by Bogdan Mure\u015fanu
\ntranslation from Romanian by Alexandra S\u00e2rbu [MTTLC]<\/p>\n
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\nThe mistress is lying idly on the divan while grabbing lazily a lemonade carafe. Just then a bead happens to glide from her red lips towards her empty chest, and then there down towards the breasts\u2019 parting. My eyes go blear and my mind can only ponder our teasing through the softness of the sheets, prrrrr! The mistress has stony flesh which I would greedily thrust my fangs into and when she carelessly bends over the sorbet pot with her feline moves, parole d\u2019honneur<\/i>! I peep the prick pointed nipples of her firm breasts and pass the tongue over my muzzle.
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\nIn older days, before the beau came into our lives, I was the only living thing she would press to her bosom. Long gone are are the times when I was the only one she caressed so affectionately on the belly, prrrrr! when I was the only one she would allow to touch her warm feet, prrrrr! At night, through her large flaxen nightie, I was the only one to see, under her belly, the shady parting with its little pinkish pulp, prrrrr! I would nestle under the quilt next to her sweet-smelling body and lick the fingers she would caress me with. We were happy until this mess hall dog, this stray revolutionary disturbed our life and won the mistress\u2019s heart with his trimming uniform, all sorts of trifles and trickery, with polished pistols and especially with his moustache, pomade smeared \u00e0 la fran\u00e7aise<\/i>.<\/i> So what? Don\u2019t I have whiskers as well? Oh yes, monsieur<\/i>, and some enormous ones for my height. I\u2019ve got claws and long whiskers, my tail up high and striped fur. And a poet\u2019s soul, prrr! not some soldier boy\u2019s bad manners accustomed in who knows what barracks. I wonder how can I ever have any kind of things in common with someone who, in those seldom times when he does pet me, he does it opposite the fur\u2019s growing direction? A true Jacobin, no doubt about it! Whereas we, tomcats, are indeed conservative and it\u2019s in our very nature to hate any sort of change, especially the brandy stench.<\/p>\n
Poor girl is crying all day long because her \u2018general\u2019 won\u2019t come back from the absinthe war he\u2019s waging in bars, pfui! On top on that, I bet that good-for-nothing jumps on every bitch that wags her tail around him! His appetite for love-making is indeed cat-like, that scoundrel, no sooner does he open the door than he jumps on the divan where she sits, still sad, and starts torturing her breasts between his churlish hands, he slowly undresses her while kissing her everywhere, especially lingering between her legs, until the mistress twists her body unleashing screams like arrows shot randomly through the room. When they start smooching, I hole up in a corner where I start peeping, je suis un voyeur, voila!<\/i> The mistress avoids my being witness of the their alcove struggles, when the \u2019general\u2019, as she spoils her beau, breaks spear after spear. I don\u2019t know how he has the strength to run so many miles without stopping, as if in double time! It would be wise to shine up to this cad, or I\u2019ll found myself thrown in the street where it\u2019s dirty and cold and \u2018proletarian revolution\u2019, whereas I can\u2019t stand the \u2018revolution\u2019 because it\u2019s noisy and full of fleay curs. The only worse thing would be to geld and to send me straight to the tomcat hell<\/i>, where love does not reach the rooftops and tails cannot be held up.<\/p>\n
In my quiet hours, when time drips lazily from my whiskers, I indulge in compiling an elaborate taxonomy, without claiming to be a tomcat of science. In my opinion, people fall into two big categories: those of dog lovers and the more evolved one, of cat lovers. In its turn, the latter divides into two sub-categories: those who geld tomcats and those who keep their tomcatness intact. These latter ones can also be separated into\u2026 but what is this unfortunate noise? Sapristi<\/i>! The wretched beau came in and I must scuttle away from the warmth of the hearth and dodge under the divan, otherwise I will be surprised with a boot in my behind. Look how she\u2019s glowing with happiness, now that her leman is back! She throws him down the divan… opens his fly and… ahaa, good cherie<\/i>, I have never imagined something like this… Mais, mon Dieu, qu\u2019est elle fait?<\/i><\/p>\n
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by Bogdan Mure\u015fanu translation from Romanian by Alexandra S\u00e2rbu [MTTLC] The mistress is lying idly on the divan while grabbing lazily a lemonade carafe. Just then a bead happens to glide from her red lips towards her empty chest, and then there down towards the breasts\u2019 parting. My eyes go blear and my mind […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1005,77],"tags":[629,509,1165,1123,403,312],"class_list":["post-10055","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-39-40","category-english","tag-alexandra-sarbu","tag-bogdan-muresanu","tag-egophobia-39-40","tag-english","tag-mttlc","tag-translation"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-2Cb","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10055","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10055"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10055\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10056,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10055\/revisions\/10056"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10055"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10055"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10055"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}