Soap who fucks you like you're gonna leave him if he doesn't.
He's a whore, wanting to grind his cock as deep as he can while fucking you into the mattress, making you scream and try to crawl away from the overwhelming pleasure.
You feel like you're dying from how good it feels, the hard, slow thrusts driving you crazy. You can't do anything but moan, thighs useless and limp, the bed creaking and groaning under you.
Your hand fists the sheets, tears ruining your makeup, throat hoarse from screaming his name as he continuously ravages your insides.
You've cum like what, 4 times already? Your pussy is raw, aching, taking pounding after pounding, your cervix is ruined, toes curled and then you feel his rough hand shove your face into the sheets.
Which makes you clench. Such a slut he is.
You can't help but pass out after the 5th orgasm is pulled out of you.
Once Soap is done with you he holds you close, smirking as he feels you whine and twitch as his softening cock presses against your lower back.
boyfriend!steve, who hardly ever refers to you by name anymore. to him, you’re baby, angel, honey when he’s feeling particularly domestic. you wouldn’t be surprised if you discovered he had a whole rolodex of cheesy pet names to cycle through.
boyfriend!steve, who lives for non-sexual nudity (not that the sexual kind of nudity isn’t largely appreciated too). showering together after a long day at work, hot water and your gentle touches coaxing his muscles to relax and his mind to switch off. afterwards, you forgo dressing and simply curl up in bed. steve’s cheek rests against your chest, and the familiar sweetness of your body lotion reminds him he’s home.
boyfriend!steve, who makes you paper rings out of straw wrappers. he ties the crumpled paper ever so carefully around your ring finger across the diner’s sticky table, foot nudging your own in a childish game of footsie.
boyfriend!steve, whose passenger seat is reserved for you and you alone. the party quickly learn that, when in your company, they have zero chance of riding shotgun. quite frankly, steve would rather die than let you sit in the back whilst he’s up front. his hand is always glued to your knee, fingers drumming the beat of whatever song is playing on the car’s radio. one of your scrunchies sits on the gear stick.
boyfriend!steve, who happily carries your lip combo in his pocket so he can kiss you without fear of ruining your makeup. you put so much effort into looking so pretty, after all, and steve would hate to spoil your hard work with his neediness. besides, men’s pockets are so much deeper, anyways.
nsfw incoming…
boyfriend!steve, who is obsessed with fucking you in his sweaters, watching the way you bury your face in the knitted collar as he buries his cock deep into your cunt. your fingers curl helplessly around the sleeves each time his tip drags against your spongy walls just right, and he has a weakness for rucking the fabric up until the bottom of your tits are exposed, just enough to tease.
boyfriend!steve, who can’t help but smack your ass every time he passes you. it’s playful, most of the time, and you can hear him chuckling to himself before the gentle hit even lands. every so often, though, he can’t keep it innocent. a slap turns into a grope, and before you can blink, his bulge is heavy and hard against your ass.
boyfriend!steve, whose tone is so sweet that, in your fucked out state, you don’t even realise just how mean he’s being. he coos and kisses your temple as he mocks your little whimpers and mewls, eyes lighting up every time your lower lip quivers or your brows scrunch. ‘oh, ‘s too much? can’t take it, angel?’ he asks with a teasing pout, only driving his cock deeper, wanting you to feel him in your stomach.
boyfriend!steve, who hardly ever refers to you by name anymore. to him, you’re baby, angel, honey when he’s feeling particularly domestic. you wouldn’t be surprised if you discovered he had a whole rolodex of cheesy pet names to cycle through.
boyfriend!steve, who lives for non-sexual nudity (not that the sexual kind of nudity isn’t largely appreciated too). showering together after a long day at work, hot water and your gentle touches coaxing his muscles to relax and his mind to switch off. afterwards, you forgo dressing and simply curl up in bed. steve’s cheek rests against your chest, and the familiar sweetness of your body lotion reminds him he’s home.
boyfriend!steve, who makes you paper rings out of straw wrappers. he ties the crumpled paper ever so carefully around your ring finger across the diner’s sticky table, foot nudging your own in a childish game of footsie.
boyfriend!steve, whose passenger seat is reserved for you and you alone. the party quickly learn that, when in your company, they have zero chance of riding shotgun. quite frankly, steve would rather die than let you sit in the back whilst he’s up front. his hand is always glued to your knee, fingers drumming the beat of whatever song is playing on the car’s radio. one of your scrunchies sits on the gear stick.
boyfriend!steve, who happily carries your lip combo in his pocket so he can kiss you without fear of ruining your makeup. you put so much effort into looking so pretty, after all, and steve would hate to spoil your hard work with his neediness. besides, men’s pockets are so much deeper, anyways.
nsfw incoming…
boyfriend!steve, who is obsessed with fucking you in his sweaters, watching the way you bury your face in the knitted collar as he buries his cock deep into your cunt. your fingers curl helplessly around the sleeves each time his tip drags against your spongy walls just right, and he has a weakness for rucking the fabric up until the bottom of your tits are exposed, just enough to tease.
boyfriend!steve, who can’t help but smack your ass every time he passes you. it’s playful, most of the time, and you can hear him chuckling to himself before the gentle hit even lands. every so often, though, he can’t keep it innocent. a slap turns into a grope, and before you can blink, his bulge is heavy and hard against your ass.
boyfriend!steve, whose tone is so sweet that, in your fucked out state, you don’t even realise just how mean he’s being. he coos and kisses your temple as he mocks your little whimpers and mewls, eyes lighting up every time your lower lip quivers or your brows scrunch. ‘oh, ‘s too much? can’t take it, angel?’ he asks with a teasing pout, only driving his cock deeper, wanting you to feel him in your stomach.
I like to imagine the mountain lion’s experience here. Think about finding an alien space ship and peering through its window only to be jump scared by something that looks almost exactly like an adult human but the proportions are wrong, it’s one tenth your size, it has strange patterns on its skin and it HATES you
Likely adding to this poor puma's puzzlement is the fact that most critters in the wild won't dig in and offer a challenge like that unless they're cornered or think they have a chance of winning/driving the bigger beastie off. So he's probably looking at this weird not-puma about the size of a small raccoon and thinking approximately, "What does this guy know that I don't?" before seeing the human and booking it. 🤣
Y'all, these domestic cats are also probably being significantly bolder because they are inside, where they can summon large and powerful colony members with thumbs to back them up. It's unlikely they would be so bold without the glass between them and the puma (or bear).
Which is good, because both bear and puma have no problem eating housecat, and habituated bears at least have been known to specialize in eating feral and outdoor cats. (Consider the case of the speed at which outdoor cats vanished as a consequence of habituated bear population swells in Grafton, NH, during that city's well documented black bear problem.) One sample of stomach contents from recolonizing pumas in the Dakotas contained no domestic livestock, but there sure were domestic cats in those stomach contents.
House cats are not apex predators. They are actually a pretty low effort source of protein for a wild animal like a cougar or a bear because often, especially for pet or young cats, they have relatively little in the way of survival skills and they are artificially numerous (feeding feral or outdoor cats can spike local populations, as can owners of pet or barn cats kept with outdoor access "restocking" the area as cats die or vanish by acquiring new cats).
The very safest thing a housecat can do if faced with a bear or cougar is hide. An inexperienced cat who believes itself safe might treat a cougar as a huge conspecific, but that's a fast way to becoming a tasty snack. Cats are social, however, and it's true that humans solve a lot of their problems, so yelling to notify a human is a pretty good safety strategy if the cat is safely inside. Otherwise... not so much.
Anyway, you can see the puma initially startle, work out what the cat is, consider how to get at the cat, and then notice the human and leave. It's not frightened of the house cat—it's intrigued. It's the camera operator it's alarmed by.
jbbartram-illu
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