The Cougar and the Cuck

He'd jerked off twice today and he was still horny. Worse than that, he was bored. At least in uni always had something he should be doing, even if it was only writing an essay. But even that was better than this because he could always text Debs and soon they'd be fucking like it was the end of days.

But now, the term was over and James was stuck at home, and Debs, with her sweet ass and love of sucking cock, was on the other side of the country.

He had to admit that after he discovered Debs and her glorious holes, warm and wet and inviting, that jerking off had simply lost its appeal. The thought of her on her knees, desperate for him to enter her, or lying on her back, hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling them apart to give him complete access to her sweet pussy, that is what he wanted. And that is what he thought of as he jerked off for the third time today.

***

Now, even though he did really like Debs, part of him had been looking forward to coming back home, because that meant Angela would be back home. She had lived next door and they had grown up together, and he had always considered her his best friend. But as they grew older his friendship developed into a crush, as if often the way.

He had thought of broaching the topic many times, but not only was he afraid of losing her as a friend, he was embarrassed by the fact he had no sexual experience. So, he left for university with his true feelings unspoken. Then he met Debs.

She took his virginity with relish, and after that, they spent most of the next three weeks fucking. She had turned him from a boy into a man, and he was ready this summer to, should the opportunity arise, show Angela how he had grown and what he could do.

But when he got back, he found a "for sale" sign in the yard, with a bright red sticker reading "SOLD" on the front. Evidently, as soon as Angela had headed off to university her parents had taken the opportunity to downsize. So now, he didn't even have Angela to hang out with or, hopefully, fuck.

He'd seen the couple who had bought the house and they were kinda old like his parents (around forty). He had hoped they might have a daughter his own age who might be interested in getting to know him better, but no luck. It was a shame because even though the woman was getting on in years, he was still pretty damn hot.

She was blonde and slim and looked after herself. He saw her return home from the gym once, with her yoga mat, her skin-tight workout clothes showing off her figure. Her breasts were still holding firm and, through the material, could see her nipples were still perky. As she opened the door to her house, he turned to see the outline of her perfect ass, not too big, not too small. But then, as the door opened, she turned and saw him staring, at which point he'd immediately turned away, embarrassed at having been caught.

After that, he'd started fantasising about her too. She would see him staring and instead of turning he would meet her eye and she'd smile, before going inside and leaving the door open.

He would follow her inside and find her in the living room, bent over, clutching her ankles. Stretching my glutes, she would say, stressing the importance of the post-workout routine. She would then proceed to stretch and bend in increasingly provocative poses, before placing her leg on the side of the sofa and stretching down. Could you help me, she would say, I need some solid support. At this, he would stand behind her and hold her hips, steadying her as she continued to stretch, pushing her ass back into his crotch and moaning. That feels so good, she would say, really opens you up.

And as she bends and rubs her ass against him, his hands begin to explore, moving up over her still-firm stomach to her braless breasts, which submit to him under her top, and she rubs against him harder and before you know it, he's got her top off and her yoga pants are down (under which are no panties), bunched around one ankle and she bends over the sofa, using her flexibility to spread herself for him as he fucks her from behind, her pussy muscles, tight from kegel exercises, hold onto his dick, as she takes it but also gives it, throwing that glorious ass back.

He fucks her and fucks her and soon he's about to bust, at which point he slips it out of her and starts working his pussy-lubricated dick as she holds her asscheeks apart and he nuts all over her quivering asshole.

***

It wasn't until a week or so after seeing her in her yoga outfit that something strange started to happen. Every morning her husband would go off to work, as usual, leaving her alone at the house. Now, there was nothing strange about this in and of itself, of course. Maybe she was a stay-at-home wife, or worked remotely, but anyway, it wasn't any of his business.

The oddness came in that, due to the design of the houses, his bedroom window looked directly into the bedroom window of the house next door. Now, this had never been an issue and often the blinds were shut. It was only in the day when they were open and, sitting by his computer (porn and AAA games made up most of his day), he would see her pass by the window. Now, he hadn't given it much thought, until one day he turned and saw her standing by the window, completely naked.

Now, the window covered her from the waist down, so he couldn't say with one hundred per cent certainty that she was entirely naked, but she definitely had her tits out. There she was, on full display, absent-mindedly combing her long, blonde hair whilst studying herself in a full-length dress mirror.

He had turned on his chair to get a can of coke and it was only by chance he saw her, but he was instantly mesmerised. Her breasts were just as glorious as he imagined and, somehow, free from their lycra restraints actually seemed bigger. He was still staring when, still brushing her hair, she turned and looked directly at him, her expression unchanged. Panicking, he spun his chair back around, head ducked down, desperately hoping for the ground to swallow him up.

He sat like this for a couple of minutes, before slowly turning around, but the window was empty.

He spent the rest of the day on edge, waiting for the repercussions. When he went down in the evening to have dinner with his parents (an archaic tradition they insisted on maintaining), he was waiting for one of them to say "I spoke to the new neighbours earlier, they say you were spying on her whilst she got dressed".

Or perhaps the door would fly open and her husband would barge in, in a furious rage, intent on defending his wife's honour from the pervert next door. But nothing happened.

Maybe, he figured, she had been too embarrassed to tell anyone. After all, it was mostly her fault. He hadn't set up secret cameras or drilled peep holes or anything. No, he had just been minding his own business in his bedroom when a pair of tits appeared across the way. How was that his fault?

It wasn't until around the same time the next day that it became clear she hadn't been embarrassed about it, because there she was again, combing her hair in the window, her tits on display.

Yet this time he didn't stare, instead making an active effort to not look. As soon as he saw her, he turned around and waited for ten minutes before looking back, at which point, she was gone again.

That evening, he again sat with his parents and ate food, and again, nothing happened. He turned the thoughts over in his mind and figured if once was an accident, then two was unlikely to be a mistake, so three would be an invitation.

So, on the third day, he sat at his computer and waited, but when the time came, she was nowhere to be seen. He waited, pretending to be gaming, but constantly glancing over to the window until after an hour, realised she probably wasn't going to show.

Right then, he jumped up as someone knocked on the front door. His heart started racing with all the possibilities, and he ran downstairs to the front door but stopped to catch his breath and regain his composure before he opened it.

It was the delivery guy. Before James could think of anything to say, the delivery guy scanned the label on the box he was holding, thrust it into James' hands and was off. So dedicated to his work was he, that he was already at the truck by the time James had checked the label.

"This isn't for us," shouted James, but the guy was already gone. He looked at the label again. It was the correct address but was for a Mrs Valerie Turner, a name he didn't recognise. He put it on the side, figuring it was probably for one of his mother's friends who preferred it to be sent here, so James could take delivery of it, rather than leaving it on the front step all day. Fair enough, he thought, but at least let me know to expect a delivery.

He was at the top of the stairs when there was another knock at the door. This time he descended with far less enthusiasm. He was not interested in running up and down the stairs all day to collect packages that weren't even his.

So, when he opened the door ready to meet another delivery man, he was stunned to see his neighbour standing in front of him.

"Hi," she said, "I live next door."

"Hi," said James, taken aback by her sudden appearance and friendly demeanour, her body clad in the same skin-tight yoga outfit as before.

"I just got this message on my phone," she continued, "saying that a package had been left for me, but I couldn't find it. I was hoping it might have been delivered here by mistake?"

His mind went blank and he couldn't think of anything to say, so said nothing.

"Sorry, where are my manners? I'm Valerie." With that, she held out her hand and he shook it, feeling her soft skin on his. Still, his mind wasn't working. "You must be James?"

"Uhh, yes," he stammered, struggling to get a hold of himself.

"Is that perhaps...?" She said, pointing to the box on the side.

"Valerie Turner?" he said, picking up the box and inspecting it as if he'd never seen it before.

"That's me," she said, giving a flash of her perfect teeth behind a beautiful smile, a few small lines on either side making it even better, more real.

"It's got the wrong address," he said as he handed it over.

"Oh dear," she said, inspecting the label. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright." He said, about to close the door.

"I was wondering," she said, and he stopped, "if I could ask you a little favour?"

"Sure," he said, unsure where this was going.

"You see, I've ordered a few things for my husband's birthday and I guess I must have put the wrong address somewhere, I'm terrible with computers. Anyway, I'd normally get him to change it, but I don't want him to know what I've bought him. So I was hoping you could maybe pop over when you have a minute and take a look for me?"

"Yeah, sure," said James.

"Thank you so much. I'm sure I won't be able to do it myself, and I'm sure you don't want me disturbing you every day, popping up unannounced."

She said it with a smile, but James couldn't help but detect some bitterness in her tone. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought she was pissed he didn't watch her through the window yesterday. And the words. Popping up unannounced. It was a bit of a weird way to word it.

But no, that was ridiculous. He had to get those sorts of things out of his head. That's what comes from watching too much porn.

"I'm free now, if you'd like?" He said.

"That would be wonderful," said Valerie. "Hopefully we can get it sorted before the others are sent out."

James wasn't sure that was going to happen, but he was happy enough to help. It was something different to do, at least.

***

It was strange entering the house again. Everything looked the same and different at the same time. The walls, the decoration, the style, it was exactly as he remembered it, even the indent on the door where he had run into it, head first, as a kid. But everything else was different. Different furniture, different photos of different people. A whole different vibe.

"We moved in quite quickly," she said, as if by way of an explanation. "We didn't have time to redecorate before as the people who bought our old house were desperate to move in. But, you know how it is."

"Right," said James, not having a clue how it is.

She led him upstairs and into Angela's old room, which was now a sizable home office.

"Please," she said, "take a seat." So James took the seat in front of the computer, the only one in the room. He pressed a button and the black screen sprang to life.

"It needs a password," he said.

"Oh, it's..." she began.

"It's probably better if you type it yourself. For safety."

"Oh, ok," she said. "You look like a decent young man," she added leaning over, her arm pressing into him as she typed, "but you never can tell."

"I guess," he said, eyes focused on the screen, desperate not to ogle her heaving breasts. He could smell her perfume, which struck him as sophisticated, mature. Nowhere near as sweet as the perfume Debs wore.

She typed slowly, as if she had never used a keyboard before. When she pressed enter to confirm the password, she leaned back, placing her hand on his shoulder as she stood directly behind him.

"Where did you order it from?" He asked after the computer had loaded.

"Let me think," she said, leaning in again, putting her hand on his as he held the mouse. She guided them both to the taskbar and loaded up the internet browser, before clicking on a bookmark.

The page was a commonly used shopping site, so it wasn't difficult to know where to go.

"You just need to click on..."

"You're the expert," she said, "why don't you show me how it's done?"

With that, he continued to control the mouse with both their hands on it, finding the change delivery address option easily.

"All done," he said.

"That's wonderful, thank you," she said. "I feel you really taught me a thing or two today."

By this point, any doubt in Jame's mind was gone. This was not how normal people spoke in day-to-day interactions. So, either she was an alien who had learned human communication through watching pornography, or she wanted to fuck him.

He decided it was the latter, when her hand slipped off the mouse and onto his dick.

"Is there any way I can repay you?" She asked, her hand sitting in his lap.

"It's fine," he said. She was certainly very beautiful and he was desperate for a piece of ass, but he couldn't do that to Debs, and he felt bad for her husband. So, he decided to do the decent thing and go home and jerk off.

But then she started to rub his dick through his jeans as she ran her tongue over his ear lobe, and he forgot all about decency.

Within moments, they were on the floor of the study, rolling around, kissing, grabbing, pawing, fuelled by nothing more than pure lust. She rolled them both over and straddled him, his hands on his shirt, running them up and down over the fabric, before leaning down and kissing him, her hips rubbing against his.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he said, the words just popping out.

She smiled at him and put a finger to his lips, before kissing him again. They continued like this for a few minutes before she leaned into his ear and whispered,

"Do you want to fuck me?"

He nodded in the affirmative and she smiled, sitting back and pulling off her yoga top, revealing the exquisite breasts he had seen through the window.

"Like what you see?" She asked.

He answered in the affirmative by sitting upright and kissing across her breasts, burying his face in their softness, before moving across and taking a nipple in his mouth.

"Gentle," she said, "they're sensitive." With that, he lessened the pressure of his mouth and she purred with delight, rocking her hips gently back and forth as his mouth continued to work on her breasts as his hands slid over her exposed back.

Finally, she pulled away and tugged his shirt off over his head, pushed him back down and leaned in to slowly kiss him, pressing her breasts into his body.

Then, without a word, she got up and helped him to his feet, before leading him to the bedroom. She pulled his belt undone and pulled down his jeans and, as he was taking them off his feet, she turned away from him and pulled down her yoga pants, the material sliding slowly down her smooth ass, her lack of panties exposing her pussy.

"Do you want to eat me?" She asked, still bent over. And, without requiring any further invitation, he dropped to his knees and ran his tongue over her perfectly smooth pussy. She groaned and placed one hand on the wall for support, the other pushing his face deeper into her ass, as he slipped his tongue into her, sliding up and down, tasting her sex. He lapped at her, desperate for her taste, realising how much he had missed burying his face in someone's ass.

Indeed, so engrossed was he that he nearly had a heart attack when he heard a cough from the door and, glancing over, his mouth still firmly placed on her pussy, saw the husband, her husband. So frightened was he, that he fell back onto his ass.

"Oh no, please," said the man, a surly tone to his words, "don't let me interrupt you eating my wife's pussy. Especially when she seems to be enjoying it so."

"I'm sorry, i-" began James.

"I was, as a matter of fact, Henry," said Valerie to her husband, "young James here really has a knack for eating pussy. Maybe you could learn a thing or two."

"I should go," said James, not wanting to get caught up in a marital dispute.

"No, no," said Henry, "start what you finish. That's the problem with this generation, no stamina."

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" said Valerie.

"I'm not sure I-" began James, again.

"Hush now," said Valerie, bending down to James, giving Henry a full view of her pussy. "You've only had a little taste." She leaned in to kiss him and he became aware once again of the taste of pussy in his mouth and, once again, horniness took the place of common sense.

She held out a hand and helped him to his feet, as Henry stood in the doorway, watching.

"Now," she said, leading him to the bed, where she lay down and spread her legs, "why don't you show him how it's done?"

James looked down at her beautiful body, legs spread waiting for him, then over to Henry, who held out his hand as if to say, be my guest.

At this, he got back down on his knees and started licking her pussy once again, albeit more hesitantly. This time she went wild, moaning loudly and writhing under his slightest touch. He thought it was a bit much, but he could see from how wet she was getting that she liked what he was doing, so ate her out more enthusiastically, licking up her lips before finally settling on her clit, running his tongue around it in circles.

At this, she gripped the back of his head and held it between her legs.

"Oh fuck," she moaned, "you eat pussy so fucking good." So he kept going as she moaned and bucked and pushed her hips into his face, engorging his senses with her smell, her taste, the feel of her pussy on his tongue, and as he cast glances up her body, saw her free hand playing with her tits.

"I'm cumming," she moaned after a few minutes. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm fucking cumming." and with that, she came, her body bucking so hard he found it difficult to stay on her pussy, but he managed, licking and sucking her clit, both of them riding the wave of pleasure until she finally calmed down.

He removed his head from between her legs and slumped next to the bed, gasping for breath. Across the room, he saw Henry still standing, although he had removed his jacket and loosened his tie.