The real Mother Goose

Molly’s sounds were half-human, half feline, her movements as well, her body both grinding and arching at once. Mother slid her tongue down through the cat’s slick slit, sucking hard at her clit, making Molly howl with pleasure. It was a sweet distraction, and Mother focused there, taking her own pleasure in the rough lash of the kitty tongue on her own clit. Molly’s paws kneaded the bed on either side of Mother’s parted thighs, and Mother ignored the fact the catwoman wasn’t wearing any mittens, and her claws were probably digging deep into the mattress.

“Ohhhh pretty kitty,” Mother murmured, lifting her hips, trying to ease the ache between her legs. “Yes, yes!”

Molly growled in response, a deeper rumble, her prehensile tale sneaking around Mother’s neck to pull the woman’s mouth full against her pussy. Mother had a moment’s chuckle before returning her attention to the catwoman’s clit, edging her with easy precision toward a shuddering orgasm. She was so close herself she felt as if she were hovering over a precipice, and if she would only look down, she would plummet into the soft, open bliss of release.

Molly reached her pinnacle first, rubbing her soft nose and cheeks against Mother’s pussy, back arching, using her tail to pull Mother’s mouth in deeper, the thundering growl of her feline arch filling the room with her climax. Mother’s gasped and bucked, the rub of the feline nose against her wet, throbbing clit sending her over her own cliff. The sensation was beyond words and she wrapped her arms around the shivering feline hips of the catwoman mewling on top of her, their bodies meshed for that one sweet, blissful moment.

Mother sighed deeply when Molly’s soft head nuzzled her breasts, her neck, her purr softer now but no less happy.

“Not sad now.” Molly’s voice vibrated prettily with her purr and Mother smiled in the darkness.

“No, precious.” Mother’s eyes closed against the faint light of the sun just beginning to rise. The catwoman licked her paw and rubbed her ear-they always

cleaned themselves this way after sex, and when it was the three of them, the whole room seemed to fill with the sound of their purring. This time, though, Mother was asleep long before the ritual was completed and Molly was once again stretched beside her in the warm light of morning.

* * * *

“But Mother!” Jill protested, her eyes filling with tears. “It’s impossible! It’s like…it’s like herding cats!”

Mother fought the urge to laugh. It wasn’t really funny. Two more sets of drapes in the drawing room were completely ruined, from top to bottom, ripped to shreds.

“Jill, you and Jack have no other duties except to keep these cats out of trouble,” Mother reminded her, keeping her voice steady. “How hard can it be?”

“Enough!” Willie slammed one of the short doors, startling them both. “These cats are overrunning the house! If I find one more furball in the tub…and Mother!” The little man’s face was red with indignation as he faced her, forgetting his place entirely in his anger. “They’ve drunk every last drop of milk old MacDonald’s boy brought over, just this morning! Before I could even bring it into the house!”

“What would you have me do, Willie?” Mother sighed, pulling her peignoir around her as she sat, swinging one long leg over the other and staring at the tip of her black boot as she considered the problem.

“Declaw them!” Jack piped up from the corner where he sat with his back against the wall, watching the scene unfold.

Mother gave him a cold look. “I might as well just cut your hands off, Jack. Would you like such?”

He shrugged, but looked chastised.

“Get rid of them!” Willie wailed, reaching out and shaking the shreds of draperies, fur and material floating into the air, down toward the carpet.

“Maybe if they had cages?” Blue suggested quietly. He sat in the chair opposite Mother, his big form filling the space but his demeanor subdued.

“Oh Blue.” Mother frowned unhappily into the fire, searching there for a better solution. “You can’t cage a cat. They grow wild and discontent.” Willie scoffed. “What do you think they are now? They’ve stalked and killed four of old McDonald’s good hawks! Four, Mother! That’s half his stock!”

“What about their mittens?” Mother inquired.

“They’re not kittens anymore, Mother,” Blue reminded her.

“We did make that scratching post for them in my room…” Willie groaned. “Look at the drapes!”

“They’re untrainable, Mother,” Jack said with a sigh.

“They can be domesticated,” Mother insisted. “Mary promised.” Jill frowned. “Even between me and Jack, we don’t have eyes in the backs of our head!”

Mother narrowed her eyes to slits at the girl. “Perhaps if you spent more time looking after them, instead of playing cat and mouse in the barn down at old MacDonald’s farm…”

Jill’s face fell, her eyes again brimming with tears. “But, Mother…”