Fiction by ERWA Bloggers
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by Donna George Storey
by Lisabet Sarai
by C. Sanchez-Garcia
Three Times Lucky
by Remittance Girl
Last Tango in Paris, Texas
by M. Christian
Eddie's All-night Diner
by K D Grace
A Curious Case
by Jean Roberta
Sleep Well, My Love
by Elizabeth Black
are you going to kiss me?
by Ashley R Lister
Naughty Bits: Technology for Authors
by Lisabet Sarai
A Slip of the Lip Anthology
by Remittance Girl (Ed)
A Pussy's POV
by Daily Hollow
First of all I'm not a pussy - I'm a cat. Many say I'm fat, but I consider myself "fluffy." My owner worries I'm getting too heavy. She sometimes puts me in a small crate, then brings me to a place where some asshole pricks me with something sharp.
She also likes to starve me since I only get fed three times a day. I'm sure there are squirrels that eat more! I shouldn't complain. She keeps my litter box clean, has a comfy lap, and knows the right places to scratch. She lets me sleep on her big bed with her at night. Life couldn't be better.
That's what I thought before she met her blonde friend. I really like Blondie. She also knows where to scratch. Her lap is nothing to sneeze at either and I love resting my head against the soft pillows on her chest.
Soon we moved into Blondie’s apartment. It was as though someone took away all nine of my lives and sent me to heaven! The place is huge! There's a fireplace and a patio. I get to hang out on the patio since they think I'm too fat to jump over the railing. Truth is I'm not that stupid. It's a long way from the top of the rail to the hedges below.
Best of all they perform a ritual. They start out by hugging and kissing each other's lips. After shedding their fur (something I wish I could do), they kiss each other's pillows which look even more inviting without the fur.
The best part's the smell. I usually catch a small whiff when their fur hits the floor. They often kiss and tease each other between their legs. That's when the scent becomes intoxicating. I wouldn't trade that smell for all the catnip in the world.
One night we were sitting on the couch. They were close enough to touch. I managed to stretch across both their laps. I was as content as a fat cat could be. Then Blondie mentioned getting a puppy. My ears perked. I've seen the damn cretins while relaxing on the porch. They usually bark up at me. Those are days I consider jumping off the rail and kicking some canine ass.
"How would you like a little puppy?" Blondie asks. Her voice makes me want to melt. If I could talk I would have told them “fine. I could use a scratching post since you get upset when I use the side of the couch.”
Two weeks later, my scratching post arrived. I tested it out. Unlike the couch, it made a loud, high pitched noise. All hell broke loose. My owner started screaming what a bad cat I was, while Blondie scooped up the little yapper, holding him against her pillows.
I got tossed out on the patio where I stayed until my owner and Blondie came back home. I nearly pissed myself when I saw Yapper. He had something wrapped around his head. It looked like one of the things attached to one of the other things that helps make the room glow.
My owner and Blondie argued over something. That night was not a good one. Blondie slept on the couch with Yapper, while my owner stayed in the bedroom with me. This continued for nearly a week as they took turns sleeping with Yapper. I had the feeling they were guarding him from me. I missed them both sleeping together. Mostly, I missed the smell.
I knew what had to be done though I didn't like it. Yapper finally got the goofy contraption removed from his head. I found one of his tennis balls and rolled it with my nose. I was surprised at how far it traveled along the hardwood floor.
Yapper looked at me. He looked at the ball. Then back at me. I playfully thumped my tail. He jumped off the couch, grabbed the ball and dropped it in front of my nose. I again rolled it. He grabbed it and brought it back.
I'm not sure how long we had continued playing before a screech filled the room. It was Blondie and she looked happy. My owner arrived the moment I rolled the ball again. When Yapper dropped it in front of me, her hands went to her face. I'm not sure, but she may have been crying.
Things are good again. We are all sleeping in the same bed (Yapper too). Sometimes he forgets to jump off before the ritual. Those nights one of the ladies puts him on the floor. That's ok. He'll learn.
We both crawl under the bed until they're finished. Yapper sometimes gives me a lick across the face. I don't mind, the ladies are happy again. When they're happy, the rituals increase.
When the rituals increase the smell does as well.
© 2014 Daily Hollow. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Bio: Daily Hollow has been writing erotica for about a year. Daily serves as a reservist in the military and is currently deployed stateside. He is married to his lovely wife and they have an amazing son. He also has three dogs and a cat who's scared of his own shadow. Daily has a BA in English/Writing and holds an MBA in Business Management.
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