Love is Blind by Chi Mangetsu
Chapter 3

At lunchtime, mother, Mr. Sougi and I were finishing up some soup when I noticed something was very wrong with the atmosphere. Mother wasn’t sending chemical messages to Mr. Sougi and neither was he responding. In fact, they seemed to be trying extremely hard to suppress those urges. Mr. Sougi mercifully broke the silence. “Jeni… he said he made the reservations. Why are you so certain he won’t show?”
Mother sighed the sigh she reserved only for daddy and door-to-door salesmen. “I know he did. But I know Gotoh. He forgot our engagement, what should give me any confidence that he’ll remember something as silly as the day I was born?”
Mr. Sougi sounded stunned. “He forgot your anniversary?”
“The last two years.” As mother’s shadow held its head in her hands, Mr. Sougi placed a paw on her shoulder and gently rubbed. Mother leaned over and stroked his face and kissed him on the mouth. Firmly. Deeply. For a good ten seconds. In a way I’ve never seen her kiss daddy. “Mmm. I’ve never kissed Gotoh like that,” mother whispered.
“From what you’ve told me he still kisses like a fish.”
She giggled quietly. “Like he’s trying to suck my face off. And way too much tongue.” They suddenly seemed to realize that I’d stopped eating my soup and was now looking intently at the two of them. Mother eased back into her chair none too smoothly and asked me in a voice like silken lace, “Er, sweetie, you’re done with your soup?”
I simply nodded.
“Ah! Good.” She happened to glance at her watch as she began to gather the bowls and made a small cry. “The cleaners! I’ve got to get there before they close! Neko could you…?”
“I can get the dishes; you go get your dress. You’ll look gorgeous tonight.”
Mother’s pheromones flushed and she said nothing as she came up beside me and gave me a kiss—Mr. Sougi’s kiss, I thought to myself—and hurried out the door.
Mr. Sougi finished the dishes and it was getting later in the afternoon when he asked me a bit of a poser. “So, Matilda, what would you like to do until your brother gets home from school? Get an ice cream from down the street? Play a game? Study?”
I pondered for a moment as I was wont to do then decided. “Brother’s staying at a friend’s house. Could we take a nap on the couch?”
“You want to take a nap? Sure. Let me get a pillow from-“
“You too,” I said. “You take a nap with me. Okay, Mr. Sougi?”
I don’t know why, but I think I felt him smiling sadly. “Sure, Mattie.” Mr. Sougi approached the couch with my hand in his and laid down flat on his back, whereupon I climbed on top of him with my hips straddling his own and my arms draped across his broad chest. He flustered a bit before resigning himself as my living pillow and began to smooth out my hair. “Am I comfortable, miss Mattie?”
I gave his shirt a tug. “Yes. …Rub my ears?”
He chuckled and obliged me. I love when Mr. Sougi rubs my ears. It always gives me the “warm fuzzies” from my neck down to my legs when he does it. I started noticing that he might be getting the warm fuzzies, too.
I feel something rigid rise from his hips, pushing against the fabric of my dress and my cotton panties, pressing against my soft, pink bottom through his trousers. Suddenly Mr. Sougi stops rubbing and slows his breathing and is asleep with his hard thing giving me the warm fuzzies and making me feel different in weird places.

I awoke and he was still unconscious, but I had to make certain he was asleep. Then I leaned up and stole a kiss—a quick one.
It felt nice so I did it again, longer this time. 
Amazingly, he didn’t wake. I took a hand and rubbed my palm against the hard thing as I slid my hips forward, a string of my wetness connecting the bulge in his pants to my moistened undergarments. 
It was round and soft but hard and had an odd shape to it. Through his trousers it felt like a mushroom with a long, thick stem with protrusions coiling over it, tube-like vines wrapped around it that thumped and pulsed as my hand explored its length. The bottom held a sleeve-like thing and a large round sack holding two great eggs that I gave a small, furtive squeeze. The tip of it twitched through the cloth bindings, waggling and struggling and then that’s when I could smell it. That aroma, that flavor! Salt and sweet mixed with Yamaneko Sougi’s own bouquet and taste. The taste I’ve beheld on my mother’s lips well more than once a week. The taste I didn’t realize until that day that I craved.
I carefully turned my body around and unzipped his fly. His big thing smelled so fantastic I could see it almost with my own eyes. The head shined and glistened as I rubbed my thumb over it and gingerly wrapped my fingers around his shaft. Laying out against his chest, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest and his hot breath against my backside.
I couldn’t resist any longer and gave his lolipop a lick.
Another.
Sliding my tongue down his length and back and savoring his flavor before taking his big head in my mouth, listening to him moan. His stem felt so good in my mouth, hot and hard and long that I was completely surprised when I felt a hot, wet, coarse, muscular thing slide over my panties, licking me underneath, then kissing my bare labia on either side before slipping the panties off. 
I could tell he was savoring my flavor, too.
I rubbed his shaft with one hand and the pouch below it with the other as I licked around the base of his gleaming head, experimentally flicking my tongue, then rolling and flattening it out to get the best reactions from my dear tutor.
Then suddenly there was a pressure on my bottom as he slipped his thumb into my butt and sucked fervently on my fourchette while his latent hand spread my young, tight vulva gently, occasionally tickling my clitoris. 
I grasped his throbbing man-flesh as my body shook and he whispered, “Mmm, put me in your mouth and lick under my head while you stroke me.” 
So I did.
“Faster.”
I obliged.
“Keep going… Keep going…”
Suddenly his tongue slipped inside me and filled me up and it felt like a dam burst when he pulled his tongue out and shouted, “I’m coming!”
And suddenly my mouth was filled with hot, white, delicious Neko juice and I lavished the taste as it flowed down my throat and dribbled past my lips and down my chin while my own orgasm soaked Neko’s face in a wet and messy spray.
In a voice like a bass guitar wrapped in velvet he said, “Wow, Jeni. I didn’t know you could squirt.”
And that’s when I kicked him in the head.