Years ago, I had a cat named Ketchup, who despite his many idiosyncrasies and chronic health problems was just the sweetest cat. This is part 2 of the story of how for a little while, but still far too long, he managed to make my sex life really, really weird.
Ketchup macfluff, the wall-eyed wally, the ginger ninja, was the sweetest cat. One year he lost most of his canines and had to go on a diet. Shortly after, he started acting mostly normally, and his diet started. Formerly free-feeding Ketchup was not pleased. Part I describes what happened when we tried to get intimate at night. This is what happened to our former habit of lazy morning sex.
After the incident with the water bowl, we’d tried closing the bedroom doors at night. As it turns out, Ketchup had a proprietary attitude about access to all the rooms in the apartment (to be fair, it was less than 400 square feet) and has also grokked the concept of doorknobs. So after one sleepless night of near-constant rattling and occasional swearing, we’d let him in and tried not to think about the water lapping noises and my wife’s (heh) pussy at the same time.
You cherish quality time in a healthy relationship, and in a healthy relationship between two incorrigible workaholics, mornings count for a lot. A day that begins with pleasantly running my fingertips over my wife’s back and sunlight streaming through the window of our cramped apartment is a day that starts well.
This day is no different. It’s about 7 am, neither of us have to be anywhere, we’re pleasantly spooning, rubbing my morning wood against her soft ass while my other hand is wrapped possessively around her waist. My fingers run over her neck, followed by my stubbly chin as I kiss the nape (this drives her wild). She moans a little bit, her hips grinding against mine, her legs starting to move under the covers. Mine move to capture them, the blankets riding up with the motion…
Then I feel something on my toes. I’m awake enough to be horny but not quite awake enough to understand what’s happening for a few seconds. Something kinda wet and rough brushes against my big toe. I stop, confused for a moment, and then I hear a faint *krach* *krach krach* a series of chomping motions against my feet that start out gummy and end in a *piiiiiiiiiiiinch*.
— *Record scratch*: as it turns out, a cat with no canines will still do love bites, but these love bites end up using their incisors. And these very tiny teeth have trouble getting a grip on anything but a thin strip of skin.
There follows a cascade of unsexy, slightly panic-ridden motion.
Obviously I react in the only way that someone could in this situation: I shoot my leg up away from the mysterious pinching creature. Incidentally this also ends up with me ramming my knee into my wife’s thigh.
“What the *FUCK*!?” she screams, going from pleasantly sleepy and horny into full-on pain-and-panic mode in less than a second and scrambling up the bed while using my entire torso as leverage.
Along the way, her foot steps on my dick, making it feel like it’s going to break in half and eliciting another surprised cry of pain from me.
We sit there, adrenaline rushing, bruises forming on my toe and her thigh, looking each other in the eyes as she clings to the headboard and I cover my family jewels while both breathing heavily. As one, we look down the bed to find a purring, orange cat who look delighted that we are both awake and proceeds to walk ponderously towards the headboard. We’re still in disbelief and don’t really know what to do as he advances.
He boops his face on my arm, then walks over to my wife and boops her chin, then moves down to her breast – dangerously close to a nipple – and starts to try to lick it in preparation for another “love pinch”.
At this point, my wife yells and falls off the bed, and I grab the cat and basically throw him on the couch in the other room so I can fill his food bowl. I come back inside the bedroom, now naked and cold with my balls painfully shrinking, see my wife tangled up in the blankets on the floor, and both of us just start laughing for the next 5 minutes.
And that’s the story of how we rush ordered an automatic pet feeder so that the damned cat wouldn’t learn to bite our skin while we were trying to have sex in order to get food.
As for Ketchup, he eventually lost the weight, went back to free feeding, and kept being a sweetheart for years after until cancer tragically took him away at age 9. I miss that cuddly perv.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/tqcvxe/mf_abstinence_cat_part_ii_pinch