The Cougar Book

by Jolie Du Prè

  The garage door slammed. I pulled away. He’d kicked it shut while kissing me. He was obviously good at multi-tasking.

  I started to get dizzy, but he held me closer.

  “Dude, we need to get go. My brother needs my car . . .” Paco’s voice trailed off.

  I hadn’t heard the garage door open again. Marshall and I separated. I felt my face blush. “Oh, sorry,” Paco said when he realized we were in the middle of something.

  “No worries,” Marshall mumbled. I noticed he couldn’t make eye contact with Paco. “Let’s go,” he said.

  I felt frozen and didn’t know what to say.

  “I’ll get my hoodie back from you another time,” he said. They walked off, leaving the door open behind them.

  I disposed of the bag and walked back to the pool area. I sat on the lawn chair and looked at the stars, my arms wrapped around my body. His smell was on the hoodie. I inhaled it.

  I felt silly for the next few days. In the evenings, I’d put his sweatshirt on and sit outside. During my time off from work I tried to relax and recuperate. Shelly had been living with me during her last year of college. As soon as she’d graduated, she’d moved out and I was left with an empty nest.

  For once in my life I had peace, quiet, and time off to relax. But what I really wanted was another rendezvous with the surfer boy.

  Two weeks passed and I considered calling Shelly to get Paco’s number so I could track Marshall down. My prayers were answered on Wednesday when I was in the middle of making a sandwich for lunch. Trashy romance novels, sandwiches, and lemonade were my life lately. It reminded me of my teen years. The doorbell startled me.

  My heart nearly stopped when I saw Marshall standing there.

  “Oh! Hi!” I definitely felt silly.

  “Hey, what’s up?” He smiled. He was wearing his sunglasses again.

  “Come in,” I said, not even sure why he was here, but pleased all the same. I was glad I’d used my best-smelling shampoo the night before.

  He accepted my invitation. He brushed past me and stopped at the edge of the entry way and the living room.

  I closed the door and silently led him to the couch. His hands slid behind my back. His lips went to my neck. His warmth rubbed off on me through his soft, thin, blue t-shirt. I could feel his muscles rubbing against my breasts. I tightened my arms around his shoulders and returned the kiss to his neck.

  “Is anyone here?” He whispered.

  “Just you and me,” I answered.

  We slid to the couch, kissing furiously. I’d been thinking about him since our encounter that night in the garage. He seemed like he’d been thinking about it too.

  I was glad I had a reclusive urge and not left my curtains open this morning. Probably better that I didn’t broadcast my sex just yet.

  I wanted to feel exactly what he was packing. I slid my hand to his crotch and felt the stiff mass. He let out a little moan and pulled away from kissing me.

  “Well you don’t mess around, do you?” he said with a pleased look on his face.

  As a reply I unbuttoned his jeans and slid the zipper down. He put his hands up under my shirt and unhooked my bra while kissing my mouth. My pussy was more than wet and ready for the cock I pulled out of his boxers. With a tad bit of effort, I pulled down his jeans. He rolled on top of me. He pulled my shirt over my head and threw my bra to the floor. He moved from on top of me to shimmy my pants over my hips so that I could kick them off. There was no more need for comments as we got naked.

  One thing I loved about younger men is how they were always prepared. Marshall put on a condom so fast I hardly noticed he had taken his hands off me. Seconds after, he used his strong arms to flip me over on my stomach. My tits pressed against the soft couch. He found my wetness with his middle finger and slid it in and out. Even though I couldn’t see him, I felt his warm body looming over mine. I didn’t need a warm up.

  He shoved my legs apart with his knees and put his cock inside me. He stayed inside for a moment, leaning over to kiss my shoulders.

  I buried my face in the couch pillow under my chin. He moved in and out of me swiftly but lingering just enough to tease my swollen clit.

  He pulled me up to my knees and reached around, still inside me, to play with my clit. I tried not to buck against him uncontrollably.

  I’d never had a younger man so in control before. Marshall knew exactly what he was doing. I loved that he was dominant in bed. I held myself up and threw my head back in pleasure while he fingered and fucked me.

  My knees dug into the couch. I thanked myself for getting the expensive and sturdy couch. We rocked back and forth in a quick steady rhythm. Sweat started to bead up on my forehead. His slick crotch bumped against mine.

  I needed briefly to see Marshall’s face. I craned my neck, damp tendrils of hair stuck to my forehead. Our eyes met. He sucked on his thumb. I opened my mouth knowing what he was going to do next. I screamed when I felt it plunge into my anus. My cunt exploded around him. I kept coming as he fucked me and fingered my ass. I buried my face in the pillow.

  “Fucking hell!” I yelled. The cushion muffled it.

  Finally he pulled his thumb out and pushed himself deep inside me. I felt him explode. His fingers gripped my hips.

  My thighs were covered in my juices when we parted. I felt slightly bashful.

  “Hey beautiful, are you blushing?” Marshall spoke while he put on his boxers.

  He was right. My cheeks were warm.

  “You want your hoodie back?”

  “Trying to get rid of me already? I’m still practically naked!”

  I laughed and made my way to the bathroom to wipe myself down. That was the best adrenaline rush I’d had in a long time.

  When I got to my bedroom to grab the hoodie, Marshall was there waiting for me, still in his boxers.

  “I think you should keep the hoodie,” he said.

  For some reason, that touched me.

  “That’s really sweet,” I said.

  And because I couldn’t resist his smile, his abs, and his thumb, I put my lips to his chest and my hands on his tight ass.

  Cruising for C-men

  Dona Lee

  Cougar: Sleek, graceful predator

  There’s no doubt about it. The fresh sea air, the freedom and luxury of the ship, everyone dressed in scanty summer clothing, a cruise made a woman feel like . . .

  “Oh, hell. I feel like getting laid,” Cindy said to her friend Margaret.

  “I know what you mean,” Margaret Harrison replied as she continued to unpack her suitcase. “But all the men are here with their wives. I was checking them out when we were boarding.”

  The cabin, 2926B, seemed smaller than pictured on the brochure. Nevertheless, Cynthia Parker intended to make the best of this vacation. She hadn’t had one in so long. Thinking about it she realized it had been . . . three years. Three years looking at the same eight walls: the four in her apartment and the four at work.

  Her husband, the worthless dog, left her the year before, and she dove into her work to compensate for the lonely nights. It earned her an award and a promotion, but did little for her social life or her emotional state.

  “I don’t care.” Cindy tossed her sleek, coifed mane in frustration. “I want something hard in me. And nothing at the buffet table has any appeal.”

  Margaret chuckled. “Girl, you are so bad.”

  “Sure, whatever. Are you joining me?”

  “I think not. I’ve got a little something going on the side.”

  “You do? And you didn’t tell me about it?”

  “Well, this is a little too close to home. I thought it best to avoid any complications.”

  “But I’m your BFF. How could you keep anything this important from me?”

  “He’s . . .”

  Cindy stopped unpacking and leaned forward. Margaret stared out the portal and showed no signs of continuing her sentence. Cindy became impatient.

  “Girlfriend!”


  “What? You know him, okay? It’s best if I don’t say.”

  Cindy made one of those noises as she sucked in her breath. “It’s Murray from the office. Isn’t it?”

  “Stop. I can’t say and I don’t want to. If you’re really my friend you won’t make me.”

  “Okay, but before this cruise is out, I’ll put enough food and booze into you to make you want to talk.”

  “The last time you put something into me I told you everything.”

  “I remember,” Cindy sighed. “But we were both too tipsy to enjoy it.”

  “Are you about done playing with your silkies? Or is that your way of trying to make me horny?”

  Cindy looked at the small pile of clothing she’d brought. She packed lightly in the hopes she’d not need clothes most of the cruise. Still the task of taking them out of the case and placing them in the small dresser seemed daunting.

  “I want to go topside and see what’s available to play with.”

  “Then quit fooling around and let’s go.”

  “I’ve got to change first,” Cindy said, pulling her shirt over her head and clipping on a bikini top. The flowery skirt remained.

  On deck, people of all ages roamed about dressed in brilliant, tropical colors listening to the reggae beat of the band. A few played shuffleboard while others swam in the pool, drank at the bar, or caught up on some rays and generally tried to subtly do what Cindy wanted to do, only without appearing to want it. Cindy chuckled.

  “What’s so funny, girlfriend?” Margaret asked.

  “All these people want the same thing I do. Only they want to play this silly game and look like they don’t really want it.”

  “That’s the way the game is played, honey.”

  “Not me. I want to wear a neon sign that says: Slut Here! I want action and I don’t want to have to dance first.”

  “Cindy, girl, you’ve got it bad.”

  “That’s what I keep trying to tell you. Expect fireworks. Expect them soon.”

  “Yeah, just be careful. Fireworks can burn your fingers.”

  “Hey, this is a cruise ship. And I plan . . . to . . .” Cindy’s voice trailed off and she slowed her walking pace, leaving Margaret out ahead—talking to herself.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Margaret walked back to where Cindy had come to a complete stop. She followed her friend’s gaze. “He looks about twenty. Now what the hell would you do with a twenty-year-old?”

  “Everything,” Cindy whispered.

  “Well, that can wait. Let’s get something to eat first. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to ride a young buck like that.”

  “But what if I miss out on my chance with him?”

  “He’s not going anywhere, Cin—I mean, Miss Slut. We’re on a ship. Besides, he works here. Check out the duds.”

  Cindy scanned the young man’s clothes. He wore the traditional white of a cruise ship employee. She realized Margaret was right. He’d be around to devour at a later time. To confirm her decision, Cindy’s stomach chose that moment to growl.

  “Okay, okay,” she said, more to her stomach than to Margaret. “We’ll eat something.”

  Sitting in the crowded galley, Cindy watched Margaret pile food high on her plate. The buffet table stretched down the center of the room and disappeared around the corner of the center galley.

  “Have you ever noticed how much better the food tastes on board a cruise ship?”

  “Unless you get food poisoning like those people did a few years ago,” Cindy retaliated.

  “Come on, seriously. Don’t you think everything tastes better?” Margaret inquired around a mouthful of shrimp cocktail.

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because we’re on this ship and everything just seems better.”

  “Want to talk about your young cabin boy?”

  That shut Cindy up for a moment. With no further ammunition to fire back, she settled. “Okay, the food’s great. Feel better now?”

  “So tell me, darling, you don’t really plan on going after that young boy, do you?” Margaret asked with sincerity. “That’s just asking for trouble.”

  “Are you my conscience, now?”

  Margaret hesitated. “Well, at least remember to bring condoms with you.”

  “Way ahead of you, girlfriend.” Cindy reached down into her little pouch and held out several small square packages.

  “Jesus! How many you got there?”

  “You’ve heard the word ‘stamina,’ right?”

  Margaret laughed and stood.

  “Where are you going?” Cindy asked.

  “I’m going to go work on my snappy jokes for when you come back walking bow-legged— like you’ve been on a horse all day and night.”

  “Thanks. I can always rely on you to keep me humble.”

  “What are friends for?”

  At that moment, the purser walked by. Both women noticed his ass and stared. Cindy dropped her fork. Margaret sat back down. She looked at her friend.

  “A part of me is almost envious,” Margaret said with a sigh.

  Cindy came back to her senses. “Don’t be envious yet. He could be a complete dud between the sheets.”

  “Is that going to stop you from going there?”

  “Hell no!”

  “I’ll expect details.”

  “Perv.”

  “Hey, vicarious is better than no life at all.”

  “But you said you had something going,” Cindy reminded.

  “Sure, but it’s not like that. I can still dream about it, can’t I?”

  “Hell,” Cindy confessed, “you could still go for it.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “We’re on a cruise. What happens here stays here.”

  Margaret hesitated as if she were giving it a great deal of thought. “Thanks anyway. I’m trying to be a good girl.”

  “What for?” Cindy waved a dismissive hand. “That stuff is for kids. I’m forty-three years old. I’m too old to worry about conventions, and too young to roll over and die.”

  “Okay, okay. Go get him and stop talking before I have to slide my hands inside my pants right here at the table.”

  “I’ll see you later—for dinner, maybe?”

  “Get out of here, you cougar.”

  Cindy turned to walk away. “By the way,” she added, turning back to her friend. “Don’t go back to the cabin for a while.”

  “You are so sure of yourself.”

  “Look at me.” Cindy pointed at her lack of love handles and flat belly. Continuing the display motion with her hands, she brought them up and waved around her 38Cs. “How could he resist this?”

  “I’m finding it difficult myself,” Margaret said eating another shrimp from her plate that she’d missed.

  “Go play shuffleboard, you old fart.” Cindy chuckled. Margaret offered some muffled retort, but she’d already walked too far away to hear.

  Cindy followed the boy up to the bridge. Civilians weren’t allowed inside, so she waited outside, admiring the expanse of the ship, looking down from the high perch. She tried to act casual, nonchalant.

  He exited before long and she took up the pursuit, or was it stalking, once again. He seemed very busy, visiting cabins, apparently solving a multitude of guest problems. Then he entered the Engine Room.

  Cindy found herself standing casually in hallways and against railings all over the ship, like some amateur sleuth tailing a suspect. She chuckled a little as she realized how she must look to others. And what would Margaret think?

  When she began to doubt finding the perfect opportunity, her prey slipped into a storage room. That gave her the chance she’d hoped for. She quietly slipped in behind him. The room looked much larger than she’d expected. Stacks of “ship stuff” crowded the space forming narrow walkways.

  “Hello.”

  “Huh?” He turned, startled. “You aren’t supposed to be in here, ma’am.”

  “I know. I just got so los
t.” She took a step toward him. He didn’t back away. That was the sign she’d hoped for—the signal he wasn’t afraid of her touch. So she did. She ran her well-manicured fingernail down the length of his exposed arm below his short sleeve and swirled it in his palm. He flinched, but Cindy sensed excitement and surprise rather than offense.

  “What’s your name?”

  He gulped so hard she heard it. “Ch-Chester, ma’am.”

  “Call me Cindy.” She stepped so close her breasts touched his chest. “You look tense, Chester.”

  “I . . . don’t think we should be . . .”

  “How old are you, Chester?” she asked, stepping back to arm’s length.

  “Tw-twenty-two, ma’am. I mean, Cindy.”

  “You’re going to do what I say, right?”

  “I, uh . . .”

  “Pinch my nipples.”

  “Wha . . . ?”

  “Do it.”

  Chester reached his hands up and waved them hesitantly in front of her breasts but didn’t touch her. She leaned into his hands, and he had little choice but to feel them, but he didn’t move. He just let them rest in his hands.

  “I said, pinch my nipples. Do it now!”

  Startled, Chester searched the bathing suit top for signs of her nipples. Then he pinched a little. Frustrated, Cindy grabbed her bikini top and pulled it down so her tits bounced out and Chester could get at her skin.

  “Now,” she said in a whisper, “pinch them. Hard.”

  Chester’s eyes stared down at her exposed chest, and he breathed in deeply. His hands found their mark and followed her instructions all by themselves. Wrapping her hands in his hair, she pulled his head toward her.

  “Come on, babe. Suck on Cindy’s breasts.”

  He obeyed, running his rough tongue across her flesh and nibbling her erect nipples until Cindy couldn’t resist a moan. Her mind clouded with need. She needed him. All of him.

  With a little effort she forced him to his knees. Once in place, she slid off her panties and raised one sandaled foot onto the crate behind him. Raising her skirt for total effect, she lowered her pussy to his lips. She didn’t need to instruct him further.