The Cougar Book

by Jolie Du Prè

  As he entered the room there she was, laying on her back, butt-fucking naked on a king-size bed with a wrought-iron bed frame waiting for him.

  He walked over to the bed, climbed in and over her. She grabbed his arms, her nails digging fiercely into their long strands of muscle and pulled him down on her. Her lips pressed onto his full, welcoming lips, initiating a deep and passionate kiss causing her nipples to harden and stab into his chest as her breasts heaved.

  “Kyle, Kyle,” she breathed incessantly, as if she had been saying his name forever and day.

  He shifted on her, his hip grinding on hers, the flesh of her belly billowed and swelled under him. The rigidity of his rock hard, ebony rod was painfully pleasurable as he could not wait any longer to fill her desire.

  Her hands moved round to his back, her arms locking him to her, their legs intertwined. Her eyes were heavy lidded, her mouth open in a moment of bliss. She seemed more beautiful in her heat of passion than he had ever seen.

  “Kyle,” she breathed. “Don’t fucking tease me! Give it to me! Give mommy what she wants so bad!”

  It was nothing but a word. Kyle positioned himself between her thighs and slid his throbbing, bull cock into her aching cunt, as she writhed with lust.

  She worked her pelvis up and down to get more of him in her, grabbing a hold of his tight, muscled buttocks, urging him into her wide, open thighs. She met each of his thrusts with moans of pleasure.

  Kyle felt like he was in pussy paradise. He wrapped his hulk arms around her body, and with a strong, swift, full stroke, he drove his girthy cock into her.

  Lauren gave a strangled gasp as she felt the dull pain of his entry. He seemed to split her in all directions. He was biggest man she’d ever accommodated, but she would never let him know it.

  He thrust into her again, splitting her farther and farther apart as his thickening cock coursed up into the core of her body. She wanted him to fill her. She wanted him to make her ache, sore, crippled. This magnetic man for now was hers, his mind focused on her and the satisfaction of her body.

  Kyle soared into her with an unleashed ferocity and felt a tingling in every sweating pore of his body where it touched her; his chest against hers, his thighs brushing hers. He gasped out his breath, crushing his lips over her face, over all those beautiful, fine features that made her a woman.

  Writhing under him, moaning her ecstasy, Lauren was in a bitch-heat of passion, pulling her thighs back to her breasts, almost to her shoulders, wriggling her heart-shaped ass so he could really drive it home. Kyle was impressed with this move and wallowed in his raging lust. His hand roamed over her skin, holding the flesh, which at that moment in time belonged to him.

  She spread her thighs to the max, forcing herself to endure the erotic pain, which accompanied the ecstasy, moaning with a pleasure under the impalement of his thick, virile cock. His crushing, aggressive weight seemed to be almost forcing her through the bed. The heavy wrought-iron bed frame bounced, rocked and creaked under the furious rhythm of their illicit intercourse.

  She felt inside her stomach a sort of growing restriction of breath, a stirring sensation ran throughout her body, which seemed to grow and grow as though she was heading to a point of no return as his heavy cock surged into the velvety wetness of her lustful womanhood.

  His name seemed to mix with the animalistic noises of her moans. She strained toward him as she panted, and the gasps became a continuous low-pitched moan that suddenly changed to abrupt screaming as she pushed her belly up at him. Locked in lust, another wave of warm ecstasy overtook her being, sending her over the edge.

  Kyle wanted to make this woman completely his in this moment. Passion made his head swim, his eyes glaze. With sweat pouring off his forehead, he slowed his strokes to thick, precise, grinding penetrations behind which every working muscle in his body flexed and surged.

  “Oh, God, yes! Keep fucking me just like that!” she screamed.

  Kyle wanted this woman he had beneath him—all of her. He reached down in front of him and got a hold of one of her rolling breasts. He leaned forward and adeptly took his mouth to it, sucking hard on her erect nipple, his tongue flicked diligently at the sensitive tip.

  This sent an uproar sensation to her already swollen clit. “Ooooh, you fucking bastard! Don’t stop!”

  As the bed hammered against the wall and Lauren screamed her filthy bliss, Kyle’s thoroughbred cock began to throb beyond his control. It was as though it had its own heartbeat. He felt the overwhelming weight of sensation gathering deep from the root of his being, trying to find an outlet. His breathing became short, unrestrained gasps. He began to breathe all her names with every thrust. “Ms. Thomas . . . Lauren . . . Mommy, I’m about to be your goddamn daddy!”

  He got used to her holding her stare at him. And now was no different. This time she was literally talking with those honey-brown eyes of hers. But she decided to speak for them anyway.

  “Lay it on me, Daddy,” she grimaced, her eyes focused steadily on his as she interlocked her silk-soft legs tight around his waist. “Give mommy that big daddy-dick!”

  Inside him there was a hot, burning sensation boiling in his loins. His entire body began to quake.

  “Yes, Kyle. Give my mommy that big, fucking, daddy-dick of yours!” a familiar voice shouted from behind.

  He whipped his head around in shock at hearing the voice. “Leila?” Right then and there he changed his mind, but his cocked balls didn’t, and neither did Ms. Thomas.

  She tightened her grip. He had no damn where to go, but up in her accommodating pussy.

  He suddenly came hard and long. A weekends worth of his life-giving fluid, spurting in a series of volcanic climaxes, his eyes steadily transfixed to Leila’s as he groaned and uncontrollably bucked, emptying his aching balls into his future mommy-in-law.

  Leila turned to her mother. “I came back for my locker key. So, how was he?”

  “He was everything you said he was, baby. And then some,” Lauren replied with her legs still locked around his waist.

  “Oh, good. I’m glad.”

  “Thank you for sharing him with me.”

  “You’re welcome, Mother. I knew Kyle would be more than willing to attend to your needs without my having to ask.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Kyle said dumbfounded.

  “Oh, Kyle relax,” Leila, said. “I told my mother how unbelievably great the sex was, and I thought since I owed her one, I’d loan you to her for the weekend. Oh, and thank you for the baby-doll teddy. I can’t wait to see it.”

  He turned to Lauren who shrugged her shoulders. “What happened to keeping secrets?”

  “We have no secrets, Kyle. Sorry.” Lauren said as she loosened her grip.

  He backed up off the side of the bed and walked right passed Leila. “You’re both crazy,” he mumbled as he left the room.

  “Crazy for you, Kyle!” Lauren shouted.

  The two women looked at each other then started laughing.

  “Are you still going to marry him?”

  “Hell, yes! That’s prime beef!”

  Shelly’s Mom

  Jolene Hui

  I am a cougar.

  I fully admit it.

  My daughter was the first one to call me such a thing because of the way I acted around her fraternity friends. On the couple of occasions when I visited her at college, the fraternity boys serenaded me. “Shelly’s Mom,” they sang, instead of the popular song “Stacy’s Mom.”

  Maybe it was because I had my daughter fairly young. I was twenty-four when I had her; twenty when I had my son, so I was a mere forty-three-years-old when I first made my way to her sorority house. Was that too many numbers to keep track of? Well, they do say age is just a number. I tend to agree with that saying.

  Nothing happened with any of the fraternity boys that year. They were a little too young. Most were only nineteen. I seemed to be most attracted to men in their twenties. Thrice divorced, I’d realized that find
ing love was not easy. So instead of finding love, I decided appreciating a hot, young body was the better option. Also, younger men had more energy. As an energetic woman, I needed someone to keep up.

  The summer Shelly graduated from college she was twenty-one and so were most of her college friends. I offered to have a party for her but her friend Lucy’s parents had a large house better equipped with the perfect summer party backyard for something of this sort.

  Lucy’s mother was going to be out of town but she entrusted her summa cum laude graduated daughter to have a responsible party. Plus, Lucy’s mother Ellen and I were friends.

  “Helen,” she asked me, “could you please keep an eye on the party?”

  Shelly’s father Pete was planning on helping me out, but he ended up vacationing with his girlfriend who was, of course, in her twenties. Sure, it’s “normal” for a man to date younger women, but when a woman does it, she’s labeled. I could deal with it, though. I was proud to be a cougar.

  I sorted through my recipe box a couple weeks before the party. These college kids would be easy to host. I’d get some hamburgers and hot dogs and some chicken breasts for the calorie conscious. A fruit salad, green salad, potato salad, and chips would top off the meal nicely. I’d always liked being a mother and planning parties.

  Since I always loved it, I took my time planning this one. And—lucky me—the party wasn’t even at my house.

  On party day, I’d selected a nice, lime-green, two-piece swimsuit with a matching wrap for when I tended to the grill and served. I’d invited fifty college students over to the house and left the invitation open for any of their family members to stop by if they wanted.

  I’d recently quit my job as a nurse and started teaching at the community college but, luckily, had the summer off. It made me feel even more young and carefree than I already did. I couldn’t remember the last time I had an entire summer off.

  My son was nice enough to help me decorate and setup the party, without even one complaint. I had to give it to my kids, even though they sassed me enough; they at least still loved each other to help out with each other’s functions.

  “Give me that Tupperware of chicken,” I demanded of my son when people started trickling in through the backyard gate.

  I grabbed a pair of tongs and adjusted my sunglasses. Shelly cranked music. She’d been working on the perfect playlist on her iPod for days. My long, brown hair hit the middle of my back. I was blessed with only a few wiry gray hairs and a thin but curvaceous frame, yet I still felt like a mother hen to all the bikini-clad girls walking into the pool area. The recently-graduated college boys even looked a tad bit young to me, but when a hot, slightly-older looking guy walked into my line of sight, I almost burned my fingers on the grill.

  “Yowsah!” I yelled it a little too loudly. I put my first three right fingers in my mouth as a reflex to the burn. My sunglasses slid down my nose a bit. Through the sun I saw the hottie turn around. We made eye contact. He smiled. I dropped my tongs.

  I stood there staring at him with his fingers in my mouth, a very Lolita-ish look.

  His light-brown hair looked bleached by the sun. He was shirtless in green board shorts, his smooth chest tanned and muscular. He was lean, but looked like he surfed. Defined muscle tone riddled his lanky body. It looked like he was accompanying Lucy and Shelly’s friend Paco. Paco had just graduated with a business degree.

  The noise from his flip-flops as he walked away snapped me out of my daze. I flipped the chicken breasts and tossed some burgers and dogs onto the grill. I tried to keep my eyes on what I was doing, but I couldn’t help but try to find those green shorts again in the crowd that was slowly becoming larger.

  “Go get some more soda and refill the cooler, please!” I yelled at my son who had gotten in the pool and was flirting with some bikini-clad co-eds. Despite most of the guests being over twenty-one, I wasn’t into serving alcohol at someone else’s house.

  “This marinade is great,” said a girl in a teeny polka-dot bikini.

  “Thanks.” I gave the fruit salad a quick stir. The kiwis, strawberries, and peaches smelled delightful. Nothing really beat a summer fruit salad—aside from the vision that planted himself in front of me just as I looked up from stirring.

  Fine blonde hairs danced on his lower abs under his belly button. The laces on his board shorts were bright white. My eyes followed the trail of blonde hair in between his pecs to his smiling face.

  “Can I have a burger and a breast?” He asked.

  I wanted to say something flirty and maturely Mrs. Robinson to him but nothing came to mind. My spatula found a patty and set it on his plate. “Don’t you want a bun?”

  “No thanks. I don’t like buns,” he said.

  As juvenile as my connotation was, I still laughed aloud at myself.

  The Adonis in front of me laughed as well. “Hey, I’m Marshall,” he said.

  “I’m Helen,” I said. “Shelly’s mother.”

  He genuinely looked shocked, “No way. I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it.”

  He was opposite of my last boyfriend. My last boyfriend, Mario, was dark, with black hair and brown eyes. Mario was also muscular, not lean like this surfer boy and definitely not as tall. Marshall was at least six feet tall. I could only see a hint of his eyes behind his sunglasses. His nose was strong and large.

  “Thanks for the breast,” he said.

  I laughed. “Do you want some potato salad?” I touched his hand. Instead of answering my question, he looked at my fingers on him.

  I pulled away, not wanting to rest too long on his skin.

  “Nah, but I’ll take another breast.” He left his hand on the table.

  “Save some for everyone else,” I said. Boys will be boys, though. And I didn’t want him to leave hungry, so I put another on his plate.

  “Hey, quit flirting and give me a dog.” Paco walked up next to Marshall. I was used to Paco being around. He was one of Lucy and Shelly’s friends from college that I knew. “Isn’t he a little old for you anyway? He graduated like three years ago, Helen.” Paco laughed and squirted ketchup and mustard on his bun.

  “As long as he’s under twenty-five, he’s OK in my book!” I decided I might as well joke around with them.

  “Eh, he barely makes the cut. You might have to stop talking to him in December,” Paco said.

  So he was twenty-four. Marshall took a scoop of fruit salad, gave Paco a little salute, and took off toward one of Lucy’s friends. I watched him walk away.

  “Close your mouth, mama!” Paco was always good at figuratively slapping me across the face

  I snapped out of my Marshall daze and gave Paco a dirty look. “Oh, eat another hot dog, ya punk.”

  As if on cue, “Stacy’s Mom” came on. Everyone immediately turned toward me and began to cheer.

  I shook my head when they replaced “Stacy” with “Shelly.” I couldn’t be positive, but I think Marshall kept his eyes on me the whole time.

  The rest of the night floated by smoothly. I abandoned the grill eventually, sipped on Diet 7-Up, and meandered through the crowd. I asked a lot of the college grads what they’d be doing for a living. A lot of plates, napkins, and cups had been left on tables so I walked around with my sunglasses keeping the hair out of my face

  I wished Ellen were home to keep me company. Shelly turned the music down like the good daughter she was. People started to trickle out as it got dark. I suspected everyone was headed out to the bars to drink. My son had abandoned ship hours ago. He had to work in the morning so I forgave him for leaving me alone. As I picked up the last stray fork, I looked up to see Paco and Marshall sitting on lawn chairs. Shelly and Lucy were inside with their boyfriends.

  “Need a hand?” Paco asked.

  “Oh yeah, now that I’m done, I surely need a hand,” I said and set the plastic bag down.

  Marshall’s eyes glowed through the dusk. He was wearing a hoodie now, with the logo of his alma mater
on it.

  “Well I’m gonna go hit the pool table,” Paco, said, standing up.

  “Thanks for your help,” I shouted to him as he walked away.

  “So, Helen,” Marshall finally spoke. “Do you need help?”

  “Paco already asked me!” I glared at him. “I’m gonna take this to the garage if you wanna go with me.” I hadn’t even meant to hand him an invitation. I walked toward the garage, swaying my hips a little more than usual. My flesh started to turn goosy in the cold evening air. Marshall must have noticed.

  “Do you want my sweatshirt?” he asked. Before I answered, he peeled it off his sexy body.

  We were in the garage in the dark. Instead of just handing me the sweatshirt, he decided he should try to put it on me. I giggled as he tried to pull it over my head. I started to feely silly. I couldn’t stop laughing even as he pulled my arms through the sweatshirt. My infectious laughing made him start laughing. I tried not to roll around on the ground but had to crouch down to laugh my stomach hurt so badly. I could feel my hair was in disarray around my face. The full garbage bag was right beside me on the ground and I lightly leaned into it.

  “You’re leaking,” he yelled in between his laughs.

  “Huh?” I leaned into the bag more.

  “You’re leaking!!!!”

  I looked down to see a rush of root beer pouring out onto the concrete.

  “Shit!” I jumped up, still laughing. This time, I leaned on Marshall, who had also jumped up.

  Our laughing subsided. I leaned into him more—into his neck this time. I smelled his skin. It smelled good. I couldn’t help but put my lips lightly on his skin. His body froze. I kissed him up the neck to his jaw line and to his chin until we were facing each other. He was taller than me but I was up on my tiptoes kissing his chin.

  So gracefully and almost automatically, he tilted his head down to meet my lips.

  I slid my arms around his bare waist, feeling the heat from his skin through the hoodie. Our kiss deepened, our bodies moved against each other.