It’s so wrong. I don’t know you, but the way you’re stroking my belly. “Can I have my coffee back? If you‘re quite finished.” Wow! You’r...e getting a hard on… looks useful too. “That’s OK. Apology accepted.” Don’t suppose there’s any point putting my towel back on now, is there?! Oh fuck! You’re getting properly hard! You’re looking at my boobs like you want to own them. “Thanks! They’re all natural obviously!” Bloody ‘ell you’re not even trying to hide it! “No you can’t touch them!” No matter. I’m listening to some girl on ESPN yammer about the Spelling Bee and wondering when that became a sport. You might have gathered that I’m not exactly chipper in the morning, at least not until I’ve thrown down a couple of Cokes or Mountain Dews—impossible in this house, as my parents are bafflingly anti-soda.My daze was broken by the gentle creaking of the stairs. Who the hell else is up this fucking early? My question was answered quickly—and wonderfully—when my little sister Julia came. Yeah go on, thought George, his curiosity piqued. In fact, some kind of sixth sense had already passed an erotic wave up to his brain which in turn had alerted his cock, the front of his pyjama bottom filling in anticipation. It was odd, but inevitably he was most horny when feeling under the weather. There had to be a direct correlation, in men at least, between sickness and sexual arousal. And right now his cock was waving like a flagpole, poking out through the fly-hole and pressing into his. What followed him now was not more than a few yards behind him, but was not a cat. It had the head of a cat and a tail whipped behind it but it ran on two legs like a human its arms or front legs – he couldn’t decide which - in rhythm with the rise and fall of a quite stunning pair of breasts. It was coal black and it seemed somehow to be smiling wickedly… Fear propelling his feet forward quicker than they had ever run he continued, but knew that very soon he would be caught and could only.