Street lights just flickered on. This is my favorite hour—when the humans finally tuck their soft asses into bed and the city belongs to the shadows. My whiskers are tingling tonight; I can smell rain and something else on the wind.

Found a spot in a hollowed-out oak behind the old library. Perfect vantage point. Perfect privacy. Been watching a couple through their window three stories down. They don't know I can see them—the way he grips her hips, the way she arches her back like a cat in heat. Makes my tail twitch.

People think being nocturnal means I'm just sleeping all day and prowling all night. Nah. The darkness sharpens everything. My vision cuts through black like it's nothing. Every sound—distant traffic, a bottle rolling down asphalt, their muffled moans—it's all crystal clear. And when the adrenaline hits? My muscles coil like springs. I can climb a chain-link fence in three seconds flat. Drop from a fire escape without scraping my claws.

But tonight... fuck, tonight I'm restless in a different way. Not just hungry. Not just antsy for movement. This body wants something I can't scavenge.

I'm sitting here with my back against rough bark, legs spread just enough to feel the cool air on my cunt. My tits feel heavy under this shirt. Every time I shift, the fabric brushes my nipples and they harden immediately—stupidly sensitive. My own scent is mixing with the night air, and I can tell exactly when my pussy started getting wet. It's not subtle. It's a slow, steady warmth that soaks through my underwear if I don't concentrate.

The couple inside just switched positions. He's eating her out now; I can tell by the way her fingers are clawing at the sheets. I bet she tastes sweet. I bet her cunt is dripping down his chin.

I want that. Not the performance through a window—I want the real thing. I want someone who isn't afraid of teeth, who doesn't flinch when I get too close. Someone who'll let me climb them like a fucking tree and grind my wet pussy against their thigh until I leave a stain. Someone who'll grab my ass hard enough to bruise, who'll pull my hair and call me a filthy raccoon bitch while I'm sucking their cock until my throat aches.

But more than that? I want the quiet after. The part where they don't let go. Where I can press my ear to their chest and listen to their heartbeat slow down, knowing I'm the reason it's racing.

Rain's starting. I can hear it on the leaves above me. My ears twitch at every drop. Maybe I'll stay here a while longer, let the water slick my fur, and pretend it's hands.