Purloined Tryst

Natalie had arranged the tryst beforehand with Thane. Her whole idea of a swinger's costume swap party at an inn to celebrate Halloween was to get Thane's pants off—or in this case, his kilt off, as he had come as a Scottish bagpiper. He had such good, firm legs that Natalie had wanted to run her hands up under that kilt to check out the "do they or don't they" legend as soon as he entered the door. She refrained, though, there in the hall with all of the others surrounding her, including her dopey husband. The most she permitted herself while she was whispering her directions in his ear and patting him on a nicely-rounded butt cheek was that she had some bags she wanted him to pipe when they were alone.

The logistics for the party were simple. Their swingers club had rented an entire inn for the weekend with more than enough bedrooms for their purposes and had doubled the asking price to have the inn staff disappear for the entire weekend. Natalie was in charge of arranging the pairings, and she had placed numbered buttons in four baskets: His for her; hers for him, his for him, and hers for her. The dance floor in the lounge would do nice later in the evening for the "one for all" crowd, which wouldn't need buttons. Even with all of these baskets, there were often hers who wanted a him and him and there were a whole lot of hims who would prefer a her and her, but, as usual, these folks would be left to make their own arrangements.

Theirs were a very civilized club and didn't force anyone to pair up with anyone who didn't attract them, although they were a very picky club too, and hadn't included anyone who wasn't extremely attractive in their membership. Most of the enthusiastic partygoers this weekend had made sure they would be attractive by going with a minimum and/or provocative costume choice. The first part of the evening was devoted to dancing and swirling about to the tune of an all-girl's band, decked out as cat women with their perky rouged-nipple breasts exposed. Natalie herself had gone to great pains to find and audition the band, and had spent several hours monitoring their practice.

During this early evening time of testing and "shopping," couples would match buttons, make determinations, and either take a room key off the desk in the front lobby and get on with the pleasure of coupling or trade buttons in the baskets to test their luck in enhancing their pairing. If they went with the shared key, they could withdraw from the party with their matching number for as long as they wanted—returning and depositing their buttons in the baskets again as they pleased when their time upstairs was finished.

Natalie, of course, had circumvented the system that she herself was supposed to be monitoring. She had kept a button for herself and had slipped Thane the corresponding numbered button when he had entered the inn. He had palmed this when he ceremoniously dove for a button in the appropriate basket. The two of them then went through an elaborate search of the party room for the one with the matching number, feigned great surprise when they matched numbers, and pretended to spend some time deciding whether each was acceptable to the other. Well, in fact, they barely managed to contain themselves for thirty seconds before they were in a clinch on the dance floor and she was discovering that something under the kilt was very large, cylindrical, unsheathed and throbbing and he was discovering that at least this ice skater-for-the-evening used very flimsy, moistened material under that flouncy butt-twitcher of a skirt she was wearing.

Natalie and Thane were still in a clutch when the band broke for a break and the two of them agreed that they had established their right to be paired off and headed for the lobby. They selected a key and were checking the room number, when one of the band members pulled Thane aside and started talking to him about some sort of problem with the sound system that they assumed was his responsibility to get fixed. Thane waved Natalie on her way, saying he'd be up as soon as he'd sorted this inconvenience out.

Natalie went on to the room, stripped off her skating outfit and sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from the door, her attention arrested by the setting sun behind the mountain she could see through the bedroom window beyond the balcony.

She sighed contentedly when she heard the door open; Thane had taken no time at all in coming to her.

Within seconds, Natalie's lover had bounded across the bed and was sitting close against her from behind, strong legs encasing her hips. She leaned back into her lover's chest. But this wasn't the soft chest hair of Thane she had expected. These were pointed breasts. And those legs wrapped around her weren't bare and bulging with muscle, they were shapely and covered in black latex. Those hands now clutching at her left breast and at the V between her legs were not the hands of Thane. They were relatively small and the fingers were slender, and, Oh, my God, they were invading Natalie's vagina.

Natalie twisted her head around, and only had time to register that this was one of the cat women from the band before her mouth had been possessed in a searching, deep kiss.

Natalie struggled, but the harder she struggled, the more her body folded into her attacker's and the more the cat woman squeezed her breast with one hand and worked her clit with experienced fingers of the other hand.

She managed to break away from the kiss long enough to voice her protest, to which the cat woman gave a throaty laugh and tossed a numbered button on the floor in front of their writhing bodies. It was the right number. It was the number that matched Natalie's button.

She was confused and disoriented, and the cat woman took advantage of that to intensify her love making. Natalie couldn't help herself. She was flowing for her assailant now—her admittedly very sexy and forceful assailant. A primeval moan started deep in her throat, and as it rose up and escaped her mouth, she lurched orgiastically, sparks flew through her body and brain, and she flopped back against the cat woman in full surrender. She sighed and groaned as her captor played her nipples and belly and her secret folds, and she arched her back with a second orgasm.

All of the fight was out of her, and the cat woman pulled her up onto the bed, on her back, and buried her face between Natalie's trembling thighs. Natalie watched with intense pleasure, as the curly, luxuriant hair of the feline lover cascaded and swished softly across her thighs, belying the fire raging where her lover's lips and tongue searched the wet and slippery crevice between her legs. She arched her back again and rose up on one elbow, the hand of her other arm going to hold the cat woman's head close to her crotch.

Natalie was giving little cries of exquisite pleasure when the beating started on the door.

Thane wanted in the room and he wanted in there in the worst possible way. He was growling that he'd seen the cat woman take his badge and that there wasn't a damn thing wrong with their sound system.

The door was giving way, and the cat woman rose off of Natalie and pounced off the bed, giving a satisfied little laugh. Natalie could have sworn she was purring. The woman had the window open and was half way out onto the connecting balcony there when Thane got the door open.

He was visibly angry, and barked at the cat woman, who only had time to turn and hiss and give a throaty laugh before she was gone. Thane's eyes went to the bed, where he saw a disoriented Natalie stretched out, still undulating her body across the sheets in vestiges of the rhythm of the loving she had just been receiving. Natalie looked at Thane with slitted, sex-filled eyes. Thane looked at Natalie, her legs spread, her pussy wet and inviting, and, his anger partially transformed to animal lust—but only partially—he bounded on top of her, flipped the front of his kilt up, and buried his engorged cock root-deep in her flowing, stretched, and wide-open cunt.

He was deep thrusting into her, assuaging his combined anger and lust, barking his need to possess her fully, taking her forcefully and roughly, just as she had hoped he would.

But as much as Natalie had planned for this and as much as she enjoyed what Thane was doing between her legs and deep inside her, she laid back and gave a little wistful sigh. Having experienced both now, she wasn't at all sure she didn't prefer the feline over the canine.