Vixen is a Cougar

"Can I buy you ladies a drink?" he asked, giving an asymmetrical and toothy grin and waggling eyebrows. "More than one, I mean, of course!" he stammered out, his own nervousness breaking through the thin façade all too easily. They shared in laughter. A sound he was used to. At least they accepted his offer.

Alright, you got a nibble, now get the bite, he thought, hyping himself up.

"Thanks!" the first woman said, taking her drink, before the other two threw in their matching sentiments.

"No problem. My name is..." The women stood up and started walking further into the bar, away from him, in the middle of his introduction. "...you don't care."

Defeated, once again, he sat down on the bar stool where one of the women had sat. That's all the human warmth I'm getting, he thought of the warmed-up stool. A silent hand gesture to the bartender signaled for another glass of his choice beverage.

"Struck out again, huh?" Her voice was deep, sultry, and alluring. Her voice may have been soothing, but her words were just salt on his wound. He was at least used to the sting, as he'd said worse to himself in the past.

"Look, I'm not..." Once more he trailed off, this time when he looked over to the softly mocking woman. She was stunning, evident by his stunned silence. The woman was a collection of dessert colored features. Dark chocolate colored hair cut short and left stylishly messy; an order to its presumed chaos. Skin was lighter in tone, milk chocolate to be exact. Rich and creamy, undoubtedly smooth to the touch. Her dress, if what little she wore was enough to call it that, was a dark honey color. Her eyes, most striking of all, were amber in hue; one could call them caramel, even. Though she wore gold jewelry in the form of large hoop earrings and so many matching bracelets he'd have to count them individually to get an exact number, her necklace was bone white. White chocolate, if one wanted to continue the sweets metaphor. He hardly noticed it with her breasts nearly slipping out of the plunging neckline of her dress. "...in the mood," he finished after a long paragraph's worth of looking her over.

"Why yes I am," she replied, as if the last three words he said were a question. His gulp delighted her.

"Like I said, I'm really not in the mood," he made clearer. She was gorgeous, but so far out of his league that she was playing an entirely different sport than him. He was playing tee-ball and she was playing some discus sport he didn't know the name of because it was from the future. From another planet.

He's struggling, she thought. Good. She preferred her prey to fight, not run. Though he was trying to run from the conversation, she wouldn't let him. Collecting her impractically small purse, she slipped elegantly off the stool and approached him. The loudening clicks of her heels as she neared drew his attention. The gentle hops of her firm breasts kept it.

"Oh, I don't have any more money to buy-" but she stopped short his presumption about who was buying who a drink.

"It's my treat." Another silent hand gesture to the bartender later and they were served the two drinks they individually ordered earlier. Her body leaned forward and turned slightly in his direction. Her movements were fluid and subtle, though her intentions were anything but.

Though he had a decent look at her from across the bar, he got a much better one up close. She was incredibly fit, that was obvious to him. Aside from just having a slender figure, she also sported clear, but not overpowering, abdominal muscles. Her arms had definition as well, and though they were partially hidden by her dress, he was certain her thighs would be powerful, too. Even with her incredible and visible fitness and strength, her curves didn't suffer for it. If anything, they benefitted.

Her breasts were of a considerable size, but not overwhelmingly so. Her acrobatic life had sapped some of the fat from her tits but left her with enough to fill an eager hand, with change left over. Her ass, which was being practically thrown out behind her for him to see, was wide and enticing. No doubt her fitness had kept it firm and tight, but it had enough fat left to make it supple and squeezable.

It wasn't that he was trying to leer at her; it was that she was flaunting it all. Her dress was comfortably loose but hid almost nothing. The neckline wasn't plunging - it was deep sea diving. It reached all the way to a couple inches past her belly button. The dress was cut in a similar fashion in the back as well, where it showed all from her neck down to the dimples above her ass. His eager scanning was only broken when he heard that familiar laugh again, from behind him.

Further into the bar, the women he had bought drinks for were chatting it up with some blue suits with grey hair and green backs. The frustration was beginning to well up again, but the mystery woman drew his attention back with her sultry voice.

"You've been hunting at the wrong watering hole, baby." She had regained his attention, but his reaction meant she had to be clearer. "The women here only want two things in their men: money and power. Neither of which you have."

Harsh, but fair. "Gee, thanks," he couldn't help but respond. He took a dip of his drink before he felt compelled to say more. He supposed he should have expected as much. He chose an upscale bar, hoping to meet upscale women, and he was anything but. He'd had at least some luck in the noisier bars downtown. Probably because the women couldn't hear his bad pickup lines, he figured.

He sat there, sipping, for longer than he thought he should. It was mostly due to the silence. Silence paired with her staring at him, smirking. The predatory look in her eyes made him nervous. Not for anything she might do to harm him, but for how blind he was from that point forward.

"Is that why you come here?" He asked, breaking the silence and hopefully his nervousness. "For money and power?" Not that she'd need it. Her attire showed she had money. Her demeanor showed she had power.

"I'm too old for that," she replied, brushing off the notion she was anything like the women he'd been chasing.

"How old are you?"

"You really don't know anything about women, do you?" He gave a few chuckles, which brightened up her smile.

"Sorry. So, what are you after, then?"

"You."

"Me?"

"You."

"...Why me?" He probably should have just thought that rather than said it, but he was curious. He knew he didn't look like a cannibalistic humanoid underground dweller, out on his first night on the surface world (though his lack of social skills begged to differ). He also wasn't on par with her beauty. He was the kind of person to blend in effortlessly with a crowd. If he had the guts for it, he could have made a great covert assassin.

"Why not you?" She rested her hand on his shoulder. He jerked at her human contact, but she persisted. "You're cute, you're funny, you're eager to please," she complimented, and then to drive home that she wasn't looking for a hand-holding date, she added, "and you sport a nice dick print." If he had jumped at her hand on his shoulder, he nearly leaped out of his skin when she put her hand on his thigh and squeezed his bulge.

His eyes darted around, looking for the hidden camera or the group of women laughing at their friend following through on their dare about flirting with him. But he saw no such things. He knew he had a larger than average cock, but it had never helped him get women. He tried opening with facts about his endowment in the past, but all it earned him were slaps and disbelief. The few girlfriends he had had in his young life were always intimidated by it and were all too shy and conservative to talk about it with their friends. But the dark and beautiful woman noticed. Her point made, her hand slipped back off his lap and clutched her drink.

"How do you know so much about me?" His bulge was obvious enough, but everything else wasn't.

"Because I've been watching you for several nights now..." She then leaned in close and whispered his name into his ear.

"How do you know my name?" His arousal was making room for his panic.

She sensed this and realized she may have come on too strong. She really had been watching him come into that high-end bar, hoping to meet attractive young women, every Friday for several weeks. She had been bar looking for attractive young men. She had a particular taste, and after studying him, hunting him, she knew he fit the mold. However, she knew all that would probably be overwhelming for him to hear, so she gave an uncharacteristically softer touch.

"You've been giving out your name to the women here all night," she said. He was, she wasn't lying, and that was how she learned his name. She was just omitting what night she had learned it. To help even the playing field, she offered up her own name. "My name's Mari McCabe." It was clear he didn't know who she was based on her appearance, and her name wasn't helping.

"Well, if you've been seeing me strike out all night, can you tell me what I'm doing wrong?" He figured a female perspective would be invaluable. He also had completely overlooked how she'd known about him being 'cute, funny, and eager to please,' but by that point too much blood had rushed from his head for him to dwell on it.

"A lot of things," but rather than list them off, she continued on to say, "but they all fall under the same umbrella: you can't take a hint."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I said I was interested in you, in no uncertain terms, nearly five minutes ago and you're still sitting here like all I've done is bat my eyes." Her tone was more amused than annoyed. "I also grabbed your dick." As if everything else wasn't enough evidence.

"You were serious about that?" He asked, flabbergasted that she had a genuine, sexual, interest in him. Self confidence was another problem he had.

"Very." Her hand raked her fingers through his hair. Her breast pressed against his arm. "How about I keep spelling things out for you back at my place?"

There's a 50/50 chance she's going to murder me. However, she looks wealthy, so if I'm was going to die, it at least won't be in a dank basement, on a urine-soaked mattress, recorded by a VHS camcorder. If anything, my end will come during a twisted sacrificial ritual, ordained by the upper crust, in order to get plentiful stock for the year. Given how hot she was, and how horny he was, he was willing to take those odds.

[LATER THAT NIGHT, AT MARI McCABE'S GOTHAM RESIDENCE...]

Mari insisted on driving them to her place. It was just as well, as he had taken an Uber to get to the bar. Her car, though, just helped to further impress on him her wealth, and further cement her out of his league. He just hoped that she wouldn't realize that before the night was through. He also hoped he'd be able to get through the night without embarrassment and/or bodily injury.

The building they arrived at did nothing to sway how impressed he was by her. He had no idea what it was she did for a living. Whatever her job is, she's good at it. The inside of her loft continued the impressive trend. A large, open plan living space with the living room, kitchen, bedroom, and various other rooms all within sight of each other.

I'm sure it just seems bigger because of the open flow and these gigantic windows. He was wrong. It would have been big even without them.

"Shoes off, please," she instructed while walking ahead of him. Her tone was close to that of a mother firmly directing behavior.

Hope I have time to get that image out of my head. While doing as he was told, he noticed she didn't take off her high heels. Not that he minded. She wore them well. While she walked off toward the kitchen, he took in how she decorated. Animals. That was the theme he picked up on right away. Paintings, sculptures, photos, but no furs or stuffed heads. She likes animals, but she doesn't like to hunt.

She did. Just not animals.

Rather than treat it like a museum, he did what he would do if he were in his own apartment: sit on the couch. There was no mistaking what Mari was up to. The kitchen was directly in front of him and unobscured. The bedroom was right behind him. A reminder at the back of his neck as to what he was there for. He hoped.

He feared.

When she turned back around, two drinks in hands, she saw he was still wearing clothes.

Good, she purred in her mind. I prefer to unwrap my treats myself. He was also bouncing his knee quite rapidly. Maybe rum & Coke is a bad choice. She didn't feel like swapping out his drink for her whiskey, or fixing him something new, however. He'll need all the energy he can get, anyway.

Watching her hips sway, her breasts jiggle, and her eyes narrow in predatory focus did nothing to slow his nervous leg. The couch was spacious enough to afford them both a personal bubble. She didn't take advantage of that. Sitting so close to him, he was able to appreciate her perfume. Or is that just how she always smells, he wondered, as the scent wasn't flowery like most perfumes. It seemed more natural, more primal. Rather than get lost in that, he opted to drink from the glass she offered him.

He lurched and coughed but kept the over-eager sip down.

"This Coke's gone bad," he incorrectly advised. She gave a surprised laugh. An accidental W is still a W. Now knowing what to expect, he was able to take steadier sips. Just like at the bar, she stared him down with a knowing smirk. He had no idea what she knew. Rather than confront that, he just made small talk.

"This is a nice place," he complimented, as if she didn't already know that.

"Mhm," she replied, because she already knew that.

"What do you do for a living?" If it was something he could see himself doing, he might consider switching career paths.

"You don't care about that." Her answer was sudden and brash.

I don't?

"You're just stalling because you're unsure what to do next."

I am?

"But you know exactly what you want to do."

I do?

"You want to fuck me."

I do.

Mari stood. She tossed back her drink and hiked up her skirt. He got just a peek of her lacey white underwear before she sat down on his lap. Not wanting him to spill his drink, she tossed back the rest of that, too. With a hunger in her eyes, translated by her hips, she was upon him. First her hands on his cheeks to steady him. Then her lips upon his lips to please him.

He melted into the kiss immediately. She already knew he was hers the second she saw him. Now he knew it too. Her lips were marshmallow soft. Her tongue was aggressive and demanding. He would give it everything, willingly. He wanted more of that kiss, and what it was promising.

Their hands roamed each other. His were caressing and curious. Hers were scratching and searching. She had already gotten his shirt off by the time he'd moved his hands past her shoulders. Mari wasn't interested in some high school lip-lock, though. Grabbing his wrists, she planted his hands at the small of her back. She wanted them on her ass, but she also wanted him to make some of those decisions on his own. Mari didn't want to just teach him everything. Mari was hoping to awaken something in him.

No matter what he thought to do, she swerved. Zigged when he thought she'd zag. She was a wild cat in his arms and if he didn't act fast, he might lose her. Instinct. That's all he had left. And his instincts were telling him to get two handfuls of her high and supple ass. Throwing caution to the wind, he sank his fingers into the dark flesh still hidden behind her bright dress. Not only did she not situp in a fright, or slap him with disgust, but she actually moaned. Hot breath against his neck, interrupting the hickey she was giving him. He swore he could feel her smile against his nape.

With how much she was grinding against his lap, it's a wonder Mari couldn't feel his skeleton through his body. There was at least one bone she could feel. She wanted to do more than just feel. Slithering down his body like a snake, she left firm kisses upon his body. A mapped trail of her journey from his lips, to his neck, down his chest, over his stomach, and ending at his 'treasure trail.'

"God, I've never been this hard before," he panted. His head had fallen back during her descent. He wished he could have watched her, but that may have been too much stimulation. He had no idea how much was 'too much.'

"Does it hurt?" Mari asked, cooing past her pouting lips. His wincing squirm when she squeezed him through his pants answered that. "I can help." Giving him no chance to object, she swiftly removed his belt, and yanked down his pants. Mari took a moment to appreciate the bulge in his boxer briefs. She would have claimed the young man no matter what he brought to the table. However, she was delighted it looked perfectly sized for her.

Though she tried, she couldn't get it out through the barn door. It was too hard. Too substantial. No matter. She would just yank down his underwear and let him sit bare ass on her expensive couch. She could just buy another one; but she enjoyed his scent on it.

He sprung free with a gasp. A great relief washing over him. An even greater relief, and tension, crashed over him when she started to touch him. She began with her hands. Keeping one at the base, while the other crawled up the shaft, her fingers careful and deliberate like the feet of a stalking jungle cat. Her index slid over his slit and teasingly pressed down, forcing out another wince.

Mari was delighting in the power she had over him. She wasn't aiming to become a leather-bound dominatrix, nor did she want to restrain and direct the young man. However, she did enjoy seeing that she still had 'it.' And she was going to enjoy 'it' for as long as she could.

Her kisses against his shaft were moist and soft. The teasing of her tongue between her plump lips unknown to anyone who could be watching. His fingers dug into the taut fabric of the couch. It took all his willpower to not cum. It took all his willpower to not do so when she was just dry humping him. Now he was contending with her delicate, teasing, lewd touch.

Those same kisses traveled from base to tip, ending there. With the final smooch, her lips stayed planted on the head. Then they opened. They poured slowly over the tip like syrup, gradually hiding him behind them. She kept her mouth wide enough to keep her incisors and canines away from the delicate flesh. Despite how much she wanted to bite down and illicit a fun reaction from him. Instead all he felt was warm, wet, softness.

Lips moved at an almost imperceptible deftness, massaging around the base of the head. Her tongue swirled and danced around every bit of his flesh she had in her mouth. Hot breath did nothing to lessen the building moisture at the tip. The pre-cum he gave dripped onto her tongue promised of something tastier. His legs were jittering. Mari laid her arm across them, steadying them under her firm pressure. His nervousness amused her to no end.

Her touch pleased him to no end. To his credit, he was holding out with more willpower than he'd ever exhibited in his life. If a Green Lantern ring came crashing in through the window for him at that moment, neither of them would be surprised. Yet he made one mistake: he looked at her. Compelled to see if the sight matched the feel and sound, he picked his head up and stared down at her. Then he saw them. Her eyes. Predatory, piercing, eyes that claimed they knew everything that made him tick; and she was going to prove it. In that moment, he came.