Beggars Can t Be Chapter 3 The Naughty Bits
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Beggars Can't Be...Chapter 11: A Very Naughty Bit Indeed free porn video
We woke together, not in any sympathetic union built of meant-to-be-togetherness, but rather because a certain cat decided that we had hogged the couch for long enough and that he deserved his turn after a certain one of us (namely me) had finished the evening chore of placing a microwave spoonful of canned catfood in the bowl belonging to said cat and placing same on floor for the cat to consume before the cat preceded to hog the couch until bedtime which was I should add rapidly approaching.
Neither of us had bothered to turn off the maker before we fell asleep. It had not burnt dry, but had still filled the kitchen with the scent equivalent of that horrible taste restraunt coffee that has been brew at the tail end of the lunch rush acquires about four in the afternoon.
For his part, the cat filled the room with his very vocal complaints about the length of time the microwave took to warm his before nap treat to the minimum acceptable temperature. Granted, he said this in cat but the meaning was clear.
Oh darn. I just realized that many of the previous sentences are whoppers. I’m sorry, but I happen to enjoy long sentences. The first was, in fact, intentional. The others were not. I’ll try to do better from here on out. Again, I apologize. And back to our story
Jenny picked Charlie up. This caused him to quit squalling. Instead, he began to squirm, as the microwave finished the last few seconds. It dinged, and he squirmed even more, knowing the sound well. Jenny held on to him as I stirred the food to even out the temperature. After I had put the bowl in its proper spot, she allowed the not-at-all half-starved cat to go free. He dashed to his bowl.
I watched Jenny watch Charlie eat. For the nth time in my writing of this chronicle, she smiled a broad smile. It led me to believe that she, too, enjoyed, the simple pleasure of watching a cat eat. Just I enjoyed the simple pleasure of watching her smile. Just as Charlie apparently enjoyed the simple pleasure of a spoonful of canned catfood, but no where near as quickly.
He turned, gave me a look that said, “thank you, Kenneth” in a slight New-England-preppy-WASP accent. He left the kitchen in a way clearly meant to let the both of us know that he had other things to do, and, thus, we were dismissed for the evening.
“Nice cat.”
“He has his uses.”
“What are they?”
“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “He refuses to do them; so I’ve forgotten what they are.”
My joke elicited the desired response another of her laughs and a few extra for good measure. I sat down in a kitchen chair, satisfied, if stiff and more than a little sore. I pushed the hardened remains of Jenny’s breakfast to the side, and let my arm drape itself over the tabletop.
Jenny sat down on my lap and somehow avoided any painful bruise. She leaned back against the arm I had on the table and draped hers over my shoulder. The hand of the other arm went to my exposed penis and cupped it. She leaned over and began to lick my ear.
“Kenny,” she whispered, “have you guessed that I’m over sexed yet?”
I didn’t bother to reply; I moaned as she gently rolled my testicles in her fingers. With her thumb, she tickled the base of my erection just above the scrotum. I moved my hand to her outer labia and began to run my index finger along the grove between them. My touch was light enough that I barely felt her skin.
She quit licking my earlobe and began to moan softly into it instead. My penis gave a twitch in response to the growing excitement I felt. Jenny took hold of it and began to slide her fist in a painfully slow motion. I both wished to have speed it up and have her continue to tease me.
I chose to let her tease, but I teased her back. I slowed my strokes to match hers. I touched her clitoris just as she reached my head. I reached the taint just as the bottom of her fist made contact with my scrotum. Her breathing was hoarse and ragged. I felt just the tip of her tongue return to the inside of my ear.
My breathing grew hoarse and ragged.
I went to stand. She rose from my lap. With a guiding shove against her stomach, I moved her against the table.
Following my prodding, she backed against it, and when my pressure persisted wiggled onto the table.
On her own initiative, Jenny lifted her legs up to the table and spread them in an impressive display of flexibility. Her left leg knocked her plate off of the table. It failed to break on the floor by landing on one of the other chairs and a cushion of hardened pancake. She leaned back. Her right hand upset my coffee mug. Its cold contents flowed over the table’s edge like the ocean at the end of an ancient mariener’s world.
I didn’t need to remind myself that it would still be there in the morning and so did not.
“I thought you weren’t hungry.”
I bent down, still seated in the chair and did what I had been doing before, but this time, I used my tongue in place of my finger. She moaned again and kept any further observations that she may have had to herself.
I gave her another gentle lick before standing. I told her to stay where she was. She nodded her head many times and rapidly. Not a word escaped from her upturned lips. I walked away and went to the fridge. From there, I extracted a mid-sized carrot. I turned and found that Jenny was trying to see what I was up to.
I gave her a wink. I, also, maneuvered myself so the carrot stayed on non-Jenny side of my body and, thus, blocked from her view. She tried to look around my body as I marched to the sink. I started the facet and rinsed off the carrot and gave it a good scrubbing as well. With all the care I had used to that point, I slid it behind my back and walked over to Jenny.
She sat on the table showing lots of teeth. Her dark brown eyes sparkled, as she craned her neck to try to look around my body for her surprise. Her body was all a twitter like a kitty waiting for a treat or a child waiting for her turn to unwrap a present (hey, that’s the way MY family does it, which is much more civilized and more fun too).
I stared at her for a moment or five, quietly and pleasantly lost in her. For the nth time in my writing of this chronicle, I smiled back at Jenny. Then, I looked away from her in embarrassment from my extreme silliness.
She just giggled. I looked back at her and shrugged.
Jenny lifted a hand from the table and used her index finger to call me over to her. I came to her call and took the last few steps to the table.
Keeping the carrot from her sight, I retook my place on my chair. I bent down and took another long lick along Jenny’s unparted labia. My tongue retreated just before reaching her hidden clitoris. She moaned out something along the lines of “oh, Kenny.” I looked up from her sex to her face; she looked down at me. We exchanged smiles, again. Jenny leaned over a bit to get a glance behind me.
I took the hint and brought the carrot into her sight.
She frowned. “What? Not a zucchinni?”
“Hey, I have enough personal issues.” We shared a laugh. “Shall I, Miss Jenny?”
“Please do, Kenneth.”
So, I did. Using two fingers, I parted her labia as best I could and lowered my mouth to her. The surfaces of her labial folds shone with wetness and around her opening I could see puddles of her milky lubricant. With an effort, I forbid myself from licking it away and tasting her sexual essence. Instead, I used my tongue to lay down a layer of saliva along the pink folds.
Satisfied with my addition, I took the pointy end of the carrot and placed it against the mouth of her inner passage. I turned up to see her face. She nodded to me, and I slowly pushed the vegetable inside. I watched her face; eyes closed and tongue between her teeth and sticking just slightly from her mouth. A low, soft growl came from deep in her throat as the carrot made its passage into her.
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