Cougars

Author's Note: This tale includes sexual activity with two young men. Each is a recent High School graduate. Therefore, it is possible to infer that they are either seventeen (if their birthdays are after the events in the story) or eighteen (if their birthdays are before the events in the story). I assure the reader that both young men celebrated their birthdays prior to graduation and both are eighteen years of age at the time of the events described.

*****

I was born in 1978. My mother named me Amanda but everyone, except my mother, calls me Mandy. 1978 was after Woodstock and after the last man walked on the moon. The seventies birthed the women's movement, the gay liberation movement and the sexual revolution and I missed it all.

Don't get me wrong. I did have opportunities. While I was too young in the seventies and eighties, some remnants of the sexual revolution survived into the nineties, when I was in high school. As you might conclude, my mother wasn't very flexible in her attitude. She watched me like a hawk, ready to sweep down and devour any boy who showed "carnal" interest in me. The opportunities disappeared with the boys.

At first I didn't understand her attitude. After all, she and Dad met and courted in the seventies. How could they have missed the dominant social imperatives of the decade, free sex and open marriage? Only much later, when I was in my twenties, did I learn a few facts about my mother. During a family outing at a lake in Minnesota, my aunt, Lori, my mother's sister, listened as I lamented my lack of experience and blamed my mother.

Contrary to what I believed, my mother and father didn't miss the sexual revolution at all. They were very active, maybe more than most. It was when several of her friends became pregnant and opted for, recently legal, abortions, and one of them nearly died in the process, that she began to think about their lifestyle. After she had a pregnancy scare of her own she changed completely. Aunt Lori theorized that my mother's over protective parenting was her way of protecting me from having a similar experience.

Even though I understood why I was raised the way I was, I still had smoldering thoughts that I had missed something.

I did meet a boy my mother trusted and we were married in 1997, neither of us with the experiences most nineteen year olds had. We fumbled through the first night together and the honeymoon. Actually, after our wedding night, we went a little crazy and by the time we ended our holiday in Antigua we were both sore and I sat on the small airplane pillow on the flight home.

We settled into a "normal" life. We both worked and John attended night school until our daughter was born the next year. John, supported by my mother, wanted me to stay home and raise Ashley properly. I complied and became a stay at home mother. To meet expenses, John got a second job and, subsequently, dropped out of school. Life settled into a routine of mothering with a mostly missing working husband and infrequent sex. Occasionally, my thoughts would turn to wondering how my life would have been if my mother hadn't stifled every potential male relationship in high school.

John Jr. arrived two years later. The routine became more entrenched and the sex almost non-existent. Aunt Lori was an infrequent confident and a source of inspiration and strength.

Eventually, Ashley went off to University. I had encouraged her privately to experience life differently than I had and she had shared with me enough for me to know she wasn't going to go crazy with the sexual freedom she would experience at college.

John Jr. was off to school two years later. I hadn't coached him the way I had Ashley. He was a good-looking guy and an athlete. I didn't think he'd refuse opportunities that lay in his path. I didn't go back to work. I had no experience for over twenty years and the jobs available to me were boring and underpaid. John had done reasonably well in spite of his limited education and he encouraged me to "retire" from the hard work of raising our children and stay home, find a fulfilling volunteer assignment and get dinner on the table each night.

With John, Jr. gone, the smoldering thoughts about the high school boys surfaced more often until there was scarcely a day I didn't think about them. Within a few months, I was spending most afternoons, alone in our bedroom, naked with my fingers, fantasizing about things I had little experience with. During that time, I had another confidential and confessional conversation with Aunt Lori. She led me to a plethora of free pornographic web cites, many of them featuring young men about the age of the high school boys my mother had intimidated. An hour of viewing on-line videos followed by an hour of self-satisfaction daily became my "normal."

One afternoon, in the early spring, as I entered our bedroom, I heard the sound of a lawn mower in the next yard. I lifted one slat of the blinds to see who it was. The neighbor's son, I think his name was Craig, was mowing the front lawn. Craig was a year behind John Jr. so he was probably eighteen and about to graduate high school. I hadn't noticed how much he had grown and developed over the years. He was shirtless and, from what I could see, he had developed into a fine specimen.

I stood in front of the window and opened the blinds just a little. I stood there, hoping he would notice. I stood there until he finished and walked the lawnmower into the garage. Disappointed, I stripped and climbed onto the bed without first going to my computer in the corner. For the first time my fantasy had a name, Craig.

A week later, Craig was back and so was I. I opened the blinds further and casually undressed as if I was alone and no one could watch me. I was upbeat that Craig would notice and scared to death he might. I resisted peeking to see if I had been noticed but I weakened and peeked anyway. Craig's pattern didn't waver and I concluded he hadn't noticed. I spent over an hour and a half naked in the bed, after Craig finished the lawn, fantasizing.

A week later, I went all out. I opened the blinds fully, sat in a chair in front of the window with my feet on the windowsill and played with myself under my skirt. My heart was pounding and my anxiety had my whole body shaking. I threw my head back and closed my eyes to calm my fear and hoped. When the sound of the mower stopped, I opened my eyes just a sliver and peeked. Craig was standing in the middle of the lawn staring at our house. I closed my eyes and let my skirt drop while breathing heavily. When the lawn mower restarted, I stood up and closed the blinds.

I was in a near panic. I had taken a step into the unknown. Did I really want Craig to see me like that? Why? What would I do next? I stripped and climbed onto the bed. Two hours later I dragged myself off the bed exhausted. I straightened the bed, put on a robe and opened the blinds as I did each day. The window on the other side of the bed faced the window of a bedroom of Craig's house. The blinds on that window were open and I could see Craig, sitting on a chair at his desk wearing only a pair of white briefs. On the computer in front of him was a video of a young man having sex with an older woman.

My knees got weak and I had to sit on the edge of the bed. Was I responsible for Craig's choice of entertainment? Did I start something and was I really able to go further and should I? "Shit," I said to myself as I got up to dress with a smile on my face.

The next week, when I heard the mower, I opened the blinds and got completely undressed in front of the window. I was very careful to keep my back to the window while I did. When I was naked, I walked away from the window.

When the sound stopped, I darkened the room, opened the blinds on the window facing Craig's bedroom, stood far enough back to be unnoticeable and waited. The blinds next door opened and Craig peered through the window hoping, I thought, to catch sight of me. He stepped back and began to undress. Only he faced the window and he didn't stop with his briefs. After he removed his briefs, he held his cock in one hand and stroked it a couple of times before he turned, sat at his desk and started a video similar to the one last week. I was impressed with the size of his cock. I don't think it was significantly larger than John's but it was new, different and very appealing.

I was breathless. What the fuck was I doing? I was more than twice his age. He certainly has girls his age he must be interested in but, if the videos he watched were any indication, my age didn't bother him. Why should it bother me?

I closed the blinds, climbed on the bed and Craig fucked me more than once in my imagination in the next hour.

I was determined in spite of my fear but how to take the next step? I had no idea. The distance between our windows was a dangerous, uncrossable chasm.

At dinner that evening, I mentioned to John that the lawn needed to be mowed. He agreed but told me it could wait until the weekend. I did wait and it didn't get done. John played golf, came home too tired and begged off. Sunday was Sunday and little ever got done on Sunday.

The next week, I skipped undressing while Craig mowed. When he entered his bedroom and opened his blinds, I was standing in front of my window, dressed, with the blinds pulled up, waiting for him. He smiled. I smiled. I unbuttoned the top button of my blouse. He smiled wider. I undid another button. He removed his t-shirt. I removed my blouse. He ran his fingers over his nipples. I ran my hands over my breasts over my bra. He looked at me questioningly and tugged his nipples. I shrugged and removed my bra and tugged my nipples. He laughed and opened his jeans.

I opened my jeans. He pushed his jeans down his legs and, using his feet to step on the cuffs, removed them completely. He was wearing dark blue boxer briefs with a white waistband. I slid my jeans down my legs, bent over with my breasts hanging in front of me and pulled them off one leg at a time. I stood up facing him. I was wearing ordinary, full sized pink panties. He rubbed his cock through the fabric of his briefs. I rubbed my pussy through the thin fabric of my panties. He nodded at me as if to say "go ahead." I shook my head no and mouthed, "Your turn."

He shrugged and pulled off his briefs in one swift motion and tossed them aside. His erection, especially from this distance, was impressive. He waited for me to make my move. I hesitated and then turned my back on him and slowly removed my panties, shaking my ass at him as I did so. I turned around to face him. My full pubic bush was ragged on three sides and matted in several places. He smiled approval at me and pulled on his erection. I rubbed between my legs with two fingers. He beckoned to me as if to invite me to come to him. I shook my head no, blew him a kiss and lowered and closed the blinds.

I sat on the floor with tears in my eyes and shaking all over. What the hell was I doing? I had just done a full strip tease in front of child. I'm sick and I'm going to hell. But why did it feel so good?

I took a long, erotic shower, dressed and went into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

I reminded John about the lawn at dinner. He said he understood but mumbled something about it being a "pain in the ass" and something he didn't like to do. I suggested he find someone to do it for us.

The next Saturday, when John returned from his weekly golf game, he stood in the driveway and looked at the unmowed lawn. I watched as he walked next door and spent some time talking with Eleanor, Craig's mother.

When John came into the house, he announced he had solved the lawn problem. Craig, the kid next door was willing to mow our lawn every Thursday morning before he mowed their lawn and he was willing to do it for almost nothing, as a favor to the neighbors.

I thanked John and told him he had done well. He reminded me of how little Craig was charging and suggested that I "take care of him" when he finished each week. I actually got wet over the prospect of "taking care" of Craig.

Thursday morning could not come quickly enough. When it did, my pubic triangle was neatly trimmed, shampooed and combed. I was dressed in the same jeans and shirt as a week ago but in much nicer, and sexier, underwear. About around nine thirty, I heard the sound of the mower out front. When I peeked, Craig was pushing his mower back and forth on our lawn. I sat in the parlor to read and wait for him to knock on the door. Reading was impossible and I got wet twice and had to go to the bathroom to dry myself off and change my panties.

When the doorbell rang, I almost fainted. Somehow I managed to gather myself together and answer the door. Craig was standing in the doorway wearing jeans and no shirt. Up close, he was taller than me and larger than John. His body glistened from the light coating of sweat generated from mowing the lawn and he smelled musky, manly.

"Mrs. Collins," he said. "I'm Craig. I live next door. My father told me to mow your lawn and you would take care of me." His wry smile and our window-to-window exhibitions hinted strongly at his real intentions.

"Come on in," I said. "What can I do to take care of you?"

"You know, Mrs. Collins," he said. "I cleaned my window this morning."

"Why of earth would you do that?" I asked.

"It had some streaks and they interfered with my view."

"Do you have a nice view?"

"I have an excellent view."

"And just what could that be?"

"You see, my window is directly across from another window in the next house and, on occasion I see a beautiful woman doing womanly things."

"You do now. And you'd like to get a close up view?"

"That would be an excellent start."

I walked up to him, put one finger on his bare chest and asked, "What are you waiting for?"

He was strong and rough but he could fuck well. It took less than four minutes before I knew that for sure. Unlike John, he knew exactly what he wanted and he took it, and me. Twenty minutes later, I was exhausted, exhilarated and conscience-stricken. Craig sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his jeans back on. He stood, put on his shoes and tied them with his feet on the edge of the bed. I lay on the bed watching, naked and emotionally somewhere between euphoria and shame. For the first time in my marriage, I had cheated on my husband. More than that, I had sex in a way I would never have allowed my husband to do to me. I didn't have a clue why and I knew I shouldn't repeat it ever again.

As Craig started to leave the room, I called to him, "Wait, I have to pay you for mowing the lawn."

"No problem, Mrs. Collins. Consider it a neighborly exchange of favors. Should I mow you lawn again next Thursday?"

"Sure," I answered.

Thursday's became a regular thing. Mow the lawn and plow the wife. I loved it and hated it and I couldn't stop. I actually looked forward to Thursdays. Thursday was also the night I had extraordinary sex with John. I made it a special occasion. I bathed in a hot, foamy bath with exotic oils, dressed in my best sexy pajamas and made a fantastic dinner with wine and dessert. I went out and bought new, sexier, don't even think about sleeping, nightwear that I wore when he came home.

Over the summer, John began to call Thursday evenings, "Date Night."

The summer passed quickly. Every Thursday I fucked Craig and made love to John.

In mid August, I sat in my lounge chair reading. I was wearing a pair of cut off shorts and a thin T-shirt. Nothing else. No underwear. It was Thursday and I was waiting for Craig to finish mowing the lawn. I thought I heard voices over the sound of the mower and I peeked through the blinds, curious. Craig was walking back and forth over the lawn with the mower and another young man was walking alongside him and they were talking. I couldn't make out their words so I sat back down, curiosity satisfied, to read and wait.

When the doorbell rang, I answered it with my usual sense of anticipation. Craig was standing in the doorway and the other young man was seated on the top step of the porch. "Mrs. Collins," said Craig, "this is Rob. He came over to keep me company. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," I said as I opened the door further. "Come in please. Both of you." My mind raced to fantasies unexplored as they came into the room.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Collins," said Rob as he shook my hand.

"Nice to meet you as well," I answered.

They left about an hour later. I had fucked them both. Several times. I wasn't proud of doing it but I was thrilled. The feeling of having Craig deep inside my pussy while Rob filled my mouth lingered for hours after they left. They let themselves out since I was unsure of my legs ability to walk with them to the door. I doubled down with John that evening.

The following week, Craig rang the doorbell. He was alone. I was mildly disappointed but not enough for him to notice. We had a wonderful forty minutes, more powerful than usual. As we lay alongside each other, naked and teasing each other's nipples with our fingernails, Craig said, "Mandy, this may be the last time we can be together like this."

"What ...," I stammered.

"I leave for school this weekend and don't know if I'll be back over the Thanksgiving break. Probably not until at least Christmas."

Under the spell of our weekly meetings, I had forgotten he was going away for college. I remembered his school was halfway across the country, too far for any reasonable accommodation for us. His announcement created a sadness in me I wasn't prepared for but I womaned up and gave him the best fucking sendoff I could muster.

Over the next several weeks, the lawn went unmowed and I became increasingly depressed. I was fucking John more frequently than usual but it wasn't enough. I had read that many people experience severe depression when they lose a parent or spouse, or experience a divorce. I was that way over missing Craig.

John was extremely sensitive to my problem although he had no idea of the cause. He suggested therapy and I reluctantly agreed. He found a highly recommended woman psychologist and made an appointment for both of us.

She met with us together and then I began to meet with her individually, on Thursdays.

She helped a lot. We related on a first name basis. Her name was Jean. I began to trust her and eventually revealed the true nature of my depression. Once she understood that fucking Craig was just sex and I loved my husband, she offered many helpful thoughts and I began to feel better. While she didn't endorse my replacing Craig with another stud, she did suggest I redirect my efforts toward older men like my husband and told me "these things have a way of working themselves out. And remember," she added, "always be open and honest." A couple of telephone conversations with Aunt Lori also helped considerably.

The Saturday after my last appointment with Jean, John and I went to dinner to celebrate. John chose my favorite Italian restaurant. He planned a sumptuous meal with wine and cannolis for dessert.

We ordered drinks and before they arrived, John had struck up a conversation with the couple at the next table. It was their first time in the restaurant and they inquired about the menu and asked what was good, what was excellent and what to avoid. They were in their late thirties, maybe early forties and their names were Craig and Lori.

No, really. Their names were Craig and Lori. I don't make this shit up.

Soon, we had pushed the tables together and were enjoying a pleasant dinner as a foursome. Craig, the man, was the image of an older Craig, the student. I sat there wondering what his abs looked like with his shirt off. Lori had John's undivided attention. Her breasts, highlighted by a low cut, tight sweater mesmerized him. He tried to keep his attention to her at eye level but he failed repeatedly. I may have imagined it but Craig seemed more interested in what I said than I thought usual and Lori's eyes drifted down John's body as often as his drifted down hers.