before we leave for work, fun nights of bondage and domination, forced orgasms, wake-up sex in the middle of the night, and even some cnc scenes.
This is not about those things. This is about what happened when Ketchup lost his teeth and had to go on a diet.
In true gwstories fashion, I will now describe the major player. Player, singular, because keep in mind, this is a cat story. Ketchup was big-boned, exceptionally fluffy, and had tabby stripes the color of peaches and cream. When he scrunched his neck into his shoulders he looked like an Elizabethan gentleman wearing a ruff. He had a loud purr interspersed with coos like a pigeon, was deviously smart when he needed to be, and was also just a little bit wall-eyed.
It all started when a tooth fell out that shouldn’t have fallen out. Two vet visits and surgery later, he came back with only one of his four canine teeth and instructions to drop his weight 4 pounds (he weighed 22). Poor Ketchup was left with an underbite on one of his whisker pads which he had to fix by flapping his tongue around whenever it bothered him. We spent a few anxious nights alternating sleeping next to him on the couch in case he needed pain medication before his mouth sutures dissolved.
Shortly after, he started acting mostly normally, and his diet started. Formerly free-feeding Ketchup was not pleased.
The torture began that night.
My wife and I were lounging in our tiny apartment bedroom, both undressed, and things were just getting started. Nothing special, just two overworked yuppies with matching rings enjoying the other bedtime before we turned out the lights. With a mischievous grin I ducked my head under the comforter, pulled my wife’s legs apart, and started giving her clit a workout just the way she likes it. Her body shifted beneath my tongue and I heard her breath come out in short gasps, telling me to pick up the pace and build towards her first orgasm of the night, when
*thbp thbp thbp* **smack** *thbpthbpthpOP! … ack yak…* **smack**
My tongue stopped, I lifted my head, we shared a look of disbelief, and then together turned our heads towards the sound. Ketchup was drinking from the water bowl, but without most of his canine teeth it seemed to involve a lot more really loud mouth noises, lip smacking, and an occasional *ack* exhalation as he tried to fix his inconvenient underbite by aggressively whipping his tongue around. My pussy eating had been, very unfortunately, almost synchronized.
He turned his head to look at us innocently, licking his chops.
We burst into laughter, and after a moment my wife turned to hide her face behind a pillow and moan “ughhhhh, that was DISGUSTING” followed by more laughter. Not exactly my favorite moan.
In a Hail Mary attempt to get the mood back, I cut off her merriment by pulling out her legs and diving right back in, this time with my fingers as well. I heard a gasp, the sound of a pillow being flung into the netherverse, and a return to moaning. Mildly pleased with myself, I had a fleeting thought that *maybe sometimes you need to roll with the punches*. Fingers and tongue double-teaming her clit from both sides, I was looking forward to feeling her squirt on my face and
*thbpthbpthbp* ***smack smack*** *thbp … thbpthbp … thbpthbpthbprACKyak!*
My fingers stopped. My dick became a wet noodle. My eyes swiveled up to see the sexy woman of my dreams wearing nothing but a fixed expression of utter horror, gathering herself into a fetal position with arms bound tightly over her knees.
“Closed. For. Business.”
I sat up, and my little pal refused to get up with me. I looked down, and I think I sensed what the forlorn fella was thinking.
We kinda sat there, silently wondering what to do about our predicament for a minute. As if sensing that his job was done, Ketchup jumped on the bed, stropped against my wife’s still protectively girdled knees, and then flopped down between us, cooing his purrs loudly and faintly kneading the air with his big paws.
To Be Continued…
P.S.: For inevitable question of why we didn’t throw him out the room and close the door… let’s just say that I don’t recommend living with a cat whose mom was a polydactyl and keeping the doors closed if you’re a light sleeper.
P.P.S.: To those wondering why it hadn’t happened before… keep reading and you’ll find out.
P.P.P.S.: Since posting to pay the cat tax involves metadata that I don’t trust myself to fully erase, I’ll just give you [this lookalike](https://pictures-of-cats.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/mc8.jpg).
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/rdraq2/mf_abstinence_cat_part_i_or_how_i_couldnt_look_my