One Hot Kitty

One Hot Kitty

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Kitty continues to enjoy discovering the perks of her newly single life.

Summary

Kitty continues to enjoy discovering the perks of her newly single life.

Content

Submitted: February 16, 2019

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: February 13, 2019

A A A

A A A


One Hot Kitty

 

The moment I exit the glass doors of my attorney’s office building and step foot onto the crowded sidewalk of downtown Los Angeles, I yell at the top of my lungs, “Kathryn Conroy is back.  Better look out bitches!  Whoo-hoo!”

My smile though small spreads into a full grin with my arms in the air performing the sign of victory.  I give a twirl for effect not caring how pedestrians pause to stare at me like I’ve lost my marbles.  Others give me a wide berth as they walk around me whispering to themselves.  Chuckling, I head for the limo that awaits since I hire it for a full day.  The chauffer smirks at me while he opens the passenger door.  I take my time sliding into the cool interior.

“Is there any other place you would like me to take you besides the airport, Ms. Conroy?” the black man inquires with politeness once he takes the driver's seat.  He stares back at me with kind chocolate eyes from the rear view mirror. 

I have no planned itinerary other than the lawyer’s office and the airport.  I almost believe that my ex-husband will try to pull some last-minute sneaky shit to prolong my trip, but he doesn’t.  Two decades of marriage resolves in amicable simplicity.  George and I sign where needed to end what I thought was a good union.

Don’t I want to leave sunny Cali?  Why the hesitation back to chilly Chicago?  Glancing through the passenger window, I know that when I arrived a couple of hours ago leaving was exactly what I desired.  My hatred of L.A. fills me with dread because it reminds me of where my prince breaks my heart.  I learn here the hard way that George isn’t a wonderful man.

I plan everything right down to the sexy short dress I wear showing off my killer body.  To leave immediately is paramount to avoiding any residual anguish.  No cravings do I have for the pain of George’s betrayal to devour me whole.  It never does.  Staring across the conference room table at my ex in the flesh, whom I haven’t seen since I left the state almost a year ago, I feel nothing for him.  No hate, pity, or love live in me.  Shocking, right?

A hard few months at the start of my marital separation are expected.  I endure the pain and changes with my head held high.  In time, I feel healthy all over, inside and out.  That’s more liberating than anything else. 

Officially single, I find myself unsure of being ready to go back home to freeze my buns off in Chicago.  “Not just yet,” I decide in answer to the driver’s question and the one that lingers in me.  “Would you mind driving around a bit?  I do not visit often.  The day is so warm and stunning.”

The young man nods with a gorgeous smile full of straight, white teeth.  “Understood.  I will make it a scenic ride along Highway 1.”

I smile brightly back at him because when I lived here, that is something I enjoyed.  Alone in my car, I would clear my head and drive with a mixed playlist of relaxing favorites like Coltrane, Billy Holiday, and Miles Davis.  Doing that always reminded me of my dad who loved old jazz.  At the end of a busy workday, he always put his feet up in his favorite easy chair and cranked up some blues and jazz with some brown liquor to sip.  No one would bother him for that first hour he was home.  Dad considered it the best part of his day beside engaging his girls as he called me, my mom and sister Heather.

“Thank you,” I say, so happy I choose the right driver to cart me around the city.  He does not try to fill the time with mindless chatter.  I appreciate the quiet to hear myself think and soak in the view.

For the first time since I walk away from my marriage, a weight has lifted from my heart.  Despite loathing the pretentiousness of this city as much as I do, admittedly the sunny morning weather of L.A. at the tail end of winter beats the frigid windiness of Chicago any day.  Grinning, I ease back in my soft leather seat and cross my long toned legs, loving being a passenger.  It is a treat I do not experience much these days.

Perhaps the great vibes I embrace center around me signing the divorce papers giving me my due from George without protest?  Or maybe it has more to do with engaging in some unbelievably hot office sex with my cute, younger lawyer, Shawn Juarez?  I cannot stop smiling at how bold I was with him, riding his face between my legs and having him licking me until I came.  And, if that wasn’t bad enough, I left the poor guy with a hard-on he would have to satisfy by himself.  Hee! Hee! 

All in all, I believe that I have awakened a sleeping cougar.  Kitty’s hungry for life and everything that follows along with it.  Nothing like the present to start getting what I want. 

My older sister Heather is so right when she counsels me on the same subject before I fly out here.  Why waste a moment second-guessing?  Life is short enough and why shouldn’t I make the best of the duration I have here doing whatever the hell I want wherever that may be? 

I shake my head sharply knowing that I’m acting like Heather.  She would be laughing her ass off at me indulging myself as I have so far today in my short slip dress.  I’ve always been the far more reserved sister while Heather did all the crazy stuff.  She also has all the ex-husbands to prove it although number four she’s apt to hold on to. 

When my cell phone rings and I see it’s her, I cackle with amusement.  “Great timing.  Was just thinking about you,” I admit.

“Me, too, Kitty.  Is it finito?”

“I’m free as a bird to spread my wings and fly!”

My sister snickers and sighs at the end.  I do it with her so in sync with one another.  It happens more especially once separated from George, and I move back home to Chicago.  For the first few months, I even stayed with her until I found and closed on a townhouse in Schaumberg.  Not much of a backyard, but I never desired one.  Mowing was a chore I hated.  Thank goodness for the kindness of my hot neighbor who took care of it for me when he mowed his own.

Heather asks, “And you’re headed back home, huh?”

I shake my head.  “Nope.  I’m riding around the old neighborhood with time to kill.”

Pffft!  There’s no rush since you’re off this week.  Enjoy your last day there or fly off to Mexico.  I checked the weather.  L.A.’s supposed to be in the 70s the next few days.”

I giggle.  “Mexico?  Are you serious?”

“If I had your body, Kitty, I would be tearing it up in L.A. flaunting my new freedom like I was dying tomorrow!  Then after screwing every cutie I could find, I’d head off to the beaches of Mexico and find me some more strange to bang my brains out.  I mean how long was it since Father Time, I mean Georgie Porgie puddin’ pie kissed the girl and made her cry, stopped giving you the dry-stick?  Two years?  Definitely got lots of time to make up for that kind of faithfulness.  I don’t know how you held it together so long.  You’re a much stronger woman than I am.”

I laugh my head off, grabbing my midsection in the midst of it.  “Good thing you don’t have my body.  Sounds like I’d be sore as hell!”

“Only way to know you’re alive and that the effort was good and satisfying.”  Heather sniggers.  “Hey, gotta get back to work.  Call me later and tell me all about your adventures?”

“You bet.  Love you.”

“Love you, too, Kitty.”

Smiling to myself, I know Heather would never leave Sal, her last husband no matter how much she kids me.  I want something like they have.  A love that fits like a glove and a friendship that goes hand in hand with it. 

I remember what Heather says though about relishing the journey.  What rush am I in?  Now I have all the seconds, hours, and days in the world!  It’s about time I sit back and revel in what comes next.

The limo I hire from the airport has a sunroof, and I poke my head up through it feeling the warm Los Angeles air running through my dark hair that hasn’t grayed yet.  That’s when I spot a banner on a renovated hotel and spa.  I settle back down and direct my driver to take me there.  Something about this place draws me to it.  The driver drops me off at the front of the horseshoe drive. 

I strut through the elegant glass doors as uniformed men tip their hats to me.  My heels click on beautiful white marble floors.  They match the Greek-inspired columns as I make my way to the front desk also made of the stuff. 

“Welcome to the Brentwood Hotel and Spa.  How may I assist you in making today great?” the woman in a yellow suit greets.  Her ash-blond hair is neatly pinned up professionally.  Her smile invites me to do the same.

I read her name tag that says Nikki as I remove my sunglasses.  “Hi, Nikki.  I’m not familiar with this chain of hotels.  Can you tell me more about it?”

“Why sure!  Brentwood is a new boutique hotel; privately owned.  Our specialty is to cater to every need of our guests,” she announces with a sure pride.  “It doesn’t matter how crazy or bizarre.  We exist to ensure that you have the best experience of your life while staying with us.”

I stare at her and then the space around me loving the smell of this place and feeling the cheery vibe.  Everything she says appeals to me.  Experiencing something exceptional is just what I crave.  Hell, something I damn well earn after how my husband treats me so callously, cheating and dumping me because I’m too old to find attractive. 

Whatever.  George's loss is someone else’s gain.  I know that I have plenty of life to live, and no shame lives in me just because I’m over 40.  I’m proud of my age.  Besides, I’m healthy and take good care of myself.  No one, not even my ex, can take that away from me.

However, I am not certain what brings me here.  It’s not like me to go off the beaten path which is to fly back to Chicago today.  However, at the same time, I feel the need to celebrate further being newly single.  What better way to do that than taking advantage of a spa?  It isn’t like there’s any reason I have to go home except to see family.  My sister, her husband, and my nieces and nephews make it a habit to have dinner together with Mom on Sundays. 

“Every need, huh?” I ask because I feel very indulgent at the moment.

Nikki nods with a spark in her ocean blue eyes.  “Yes.  Guaranteed.  Are you interested in a single day, weekend or weeklong package with us?  We have custom plans, or you can pick and choose amongst our amenities what suits you.  I am confident we can find something that will fit whatever you need or desire.”

“You certainly make this hard to resist, Nikki.  What kind of availability do you have?  Are there rooms available today?  Can I have the full benefits of the spa today as well?”

“You absolutely can in the privacy of your luxury suite, fit with great views, hot tub, and chef-prepared meals for whatever your palate.”

“Now you’re talking my language!”  I dig in my purse for my American Express Card and hand it to the hotel clerk.  “Sold.  Sign me up for two days in your best available suite, Nikki.  I need a make-over.  I’ve just signed divorce papers and feel in need of rejuvenation.”

“You have come to the right place for we are the rejuvenation specialists.”  Nikki took the card and clicked away on her tablet.  “Okay.  Do you have a preference in your suite being a high or low floor?  Any particular bed choice?”

“Uhh, no; I’ll take whatever is available.”

“Oh, I am sure we can do better than that.  I will make sure we take good care of you, Ms. Conroy,” Nikki says brightly with a wink.  “Oooh, I have a free upgrade here for you to the presidential suite for no additional charge at our standard suite rate.”

My eyes swell.  “You aren’t serious.”

“Of course, I am.  I told you our specialty is to cater to the whim of our clients.  How would you like to pay, Ms. Conroy?  On your Platinum card today?” 

I nod.  “Yes!”

Nikki swipes the card and returns it.  “Thank you, Ms. Conroy.” 

My smile is crooked, but I feel giddy inside at this walk down spontaneous street.  “I really appreciate this.”

Nikki smiles brighter somehow and then begins laying out the different brochures for the spa treatments, my key and then her business card should I have questions or need anything.  “You are all set.”

“Thank you so much, Nikki.”

“You enjoy yourself, Ms. Conroy.”  Nikki winks again.

I walk toward the elevators, but there is a small dress shop before I can reach it.  A sexy white dress is displayed in the window that’s calling my name.  I sift through the store shopping for a change of clothing and whatever else I want since I travel very light.  After the shop therapy session, I head up to my suite and order room service for lunch and a spa treatment.

While I wait, I admire the elegance of my suite and the spectacular view of downtown.  My mind cannot resist reminiscing on how I reach this pivotal moment in my life. 

Two years ago, George, now my ex-husband, stopped touching me, kissing me, or making love to me.  What changed?  I turned 40.  Somehow that magic number converted my husband into a stranger.  My depression in the wake of this change swallowed me whole.  It confounded me what happened to my happy life with this man that meant so much to me.  I lost myself in weight gain and solace that food could give me. 

Only in snooping through George’s things did I discover the truth he couldn't tell me.  All was revealed in the videos found in his phone of the other life he led.  These women of Ashley Madison and Tinder he frequently fucked. The common denominator was that they were so much younger than me.  Wherever my ex visited for business all over the country and abroad, he had women scattered for his pleasure. 

One of George’s women even happened to be my best friend’s daughter!  The most hurtful thing was that my so-called friend knew about the damn affair!  She fucking encouraged it!  So much for loyalty whenever money's involved.

My hatred of the fakeness in L.A. reached its summit.  I was more than ready to make a change for the better when I left.  The hatchet in my back certainly motivated me along with the realization that 20 years of my life was gone.  I mourned them well.  They would never be seen again. 

Daily I write in a journal blog of my journey to fulfillment.  In the beginning, I have no idea it will become a blog that other people will like or find relatable.  For me, it’s therapy.  For others in the same situation of being in a relationship with someone who doesn’t want you, it’s hope that a brighter day comes.  Until then, you can love yourself through the hurt and betrayal of those who claim to love you.

My time away from California while working on myself is the best.  I see everything through clear eyes instead of the rosy-colored glasses bought in Tinseltown.  Nothing is more important than what I long for.  My life will be what I make it.  If I fail, so what?  No regrets will be mine.

My ex-husband George is my past.  In being a single woman, that means I do not have to answer to anyone.  I can do whatever the hell I want when I want without apologizing for it.  It’s my life again, and I can live it without compromise.

This next stage of my life would be better than ever though.  I will make sure of that. Work and hobbies are good.  Safe.  However, to hell with playing it safe!  No one ever gains any real happiness that way.  Time for Kitty to take life by the reins and live for herself.

My lunch arrives promptly, and I eat the kale salad with grilled chicken in delight.  Afterward, I strip out of my clothes in prep for the deep tissue massage that comes next.  One thing I can say about L.A. is that it knows how to pamper those who can pay for it.  I work hard.  Why not play hard, too?

The knock sounds at my suite door a few minutes later.  Wrapped in a hotel robe and nothing else, I answer the door.  A smiling man stands there with a hard body full of muscles stretching his polo shirt embroidered on the side with the words Brentwood Hotel & Spa.  He carries under one impressive arm his massage table and slings on his opposite fit shoulder a duffle bag. 

“Hi, I’m Kerby, and I’m here to take your stress away,” he says in a pleasant, friendly voice.

With a smirk working the corners of my mouth, I have to say by the way he looks that I can imagine an assortment of ways such an athletic man may help me relieve some stress.  Tall, tanned, this young thing has dark hair and eyes that make me quiver inside. 

“That’s excellent, Kerby, because I’ve suffered from lots of it for some time and hope that finally I can get rid of it.”

He nods with a broader smile and flash of even teeth.  “If you let me in, I’m sure we can get started along that goal.”

I widen the opening of the door to admit him and inhale deeply as he passes.  My God, he smells like heaven!  I shut and lock the door already feeling my stress over today melt away.  I continue to sip my white wine that is left over from my meal as I watch Kerby set up near the windows which allow in the most light. 

The table unfolds and snaps into place.  From his duffle bag, he pulls out two rolls of bath sheets and lays them over the table.  He then sets up a line of oils, a tree branch with green leaves, some type of warmer that he plugs in, a small pot that looks full of lava rocks and then more towels.

“I am ready when you are, Ms. Conroy,” Kerby says as he stands waiting by the table for me.  He holds his hands behind his back.

I approach him and untie my robe before allowing it to fall to the floor.  Kerby admires my body without the appearance of lewdness, which I like.  I’m proud of the work I’ve put into being healthy and working out routinely.  I hoist myself on the table, laying on my stomach.  Twisting my dark hair to the side away from my neck, I relax. 

Kerby drapes a towel over my bum. “Relax,” he coaxes, “Close your eyes.  You are in good hands.  Your satisfaction is guaranteed.”

Unexpected sounds surround me of water crashing over a seashore and the call of seagulls.  I smile thinking of a beach, and the oil that Kerby uses smells of ocean breezes.  When his warm hands touch me over my neck and shoulders, I moan feeling relaxed already, “Mmmmmmm!”

Kerby works the kinks out of my arms and down my back.  He skips my bum which is fine.  He lines my thighs with his thumbs and does the same to my calves and feet.  Each area feels better than it ever has once his swirling thumbs and fingertips work their magic.  At one point, I believe I cry out at how good my muscles feel in his hands. 

I turn over without him asking me or knowing if he was done.  More is needed yet not on that side.  Feeling amazing along my back is not enough.  I need to feel his hands on every inch of my soft skin.  Now!

Before another towel is draped over my breasts, I can see the rise of my nipples temporarily exposed to the air.  They point up like tiny peaks even beneath the cotton.  Kerby also drapes a towel over my smooth pussy.

Once more my neck and shoulders are worked.  The same oil warms my skin that is exposed.  Kerby travels with care avoiding the areas covered.  The longer he does this though I wish that he lingers and ventures beneath the cloth.  My muscles are relaxed all over but zones of my body quarantined by the towels tingle with a need for his warm hands.  My feet, legs, midsection, and arms all experience the happiness of his gift. 

“How do you feel, Ms. Conroy?” Kerby inquires as he removes his hands from me.

I sigh and open my eyes to see him turning off the small device that has been producing the soothing sounds and placing it in his duffle bag.  The oils follow along with some spare towels.  I sat up removing the towels he had so carefully placed over my goodies. 

“Unsatisfied,” I say with another sigh because I want more than this mere session can offer.

The young man with strong hands looks at me as he stands straight.  I notice that he sports a boner in his pants.  My smile grows because I wonder if touching me is having any effect on him like me.  It boosts my confidence even more.

Kerby glances at his watch and comments, “Our session is officially over, Ms. Conroy, and I have no more appointments today.  It’s a shame I was not able to fully satisfy you.  I do have another technique I can try.  Free of charge, of course.”

“You would do that for me?” I ask as I smile at him and touch my boobs.  I run the oil from other places over them as I lay down on the table again.

He nods as he comes closer to me.  “Yes.  I would love to show it to you.”

“Please do,”  I say and watch him peel out of his shirt, pants, underwear, socks, and shoes. 

His body is incredible to behold, and I am touching between my legs unable to stop myself.  I bite my lip as he reaches for my breasts and starts massaging them as he had the rest of my body.

“Oh, yes!  This feels sensational,” I say as I close my eyes.  My oily fingers have not stopped twiddling over my clit and slit that seek some interaction now. 

His hands slide down my body.  My legs fly open for his massage as I pant.  He runs his fingertips over my vulva and then along my labia before he ever touches my clit.  My ass lifts from the table, but he settles me right down dipping a finger inside my wet hole and massages to my clit. There he caresses his two fingers in a roundabout motion to separate the lips and have better access.  His other hand and fingers rub the button, squeeze it, sending me into rapid pants and mewls of pleasure.  Kerby ebbs and flows with such ease as his finger lingers by my dark hole.  Soon it puckers under the influence of his oily pinky finger. 

I relax as he blows cool air on my nipple before he nibbles it with his teeth. His thumb flicks my clit, and I’m done.  At Kerby's hands, my body bows with tremors I hardly control.  I cry out while staring into his sharp dark eyes.  The lust there forces my hand to his hard cock for a rub down.  He’s leaking a steady amount of pre-cum which makes me smile.

When I calm down and can speak, I say with gratefulness, “Oh, that technique does quite hit the spot.  But there's another area in need of some attention.  Only a hard muscle can grant relief.”

The smile he offers me makes my chest rise and fall in new pants.  “Turn on your stomach again.  I am sure I know just the right technique.”

I lay on my front with my head turned to the side and my hair twisted up away from my neck.  Kerby massages up and down my back with the excess oil still covering my skin.  Then he draws down to my ass without stopping this time.  I moan at the deep rubbing of his hands tracing along my spin and pushing out over my shoulders.  He rubs back down again divides my cheeks and rubs his thumbs between them.  His fingertips caress my lips, and then one finger slips into my wet hole.

“Aaaaaah!” I groan for he hits the spot I need on his first try. 

Damn, Kerby is good!  The rub and penetration of his fingers are rhythmic and so satisfying to push me right to the edge.  He adds another digit to the massage, and there I remain.  It is not enough.  I need more.

I suppose he senses this when he assists me in rising.  “I need to give support to your back for what I am to do next.”

A rolled towel goes under my stomach.  I lay down again, yet Kerby joins me on the table.  At first, I wonder if it is sturdy enough for the two of us. It is a metal table with padding on top though.  It sustains our weight without any sign of buckling.

My tush is in the air when I feel the first trace of Kerby’s thick cock breaching my pussy from the back.  His arms stretch out beside me to support him.  He’s slow in the entry which I enjoy immensely while clutching on to the bath sheet beneath me. 

“Oh, yes!” I manage in amazement at his control in going so slowly.  “Oh, that’s the spot in need of relief!” 

His speed is gradual and still controlled.  Minutes tick by as I groan with my eyes closed.  Kerby massages me in a different manner.  His skill to reach places in me have me panting for more.  I need it badly.

“Harder!  Stronger!  Fuck my kitty!” I cry because I’m ready for the big orgasm that’s been building in me since he started.

Kerby is one to take direction.  I like him even more for that.  His slow strokes that drive me mad accelerate with each new stroke.  The table hops as I hold on.  My grunts mix with his upon impact.  Kerby does not spare the length and width of his member at full tilt.  I bite the towel I clench.  Screams emit from my throat at the depth of his cock drilling my cervix. 

“Oh, oh, you’re gonna make me cum!” I cry over my shoulder at such a high pitch. 

Kerby’s enthusiasm never wanes.  The rapid clapping of his effort sounds with our grunts.  His awesome body works up a sweat that drops from him.  It runs over me, mixing with my own.  Kerby fires me off the cliff and beyond in the divine shudders that begin in my toes. 

“Oooooo!  Fuck!” I shout over and over again.

Not long do I wait for him to join me for my walls contract on his wicked grind.  Kerby stiffens and groans with a sigh as his cock unleashes the fiery seed that’s been mounting in him.  Several pants later, he withdrawals only to see me pushing his cum out of my pussy that runs down my slit toward my clit.  Kerby dismounts.

I sit up on my knees as I watch him towel off his sweaty body and hair while I use the towel that is rolled under me to rub gently between my trembling legs.  It's amazing how he sports a fine semi-boner.  I lick my lips.

Kerby lowers the towel around his neck to rest as he asks with a half-smile that is knowing, “So, Ms. Conroy, are you now fully satisfied?”

Flushed from my orgasm, I provide him with a great smile and nod.  “Guaranteed.”

###


© Copyright 2019 Amy F. Turner. All rights reserved.

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