Sharing is Caring: Kitty Katz & Her Pink Cadillac by Amber Skye

I feel that since the title is Kitty Katz that Caturday would be an appropriate day to share such an awesome story with all of you (or as Amber would say “y’all”).


Mary Kate Watkins Serves a Customer

Sitting at the breakfast-room table, I sipped coffee and surveyed the local paper. The autumn morning was beautiful, but I kept having to shift because the sunshine breaching the bay window on the east side of the kitchen was causing my head to ache from the glare. Finally, I got up and moved to the other side of the table, the sun now at my back. But after five or ten minutes, I was roasting from its powerful rays. Frustrated, I tossed the paper down and got up to pour myself another cup of coffee. Leaning against the counter, my thoughts drifted back to the previous night. Sybil had been a lot of fun, and I certainly considered keeping my options open for a repeat performance in the coming months—she was quite the tasty tart. But I surely wasn’t looking for love, so the dreamy looks Sybil had given me after our rendezvous gave me pause. I was a busy woman, after all—albeit a very horny one. I didn’t, however, need a love-crazed young woman beating down my doors—even if I did find a touch of guilty pleasure in making certain girls fall for me. Deep down, I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I just couldn’t deny the cheap thrill it gave me to make a girl like Sybil squirm.

I sighed and rinsed out my coffee cup. As I turned away from the sink, my cook and housekeeper, Ellie, scurried into the room. I smiled. Gray-haired and grandmotherly, Ellie was quite a character. A woman in constant motion despite her advancing years, she combined hard work with a compassionate yet saucy personality. She plucked the paper from the kitchen table, showering me with a disapproving glance as she did. When she approached the counter where I stood, she coiled the paper and gave me a gentle swat on the arm with it before tossing it into the waste bin.

“Girl! If you didn’t have me to look after you, you’d have to clear a path just to walk through this house!”

It was gross hyperbole. I was fairly neat, but Ellie was downright nitpicky when it came to a clean house. I smiled again, taking in the tiny creature who’d worked in my home for nearly a decade. Barely five feet tall, Ellie likely weighed under 100 pounds soaking wet. Flat as an ironing board, she had thin arms tapering to bony hands covered in liver spots. Tiny feet, always encased in sensible black shoes, squeaked as she hustled through the kitchen. I found the sound comforting, maybe because I was so fond of her.

“Now, Miss Kitty, you never told me what you want for dinner tonight. You do remember that Reverend Olson and his wife are coming for supper, right?” she asked. “I believe their daughter is coming too.”

“Yes, Ellie, I remember.”

Our new reverend at the Episcopal Church was coming by to get better acquainted, and I had offered to serve them supper. I had yet to meet his daughter and had only been briefly introduced to his wife.

“Well?” she asked.

She had stopped prancing around the kitchen but still couldn’t keep still. With hands on her hips and one leg slightly bent, Ellie tapped her foot impatiently.

“I’m going to have Amos carry me out to the Watkins’ place, Ellie. I think a nice baked ham would be perfect for our little gathering.”

She nodded. “Okay, Miss Kitty. Ham will do. I’ll make some of my mac’n’cheese along with yams and biscuits. Perhaps a blackberry cobbler for dessert.”

“That sounds yummy, Ellie!”

She twisted her lips and scrutinized me.

“I haven’t been out to the Watkins’ place in several years—not since the missus passed. How’s old Joe Watkins doing?”

“I expect he’s getting along just fine, Ellie, considering the circumstances.”

She nodded. “I reckon that girl of his is nineteen or twenty by now, huh?”

“I reckon so, Ellie.”

“Pretty little thing she was, but I fear that child ain’t got a lick of sense…dumb as a doorknob, that girl.”

“Well, Ellie, I’m not so sure. She’s just simple country folk. I know she’s a heap of help to her Daddy.”

Ellie held up a hand, indicating she didn’t want to dispute my assessment of the Watkins girl, an unusual occurrence for her.

“Well, child, I better get busy sprucing up the place and polishing the silver. I expect you’ll want to use the good China tonight?”

I smiled and she nodded before hustling from the kitchen to start her chores. As she pranced from the room, she called over her shoulder.

“Try not to make a mess of the house, young lady. I don’t favor having to clean it twice before our guests arrive.”

“Oh, Ellie,” I laughed. “You’ll clean it twice anyway, whether I make the slightest mess or not. Go on with yourself, old girl!”

I shook my head and headed outside to the carriage house where Amos had made a nice little home for himself. My pink Cadillac sat in the turnaround, gleaming in the sunlight, as shiny as a brand-new penny.

I smiled as I approached the doorway to Amos’s neat little home. A pleasant tune wafted through open windows, serenading me with an impromptu performance courtesy of my unsuspecting driver. Amos sat on a scarred wooden chair, strumming a ukulele and singing an old bluesy song. He didn’t see me right away, so I stood in the doorway and listened. A baritone voice that flowed like molasses echoed in his chambers. His singing was sad and sweet and of excellent quality, his playing of the little musical instrument flawless. I got lost momentarily as he sang and played, a feeling of nostalgia and loss I couldn’t quite place nipping at my senses. Leaning against the doorframe, I closed my eyes and listened until he finished the tune. When I opened my eyes, Amos was turning in the chair, startled and visibly embarrassed at the encroachment to what he thought was a solitary rendering of his noteworthy talents.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I was already clapping my hands, applauding his performance.

“Why, Amos! That was simply beautiful. Bravo, my friend.”

“Miss Kitty,” he started. “I had no idea you was there.”

“I’m sorry, Amos. I didn’t mean to intrude on your solitude, but I didn’t want to interrupt your song by announcing my presence. I enjoyed it thoroughly,” I added.

“That’s quite all right, Miss Kitty.” He gently set the ukulele down and rubbed his hands together. “Was there something you needed?”

“There is, Amos. We need to make a run over to the Watkins’ place and fetch a ham for supper. The reverend and his family will come calling tonight.”

“Old Joe Watkins?”

“Yes, Amos, that’s the one.”

“I never been up to his place before, Miss Kitty. Do you know how to get there?”

I nodded. “I do! We run out south of town, past Cooter Monroe’s, and hook a left on the old country road. There’s a cow pasture that goes on forever it seems, and where the fencing ends, we’ll turn right. Might take us a half hour—forty-five minutes tops.”

“Give me five minutes, Miss Kitty, and I’ll have the car ready.”

I nodded and headed back to the house.

The drive out to the pig farm was pleasant. Abundant sun with temperatures in the low 70s made for a lovely ride. A long gravel road ran adjacent to the cow pasture that led to our destination, ending near a neat, two-story farmhouse. Amos brought the Cadillac to rest on the grass between the house and a freshly painted barn. A large area in front of the barn was home to numerous hogs, slogging about in the muddy terrain inside a fence. I looked around and frowned.

“Dang!” I said. “I hope we didn’t make this trip for nothing, Amos! I don’t see hide nor hair of Joe’s truck. It’s usually parked next to the barn.”

Amos peered at me in the rearview mirror and twisted his mouth into a thoughtful expression. Then my eye caught movement to the right; it was a sight to behold.

Mary Kate Watkins, dressed in denim overalls and a clean white tank top, strolled across the grassy area between the barn and the house. She carried a big steel pail in each hand, apparently heading for the well situated between the two structures. I licked my lips. It had been two years since I’d last seen her, and she had been quite stunning back then. If possible, she was even more stunning now. She stopped in mid-stride, cocked her head at us, and then proceeded to set the pails on the ground.

Amos climbed from the car and opened my door. I slid out and faced the young woman who was now skipping down a little slope toward us. When she got close enough to recognize me, a big smile spread across her face as she waved in a most animated fashion.

“Well, Miss Kitty,” she drawled. “I ain’t seen you in a month of Sundays.”

She stopped a few feet from me and I took her in.

“Well, well, Mary Kate,” I said. “You’ve gotten prettier than a store-bought doll!”

She held her hands up and waved them excitedly before squinting and turning her head to the side in an exaggerated display of appreciation for the flattery I’d served up.

“Oh, Miss Kitty, hush now,” she squealed, now hugging herself with nicely toned arms, a sprinkling of light freckles covering her sinewy and sun-kissed limbs.

“So, Mary Kate, where’s your daddy?”

She made a little wave of her hands. “He’s gone for most of the day, Miss Kitty. He had to help Uncle Bubba build a few deer stands in the woods over Warner Robbins way. I ‘spect he won’t be back ‘til sundown. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

The news of her being left all alone on the farm along with her piercing blue eyes gazing into mine had temporarily put my mission to procure a ham for dinner on hold. I took her in. Thin but shapely, with small perky tits poking against the material of her tank top, Mary Kate had rendered me momentarily flummoxed. And while overalls may not have been considered the sexiest apparel in the world, she made it a close call. The somewhat baggy attire didn’t completely obscure what lay within. Long, coltish legs, extending from a cute little bottom, had instantly gotten me more than a little hot-in-the-bother. She even managed to make the dusty work boots, partially covered with the hem of her overalls, look sexy as all get-out!

“We came to purchase a ham, Mary Kate,” I finally managed. “Do you think you can handle that transaction in your daddy’s absence?”

“I expect I can, Miss Kitty. Come on in the house and I’ll get one ready for ya.”

She smiled prettily and then ran a pink tongue over her perfectly puffy lips before waving me along. I glanced at Amos who smiled and nodded. My driver gave me a little wink before I turned from his gaze and followed Mary Kate into the house.

She led me up wooden steps to a porch with two rockers positioned to the left of the front door. I followed her into the house, watching her cute pigtails bounce and flop as she danced down the hallway, past the front room, and into a large kitchen. The spacious area smelled of hickory and fresh country air. I breathed in the pleasant aroma and smiled. A sturdy butcher-block table sat in the middle of the kitchen, pitted and scarred from use.

“I got a nice seven-pound half ham in the cooler, Miss Kitty. You make yourself at home while I round it up.”

I leaned against the cutting table and waited for Mary Kate to fetch my order. She returned presently, hefting a delicious looking ham wrapped in a clear bag.

“Here, Miss Kitty, let’s have a look.”

She opened the bag, allowing me to inspect the ham. As I moved next to her, she subtly inched toward me, so our bodies brushed each other’s.

Although I didn’t visit the Watkins place often, I had encountered Mary Kate a half dozen times over the years, our first meeting when she had barely reached her teens. I had sensed even then an advanced sexuality about her, and the way she’d looked at me had told me with almost undeniable clarity that she was up for mischief—likely Sapphic mischief. It had been an unspoken vibe between us during the past six or seven years. But two things had prevented anything coming of it. First, and most importantly, she had been a minor every time I’d seen her in the past. And secondly, her father had always been present when I’d come to purchase their meats. But Mary Kate Watkins and her nubile young body had been a gnawing and haunting fantasy for me over the past several years. And now she was an adult and her daddy was off building deer stands, not due to return until evening.

I reached up and stroked one of her pigtails. “You have such pretty red hair, Mary Kate,” I said. “It’s smooth and silky. I like that.”

She turned toward me, leaving the ham unattended on the big table. Her eyes were half-lidded and her lips slightly parted. She reached up and rubbed the hand I had on her hair, gently moving it to her cheek. Her smooth skin was as creamy as whipped butter and just as soft, unblemished and warm. Mary Kate caressed her cheek with my hand a few times before moving my paw to her mouth. A shiver shot down my spine when her warm and moist mouth with those full pouty lips kissed my hand.

“Miss Kitty, can I tell you a secret?” she breathed.

“What’s that, sugar?” I whispered.

“I’ve always fancied you, ya know. You ain’t so highfalutin like them other debutantes who come around.”

I pulled my hand down and stepped in, kissing her full on the mouth. Mary Kate Watkins kissed me back with hunger, a passionate urgency that could wait no longer. Her mouth on mine felt divine, causing the juices to flow in my eager pussy. As I continued kissing her, I reached up and removed the straps from her shoulders, dropping the denim garment to the floor in a heap. I had her out of her tank top in a flash, revealing small breasts with long pink nipples, now standing at full attention. Bending down, I took a stiffened bud into my mouth, sucking her while swirling my tongue over her engorged flesh.

“Oh, Miss Kitty! What you do to me!” she moaned.

I grinned as I released her and brought my mouth to her peach of an ear. I nibbled her lobe as I breathed hot breath down her neck. She moaned again and I whispered into her ear.

“I’m going to kiss your pussy now, country girl, and when I do, you’re gonna squeal louder’n a pig at slaughter.”

She stepped out of her crumpled overalls, leaving her in her work boots and a pair of white, boy’s boxers. I yanked the boxers down and left them piled with the overalls. A fiery bush of red pubic hair greeted my gaze, glistening pink, protuberant lips peeking through her thatch. I licked my lips again.

“You can leave the boots on,” I said.

“Whatever you say, Miss Kitty,” she breathed. “Make me your little plaything.”

I turned the girl and popped her fanny lightly, causing her to giggle.

“Up on that table, young lady!” I commanded. “I’ll have you on all fours.”

She pushed the ham to the side and climbed onto the butcher-block table, placing her ripe, sweet ass in my face. Her pussy, with those curly red hairs flanking rosy lips, looked as delicious as a freshly baked peach cobbler. I dove in, nestling my face between her mouth-watering cheeks. She was clean and fresh, likely having just bathed, but her feminine aroma was thick and heady—just the way I liked it. I devoured the girl, briskly licking through the delicate folds of her labia and the crack of her ass. I nibbled and licked her flesh like a kitten lapping from a saucer of milk. My hands found her taut little fanny, kneading her butt cheeks as I tongued her slick cunt. I continued with bold strokes, licking my way up her wet slit and swirling her puckered rosette aggressively. Mary Kate turned her pretty face over her shoulder, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

“Oh, Miss Kitty! Jiminy Crickets! You make me feel so good! OH, GAWD!” she bellowed, her loud cries ricocheting off the kitchen walls.

I rolled her pink pearl between my thumb and index finger as I used my coiled tongue to explore her depths. She emitted a shrill squeal when I did, bouncing and bucking like a girl gone wild. When I got my other thumb inside her butthole, she screamed bloody murder.

I stayed the course, pounding her hole with my tongue as my fingers continued their assault on her bud. I probed deeper into her asshole, pushing her over the edge. Luckily, the nearest neighbors were miles away because Mary Kate’s screams nearly brought the walls down. The country girl, dressed only in her work boots, soaked me with frothy fluid as she orgasmed—shaking and shouting, pounding the sturdy table with her fists. I didn’t relent, bringing several more waves of bliss through her tortured quim before I took mercy.

Mary Kate Watkins slumped on the table, whimpering like a child lost in the woods, but her fine ass remained in the air. I’m not sure what got into me, but I reached over to a basket of kitchen utensils on the table and snatched a metal spatula. Her butt was practically begging to be smacked. I brought the business end down on her ass, hitting her flush on her right cheek. Her yelp was followed by a giggle, confirming my suspicions about what a freak this girl truly was.

“I’ve been a bad girl, Miss Kitty. I need a whoopin’,” she chortled.

I brought the spatula down again, and then a third time. Smiling, I stepped back and admired my handiwork. The grids from the utensil had left parallel crimson marks across her sweet ass. Then something else caught my eye. Reaching out again, I plucked a whisk with a seven-inch grip from the basket. The handle was made of smooth varnished wood, the perfect implement for my devious plan. Her giggles ceased and were replaced by a gasping intake of air when I inserted the whisk inside her pussy.

“OH! Aaahhh,” screeched Mary Kate as I plunged inside her delicate kitty.

Only a small portion of the handle was visible as the tool stretched her pretty pussy. The tangled metal wires extending from her twat looked deliciously obscene. I left the whisk in place and swatted her again with the spatula.

“Yeeeeeeee!” she cried, but I didn’t give her a chance to say much more.

I started working the whisk in and out of her cunt, pounding her roughly with the makeshift dildo. We found a rhythm; she began pushing back, meeting every thrust from me with one of her own. Intermittently, I would smack her hard with the spatula, producing cries of lust from the crazed country girl. Then she stiffened, followed by a manic and uncontrollable shaking fit. Another shrill cry flew from her lips as she submitted to the powerful orgasm rattling her core. Her juices poured down her inner thighs until they dripped on the scarred and pitted table. I smacked her over and over as she came, further reddening her already crimson bottom. When I finally ceased my assault, I removed the whisk and pushed her over.

Mary Kate Watkins lay on her back, starry-eyed and dazed from the exertion. While she recovered, I slipped out of my jeans and blouse, piling my clothes alongside hers until I was completely naked. Climbing onto the table, I gave her a devilish grin.

“Have you ever eaten a pussy, Mary Kate?” I asked.

“No, ma’am, Miss Kitty,” she whispered, eyes still glazed.

I straddled her, the golden hairs around my sex only inches above her face. I could feel the dewy production from my overheated cunt coating my labia.

“Stick that sexy little tongue out, country girl! You’re fixin’ to taste Miss Kitty’s delicious pussy.”

She did as instructed, and I settled upon her, my blonde pubic hair caressing her nose.

“Kiss my pussy, hon. Lick it like it’s cookie dough on a spoon!”

She needed no further directions. Her tongue found my slit, working its way through my dripping cunt, collecting my frothy desire. Her eyes became half-lidded, telling me she adored the forbidden first taste of another woman.

“Yes, girl,” I screeched. “Fuck my sweet pussy! Lick it, Mary Kate!”

She reached up with both hands and grabbed my ass, greedily running her hands over my backside. Her tongue exploring my sex felt amazing; it was as if she was born to eat pussy. I reached under her head and pushed my aching twat onto her mouth, grinding against her pretty young face. I rode her like a bucking bronco as she zeroed in on my clit. With the flat of her tongue, she began lapping my bud with long strokes, igniting fireworks in my belly. The flame spread outward, fiery flashes intensifying with each bold stroke. My thighs began shaking uncontrollably, and I threw my head back in sheer bliss as the first wave of orgasm took hold. I screamed like a banshee as Mary Kate Watkins laid siege to my tortured quim. I looked down and tried to scream again, but my voice caught in my throat. As my hips rotated, her head weaved and bobbed beneath me, a bizarre and erotic sight that triggered a second wave of heaven through my loins. I creamed my dreamy lover with my juice, soaking her face with cum. Quivering with delight, I hit the pinnacle of bliss. I wasn’t clear if I came a third time or if it was one long continuation of the second orgasm.

Breathless and dizzy, I could take no more. I rolled off of her and lay on the table alongside my little redheaded doll. As I recovered from the mind-blowing climax, I glanced over at her. Dreamy-eyed and smiling, Mary Kate’s face was coated with my girly jizz, reigniting my lust for the kooky country girl.

Sliding off the table, I lifted her long, thin legs into the air and dove between them. Her sex was hot and gooey, her aroma even thicker and earthier than before. I breathed in her luscious scent and went to work. Her clit, slick and salty, was practically throbbing, and I took aim to torture her clamoring cunt. With rapid-fire strokes, I attacked her, wickedly lashing at her pink pearl until she was begging for release. Mary Kate’s cries filled the kitchen, echoing off the walls once again. Her body writhed and bucked with such force that I feared she might suffer whiplash, her thrashing nearly demonic. She released a high-pitched feral cry that likely was heard in the next county as she gushed a deluge of hot pussy nectar into my mouth. I consumed her feminine flavor, lapping at her steaming flesh with renewed vigor. Then she came again, gripping my hair and bouncing her hips wildly.

She lay panting, a hand over her brow as she attempted recovery from my attack. But I wasn’t finished with her. Climbing back onto the table, I pulled her left leg into the air, pressing my hot blonde bush against her red one. Mary Kate’s eyes sprang open as she removed her hand from her face, a confused look of horny desperation covering her countenance. She had no time to protest; I was already fucking her. Our swollen and slick lips rubbed together in delicious union. Wet slurping noises squeaked and squished from our melded pussies. Reaching down with my free hand, I pulled at an erect nipple, eliciting a breathy moan from my captive. Soon, our grinding became more animated, faster and frantic. I felt the familiar sensation brewing once again in my hot box and Mary Kate’s wide eyes and open mouth indicated she was right there with me. Then it happened; we erupted simultaneously, two sex-crazed women screaming in the pig farmer’s kitchen as our collective climaxes sent us to the moon. We were both soaked from navel to thigh as we came together, cries of passion filling the balmy autumn air.

I collapsed on my lover, spent and sated. We lay together for a spell, kissing and nibbling, touching and giggling. Mary Kate had likely lost close to two hours of work, but it didn’t seem to faze her. But I began to be concerned about Amos. He was probably bored out of his mind; I’d need to make it up to him. I gave Mary Kate a final kiss and tried to slide from the table. She held me in her grasp, surprising me with her strength.

“Hon,” I said. “I need to get going. This ham isn’t going to get cooked sitting on this table.”

Mary Kate wrapped her arms and legs around me tightly, squeezing me with all her might.

“Miss Kitty! That was magic! I love you! I want to do this every day! You are so pretty and sexy! I love you! I love you! OH, GAWD!” she prattled on, running her hands all over my backside.

I giggled despite the discomfort her vice-like embrace and loved-crazed endearments had caused me.

“Now, now, Mary Kate. I have to get going. I have folks coming to eat that ham for supper tonight.”

She squeezed me tighter yet and a sinister grin worked the corners of her pretty mouth.

“Daddy is going to Athens next Saturday, Miss Kitty. Maybe you’ll be needing a side of bacon!”

I laughed and gave her a gentle push. She relented and allowed me to untangle from her grasp.

“A side of bacon sounds wonderful, Mary Kate.” I winked and my smile widened. “I expect I can return next weekend for more tasty treats!”

She squealed with delight before we slid off the table and dressed.

I laid a few bills on the table and collected my ham. I gave Mary Kate’s fine little fanny a pinch, and found my way to the front door. A snoozing Amos sat in the driver’s seat of my pink Cadillac, so I tapped him gently on the chest to awaken him. Then I jumped in the car as my driver fired the engine. As we pulled away, I looked back to the house. Mary Kate Watkins stood on the porch, smiling and waving, dressed in her overalls and white tank top. She still had her boots on!


Amber Skye is an Amazon international bestselling erotica author from Atlanta, Georgia. Her steamy girl-on-girl novellas and novelettes range from soft erotic romance to hardcore BDSM.

Wife and mother of two teenagers, the former third-grade teacher at a private Christian School also has modeled six of her twelve covers. She enjoys practicing martial arts, reading multiple genres, and watching football on Sundays with her family. Please follow Amber on Twitter @Amber69Skye.

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