Cougar and her Five Virginal Cubs Ch. 10bySusanJillParker©
Chapter Ten - "Ask them to come over."
"Ask them to come over," she said breathlessly and still quaking from her orgasm.
"Now? Are you serious? You want my four, perverted friends to come over here now?"
"Ask them," she said turning to look at me. She had a sly, sexy smile that I found so endearing and that made me want to stick my tongue down her throat and make sweet love to her again. The look she gave me made me do anything she asked me to do. "I want you to ask them over...to help me," she said the last three words in a barely audible whisper.
That was all she had to say and somehow, I suddenly understood the household help she needed from my four friends. She turned away from me and I watched her staring out her window but, as if she already knew that I'd obey her request and invite my friends, she didn't look back at me to see me waving them over. Now with her naked body still pressed against the cool glass, she was too busy giving them her free window show of her naked body. She was too busy staring at my four friends, while showing them her naked body. With my hand covering my erection, I turned to look out the window and waved them over.
"Aren't you going to get dressed?" I looked at her. "You're naked and they'll be here in two minutes."
"Silly boy," she said with a smile. As if asking me if I wanted another soda, she asked, "Do you like to watch?"
Stunned that she had no desire to cover her naked body, when I didn't answer her about watching, when I wasn't even sure her meaning, she leaned into me with a deep, wet kiss, as she reached her hand down to cup my testicles, before wrapping her fingers around my cock. Then, she grabbed a cushion from the floor, put in back on the sofa, and made herself comfortable. Now, I knew what she meant by asking me, if I like to watch.
All four of my friends ran from the park and fell into her small apartment instantly. Barky barked, howled, sniffed them all, and then returned to his bed in the kitchen. Apparently, he was already familiar with their scents from all those times he walked by us. We were all guilty of hiding behind the wall to watch Kathleen cross the street, climb the cemetery fence in her mini-skirt, and flash us her panties to walk her dog in the cemetery. We were all guilty of lusting over her from afar. Now, with the tables turned, she was the one lusting over us but up close.
Always, I wondered if she knew we were there peeking. I always wanted to ask her, but feeling like the pervert that I was back then, I never did. How could she not know we were watching her flash us her panty? We giggled and talked foolishness, so much and so loud, like the immature boys we were, instead of 18-year-old men we hoped to be. She must have known we were all there hiding behind the wall waiting and watching for her to give us an in between her legs flashing show of her panties.
Only, if she knew we peeped on her, did she not care that we were there waiting to see her panties or was she flashing us on purpose wanting us to see her panties? I wish I had the forethought to ask her that question back then, a question that was seemingly irrelevant then, especially now that she was sharing her naked body with me, but since then, my question has grown to have more weight of curiosity now. So immaturely naive, I never knew there were women who flashed men. I never knew there were women, who were just as perverted as I was. I never knew there were women, who lusted over me in the way that I lusted over them.
As horny, young men, we were the ones who thought that we had inappropriate thoughts. Never did we suspect that women were capable of having equally as wicked thoughts. From the time we discovered sex, we were made to feel that we were the perverts and that women were ladies. We were made to feel that we were the aggressive predators and they were the innocent victims.
Back then, if only we knew that women wanted sex, just as much as we wanted sex, our sexual urges and desires may have been more out in the open and in tune, rather than hidden away in our dirty minds, while masturbating in our bathrooms. If only we knew women were just as horny as we were and masturbated just as much as we did. If only we were more sexually sophisticated, we may have had a smoother bridge to cross from our repressed, sexual upbringings. With fewer obstacles to block our escape from the puritanical societies protected under church rule and religion that tried to preserve our sexual inhibitions with the guilt of sin during the sexual revolution of the 60's, for sure, we would have had an easier time of morphing from boys to men.
Seeing her sitting there on the couch, she looked so comfortable being naked. She was what I imagined a nudist to be. I had heard about those nudist camps that were hidden away somewhere on paths less traveled in Vermont and/or tucked away in the woods of northern Maine's coastal area, or by the isolated, private beaches of Cape Cod and Martha's Vineyard. Having read about them in Look magazine, I always imagined accidentally coming across one such place and spying over their fence, while taking some candid photos of the nudists with my black and white Polaroid camera. Yet, I never stumbled across a nudist and nudity, that is, until now.
Back then, before the Internet, we didn't even have a movie camera. No one in my neighborhood could afford one. Yeah, sure, there were those families who could afford movie cameras, but we were a bunch of inner city kids and none of us or our parents had money enough to afford anything other than rent and food. I used to fantasize about nudists' colonies, until I finally saw a partially blacked out picture of some of the people in the nudist's camps in a magazine some years back. There was another magazine article in Look Magazine, which has since gone out of print. The article gave nudists' and their colonies some free press, not that they needed any more exposure.
Based on the blacked out photos that they dared print back then, too many of the nudists were fat and old. Then again, it may have been because I was young and slim that everyone over 40-years-old appeared to be fat and old. Not that there is anything wrong with being fat and old but, as far as I was concerned back then, naked fat and old people should have been banned from recreating at a nudist colony or, at the very least, required to wear a warning tag around their neck.
"Unless you're really horny or perverted, or as fat and old as we are, you really don't want or need to see this."
I suppose, once I'm old and fat myself, and toothless and drooling, while residing in a nursing with the rest of the old, fat, and toothless residents, I'll probably lust over some old and fat woman, who has no teeth and sagging breasts. Yet, now that I'm still in my prime, I'll keep my thoughts about the perfection of naked, nudist women, as unrealistic as my fantasies are about them.
It may have been just that one nudist camp that Look Magazine published photos from and that had a higher percentage population of fat and old nudists, but after reading that magazine article and seeing those photos, I stopped fantasizing about nudism, nudists, and nudists' camps then, that is, until now. With Kathleen sitting naked on the couch, I imagined her being a nudist. For sure, I'd join any camp where someone looking like her was a practicing nudist. She'd make a great nudist. If nudist camps were to advertise, she'd make for a perfect spokeswoman. She with her voluptuous body is what nudism is or should be all about. If they put her naked photo in a magazine under nudist colony, more people, especially men, would join.
Maybe, I'm a naked elitist, nudist snob, but I imagine those with a perfect body, who'd want to show their bodies and those with not such a great body, who'd prefer not removing their clothes in front of those with great bodies, should have separate nudist camps. Then, again, where else can those, who don't have a perfect body, feel comfortable enough to show their not so perfect bodies, other than at a nudist colony or a nude beach? Still, in the way that Kathleen was so comfortable in her skin, with not an embarrassed bone in her body, even though I had a good body, I could never be as openly exposed as she was now.
Now that I know that many nudists don't have a perfect body, I'm sure that nudists and nudism have a cross section of the population filled with as many good bodies as there are not so good bodies, much like a nude beach. On the other hand, too much of the population today is obese or bordering on obesity and, perhaps because of the Internet, nudism has lost much of the forbidden taboo and lusty luster that it had back in the fifties and sixties. Now, if you want to see naked people, you just have to go out to cyberspace to watch a video. Therefore, I propose because of the Internet, we all have become closet nudists or, at the very least, exhibitionists and voyeurs to some degree.
Even after comparing Kathleen to all the women I have known since, never have I seen a woman so relaxed and comfortable, while being naked. So many women that I know, women with great bodies, are ashamed of their bodies and would never want to be seen or photographed naked. By using flattering clothes, they go through great deception to hide their bodies because they may have extra weight around the middle or they imagine their thighs are too big or their hips are too wide, but whatever, guys don't really care about all that, especially when the woman is naked and in bed with them.
Most guys don't even see any a woman's imperfection, especially when both consenting parties are naked and are about to have sex, especially in a darkened bedroom without the visual aid of light. We only see tits, asses, and pussies. Seriously, we'd much rather have a woman who is comfortable with her body and in her own skin, so that she'd be more of an exhibitionist, allowing us to be our natural voyeur selves, while showing us and others more up skirt and/or down blouse views.
Kathleen was such a woman. Kathleen was the perfect slutty girlfriend. Willing to do anything at any time with any one, she was the closest thing to a swinger without being a swinger. Now that I think of it, maybe she was a swinger. I don't know. Only, the swingers that I know have more discrimination, not that me and my friends needed to be discriminated against. Yet, most female swingers shied away from gangbangs and from having sex with men that were younger than their sons. To each their own, there were plenty of swinging women, who loved a good gangbang and who could never have a sexual partner that was young enough.
Suffice to say that Kathleen was comfortable with her body, an understatement. Sure, it's easier to be comfortable with your body, when the body you possess as perfect as was her body, yet, still my idea of perfection, may not be someone else's idea of perfection. I'm sure that if Kathleen was asked back then, if she had a perfect body, she'd say no and that she didn't like this or that about her body, while wishing it was bigger here or smaller there. Then, again, if I or any of my four, horny friends were asked, especially now after all these years have gone by, if Kathleen had a perfect body, we'd all reply that she was a Heavenly Goddess. We'd all say, in chorus, that she was the best lay we ever had.
Yet, now that she was here with me sitting on the sofa naked in front of my four friends, I was filled with mixed emotions. I was embarrassed for her and excited for myself, at the same time. Also, I was a bit jealous that my perverted friends were seeing Kathleen, my now apparently ex-girlfriend naked, too. It was weird that I was thinking of her as my ex-girlfriend, even though she really wasn't even my girlfriend in the first place. She was just an older woman, who used me for her personal, sexual pleasure, as she was now about use my friends.
What the Hell? What did I know? Only a few hours ago, I was an 18-year-old virgin and now look at me. I'm a man of the world with my imagined jilted girlfriend leaving me in favor of my four, horny friends, who are hoping to get some sexual experience from her, too. Alas, no doubt, it won't be long before she rejects us all for a basketball team from China, a baseball team from Japan, or sailors on leave from the United States Navy. Yet, looking back, thinking of her as my girlfriend was certainly a normal feeling to have towards the first woman, who helped me sexually become a man. Always, I'll be forever grateful to her.
I was so young and vulnerable then and I was looking at her through rose colored lenses without seeing her for who she was or what she was. Yet, if that was an older man lusting over much younger women, so long as they were of legal age, we wouldn't even think of him as odd or perverted, only normal in a lustful and horny sort of way. We'd think of him as a man and a lover of women, albeit younger women. We'd even joke about his sexy antics, boast about his sexual prowess, and even comment that he must have a lot of money because, why else would that young chick be with that old guy?
Only, she was an older woman, who lusted after men, younger men, and men who were nearly half her age. She was a cougar before they even used the word cougar to describe older women attracted to younger men. Proudly, without reservations, we were her private, personal, pride of cubs. We all had our own special memories of Kathleen.
I remember back then, after all of us got what we wanted from her, we regarded her as a whore. Even though we all loved her in one way or another, we talked about her badly, as if she was a bitch of an ex-wife. A way for me to feel better about her rejecting me for my friends and a way for my friends to feel better about her rejecting them for other younger men, no doubt, that was still wrong of me and us to feel that way about her. If she was here now, I'd apologize to her for thinking that about her and for saying all the mean things I said. If she was here now, I'd thank her for making me the man that I am today. If she was here now, I'd treated her with the respect of a special lady that she so deserves.
Admittedly, with love in my heart and lust in my eyes, I didn't feel that she was a whore, when I was with her and having sex with her, because I really liked her, even loved her probably. She was smart, pretty, and fun. Even more than that, she was my Maureen O'Hara. Yet, just as bad in intent, as I was loose in comment by not defending her reputation and by participating in her being bashed by joining in the fun, I went along with the comments that my friends made, so as to fit in with the group and not to have them think me different and call me pussy whipped. Yet, as the years passed, we regarded her with desire and talked lustfully about those sexy times with her. Now, that I'm older and wiser, I regard her with warm and fond memories, my mature paramour, my sexy Maureen O'Hara, who helped guide me through my rite of passage, by having sex with an older woman.
Only, when compared to her male counterparts, she wasn't a whore at all. She was normal in a perverted sort of way at worst, perhaps, just as were her male counterparts, and just as we were as perverted, back then. And I dare say, if other women possessed the body and the opportunity to bed a younger man, they would have taken that experience and run with it, possibly, so long as no one else discovered their sexual preference for younger men and their lustful albeit embarrassing indiscretions. I guess, now that I recall the incidences of that day, those times with her were some of the best times of my life.
Normally just the opposite, when having sex for the first time, carefree and exciting, I only wish all of my sexual adventures had been as good, as my first sexual experience that I had with Kathleen. She was, without a doubt, my first sexual love. Now that I had experienced an older woman, over with and done with the cougar and cub thing, I prefer women my age. I prefer women a bit older or a bit younger than me. I prefer women, who I can have a conversation with and women, who share my background and common interests. Nonetheless, not in judgment of anyone for their sexual preferences, whatever floats your boat is fine with me, so long as your peccadilloes, perversions, and sexually fetishes, don't hurt anyone.
To be continued...
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