The Cougar Game

bysleeplesssailor©

What the heck, they thought. They recalled they hadn't bought the new shoes and boots anyway; the Retreat had.

The two wives giggled like schoolgirls as they slid their boots and shoes into the steamy water. Leaving on your heels all night made both women think of deep penetration sex each had experienced with bottoms turned up as their husbands had lifted their ankles and placed them onto their shoulders. It was just missionary position sex but Stuart and Brock had gotten every millimeter as deep as their six-inch organs would allow. Once, Joan remembered, on their honeymoon, she and Brock had actually left heel marks on the ceiling in a sleeping car berth. She told Brandi about her memory, and they both laughed. "Heels on the ceiling" had struck a resonant chord with both initiate/wives, just as the Cougar Game designers had intended.

A few more sips from their champagne and self-conscious quick glances at their surroundings brought Brandi's attention to a new sight. She nudged Joan and nodded in the direction of a woman in a French maid's costume who was whispering in her seatmate's ear. Something she was saying had gotten his rapt attention because her black male partner began growing an obvious erection. Initially, his penis uncoiled and ran down the length of his thigh. Because the two apparent amours were only ten feet away on a marble bench and because their crotches were at the wives' eye level, the reality of what was happening could not be denied. Although neither the French maid nor the black stud were touching one another, this living, pulsing sex organ thickened, straightened, engorged its veins and then rose at first imperceptibly. Bit then it lifted one, two, three inches off the man's thigh. Eventually his thick black twelve-incher stood out at a 45 degree angle.

Brandi and Joan were staring, their moths agape, and their lips went dry. None of this erecting of a massive black cock was anatomically unusual but for the fact that neither wife had ever seen an erection of more than six inches. This jet black monster was close to twice that long and as thick as a Red Bull can. Each wife continued to look on in amazement at the still growing big black cock and quickly drank another long deep swallow of champagne.

Jennie appeared out of nowhere again to refill their glasses once more, and remarked,

"See what I mean about eye candy? Good lessen there as well for all of us. Just talking about what you plan to do with a man's cock, can make it rock hard without even doing any of what you describe."

Jennie then asked if they wanted instruction in using the hookah. Both wives were relieved to be leaving the erection scene unfolding before them. What they didn't know was that this sequence of arousal and escape, arousal and escape had been carefully orchestrated for their benefit as initiates into the Cougar Game.

Jennie swung her gorgeous long legs up and out of the hot tub. In the middle of the smooth arching motion, right when her crotch was directly across from Brandi and Joan faces, she made a subtle adjustment opening her legs just a bit, not unnaturally but with deliberation and a sly smile. Again, the wives looked agog at one another. Their older friend's shirttail had swished aside just long enough for each initiate/wife to get a fleeting glance at Jennie's very long pussy lips. The hairless wrinkled folds hung two and half to three inches below the edging of her crotchless fishnet pantyhose.

No surprise that Jennie too was fully exposed; they all were. But each wife wondered to herself what sexual tugging and pulling could possibly have elongated Jennie's pussy lips that much? Brandi thought she spotted the flash of some golden ringlets of intimate body jewelry. Maybe the weight of that metal had stretched out Jennie's pussy lips. Soon they were to find out otherwise. Jennie's distended lips had been lengthened by literally thousands of hours of big cock sex. Brandi and Joan realized their own fleshy pussy lips (at least when swollen after sex acts) looked more like Jennie's than they did the tight-lipped crevices the two wives had seen staring back at them in their hand-held mirrors as teenagers. They didn't know it yet, but the wives suspected that by the end of the Game, if they chose to stay and play it to the end, their pussies too would be changed forever. Lips like Jennie's were a badge of honor at the Dionysus Retreat.

The hookah pipe proved to be a breakthrough experience for both Brandi and Joan in finally totally losing all their remaining inhibitions. Jennie showed them how to hold the aphrodisiac-laden smoke deep in their lungs and then lean back and stare at the mosaic ceiling. After several rounds of smoking the hookah individually, Jennie encouraged the two good friends to take turns drawing the smoke and then passing it to the other woman waiting still flaked out on her back from the previous round.

Twenty minutes later Jennie returned to tell the wives (with pleasant matter-of-factness) that they were actually touching each other sexually in violation of the Floor 3 rules. She then teased,

"Go upstairs and get a room" and nodded toward the stairs to the 4th Floor.

Helping them to their feet, Jennie said she hoped to run into them later upstairs. As Brandi put a first boot on the step to Floor 4, Stuart and Brock got tape-delayed access to the Floor 3 events their wives had just experienced.

Dionysis Retreat, Floor 4 As the two dazed wives stumbled upwards to Floor 4, twelve black studs of various hues, shapes, and penis sizes donned black head-to-toe monk hoods and slipped quietly up the stairs behind them. Floor 4, unlike its predecessors, was shrouded in fog-like billowing mist. Brandi and Joan encountered many corners and intersecting passages and soon found themselves too far removed from the entryway to find their way back. They decided with some trepidation to keep moving deeper into the maze. Each sensed that other shadowy figures were moving through the same passages, neither recognizing nor ignoring their presence.

The only logic of conveyance in such surroundings was to pursue a series of faint distant sounds at times indistinguishable but at other times distinctly moans, squeals, or screams (more of pleasure than of pain). Eventually, Brandi and Joan saw a faint light glowing ever brighter as they sped down a long pitch-black hall. On each side they recognized the molding frames of oddly-named doors—Spread-eagle, Jumbo, Nightstick, Lefttwist, Shorty, Stretcher, Thirteen, Double S, None-So-Fine, and Knotted.

Behind many of these doors, the sounds of sex poured out into the hallway though louvered vents cut in each door. Approaching one set of louvers, Joan slid them open and quickly slammed them shut again. Volunteering nothing to her friend about the spread-eagled black male with rising obelisk of a giant veined shaft in the middle of a four-poster bed, she nudged Brandi toward the light. The closer they got, the more they wondered exactly what to do. On a circular raised red leather bed in the spotlighted area ahead, two people appeared to be energetically having sex on a stage!

The wives felt a stark utter blackness behind them, shapeless without outline or guidepost, neither beginning nor ending, and it proved a little frightening. So, Brandi and Joan continued their cautious progress toward the lighted stage. Now closer to the action as if drawn like moths to a flame, they soon lost themselves in the reverie of the two Retreat members making love. Peering in closer now from less than ten feet of distance but still a little back from the spotlight, both wives could see every anatomical detail of the erotic performances unfolding before them. And what they saw whetted their appetites.

A white woman that Joan thought she recognized from the Floor 1 introductions as Melinda Morris was reverse cowboying a black stud with an insanely wide cock, perhaps as much as three inches. A Red Bull can was two inches wide; Brandi had measured. Neither wife could tell how deeply Melinda was embedded on her lover's massive 3-inch wide cock. Every time Melinda rose up the huge shaft sometimes staccato fast sometimes sensuous slow, the cockhead stayed hidden in her distended pussy lip folds. That seemed incredible given the full twelve inches they estimated Melinda's pussy was travelling up and down. Brandi and Joan just hadn't yet internalized the concept of sex with big black cocks, but their education was happening fast. And they wanted to know more.

Higher and higher Melinda rocked establishing a rhythm of aching moans of need on the outstrokes followed by thrusting stabs of orgasm-producing delight on the downstrokes. Then with an acrobatic dexterity belying her 58 years, Melinda spun about and rode her partner face to face. Throughout Melinda's repositioning, Michael's cock remained embedded within her and continued the rhythmic coupling. Shallow then deep, shallow deep, shallow deep in a rocking horse motion. Melinda's torpedo-shaped breasts bounced on her lover's chest and swung at his face. This proximity allowed a quick suctioning mouth to capture her tit in midstroke, garnering a new lusty grin from Michael.

Kicking off her heels and planted now on flat feet, Melinda rose to the point of juncture then squatted with her full weight and really began to attack her stud's shaft with fierce bounces. "Finish me off, Michael" she entreated.

Grabbing Melinda's hips with both hands, Michael stepped up the tempo of their coupling by thrusting from below like an upturned jackhammer. Feeling his frenzied pistoning to the core of her being, Melinda soon screamed out in orgasm,

"Oh damn, your big cock feels so good--just THE best; it always makes me go crazy...Ahhhhhhh."

At those words, Michael's huge shaft twitched, jerked and began to spasm. Deep within his groin, ounces upon ounces of hot cum boiled toward his cock's expulsion point of no return. Hopping off, Melinda's cunt made an audible pop as a bulbous plum-colored cockhead finally came into view almost a foot and a half off the black leather mattress. Michael's phallus, now fully revealed to all onlookers, was often referred to by regulars at the Retreat as RamCola, drawing an analogy to two Coca-Cola cans double stacked end to end (a 3 inch by 11 inch obelisk of ramrod straight manmeat).

Dropping to her hands and knees over Michael's crotch, Melinda squeezed her torpedo tits tightly around the huge shaft. Pressing them up and down in rhythmic thrusts, she wrapped her suctioning lips around his cockhead and milked out Michael's cum. The black cock erupted five times in volcanic streams of semen spewing up on Melinda's hair and covering her dangling tits with long suspensions of white hot cum. After flashbulbs and much gasping, both "performers" fell back exhausted and satiated, for now.

Raucous applause and shouted acclaim broke out from all directions. Brandi and Joan were so startled by the uproar, they clung to one another and jumped instinctively back 'til their satin-clad legs touched the edge of the stage. Peering outward, both realized they were encircled in the darkness surrounding the platform bed by dozens of intertwined couples on black leather and chrome lounge chairs lining all four walls.

Sliding back out of the center spotlight of this Performance Chamber with some relief, the two women sought each other's warm embrace on the closest empty lounge chair. Stretching out their limbs and intertwining their own hips and chests the way the undulating leather and chrome chair subtly encouraged, the two wives settled in to watch the show unfolding before them. The Cougar Game was playing out just as planned.

With little fanfare, Melinda and Michael's bedding was stripped and replaced, so a new couple could step to the raised platform and perform for them. Brandi and Joan were unsurprised and instead felt it quite natural when a black stud named Candyman and his partner a mature white woman named LuAnn were announced.

LuAnn was a statuesque 60 year-old made up as Helen of Troy with long blonde tresses hanging to her waist in a braided ponytail. Garments were minimalist. Candyman wore a Cuban linen shirt and the standard open codpiece banana boat favored by nearly all the black men at the Retreat. LuAnn was "dressed" in an ankle-length diaphanous gown and a crotchless red G-string, garter belt and nylons. Her breasts were natural B-cups which at her age had rounded out beautifully and exhibited little or no droop. Red peep toe fuck-me down and dirty five-inch strappy heels and lots of matching red toenail and fingernail polish along with brilliant glossy red lipstick completed the outfit.

In no time, the two lovers were pawing one another. LuAnn's gown came off, and the black man's cock rose up like a double-length banana, brilliant in its jet blackness. Reversing directions, the lovers slipped easily into a sixty-nine position with the black man pumping down into LuAnn's upturned mouth. Once her head was positioned just off the edge of the bed, LuAnn's red heels swung up at 45 degree angles and slipped into velvet loops suspended from the ceiling. Her ultra sheer white nylon-clad legs formed a giant totally vulnerable V directing the full attention of her black stud to a beautifully-trimmed arrowhead-shaped patch of blonde hair pointing down to the beautiful sexual organ awaiting his ministrations. LuAnn's bald pussy lips glistened in anticipation.

Like all women in the Cougar Game, LuAnn's pussy was completely exposed for all to see, framed by the crotchelss G string attached to her red stretch satin garter belt. Michael's large tongue soon was lapping repeatedly at her clit, and then occasionally he nipped and sucked on LuAnn's two plus inches of gorgeous plump folds of outer lips only a sexually experienced woman can have. Throughout this mouthwork, Michael plowed one, then two, and finally three black digits into LuAnn's reddening swollen cunt. Shaping his long fingers like fishhooks and rubbing them along the upper inside wall of her pussy mound, his fingering easily located her budded G spot. LuAnn responded with more and more insistent wailing moans,

"Oh, yes, do me like that, just like that!" and later "Eat away big man; make me come."

Really, however, it was apparent to Joan and Brandi as well as everyone else seated in the Chamber that it was the candy stick cock, narrower by far but somewhat longer than RamCola's three by eleven incher, that LuAnn had decided to feature with her choice to have sex in this way. As with all matings at the Retreat, the woman partner was orchestrating the events and totally in control. After many minutes of blowing, tonguing, and kissing, LuAnn began deeper and deeper sucking, eventually deep throating, until Candyman's cock completely disappeared down her throat. Within seconds, the lucky black stud cried out in rapture, and LuAnn took an enormous ejaculation right down her upturned throat. Muscles along her absurdly stretched neck milked the entire copious flow of black seed down into her belly.

But this amazing Cougar's face-fucking performance was not yet over. Slowly, ever so slowly, LuAnn pulled an incredible thirteen inches of cock up out of her mouth. Turning to Brandi and Joan, she smiled and then proceeded to lick her lips in a conspicuous gesture of satisfaction. Using Candyman's still erect flagpole as a handle to pull up on and rise to a sitting position on the bed, LuAnn then squeezed a last big glob of cum out of his long shaft and displayed it on the tip of her tongue turning this way and then that for all to see. After exaggerating one final conspicuous swallow, she climbed atop her lover for a long sloppy kiss. The ever less naïve new initiate/wives nodded knowingly to one another, as they realized in the pit of their own gut why this particular black stud was named Candyman.

More couplings followed in rapid succession, some traditional with cock to cunt orgasms and others with lesbian dildo strap-ons, fisting, anal sex, and face or tit-fucking. Brandi and Joan noticed one constant however. All the women performers seemed to be serving the sexual needs of their black male partners, even though they remained in control. The female orgasms were indeed fierce and included repeated screams and squealing peals of delight. But both women sensed and were drawn into a new perspective on big cock sex. They marveled in awe with a new-found respect and insight at the demonstrable power of massive cocks to complete and fulfill each woman who gave herself over freely to her utmost erotic desires. Some scholars have characterized the ancient Greek sect of Dionysis as a worshipping of this eroticism, a cult of the phallus.

Two hours passed, and gradually the matings revealed a pattern, one heterosexual from the far side of the room followed by one variety event from Brandi and Joan's side. When no one else remained but the two initiates, their guide from earlier in the evening Jennie walked formally in their direction and gently asked if the two women were ready to come to the stage and experience ecstasy at their own command and discretion. Brandi and Joan had each decided about an hour earlier and quite independently that the answer would be "Yes."

Rising off their shared couch, each nodded their ascent. Stream upon stream of female juices had soaked their inner thighs and made two now spotlighted large wet spots on the leather couch they had just left, confirming that more was indeed what each wanted. Stepping forward towards the raised platform, Brandi and Joan were filled with not a sense of resignation but instead an eager anticipation, a longing to experience the pleasures that had been laid out before them. Any hesitation waned as the stage lights faded and a blue azure Delphic light flooded the entire Presentation Chamber, revealing all the couples who had mated for them in celebration of their initiation into the Cougar Game.

Holding hands, Jennie led the two new initiates accompanying her on each side toward the raised platform. Twelve black Adonis studs lounged on the giant leather circular bed, awaiting their arrival. With sweeping gestures, Jennie invited each woman to sit in the midst of the men. When the new initiates complied and settled onto the supple leather without looking at or touching their male counterparts, Jennie then crawled to their sides and placed one of their hands on the breast of their friend and the other on a nearby black cock.

The lights dimmed still further, and Brandi and Joan descended into a sea of pleasure each had fantasized about but neither had ever experienced. Twenty-four additional hands and twelve new mouths feasted upon their tender flesh. Strong massaging palms, fleeting touches, and insistent kisses across the full terrain of both women's bodies were all choreographed by Jennie from an umpire's chair towering over the circular bed. Each contact she signaled to be initiated was designed to bring Brandi and Joan one step closer to giving their consent for an ascent to the ultimate temple--the first violation of their womanhood outside their marriage beds. Many such couplings were thereafter sure to follow.

Behind the one-way illuminated Panels, Stuart and Brock were awestruck. To watch their wives go on stage with a swarm of virile black men (and know it had already happened) engendered deep-seated feelings of passion mixed with guilt. Not only did the twelve black studs have cocks that put their six inchers to shame but in addition, their wives clearly exuded an erotic hunger for using these self same horsecocks to do with exactly what they wanted.

That is, both husbands now saw their wives taking charge of sex, sexuality, and the sex act itself! Exactly as Jennie Draper, the creator of the Cougar Game, had intended, both husbands felt a twinge of inadequacy, excitement yes, but first and foremost an inadequacy. Having Joan and Brandi break the mold sexually had been their purpose--to create vixens where once there had been sex kittens. But a group sex orgy with twelve black studs suggested the husbands had created not vixens but voracious sexpots.

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