Birth of a Cougar

§§§§§

Real talk: A girl never took a quicker shower. Lightning, even factoring in the special attention to my filthy feet and what turns out to be mostly bruises on my knees... skin like milk is prized in some cultures, but woo, look at me hard and I bruise, sigh. I consider washing my hair, but no, too much time. And it's ok. Good, even, if you like curly and a little wild. Just brush it out hard. Fuck makeup, my skin looks like I feel, flushed pink and perfect. Jane, clean and sweet smelling, but otherwise in her natural state, will do.

Well, maybe a little eye makeup, since I'm a slut tonight. Can't really be a slut without Bambi eyes. Leaning over the counter to put the mascara on, my head flashes an image of him behind me, fucking me hard. My teeth are freshly brushed, but I feel like I can still taste him. To the mirror: "More of that, please and thank you." Lipstick? Hm. But that'd only disguise the swollen, blood-red result of all that cocksucking. A little moisturizer so they're soft, but otherwise, the lips are plenty slutty enough without help from a tube. To the mirror again: "Fuck those twenty-somethings. Between my Pilates ass and these tits, I do fine."

The hotel's nice big towels mean I'm reasonably decent as I paw through my bag of clothes. "I have something pretty in here." He's recovered use of his legs by now, and ambles over to snag a corner of the towel, where a brief tussle ensues. "I like to be half dressed. Fully undressed is weird and scary." He wins. "Don't know who that self-image applies to, but fuck that."

"Fine then." I extricate some panties and put them on. "Ok?" He turns my back to him, "Mmhmm. But let's be sure. Heels?" My heart is quick again; it's unnerving to dress in front of someone. "I was thinking these." Step into 4 inch, black patent peep-toe, straight up hooker heels. Trying to be cute. Shoulders down, legs apart, ass pushed out. Good? He runs his palms down the outside of me, traveling from just under my arms to below my hips. I can feel the denim of his jeans, the soft cotton of his shirt, a button at his collar, and his lips on my neck. "Nice."

"You never say anything about my...the age difference."

"I don't care. Women are women." A pause. "Although, you did call me a puppy. Gonna make you pay for that."

Under his eye, I paw through the bag some more, and come up with a bra and a dress. He's holding my hips as I bend over for this. "You don't put your things away?" Turning around, I dangle the black lace bra off my finger. "Nope, I never do. It has to be weeks. It's lame I know. Is this alright? Or no bra?" His lips, the button, the soft cotton, the roughness of the denim again, but now on the front of me, stop my breath. "Let's see it." He doesn't step back as I put it on, and kisses the cleavage it makes once my tits are settled. "This content is relevant to my interests."

Oh, my heart, his cock is stirring. Maybe I didn't finish him for the evening. Baby Jesus, in spite of what must seem like constant provocation, does love me. The scarlet wrap dress meets with similar approval, particularly the deliberately inviting ruffle at the mid-thigh hem.

He takes a knee and kisses my thighs where the wrapped flounce meets. "You really are girly." He uses kisses to nudge my legs further apart. Runs the tip of his nose over the already moistening black satin. Kisses the fabric lightly, right over my clit. His thumbs are pressing on the tendon where my thighs meet my pussy, and his breath is warm. I start to think it's my turn, and push forward a bit, but he only laughs softly into my skin, and rests his cheek against me there. "You're just torturing yourself; the clock doesn't start til we get to my place."

Tossing tooth and hair brushes into my purse, I smile brightly. "So, we're leaving, then?"

I get a loud laugh out of him for that. "Slut."

Hooking an arm around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss, I let him feel my teeth. I kiss him properly this time; pet him from the back of his neck and down his chest. Wrapping my arms around him, low on his hips and pressing up against that lovely, stiffening cock. "You think I'm a slut? Take me home with you and find out for sure. Just see what I'll do to get some of what you have, honey."

"I always wanted a pet cougar."

"Asshole."

"I'm adding that to the spanking."

§§§§§

His apartment is ground floor, with a patio. It's decorated in 21st Century College Chic, featuring some kind of sports banner thing and literal Christmas lights. A little cluttered with computer stuff, but it's clean as a whistle. Barely inside the door, he bends me over the arm of his couch. "This is quick."

"Not if you count all the time we've been thinking it. He slides my panties down a bit, but not off. "Don't worry, it's not going to be a short night." One hand is holding me still, the other is wandering. "So here starts the clock." And he does it. His back is warm, his breath is warmer, and his cock is hot as he pushes into me. The heat of him, Jesus. "Oh, honey, that's...."

"What you've been thinking about?" It is. It's exactly what I've been thinking about. His cock is thick, and long enough he could hurt me if he weren't sweet. But he is sweet, holy hell, it's sweet. "You are...god."

"Name's Mike." I try to, but can't, spread my legs far enough to do myself any good - my panties are trapping me. "You told me you like this. Your baby version of being tied up."

"Yes, do that, oh my god." He fucks me a little while, pulls my hips up higher to meet him, but he's teasing. Not getting serious, and not letting me get serious. Pulling out of me when I start to gasp, "Time out, let's pause the clock."

"No, please..."

"This is what edging is, Sweetie. Or one way to do it, anyhow. Good starter." He puts a glass of wine in my hand - a nicely heavy, inky red - and makes himself busy with his steaks. "Rice or potatoes?"

Examining the wine, I can feel my pulse in my pussy. "Rice, definitely. I don't like potatoes." He's rummaging in the fridge. "You don't like sports, you don't like beer. Now you don't like potatoes? I'm reconsidering." I put a hand up in surrender. "I promise no more serious flaws, and I'll do my best to be worth the trouble." The look he gives me makes me shiver. "Mhmmm, you better." I take a drink of wine. "Can I help?"

I hate cooking. There, I said it. I also don't particularly like helping. But setting the table, and fussing after him, rinsing and putting things back as he finishes with them, gives me time to look at him. Look him over.

"You're a lot more confident than me. Like a lot lot."

Circling the wooden spoon in the air, "I'm not the one who traveled. You must be pretty confident." But then, a considering look. "I'm confident about some things. For example, I'm going to make a potato. You sure you don't want one?"

"I'm sure. Yuck."

"That's just weird."

I'm watching his hands, his shoulders as he works, focused on the knife, but smiling a bit. I'm picturing using those shoulders for an ankle rest. If he could see into my head, he'd henceforth have zero confidence issues. "So I hear. I don't like beans, either."

"The fuck?"

"I know."

Waiting for the oven to heat up, he settles me on his lap, holding my tits in his hands, sucking, biting my nipples through my bra. He even lets me push him down onto his back on the couch for a minute. But won't let me take my panties off and take a ride. "I did well for myself in the hotel, I can wait. And you will. And the water's boiling." A slap on my ass. "Dinner."

To the extent that I can taste anything, it's a good dinner. But every time he meets my eye, I can't swallow so well. "The look on your face gets me feeling pretty confident, I gotta say."

"The very idea that you'd have a single doubt is a crime." I can only get a half glass of wine into me. Being across a table, in an otherwise empty room, in perfect privacy, is its own torture. "Did twenty-somethings learn how to fuck since I was one? Because you seem to have figured it out early."

"Like I said, I spent a few years trying not to die, so." A shrug. "That makes you more adventurous. Life is short. And also I pay attention."

There's no being cool, no acting like I'm in control of any of this. There are still short flashes of strangeness. I have no access to a sense - even a pretense - that I'm deciding if we're doing it. I am all in, and it shows. "I'm not used to this."

"Used to what? Don't start with the one-night stand thing again. You've had your share." A taste of the wine settles me a little. "I'm used to a power balance that's tipped in my favor." With a smile, "I bet. Well, next time you can drive." He pulls a chair out, and settles me onto his lap, facing away. "Tonight's mine."

Shifting my weight on his hard-on, "Take your dress off." I have to bend forward to get my skirt out from under me. As I do, he slides off the chair to his knees. Two steps and I'm resting my cheek on the patio door, looking at the dark. The silence is total. He kisses the back of my thigh, a warm soft kiss like he might kiss my mouth, at the tender place where my thigh meets my ass.

That does it, I fog the glass. He circles round my clit with his index finger. "Put my hand where you like it. Show me like I showed you." I put my hand over his, and push it lower, so that the heel of his palm presses my clit, his middle finger pushes into me from above, and fuck myself. Once, twice. Again. His hand is beneath mine, his beard is brushing my skin, when he pulls away. "I like you like this. Mine."

"Oh, my god." Meeting my eyes in the reflection. "Take your bra off." My nipples are hard to aching again from the chill of the glass and my need, but he seems to have all the time in the world. "Turn around, Sweetie. Drop your panties for me. No, keep the shoes." An orgasm pools in my belly when he runs a soft wet tongue over my clit, and again. But then he draws back, and in another of his easy gestures, I'm set onto on the table and he's unbuttoning his shirt, getting his cock free. Looking down at me. "It helps that you took the edge off, this could be catastrophic."

And then I feel the head of his cock enter my body. I'm melting for it, lying back, legs wrapping around him, raising my hips off the table. "Oh, my god, yes. Please." This gets a laugh. "It's been eight minutes. I told you you'd lose your mind."

I'm showing him everything, I am shameless. "Yeah, do that. Let me see that." He's enjoying the show, the feeling of my pussy kissing the head of his cock as he teases me with it, and starts to fuck me a little bit more deeply. He's stretching me; he wasn't lying that he's a big guy, and it hurts just the littlest bit. But also, every stroke is pulling my clit. Touching his dick where it enters me, I'm getting serious. I could come like this.

He's watching me and, it turns out, estimating how much to let me have, to keep me right there. He leans in, which pushes him further inside, but he brushes my fingers away when my thighs tense up. He picks me up by the small of me back, whispering into my ear. "Stop."

"Oh, no, please, I'm so close, I'm coming..." He pulls all the way back, pinches both my nipples to drive my orgasm back, and pins my hands at my sides. "Jane, I say stop, you fucking stop." I'm in open rebellion, my legs reaching for him, trying to pull him into me. "Come on, Mike, you want it too. Don't you want to fuck me?" He looks tempted, releases one hand so he can take hold of his cock and rub the head of it the head of up the side of me, avoiding my clit, and then the other side. Pushing just the tip inside, "I'd love to, but it's been 10 minutes and this is what you like best - to be on your back, playing with your clit while I fuck you hard. Well, it's one of the two ways you like it best. And you're not to be trusted."

The disobedient fingers on my free hand are all over me. "Come on, baby, give me that beautiful thick thing." He steps back, and in what seems like one motion, I'm off the table and he's walking me to the couch. In a moment, I'm over his lap. "I told you to stop." This strikes me funny. Am I really getting a spanking? I thought that was just dirty talk, like...images."

"Don't bullshit me. You wouldn't have told me about the spanking of yore unless you wanted another one. And you knew I wasn't joking. When I tell you to stop, you stop." The smacks, in rhythm to his speech, cut off my laugh. I'm reaching forward, trying to get hold of an arm of the couch, when the next smack comes. This one is harder, makes me gasp. He pets my ass where it stings. "Aww, I'll take it easy for now. Warm this pussy up."

I can reach the arm of the couch if I reach as far as I can, but his arm is laid across me below the small of my back, pinning me on his lap. "You look good over my knee."

Just as I start to respond to the hand stroking my ass, he spanks me again, not quite as hard as the last, but twice. "Sweetie, we went over this." Slap. "Who owns this pussy?" Petting the heated skin, running a finger along the seam where my thighs meet, which open a bit. "Mike owns me." Two slaps, lighter yet. I'm settling in, thinking I can handle this. The smacks on my ass are light, but they're getting lower, closer to the top of my thighs, jolting my clit. "Oh, oh my god, I don't..."

"Don't what?" The next smack lands right where my ass and my thighs meet, and it lights my pussy up. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No...I...No, don't stop." I've given in to it, his pinning arm relaxes and, stroking my back, he makes room between my legs for his hand. The next slap is at the top of my thighs, almost connects with my pussy, then brushes his fingers over my clit. Just as the feeling of that reaches my belly, there's another smack. I've got both hands braced against the arm of the couch, the heat in my ass warming the syrup in my belly.

"Please, Mike, please fuck me." He puts a finger inside, and then another, fucking me. "Like that?" It feels so good, but he takes them away, brushes them over my clit again. "Or do you like that better?" And then he starts spanking me again, still lightly. "What are you?" He takes a moment off spanking to pet my stinging thighs, but only a moment. "You want to come? Say it. Ask me for it." He's alternating between spanking me and petting me. "You want to come while I smack your ass? Beg me for that. Say please." I'm wiggling, trying to get his fingers into me, to touch my clit, gasping for breath. "Oh, please, let me come while you spank me. Get me off, my god, please. I'll do anything."

"Ok. I think that's the clock." Another laugh. "Well, not quite, but it'll do for a first try. So riddle me this." Stoking me like a pet. "Was five minutes not that long?"

"Oh my god."

"Told you so. Let's give you what you've been looking for. Let's do this right. Stand up."

Oh, thank god. He's going to fuck me. "Can we go in the bedroom?"

"No. I like your reflection in the glass."

"Someone might see."

"They sure might." He leans back against the couch, waiting. "Do it. Stand up."

So I do it. I push myself off his lap and stand up. He's looking up at me, entirely relaxed, stroking his cock lightly while he looks me over. "Turn around, hands and knees."

"That's it, stick your ass out for me. Spread your legs more." He hasn't gotten up from the couch. "So, what do we think? Do we think if I give that ass a couple of smacks and fuck you hard, that your pussy - my pussy - might just explode?"

"What am I doing?"

"Do you want to stop?"

"No, I ...I just... I don't...I just, what the actual fuck am I doing?"

He stands us up, gets all of his clothes all off, and kneels between my legs. "Well, let's see. Let's go through it." His breath is high in his chest.

His knee spreads mine further. "Hm. First, you let a guy on Twitter chat you up. No, check that. He said 'how you doin?' and you flirted big time." I can feel his cock hard against my thigh. "Little miss never-was-a-cougar started thinking some thoughts about a guy fifteen years younger." I can feel myself blushing.

Stroking my ribs, with warm hands. "A month in, and you were talking dirty as fuck - it was glorious."

I feel his kiss on my neck. "The pictures of your tits did not do them justice, by the way. Fingertips teasing my nipples, pinching lightly, then less lightly, making me draw a sharp breath. "Does that hurt too much?"

"No. No, it's..."

Another pinch. "Can you feel it in your pussy?"

"Yes." His thumb now, bump.bump.bump.bump down my spine, from nape to tailbone. "Anyway. Then you got all brave and rebellious and raveled to a different state, to fuck said guy. To get fucked. The guy, by the way, is me."

Cupping my ass on both hands, rubbing his cock against me. "Then...let's see... what's next? Right, I remember. You got on your knees outside a bar, and sucked my cock almost to off."

His cock pushes into me. "It's hard to choose a favorite, but you told me - you literally said - you want me to fuck your mouth." I'm sweating now.

The cool air on the neck when he lifts my hair, makes me exhale. "Then you let me play with your pussy under the table at that bar, and you brought me your panties, and you agreed to be my fuck toy, and general stuff like that."

His cock withdraws. "Better take it easy. You are easy to fuck, that's for sure. Gotta hold back." A finger pushes into me. "Then you seriously, no kidding around, sucked me all the way off - one for the memoir, by the way - in a hotel room."

My breath is audible. "Let's see what this does." Two fingers now. "There we go, that's a nice little squirm."

"Then, um. Oh, yeah. You were a lil disobedient, angling for a spanking. And now you're on all fours, about to get it."

A pause.

"And you're breathing hard just thinking about it. So let's test my theory."

And kneeling there between my legs, his thighs spreading mine, he slaps my ass. And again. He pushes two fingers into me, and spanks me again. I can hear myself squeal as if it's someone else. "Mmhmm, thought so."

And again. Smack. "This side is all red. Let's change it up."

I can hear myself actually whimper when he takes his hand from me, and then groan like a slut when he replaces it with the other. Fucking me like this, going as deep as his long, thick fingers can reach, he's smacking my other cheek, hard, in rhythm to the fucking, and he's curling his finger inside me. "There it is...I found it, didn't I?"

"Oh my god, oh, don't stop..."

"You say that a lot." He's pressing that spot inside me, my ass is on fire, and I'm fucking back at the fingers, at his hand as it connects with my ass, pressing the heel of my hand against myself, reaching for the heat in my belly, coming hard. "For a girl who likes to be edged, waiting a goddamned year will do the trick."

I'm dying, I swear to god, finding myself stretching my arms forward, hands flat, forehead resting on the floor, gasping into the carpet, seeing spots under my eyelids, I'm arching my back up for him, spanking me through it, finishing me.

As I'm coming down, his breath is in my hair. "Maybe just a little bit submissive?"

He turns me around, tries to pull me close, but I find the strength to hold him off for a moment to take him in. Those tattoos he sent pictures of, I want to taste them. I press a kiss into the circular one on the right side of his chest. I turn my head and lean into the one on his inner right arm. He smells good, tastes better. I run fingertips over the long tattoo down his left side, circle the one on his left shoulder with my tongue. "I'm lightheaded... could we ... could we lie down?" His eyes are light again. "Mhmmm. You can have what you want."

I get what I want. What I've wanted for months. This insanely sexy guy is descending upon me. I'm taking it all in, feeling his body against mine, wrapping my legs around his waist, watching his face as he pushes into me, the shock of him filling me.