Kelly stepped back, jostling the dancing bodies around her. “I- I have to find the bathroom. I’ll be right back. I’m sorry.”
She pushed her way through the small crowd, past the folding tables where plastic cups were stacked and empty beer cans and liquor bottles were accumulating. She found the back door of the house, passing the kitchen where a few partygoers had gathered to play beer pong, rushing through the house until she reached the bathroom.
She was closing the door behind her when she heard a man from the kitchen call after her, “Where you goin’, kitty?”
The door slammed and she depressed the lock, slumping back against the wood and sliding down to the floor, her wire-stiff tail crumpling beneath her. The stranger’s words followed her into the bathroom and something about them drove her mad with desire, her hand cupping her sex and rubbing vigorously through the nylon and lycra. She could feel the moisture seep through the material, making her hand damp and slick, her legs curling and spreading.
She threw her head back and gasped, her insistent fingers alternately pushing the cloth covering her into her spread petals and rubbing it over her swollen clit. She brought her free hand to her mouth, biting it to stifle the scream of pleasure that was growing in her throat, her teeth leaving deep grooves in her skin. She whimpered as the orgasm came, literally curling her toes as she kicked her heels away, sending them skittering across the white tail and bouncing off the opposite wall. The feeling of her feet freed from them sent another spasm through her already sopping pussy, a Niagra of lubrication soaking her.
Her breathing slowed some as she came down from the blissful high, but the pulsing pleasure remained, the embers of her lust needing only the slightest breath to reignite them. She stood an examined herself in the mirror, her cat-ear headband slightly askew, her cheeks flush. She straightened them and felt a rewarding pang of bliss, as if an invisible tongue had licked her.
“Fuck,” she whispered, cupping her heavy tits, the nipples pointedly apparent under the lycra. When she bit her lip, her fingers closed over the hard nubs and tugged, and she threw back her head to moan.
As her sex throbbed with the need for more, a new thought occurred to her, one that she could not possibly deny. The apple. She had been set aflame by that apple, certainly, but the notion did not alarm her, nor did she feel ashamed or surprised at her behavior. The apple had merely helped her see how wonderful her own body could be.
She licked her lips, watching her pink tongue slide over the deep red-painted skin, and she knew only one thing for certain. She had to get back to Wyrmhood House. She had to have another apple.
She collected herself, her future more certain, now, and reached behind her to straighten her tail. She bent the wire back into place, and the way it swung from her hips made her pussy twitch again, telling her how hot the tail was, how hot she was with it.
She opened the door and made her way down the hall, her stockinged feet flat on the ground, the discarded heels forgotten. Her hips swayed as she walked, swinging the tail on the wire and, placing one leg seductively before the other, she bathed herself in the looks of lust that followed her out the door.
