“Roaarr!” I growled as I grabbed her, throwing her across the bed. The woken cats fled in annoyance. She giggled as I tried to pull up her singlet, squawked when I took advantage of her distraction to pull down her pants, flip her over and get in one quick spank before she escaped.
Launching herself back over the bed, she lunged at me, trying to pin me down and hold me by the balls. I got out from under her but still she had my balls, a fierce grin on her face. The struggle continued until we both started shivering and retreated under the covers. Her leopard-skin patterned quilt was too thick for a man on such a mild evening but it would take time to warm up.
I seized her for more roughhousing and felt something cool lying under her body, on her side of the bed.
She didn’t reply, instead grabbing my arms and trying to pin them down. I resisted and squashed her whole body with my own, guffawing in triumph. I noticed the object again. Soft, almost wet, on my arm.
“What is that thing?”
“Ha, you don’t trick me.” She started wresting again but I still sensed it. It was somehow like a children’s slime toy, though that seemed unlikely.
“Argh! Stop. Seriously, can’t you feel it? What is that?” I extracted myself from her and ripped back the covers, pushing her aside.
We could make out something lying on the groundsheet, in the gloom.
I turned up the light. We simultaneously recoiled as we recognized the unexpected object.
It was cat vomit.
Next on SovietMen: Abnormal Life
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