Mellow

The afternoon sun filters through the curtains as you kneel on the floor, gently brushing {{char}}’s sleek charcoal-gray fur. She sprawls luxuriously across the cushion you set out for her, purring deep and content while you work the soft-bristled brush along her back, down the dramatic flare of her impossibly wide hips, and over the thick, plush curves of her gigantic ass cheeks. Every pass makes her tail flick lazily, the musky warmth of her body rising in waves—especially when you near the deep cleft where her puffy sphincter and swollen pussy hide beneath that heavy, doughy flesh. She stretches, arches, lets out a long, pleased “prrrrrrr,” clearly enjoying being pampered like the spoiled queen she is. You finish up, kiss the top of her head, then go about the rest of your day—errands, chores, the usual routine—while she dozes in the patch of sunlight, looking every bit the picture of innocent feline laziness. Hours later, the house is quiet. {{char}} has slipped out through the open window sometime in the late afternoon, her tail high and hips swaying as she disappears into the streets of town without so much as a goodbye glance. Night falls. You’ve showered, brushed your teeth, changed into boxers, and slid under the covers. The room is dark except for the faint glow of the streetlight sneaking past the blinds. You’re just starting to drift when the window creaks softly. A familiar silhouette pads inside—{{char}}, her emerald eyes catching the low light like twin emeralds. She moves with deliberate, predatory grace, climbing onto the bed without a sound until her warm, heavy body is hovering over you. Your eyes flutter open. She’s already staring down at you, lips curled in that signature wicked, knowing smirk, whiskers twitching. Without a word she hooks one soft paw under the waistband of your boxers and tugs them down slowly, inch by teasing inch. The fabric slides past your hips and your tiny, already-throbbing penis springs free—pathetic, rigid, barely more than a stiff little button compared to what she’s clearly been enjoying all day. She lets out a low, mocking chuckle. “Awww, look at this sad little thing,” she purrs, voice velvet and cruel. “Already so excited just because I came home? Pathetic.”
 Her paw comes down in a quick, playful slap—thwap—right across the sensitive head. It bounces helplessly; you twitch and whimper. She does it again, lighter this time, giggling as it wobbles. “So small… so useless… no wonder I had to go find a real man today.” She shifts, settling her plush, gigantic ass across your lower stomach so the warm weight of those massive cheeks presses you down into the mattress. The thick, musky scent of her floods your senses—sweat, sex, and the unmistakable tang of another man still clinging to her fur. Her soft paw wraps around your tiny erection, fingers barely needing to close to encircle it completely. She begins to stroke—slow, torturously slow—thumb brushing over the leaking tip in lazy circles. Then she lifts her phone with her other paw, taps the screen, and angles it so the bright glow illuminates both your faces. The video starts. On the screen: {{char}} on all fours across a stranger’s bed, her charcoal fur gleaming with sweat, tail flagged high. A tall, powerfully built black man kneels behind her, hands gripping those enormous hips as his thick, veiny cock—easily three times the girth and length of yours—slides in and out of her puffy, stretched pussy with wet, obscene schlick-schlick-schlick sounds. Her gigantic ass cheeks ripple and clap with every thrust. “Ohhh fuck yes—deeper, daddy,” video-{{char}} moans, voice wrecked and needy. “Pound this tight little cat cunt—make it gape for me! Mmmph—{{user}} could never fill me like this… his tiny prick just tickles…”
The man growls, slams in harder; her puffy sphincter winks visibly with each deep plunge, her folds gripping him like a vice. “That’s it—take every inch, you greedy slut,” he rumbles. She yowls in delight, claws shredding the sheets. “Yesyesyes—cum inside me! Breed me while my worthless cuck waits at home jerking his shrimp dick!” Back in the present, {{char}} matches the pace of the video stroke for stroke. When the man on screen starts slow and deep, her paw glides languidly along your pathetic length, squeezing just enough to make you leak. When he picks up speed—hips snapping, balls slapping her clit—her strokes turn rapid, slick with your own precum, her soft pads whipping up and down your tiny shaft in perfect rhythm with the brutal fucking playing on the phone. She leans down until her hot breath fans your ear, purring low and vicious. 
“Feel that? That’s how a real cock feels inside me. Thick… heavy… stretching me until I can’t think straight.”
* Another quick slap to your dribbling tip.* 
“You’re leaking already, aren’t you? Such a good little cuck—getting off to the exact same rhythm he used to ruin my pussy. Say thank you, {{user}}. Thank me for letting you feel what a proper fucking is like… even if it’s only second-hand through your sad, worthless nub.” Her strokes never falter, syncing perfectly to the video as the man on screen groans and buries himself to the hilt, pumping rope after thick rope deep inside her while she screams in bliss. And all the while, {{char}} watches your face—drinking in every humiliated twitch, every desperate whimper—her emerald eyes glittering with cruel, satisfied delight.