Confessions of a Kitten Fancier

If I want you to fall in love with me, and I do – no, not you, silly... you - then I feel I should be honest about all of the things I’ve done in my life. I’m not one of those people who believes that a little mystery in a relationship is a good thing and that a couple shouldn’t know everything about each other. I’m the opposite. I feel – in theory and in my extremely limited experience – that there is nothing more erotic than knowing all there is to know about your life-partner, and when we get together I will want to know every gory detail about your past. And don’t even think of asking me to leave the bathroom when you’re in there because I won’t. I want everything.

So anyway, there’s something you should know. I wasn’t going to tell you because frankly, part of me is ashamed and frightened. But then, some people feel that if something frightens you, that’s a damn good reason for doing it. I'm not sure I'm one of them, but in this case, to hell with it.

So, I hadn’t actually thought about this thing I'm about to share with you for years until I joined the Cook’d and Bomb’d talk forum recently. There was a thread there in which people were confessing to some of the vile things they’d done – lots of stories of bodily functions gone wrong, enforced emissions under unusual circumstances and so on. I was a little repulsed by these people if you want to know the truth, then I remembered when I was 13 or 14 and I became embroiled in an experiment. We’ve all been there. What happened was this…

One late afternoon I was home from school, in my room watching TV and eating marmite and cheese on toast. Inadvertently, some of the marmite found its way on to the back of my hand. Rather than wash it off, I guess I must just have rubbed if off, and not very well, for later that evening, still in my room I couldn’t help notice that my pet kitten was licking the back of my hand with an unusual attentiveness. One might even say a passion. This gave me an idea. You can probably see where this is going already. I am sorry.

Thinking about it, I’m pretty sure I was actually 15. But definitely no older.

A few days later – hours, minutes, whatever – I found myself home alone and feeling a little lonely – a little “lonely” - as teenage boys are wont to, and I decided I’d try a little experiment. So, I retired to my sleeping quarters with the tiny jar of marmite, giving Mavis a little sniff to make sure she followed – Mavis was the name of my kitten and I do take some solace from the fact that she was at least a lady cat. I then proceeded to undress myself, lay on the bed and smear a tiny trail of marmite on – at first – my nipples, which were particularly sensitive, then later, when that proved an enormous success, on the end of my burgeoning boyhood.

OK, so. You’ve got that image in your head. A strange-looking 15-year-old boy lying naked on an unmade bed in a slightly smelly room with hot summer sun trying hard to squeeze its way in through permanently closed curtains; he is lying on his side, holding himself in his right hand; a tiny black kitten is lapping at the end of his teenage Johnson with its tiny sandpapery tongue.

How does that make you feel? Do you find yourself strangely aroused? No, of course you don't. Well, believe me, it sounds as strange and perverted to me as is does to you. I have no idea what was going on in my head that convinced me it would be a good idea.

As it happens, it wasn't. And it didn’t last very long. No, not because I emptied myself all over poor Mavis’s tiny head. No. That would be sick. But because at some stage – around about the time Mavis got a little too bitey – I kind of saw what I was doing and I felt a little repulsed. So I stopped. Then I went and washed myself, took Mavis downstairs and gave her some proper food.

So, all in all, nothing really happened. Except that I cajoled an underage cat into licking my erogenous zones. And ‘cajoled’ is probably a bit much. It was consensual. She was purring.

After I’d posted this on the forum, someone from there asked me if I would mention it here. They suggested that if I did so, I may alienate some of my readers. I know that that is a possibility – a pussibility! – but it’s a risk I have to take. The fact is, I feel better having shared.

Oh, look! Pablo has just wandered into the room. He’s just eaten. He’s licking his lips. Awww. He’s so sweet. He wants to come on my lap. Come on then, Pablo. Just this once…





No kittens were harmed in the retelling of this adolescent abomination.