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Art by the wonderful \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tLumeKat\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t		\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tLumeKat\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t


", "writing": "PetulantPuns One-shots \n\nTheme: The color blue \n\nA Striking Sapphire \n\nRatings: Porn, mother/daughter, minor/adult, teen, Lesbian, consensual \n\nSpecies: Grizzly Bears \n\nNames and ages: Sapphire, 15 Grey: 43 \n\n“Okay, so how do you want to do this exactly? I’m not what anyone would call, “A connoisseur of kinks” especially sure not yours.” \n\nWell, here I am. Standing here in the middle of this dinky-ass apartment with my mother, again. About to attempt her special course on safe sex. Again. Why does she insist on doing this every Friday? \n\n“Quit, Sapphire.” \n\nShe turned her head slightly to the left, giving me a withering side-glance. But with her broad, hilariously shiny, poufy-furred back facing towards me, it was hard to take her seriously. Like a giant teddy bear. Wearing red and blue cigar boxers. She hates it when her fur acts like this as opposed to her once boring dull blue fur coat she meticulously flattens and matts to give her a more terrifying look. Which works, unfortunately. How dare she have natural shiny sapphire fur? No, we have to make it look ugly. Mother growled irritably as I snickered at my own internal joke regarding my name. \n\n“This isn’t funny. You have done this three times. You should know this by now. And I will not tolerate your attitude this round, child.” \n\nI do a massive eye-roll and crossed my arms, about to deliver some world class snark to this boomer, and- \n\n“Sapphire.” \n\nI immediately clam myself up. Shit. \n\nShe turns around completely, in the middle of pulling a “special” Lubed reusable glove over her massive, thick bear hand. Her massive solid gray eyes bore in to mine, seemingly demanding full obedience. As if she’s getting that. I curled my lip and looked down, a swarm of comebacks trying to force their way out of my throat. I swallow hard. It is a very bad idea to get “lippy”, as mother puts it, when she gives me the “you must obey or I’ll kick your ass” look. \n\n“Sit down.” \n\nShe pointed to the dinky looking couch, crusty with a rusty blue tint of the original color, fading away. I frowned and huffed at her, attempting to plead with my big, best effort pity-me eyes. The silvery teary-eyed look, along with a sad little whimper usually does the trick. Sometimes we actually move to the bed room where the bed is usually less dinky than the couch. She Paused, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. I choked down a snicker. She was clearly trying to hide how aroused she was by her naturally gorgeous daughters pity face, shifting uncomfortably and clicking her tongue. But alas, I don’t think it worked this time. She opened her eyes and furrowed her monster brows, shaking her head and clicking her tongue, this time with clear disapproval all over her staunch face. She jabbed a finger in the direction of the couch and swiftly disappeared into the bedroom muttering, “Ten minutes, be ready.” \n\nExasperated, I sighed, trundling over to the crusty little couch, flopping in a dramatic manner only to be pricked by the jagged abrasions on this old thing. Ugh, why does mother always have to pick the dirties, dingiest, cheap-ass apartments she can find?! No, seriously, why does she? We aren’t exactly poor. What, with her being a Constuction consultant and all. Plus, my “special” line of work I do on the side with her “Girlfriends”. I mean, I don’t have too and she doesn’t make me, but not gonna lie? She has some pretty hot girlfriends. I moaned in pain as I adjust myself on the couch, my long-ass legs dangling over its left arm. Ugh, this is very uncomfortable. Next time, I'm going to offer to pay for a room. A nice one. I have my own money. And I worked hard for it. Her girlfriends aren't easy to please, you know. Especially not sassy. I clasped my hands together and began to literally twiddle my thumbs, softly yet brokenly whistling a random tune as I glanced around the room for something to look at while mom finishes whatever preparations she needs to do for a, what, 10-minute session? What does she even prep for? Her lectures? I bit my lip. Damn it, I forgot she likes to talk during these. I mean, that’s kinda the point, safe-sex training and whatnot. \n\nI growled irritably. I get injured once trying upside down 69-ing with a monkey chick and all the sudden I have to practice all of the basics I, of course, already fucking know. I've known since I was twelve. Pretty late, I know, but it was the first time my mom decided to teach me about sex. I shuddered nervously at the thought. I wasn’t forced, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable. Her fingers were too big and my vag was very tight. It hurt a lot, and despite her best efforts to calm me down and “be gentle”, she just really sucks at both of them. If it wasn’t for her oral skills, she would’ve completely traumatized me. \n\nI shook my head, attempting to knock the thoughts from my head and focused myself on observing the horrific glory that was this dingy little apartment. It is disgusting and waaaay too blue. The walls are adorned by peeling, striped cream and blue wall paper that has what looks like water damage at the top corners of the room, causing the edges to curl and tear. The flooring is only marginally better. Scruffy faded teal carpet with unknown stains scattered all over it. One of them looks like a potential coffee stain. One looks like a father had too much fun with his son. I say this because of the suspicious amount of cum stains around the same area, a few feet from the coffee table. I grind my teeth in disgust. Men are so nasty, clearly women are the superior race. The pace even smelled like sex and old coffee, with a pinch of mold to top it all off. I groan again, uncomfortably wiggling in place and adjusting my baggy checkered red boxers that were starting to bunch up my ass, though I quickly stop that as the abrasions rake through my admittedly thin fur line and scrape my tender skin. I’ve always been “thin skinned”. It’s obnoxious. I flinched and continue to lay as still as I can, just now realizing the disturbing amount of first-time sex aid magazines were neatly stacked on the obnoxiously bright Cobalt coffee table that was as faded and damaged as the couch. So much blue, so much blue. Wait, are those teeth marks? I cringe. People in general are gross, except for chicks of course. I reach over and roughly pluck one of the magazines off the top of the stack, causing a few of them to fly off into the floor. Oops. I’ll fix that later. \n\nI begin flipping through the pages, cocking an eyebrow at some of the, uh, advice these things give. Surely mom doesn’t listen to these. One page has a lemur chick spanking her daughter with a metal paddle, a HUGE no-go, always leather or wooded. Oh geez, and not on the vagina! leather or otherwise. Yikes, and no sort of “tender nibbling” on the labia! I scratched my head in confusion. Mother doesn’t do anything like this, she's not stupid. A lot of this isn’t even safe or completely false! why would she- oh. Oooooh. The moment it hit me, I gentle thwap came down upon my head, ruffling my thick mane of hair, the color of the deep ocean as mother says. “Time to start.” I shook her hand off my head and before could say anything, she had swiped the magazine out of my hands and carefully placed it on the newly organize stack of magazines, sighing. \n\n“They’re just reading material for rubbing off. Do not take their advice. It is garbage.” I gave her a “Do I really look that stupid to you?” look and pushed my poor, sore body up into a sitting position, arms braced, legs spread. She huffed. Why? “Well? Are we going to do this or no-AH.” My cries of surprise where quickly muffled by a slick, lubed up glove with the other lightly grazing my tender folds with a shockingly cold touch, sending shocks all over my body. “Mleh!” I angerly pushed her gross, wet hand off of my muzzle, leaving a streak of lube across my nose. “What was that for-” I was immediately silenced by two fingers gently pinching my clitoris, rubbing and pulling it in an agonizingly slow manner, the pleasure slowly blooming up through my loins uo through my chest. Warmth and the chill of the gloves combining effortlessly. “I-I-” I focused my vision the best I could, thoughts barely coming together in a sea of pleasure and lube. I see my mother's eyes-smiling? The moment our eyes met, she nodded slightly and released my clitoris. I gasped in relief and immediately flopped back on the couch, barely feeling the prickly cushion. \n\n“Well, you failed.” \n\n“I failed?! What does that mean exactly?! You came at me out of nowhere! And with two gloves, really? Don’t you only need one?” \n\n“Precisely, I came onto you without consent, you barely fought back and didn’t even try to get me to stop. Failed.” \n\n“Um, I call BS on this, of course I'm not going to fight back! I thought this was the point? Safe sex training? not sexual assault training? I mean, it wasn't bad at all (aside from the nasty glove in my mouth) but still, warn me next time, geez.” I hastily rubbed the lube off with the back of my hand as mother just stared at me with disappointment and furrowed brows. What the hell?! Why am I being failed before the real course has even begun? \n\nI Glared up at her, gently rubbing my poor assaulted clitoris, still tender from the “surprise” mother had decided to dish out. I opened my mouth to try to get an answer to the mystery of the two gloves, and she just held up a hand, shook her head and sank down to her knees to were our faces are aligned. I Immediately tense up and look at her suspiciously, watching her apply some more of that lube onto her gloves, attempting to make a “I’m not going to try anything face” with a gentle nod for extra assurance. I gave her a sour look. Sure, as though I'm going to trust you now. I carefully and deliberately spread my legs apart half-way, mainly so I can prepare myself for another “Surprise lesson”. \n\n“You still haven’t explained to me your brilliant reason for wearing two gloves? I’m pretty sure you only need one.” I muttered. She placed the lube bottle on the coffee table, flexing her fingers. In preparation I assume. “Practice. I will be alternating between hands.” She placed one slimy hand on my inner thigh, causing chills to run up my spine. I instinctively close my legs a little, eyeing her suspiciously, my sharp eyes following every movement of her grubby not-so-little fingers. “Relax. This will be quick. I’m not going to surprise you again. Though, you need to be prepared next time. People can be like that.” She pressed a very cold thumb to my clitoris, causing me to gasp as she began to stroke my opening along with it, strong yet gentle strokes. I felt my vagina twitch and pulse in anticipation, I growled with impatient. She continued to stroke my opening without much penetration. I was starting to with in frustration, the pleasure slowly building up, like a volcano, ready to burst, my head swimming with it. I groaned, constantly urging her to hurry up, I could only take so much teasing, it isn’t exactly my favorite in the world. \n\nI sighed, relaxing my legs a little more, but the moment I do that... \n\n“What’s the first rule to safe sex?” \n\n“Huh?” I moaned groggily \n\n“What’s the first rule of safe sex?” \n\nShe punctuated her words further, emphasizing it with rougher strokes to my poor clit. \n\nAh shit, I forgot that was the purpose of this little session. “Um, always wear a condom?” \n\nI felt a steamy wave of hot breath hit my face in a huff. \n\n“I said the first. The one you failed?” \n\nI felt a rise of anger mixing with the waves of pleasure, but me, being to occupied to come up with a proper comeback, simply said; “Oh right, no surprise sex. You need to work on that one, hon-ack!” I sputtered the rest of my sentence as she thrust her thumb up into the top wall of the inside of my vagina. It took a lot not to scream from the sudden blow. I was so close. Ugh hurry up mother! I squirmed in frustration and discomfort from the painful build up to this musty couch’s spiky embrace. \n\n“Without the sarcasm.” \n\nShe was slowly pumping her two large fingers inside, watching me as she goes in and out, in and out, as slow as she can. Almost seems like I'm being mocked. What does this have to do with safe sex again?! I'm so close to bursting Its painful. I give up. \n\n“Fine, fine!” I gasped between ragged breaths. “Always ask for consent and THEN wear a- Ah!” FINALLY. My entire body tensed up, my inner walls clamping down of my mother finger and spaz the fuck out as I reached my climax. A shocking amount of my juices flowing like a mini river down mothers gloved hand, dripping into the couch's crevices. I slump back onto the couch, ignoring the usually prickly pain and musty sex-ridden smell, utterly exhausted. “There, happy? Did I pass your test?” If you call it that, I'm still reeling from the intense session we just had. My loins are on fire. I open my mouth to say something else, but that is quickly forgotten when a pair on rough, dry lips give me an albeit impressive sloppy kiss (tongue included) practically stealing my breath away. Again. \n\n“We are not done.” She said as she slid her long, spotted tongue out of my throat. I resist my urge to gag as it hitches on my uvula. “That was the physical part of the lesson, in which you only passed the second half. You are a decent receiver; however, you need to work on keeping yourself in control or the situation could turn sour.” Uuuuugh of course there’s a lecture and quiz part of this session, I should’ve known. Wait, and what does she mean I only passed half of the physical part. She practically cheated. I wanted to tell her off so badly, but I resigned myself to a mournful moan, too exhausted to do anything else. \n\nFor the next fifteen minutes, my mother explained the importance of safe sex, the rules of consent, how not to use sex toys, all that jazz. And I had to answer what felt like a thousand questions while she cleaned up the mess and spayed cologne everywhere. Why cologne? It stank like a bitch but it covered up scent pretty well. At least that’s what mother told me. I made my move to the bedroom once she was done grilling me and telling me how I “needed to do better” and “I should know all this by now.” I swiftly shut and locked the door and flopped down on the stiff, equally dirty mattress with an equally ugly blue design. I don’t even bother covering myself up, I just lay there, bare body exposed. My deep sapphire fur glistening in the moonlight peeking through the curtains. I was just realizing the hideous roar of the ventilation system, crackling through the-night? Wait, how long have we been at it? \n\nI shook my head and buried my face into the moldy feather pillow. These are questions that can wait until morning. As I starting to wearily drift off to sleep, I swore I could see the faint silhouette of my mother, watching over me. Probably critiquing me in my sleep. I didn’t bother thinking about how that could be possible with the door, locked I just let the drowsiness get the best of me as I slowly drifted off into a deep slumber. \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n-END ", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "PetulantPuns One-shots

Theme: The color blue

A Striking Sapphire

Ratings: Porn, mother/daughter, minor/adult, teen, Lesbian, consensual

Species: Grizzly Bears

Names and ages: Sapphire, 15 Grey: 43

“Okay, so how do you want to do this exactly? I’m not what anyone would call, “A connoisseur of kinks” especially sure not yours.”

Well, here I am. Standing here in the middle of this dinky-ass apartment with my mother, again. About to attempt her special course on safe sex. Again. Why does she insist on doing this every Friday?

“Quit, Sapphire.”  

She turned her head slightly to the left, giving me a withering side-glance. But with her broad, hilariously shiny, poufy-furred back facing towards me, it was hard to take her seriously. Like a giant teddy bear. Wearing red and blue cigar boxers. She hates it when her fur acts like this as opposed to her once boring dull blue fur coat she meticulously flattens and matts to give her a more terrifying look. Which works, unfortunately. How dare she have natural shiny sapphire fur? No, we have to make it look ugly. Mother growled irritably as I snickered at my own internal joke regarding my name.

“This isn’t funny. You have done this three times. You should know this by now. And I will not tolerate your attitude this round, child.”

I do a massive eye-roll and crossed my arms, about to deliver some world class snark to this boomer, and-  

“Sapphire.”

I immediately clam myself up. Shit.  

She turns around completely, in the middle of pulling a “special” Lubed reusable glove over her massive, thick bear hand. Her massive solid gray eyes bore in to mine, seemingly demanding full obedience. As if she’s getting that. I curled my lip and looked down, a swarm of comebacks trying to force their way out of my throat. I swallow hard. It is a very bad idea to get “lippy”, as mother puts it, when she gives me the “you must obey or I’ll kick your ass” look.  

“Sit down.”

She pointed to the dinky looking couch, crusty with a rusty blue tint of the original color, fading away. I frowned and huffed at her, attempting to plead with my big, best effort pity-me eyes. The silvery teary-eyed look, along with a sad little whimper usually does the trick. Sometimes we actually move to the bed room where the bed is usually less dinky than the couch. She Paused, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. I choked down a snicker. She was clearly trying to hide how aroused she was by her naturally gorgeous daughters pity face, shifting uncomfortably and clicking her tongue. But alas, I don’t think it worked this time. She opened her eyes and furrowed her monster brows, shaking her head and clicking her tongue, this time with clear disapproval all over her staunch face. She jabbed a finger in the direction of the couch and swiftly disappeared into the bedroom muttering, “Ten minutes, be ready.”

Exasperated, I sighed, trundling over to the crusty little couch, flopping in a dramatic manner only to be pricked by the jagged abrasions on this old thing. Ugh, why does mother always have to pick the dirties, dingiest, cheap-ass apartments she can find?! No, seriously, why does she? We aren’t exactly poor. What, with her being a Constuction consultant and all. Plus, my “special” line of work I do on the side with her “Girlfriends”. I mean, I don’t have too and she doesn’t make me, but not gonna lie? She has some pretty hot girlfriends. I moaned in pain as I adjust myself on the couch, my long-ass legs dangling over its left arm. Ugh, this is very uncomfortable. Next time, I'm going to offer to pay for a room. A nice one. I have my own money. And I worked hard for it. Her girlfriends aren't easy to please, you know. Especially not sassy. I clasped my hands together and began to literally twiddle my thumbs, softly yet brokenly whistling a random tune as I glanced around the room for something to look at while mom finishes whatever preparations she needs to do for a, what, 10-minute session? What does she even prep for? Her lectures? I bit my lip. Damn it, I forgot she likes to talk during these. I mean, that’s kinda the point, safe-sex training and whatnot.  

I growled irritably. I get injured once trying upside down 69-ing with a monkey chick and all the sudden I have to practice all of the basics I, of course, already fucking know. I've known since I was twelve. Pretty late, I know, but it was the first time my mom decided to teach me about sex. I shuddered nervously at the thought. I wasn’t forced, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable. Her fingers were too big and my vag was very tight. It hurt a lot, and despite her best efforts to calm me down and “be gentle”, she just really sucks at both of them. If it wasn’t for her oral skills, she would’ve completely traumatized me.

I shook my head, attempting to knock the thoughts from my head and focused myself on observing the horrific glory that was this dingy little apartment. It is disgusting and waaaay too blue. The walls are adorned by peeling, striped cream and blue wall paper that has what looks like water damage at the top corners of the room, causing the edges to curl and tear. The flooring is only marginally better. Scruffy faded teal carpet with unknown stains scattered all over it. One of them looks like a potential coffee stain. One looks like a father had too much fun with his son. I say this because of the suspicious amount of cum stains around the same area, a few feet from the coffee table. I grind my teeth in disgust. Men are so nasty, clearly women are the superior race. The pace even smelled like sex and old coffee, with a pinch of mold to top it all off. I groan again, uncomfortably wiggling in place and adjusting my baggy checkered red boxers that were starting to bunch up my ass, though I quickly stop that as the abrasions rake through my admittedly thin fur line and scrape my tender skin. I’ve always been “thin skinned”. It’s obnoxious. I flinched and continue to lay as still as I can, just now realizing the disturbing amount of first-time sex aid magazines were neatly stacked on the obnoxiously bright Cobalt coffee table that was as faded and damaged as the couch. So much blue, so much blue. Wait, are those teeth marks? I cringe. People in general are gross, except for chicks of course. I reach over and roughly pluck one of the magazines off the top of the stack, causing a few of them to fly off into the floor. Oops. I’ll fix that later.

I begin flipping through the pages, cocking an eyebrow at some of the, uh, advice these things give. Surely mom doesn’t listen to these. One page has a lemur chick spanking her daughter with a metal paddle, a HUGE no-go, always leather or wooded. Oh geez, and not on the vagina! leather or otherwise. Yikes, and no sort of “tender nibbling” on the labia! I scratched my head in confusion. Mother doesn’t do anything like this, she's not stupid. A lot of this isn’t even safe or completely false! why would she- oh. Oooooh. The moment it hit me, I gentle thwap came down upon my head, ruffling my thick mane of hair, the color of the deep ocean as mother says. “Time to start.” I shook her hand off my head and before could say anything, she had swiped the magazine out of my hands and carefully placed it on the newly organize stack of magazines, sighing.  

“They’re just reading material for rubbing off. Do not take their advice. It is garbage.” I gave her a “Do I really look that stupid to you?” look and pushed my poor, sore body up into a sitting position, arms braced, legs spread. She huffed. Why? “Well? Are we going to do this or no-AH.” My cries of surprise where quickly muffled by a slick, lubed up glove with the other lightly grazing my tender folds with a shockingly cold touch, sending shocks all over my body. “Mleh!” I angerly pushed her gross, wet hand off of my muzzle, leaving a streak of lube across my nose. “What was that for-” I was immediately silenced by two fingers gently pinching my clitoris, rubbing and pulling it in an agonizingly slow manner, the pleasure slowly blooming up through my loins uo through my chest. Warmth and the chill of the gloves combining effortlessly. “I-I-” I focused my vision the best I could, thoughts barely coming together in a sea of pleasure and lube. I see my mother's eyes-smiling? The moment our eyes met, she nodded slightly and released my clitoris. I gasped in relief and immediately flopped back on the couch, barely feeling the prickly cushion.  

“Well, you failed.”

“I failed?! What does that mean exactly?! You came at me out of nowhere! And with two gloves, really? Don’t you only need one?”

“Precisely, I came onto you without consent, you barely fought back and didn’t even try to get me to stop. Failed.”

“Um, I call BS on this, of course I'm not going to fight back! I thought this was the point? Safe sex training? not sexual assault training? I mean, it wasn't bad at all (aside from the nasty glove in my mouth) but still, warn me next time, geez.” I hastily rubbed the lube off with the back of my hand as mother just stared at me with disappointment and furrowed brows. What the hell?! Why am I being failed before the real course has even begun?  

I Glared up at her, gently rubbing my poor assaulted clitoris, still tender from the “surprise” mother had decided to dish out. I opened my mouth to try to get an answer to the mystery of the two gloves, and she just held up a hand, shook her head and sank down to her knees to were our faces are aligned. I Immediately tense up and look at her suspiciously, watching her apply some more of that lube onto her gloves, attempting to make a “I’m not going to try anything face” with a gentle nod for extra assurance. I gave her a sour look. Sure, as though I'm going to trust you now. I carefully and deliberately spread my legs apart half-way, mainly so I can prepare myself for another “Surprise lesson”.  

“You still haven’t explained to me your brilliant reason for wearing two gloves? I’m pretty sure you only need one.” I muttered. She placed the lube bottle on the coffee table, flexing her fingers. In preparation I assume. “Practice. I will be alternating between hands.” She placed one slimy hand on my inner thigh, causing chills to run up my spine. I instinctively close my legs a little, eyeing her suspiciously, my sharp eyes following every movement of her grubby not-so-little fingers. “Relax. This will be quick. I’m not going to surprise you again. Though, you need to be prepared next time. People can be like that.” She pressed a very cold thumb to my clitoris, causing me to gasp as she began to stroke my opening along with it, strong yet gentle strokes. I felt my vagina twitch and pulse in anticipation, I growled with impatient. She continued to stroke my opening without much penetration. I was starting to with in frustration, the pleasure slowly building up, like a volcano, ready to burst, my head swimming with it. I groaned, constantly urging her to hurry up, I could only take so much teasing, it isn’t exactly my favorite in the world.  

I sighed, relaxing my legs a little more, but the moment I do that...

“What’s the first rule to safe sex?”

“Huh?” I moaned groggily

“What’s the first rule of safe sex?”

She punctuated her words further, emphasizing it with rougher strokes to my poor clit.

Ah shit, I forgot that was the purpose of this little session. “Um, always wear a condom?”

I felt a steamy wave of hot breath hit my face in a huff.

“I said the first. The one you failed?”

I felt a rise of anger mixing with the waves of pleasure, but me, being to occupied to come up with a proper comeback, simply said; “Oh right, no surprise sex. You need to work on that one, hon-ack!” I sputtered the rest of my sentence as she thrust her thumb up into the top wall of the inside of my vagina. It took a lot not to scream from the sudden blow. I was so close. Ugh hurry up mother! I squirmed in frustration and discomfort from the painful build up to this musty couch’s spiky embrace.

“Without the sarcasm.”

She was slowly pumping her two large fingers inside, watching me as she goes in and out, in and out, as slow as she can. Almost seems like I'm being mocked. What does this have to do with safe sex again?! I'm so close to bursting Its painful. I give up.

“Fine, fine!” I gasped between ragged breaths. “Always ask for consent and THEN wear a- Ah!” FINALLY. My entire body tensed up, my inner walls clamping down of my mother finger and spaz the fuck out as I reached my climax. A shocking amount of my juices flowing like a mini river down mothers gloved hand, dripping into the couch's crevices. I slump back onto the couch, ignoring the usually prickly pain and musty sex-ridden smell, utterly exhausted. “There, happy? Did I pass your test?” If you call it that, I'm still reeling from the intense session we just had. My loins are on fire. I open my mouth to say something else, but that is quickly forgotten when a pair on rough, dry lips give me an albeit impressive sloppy kiss (tongue included) practically stealing my breath away. Again.

“We are not done.” She said as she slid her long, spotted tongue out of my throat. I resist my urge to gag as it hitches on my uvula. “That was the physical part of the lesson, in which you only passed the second half. You are a decent receiver; however, you need to work on keeping yourself in control or the situation could turn sour.” Uuuuugh of course there’s a lecture and quiz part of this session, I should’ve known. Wait, and what does she mean I only passed half of the physical part. She practically cheated. I wanted to tell her off so badly, but I resigned myself to a mournful moan, too exhausted to do anything else.  

For the next fifteen minutes, my mother explained the importance of safe sex, the rules of consent, how not to use sex toys, all that jazz. And I had to answer what felt like a thousand questions while she cleaned up the mess and spayed cologne everywhere. Why cologne? It stank like a bitch but it covered up scent pretty well. At least that’s what mother told me. I made my move to the bedroom once she was done grilling me and telling me how I “needed to do better” and “I should know all this by now.” I swiftly shut and locked the door and flopped down on the stiff, equally dirty mattress with an equally ugly blue design. I don’t even bother covering myself up, I just lay there, bare body exposed. My deep sapphire fur glistening in the moonlight peeking through the curtains. I was just realizing the hideous roar of the ventilation system, crackling through the-night? Wait, how long have we been at it?

I shook my head and buried my face into the moldy feather pillow. These are questions that can wait until morning. As I starting to wearily drift off to sleep, I swore I could see the faint silhouette of my mother, watching over me. Probably critiquing me in my sleep. I didn’t bother thinking about how that could be possible with the door, locked I just let the drowsiness get the best of me as I slowly drifted off into a deep slumber.

 

 

 

 

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