The Cougar Book

by Jolie Du Prè

  Cindy kept her pussy shaved clean so he had no trouble whipping his tongue all around on her lips, over her clit, and into her hole. Throbbing, she felt an orgasm building and approaching. For a moment she worried about only one leg supporting her full weight. Only for a moment, and then her knee buckled as the orgasm wracked her body. Chester supported her weight, slowly folding her over the crates.

  Her juices flowed as the spasms ran through her entire body, but Chester continued to lap at her. Quivering, she stood still as he licked her inner thighs, cleaning her off. What a considerate young man, she thought.

  He thrust his tongue inside her again. She hadn’t expected him to be so bold. And he didn’t stop there. Without warning, she felt his tongue slide back, further back, and into her other hole. The sudden anal attention brought her quickly to the brink of another orgasm. She collapsed against the crates enjoying sensations she’s never relished before. The pulsing orgasm clenched his tongue, and she pushed into it wanting more. Ohmygod, ohmygod, OH MY GOD.

  Her feet barely touched the floor as her belly and breasts lay flat against the crates. She faced sideways watching the wall, slowly catching her breath. Cindy heard him moving, but couldn’t see him, nor did she have the energy to look. Her flowered skirt had fallen back down and she felt him raise it up. A breeze wafted across her crotch and gently cooled her burning core. But only a little.

  She felt his tongue again, sliding the length of her, from clit to asshole. He licked like his ice cream pop was melting. He quickened his pace and Cindy breathed deeply. She hadn’t thought she had another orgasm left in her. She was wrong.

  He thrust into her, deep. Surprised at his aggressiveness, she opened herself wider to his fullness. He pounded his meat into her with the energy only young men can muster. This was why she’d pursued him.

  Cindy just lay there, receiving him, accepting him, enjoying him. But he pulled out of her completely. She felt empty, abandoned. It didn’t last long. She felt him pushing back in, but in the other hole. She’d been anal-ized before, but had never really enjoyed it.

  But this was heavenly. She felt another orgasm building rapidly. She slipped her hand down to her clit, playing it to the beat of his pounding. She sheathed him and the sensations cascaded one on top of another. Pushing here, probing there, she knew she’d walk funny afterward, just the way Margaret predicted. But at this moment, Cindy didn’t care. She’s tolerated the teasing to savor this encounter.

  The orgasm hit her, leaving her feeling like she was being pounded with a warm, heavy hammer made of marshmallow. Still, her young stud hadn’t come. He continued to pound at her and all she could do was lie there, flaccid, complacent, willing, smiling.

  When she felt him explode inside her, she noticed a feeling deep down, the beginnings of another orgasm, but she felt too tired to make any effort.

  Chester rested on top of her, allowing himself to get soft while still inside—a feeling she enjoyed almost as much as the orgasms themselves. But all too soon he flopped out with a little pop and she rested, closing her eyes and drowning in the ecstasy and the erotic odors. But just when Cindy thought the moment might be perfect, Chester spoke.

  “I’m . . . uh, sorry, ma’am. I don’t think . . . ”

  Cindy rose and turned toward him, placing a finger on his lips. “Shhh.”

  “But I—we just—”

  “I know, and it was great.”

  His smile grew and so did another part. Cindy admired his size, realizing he’d had that thing inside her. She saw something else. He’d worn a condom. Lost in the fantasy, she’d completely forgotten, but he hadn’t. When the hell did he manage to put that on?

  Cindy reached down, pulled it off him, and he sprang to renewed life. Despite her satisfaction and exhaustion, she didn’t think it wise to waste such a beautiful thing. She sank to her knees and faced it. More a weapon than a tool, she kissed it with her lips and tongue. His arousal aroused her in turn, dampness spread between her legs again—not that she’d truly dried out from the first encounter.

  She could taste the latex of the prophylactic. It had no appeal, but his flavor lingered as well. Cindy savored it. Soon he’d offered her more flavor. She managed to catch it all, not wanting any to go to waste. Now she felt ready again and hoped he could manage to do something—anything for her.

  She touched him gently and noticed he wasn’t completely lifeless. Damn! Young stuff. Cindy helped him don one of her condoms for round two. She climbed up on the crates and lay back, raising her skirt and then her legs. Without any words exchanged, he followed her unspoken request explicitly.

  He climbed atop her, grabbing her legs and thrusting them back so her knees almost became ear muffs. He slid into her, pushing inch after inch. From this angle Cindy couldn’t believe he would fit it all. He buried himself to the hilt, bottoming out inside her, holding her legs up with his strong arms.

  His steady pounding rhythm quickly drove Cindy out of her mind with need. She began to chant, “S-t-a-m-i-n-a, ah!” like some pornographic cheerleader getting gang-banged by the whole team.

  Cindy knew there was another orgasm within her, and she felt it rise, like a tremor deep in the California ground. Not only did Chester hit all the right spots, satisfying her needs, but the view from this angle drove her to devious heights of perversion, and ecstasy was the only possible outcome. As that feeling rose higher and closer, she braced herself so she didn’t buck completely off the crates, and still Chester showed no signs of slowing.

  The wave slammed her harder than anything she’d ever experienced before. The mystery and taboo of this younger man pushed her nearly to unconsciousness as the waves kept coming. Cindy didn’t feel done. More orgasms hit her like she’d stuck her orgasm button into a ceiling fan and the blades kept hitting it over and over again. She couldn’t stop it, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  Despite his youth, he was quite expert at pile driving. He used the full length of his man meat to impale her and thrust just a little deeper each time. Cindy couldn’t catch her breath.She lost track of time.

  When Chester finally came, Cindy felt the swell of his head inside her. This filled her up even more and she had yet another orgasm. She’d already had so many, she feared they might keep coming even after he finished and pulled out of her. How would she ever be able to walk normally again?

  Looking at his watch, Chester rapidly pulled up his pants. “I-I have to go,” he stammered, apologetically.

  “We’ll see each other again.” She dismissed him with the ominous leer of a woman planning on returning for seconds.

  Chester offered a half-weak smile and left the storage room with an almost imperceptible wave and a lingering glance over his shoulder. Cindy lay there, her pussy hanging out, feet down but knees apart, letting the air in to cool her off. If another man walked in and made a move, she didn’t think she could find the strength to fend him off.

  But eventually she managed to get up, pull herself together, and hobble back to her cabin. Margaret returned hours later and immediately recognized the look of satiation on Cindy’s face. She expelled a deep sigh and sat on the next bed. “I take it you managed.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “And he’s gone?” she continued, looking around the cabin.

  “We never made it back here.”

  “Oh.” Margaret looked resigned. “Tell me all about it.”

  So Cindy did. She explained every detail. She described with her hands. She closed her eyes and envisioned each moment as she relayed her tale of lust fulfilled. When she finished, Margaret appeared as exhausted and satisfied as Cindy.

  “I wasn’t sure before, but now I am.”

  “Sure of what?”

  “I’m envious.”

  A knock on the door interrupted them. Margaret opened it to the room steward. He leered oddly at her and handed her a note. She opened it, read it slowly, and began to laugh until tears ran down her cheeks.

  Cindy struggled to sit up. �
��What? What is it?”

  “‘Would lady from cabin 2926B please report to room 2038 on Continental Deck immediately. I have fresh sheets’. He’s ready for seconds,” Margaret teased.

  “Oh, my God. I can’t. I’m still sore.”

  “He tore you up that bad?”

  “Honey, you know me. If I could be there, I’d be there. I’m done in.” Then she added as an afterthought. “Why don’t you go?”

  “Who, me?”

  “Why not? Tell him you want the lights out. Once it gets going, who cares if he notices or not? Besides, you’re a lady from 2926B.”

  “I couldn’t do that. Besides, it’s so . . . wrong.”

  “Yeah,” Cindy sighed, smiling like a cat that had lapped up all her cream. She bounced her head back down on the pillow. “It certainly was.”

  “You’re still in the moment, aren’t you?”

  “I haven’t been used like that in decades.”

  Margaret sat quiet, staring.

  “Go. Take care of my boy for me. When he finds out you’re not me, tell him the truth and I’ll see him later.”

  “You think I could?”

  At that moment, Cindy knew she had Margaret hooked. Perhaps by the end of the cruise they’d both do him together. “I’ll never tell,” she said to the back of the door.

  A Great Commute

  D. L. King

  It was a long commute to work each day. Same subway station, same time every morning; you get used to the same faces and the same boring routine. Although you see them every day, you don’t actually look at the people—at least not overtly—you just file their presence away. It’s important to maintain as much privacy as possible, preserve personal space as long as you can because you know it won’t last.

  There was the woman with the outrageously expensive, imported leather, work bag and the two little girls she had to deposit in nursery school before continuing on to her office; the two little girls who whined and pouted the entire time. There was the older gentleman, with a twinkle in his eye, who would smile and offer his seat to whatever woman was standing closest; the very large red-haired woman in the tight suit and pink sneakers who took up two seats (but sure as hell didn’t pay two fares); and the thirty-something guy who was completely wrapped up in his new wife or girlfriend; I wasn’t quite sure which. They’d keep their heads close as they chatted, hanging on the pole, staring into each other’s eyes. He’d kiss her before his stop, and once he left, she’d close her eyes and smile, and then bury her head in a magazine for the rest of her commute.

  Lately, I’d begun to notice a young art student on the platform. I’d see him sporadically. He dressed in torn, paint-spattered blue jeans and tee shirts. He carried one of those tackle boxes, the kind that was full of art supplies, rather than fishing tackle. He looked to be in his early twenties at the most, with shoulder-length, dark-blond hair that would benefit from a good brushing, or maybe practiced fingers run through it. His eyes were light. Green? I hadn’t been able to get a long enough look to know for certain, but god, he was pretty.

  I’d begun to watch him surreptitiously, and occasionally I would catch his eyes meeting mine for a split second before he’d look away. The idea that he might have been interested made me smile, after all, I must be twice his age.

  I work hard at keeping my shape. I have a commanding presence and people tend to think I’m much taller than my four-foot-11-inch petite frame, but still, I could’ve been his. . . mother’s younger sister.

  He always got off three stops before me. If I was close to the doors, I got to watch that really nice ass exit the train. That day I happened to be standing just in front of the doors, and as I was drooling over that squeezable bottom and fantasizing about reddening it with my hand, he turned around, grinned, and waved. I had no choice; the only possible response was a wink and a smile.

  Two days later he rushed into the train, just as the doors were closing. He seemed to search the car, finally catching my eye. He smiled, and then looked away. As I had a seat, I opened my paper, eventually forgetting about him. When the doors opened on my stop, I left the train as usual and began the walk to my office. As I walked down the street, I heard a throat clear behind me and felt a hand on my arm. Adrenalin pumping, I turned around, ready to punch the guy, and saw my artist.

  “Hi, um, my name’s Justin. I was just wondering, I mean, would you like to get a coffee?” he managed to stammer. He looked a little reticent. Perhaps he realized how close he’d come to being laid out on the pavement.

  I looked at my watch and realized I’d be late for work if I didn’t continue on. “Yes, thanks. I would,” I said with a smile. I continued walking and he followed. I led him to a Starbucks around the corner. After getting our coffees, we took seats at a corner table.

  “Anne,” I said, offering my hand. “Don’t you have some place to be? A class or something?”

  “Don’t you have work?” he countered.

  “I thought this might be a better use of my time.” I took a sip of coffee. “So Justin, I’m thinking I’d like more than coffee. What about you?” I gazed at him, trying to gage his reaction.

  Justin fidgeted in his seat and began to blush just a little. “Ah, yes ma’am, I mean, Anne. I think I would.”

  “Ma’am is fine, Justin. You can call me Ma’am if it makes you more comfortable. Shall we?” I got up and walked out the door, turned right and continued around the corner, sure Justin was following me. I had a small boutique hotel in mind. It wasn’t far, and I had a corporate account. I stayed there on occasion when I worked late rather than make the commute home.

  As we got closer to the hotel, I turned to see Justin following three steps behind me. I took his hand, drawing him parallel, and put my arm around his waist.

  “Good morning, Ms. Shepherd, nice to see you back with us,” the doorman said as we entered. I could feel Justin’s intake of breath when he saw the lobby.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be all right. I’ll just be a minute,” I said, leaving him to try to look without gawking.

  We had the elevator to ourselves and as soon as the doors closed, Justin closed in for a kiss. And what a lovely, sweet kiss it was. His tongue gently prodded my lips open and so sweetly explored my mouth as a hand tentatively slid its way up my body to my breast. I allowed him to continue in this manner until we reached our floor. As the doors opened, I wrapped my fingers around the front of his belt, inserting them between the leather and the denim, and then gently pulled him after me down the hall. I held him like this while I opened the door, and then pushed him into the room, still holding onto his belt.

  Once inside, I closed and locked the door behind us. Pulling him along behind me, I opened the bathroom and looked inside—’cause that’s what you do—and then continued on into the room. All this time, Justin hadn’t made a sound. I backed him up to the king-sized bed and forced him into a seated position. Removing my fingers from his belt, I stroked his crotch and felt the growing bulge in his pants. Giving it a squeeze, I buried my face in his neck and inhaled.

  “Mmm, you smell nice. You must have headed for the train fresh out of the shower.”

  “Yes Ma’am,” he said, shivering as I licked his jaw.

  “Be a good boy and get out of those clothes while I call my office.”

  He looked at me with those big, beautiful eyes and a hint of a smile and took his shoes and socks off. He still hadn’t said anything other than ‘yes ma’am’ but now I could see a bit of playfulness coming out. He stood before me as I picked up the phone and punched the buttons. Taking off his shirt, he was encouraged by my response. I practically swooned when I got a look at his tight chest and flat, hard stomach. Running my fingers over those washboard abs while I spoke to my secretary and listened to my messages, all I could think about was finding where that treasure trail under his navel led. He was definitely a tasty young man, and I took great pains not to drool.

  He watched me while he slowly undid his jeans, and then
slid them off as I finished up with my office. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, and his cock sprang to attention as soon as his pants cleared the area. I wrapped my fingers around it as I hung up the telephone receiver.

  “If you don’t mind, we’ll just let this be mine for the next several hours,” I said, pulling him towards me. I took my jacket off. “That all right with you?”

  “Oh yes,” he said, as my fingers returned to lightly stroke him. He reached for the buttons on my blouse but I gently took hold of his wrists.

  “No, Justin, I’ll tell you when and what you can touch.” He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, so I suggested he place them behind his back. He was very good at following instructions, and I noticed precome had begun to gather at the end of his cock. How delightful.

  I always keep what I like to call my emergency overnight kit in my bag. You never know when you’ll need something, and it would be such a shame if you didn’t have it. I pulled my purse over and took out a frumpy-looking cosmetic bag. I opened it and dumped its contents on the bed: several condoms, a travel-size bottle of lube, and a vibrating anal plug.

  Justin coughed and said, “You always carry that stuff around with you?”

  “Oh yes. I believe in being prepared. Aren’t you glad? What would we have done otherwise?”

  “I have condoms,” Justin volunteered.

  “That’s very commendable, but do you have personal lubricant or a vibrator?”

  “No, but do you really think we’ll need those things? I’m sure I can make you wet. Well, I mean, uh . . .”

  “My dear, you’ve already made me wet. The lube’s for you, as is the vibrator.” I absolutely loved the expression on his face as I pushed him onto the bed, that combination of confusion, a bit of fear, and excited anticipation.

  I shimmied out of my tight skirt, leaving my garter belt and stockings on, along with my plain black thong. I unbuttoned my blouse, exposing a sheer, black, lace brassiere and saw Justin’s cock jump in anticipation.