Small Talk

I was sitting at the bar last night having a couple of drinks, and chatting a bit with a few boys.  Two boys seated on my right were “international finance majors”, and one was telling me that he had given up hard liquor for lent.  I looked at him and said, “I gave lent up for lent.”

I don’t think he got it.

The Carcass

When does having fun with someone turn into time to move on?  Since this is a blog about being a Cougar, I will address this in light of a Cougar and her Prey.  The agreed objective of any Cougar/Prey relationship is sex.  Now I understand some Cougars engage in relationships with younger men that become more like partnerships, or romantic or love connections, but all in all I am guessing the majority of women who are Cougars like younger men because they seek sexual encounters without the attachments that dating brings.  Many young men seek the same arrangement, which is why the dynamic works so well.

Even as a young woman, I often sought casual sexual encounters free of attachment.  Usually in those days the motivations were different and more emotionally driven, as is often the nature of being a young woman.  Nevertheless, when a guy I was casually seeing became smitten, I was often gone.  So now, too, I am experiencing the same drive, but from a different perspective.  I find I feel wary if I guy I have repeated sex with starts to get a certain look in his eye when he looks at me.  I know what it means.  I see the heart behind it.

I have no desire to hurt anyone.  Despite the seemingly cold terminology I use when writing at times, it is meant to be a fun play on words of the whole “Cougar” thing.  I am typically not a fan of labels, and chose to embrace this terminology as a sort of game.  It was until recently unfamiliar to me, and I think largely a system that evolved from the minds of males, similar to terms used in porn such as MILF, and in other sexual scenarios like Hot Wife, and Cuckold.  I, as a female, just like to have sex.  It doesn’t have to be about any of that.  I tried it on, and embrace it as a way to expand the entire experience.

Hurting people is not fun to me, nor is it ever an objective.  If I am with a young man, or any man, I care about his experience, and his feelings.  I try to make sure it is clear that what I want is sex, and some fun.  I am, however, older, in this case, and much more aware and in control of my emotions then they are, despite what people think about men.  Men are just as vulnerable emotionally as women.  They are just socially indoctrinated differently, and are affected by Patriarchal societal structures in a different way.  Sex is the most potent and powerful force in nature.  It is the most impressive energy their is, and as such, can create bonds, emotions, and imprintation.  I am fully aware that my freedom of expression and sexuality combined with attractiveness, openness, and attentiveness is going to have an effect on whomever I am with.

In light of that, I watch for signs.  I watch for the first glimmers of emotions forming withing my “prey.”  Since I do not desire and will not engage in any type of relationship other than sexual with my “victims”, it is essential that I cut off my entanglements when any type of bond starts to form within them.  It is better to keep what happens a fond and fun memory for them, then have it move into the realm of pain and rejection.  That is not why I am here.   It is also self protection.  Such bonds can, and have led to obsession, and a Cougar never wants to be hunted in a way that ends with her head stuffed and mounted on a wall.

The longest I have ever gone with a young man in terms of number of encounters before I had to end it was about six.  This ended after he looked at me and said “you know, I could really fall for you”, which meant he already was.  I want to wear them out, not break their hearts.

I am aware that many will read this and think I have a problem of attachment, and that there must be something wrong with me to not want emotional connection.  Well, one must realize that the entire story of me is not on this blog, and that my emotional attachment is well fulfilled.  This blog is in part about women, and our right and ability to live free, on our own terms, defined by no one other than ourselves.  The complete sexual liberation of women is the first step towards a more evolved society.  It is the number one marker for the evolution of feminism, and therefore mankind.

So, I leave the road strewn with the carcasses of my feasting.  Don’t worry, though.  They all have smiles on their faces, no matter how haphazard it may seem that their bodies have been laid aside.

Prowling

It has been almost two weeks since I’ve written, but, I’ve been busy.  I had another hot night with my “Mr Saturday Night” lover, and the steam is rising higher with each encounter.  I love going out with him–he has no aversion to kissing in public, or apparently to having his hand pushed up my skirt to feel how wet I am.  I love pushing my ass against his cock while I move to the music, facing the stage.

Funny, Saturdays.  I went to the local electronics store, and there was the cute guy I fucked a couple of months ago, working.  He was a one night thing–I don’t think he even really got my name.  I figured it was just a fun encounter, which started when I sat next to him at the bar.  We chatted, and then, I lured him in for the kill.

Something about his mouth.  I watched his lips while we chatted at his work.  I wanted to kiss him there, then…hard.  He is so young in his innocence.  He is a college boy, smart, yet so inexperienced with life; so idealistic.  Something about his sweet lips, his bold yet innocent stare, makes the thought of corrupting him so enticing.  The thought of challenging his reserve, and forcing him to be a little wild an irresistible urge. 

So, I asked him if he wanted to “hang out” again.  He eagerly gave me his number.  I’ll take that as a yes.

I was walking up to the bar, to get a drink with my Saturday Night Special, and there was my innocent one, getting a drink.  He was there with a group of friends.  I gave him a sideways look, and grinned at him, saying “hi”.  He said “hi” shyly back.  I had been thinking about his lips, his thighs, and his cock anyway.  Bad, I know, being with one, thinking about another, but that is what makes life so tasty, don’t you think?

Impressive

I really like it when a man is not afraid to try creative ways to please and pleasure me.  When he combines his own unique anatomy and his imagination to my body in a way that fits well, it is very exciting. 

I had a 21 year old black lover who was very relaxed and confident which impressed me given his age.  He had a very nice cock–about nine inches long, not too thick, which he would push between my legs which were together, with him on top, and fuck me.  With this position, he was able to stimulate and stroke my clit while he fucked me, and it was extremely pleasing.

This was the way he came, and I could feel him pump his cum into me while he continued to stroke me.  Very nice indeed.  It turns me on to think about it.

I may have gotten a bit too aggressive with that one, though.  He was tender, and sweet, and I am not sure he was that experienced.  I may have scared him off.

Lover

So, I have a new lover, who is perfectly content with just being a fun sexual experience, with no strings, or obligations (except of course maintaining negative STD status.)  He doesn’t care that he can’t know much about me.  Perhaps that adds to the mystique?

I am meeting him again this Saturday night.  It is so freeing, this being confident, secure, and in control.  I like arousing him.  I like playing with my own arousal, by doing things like public displays and exhibiting overt sexuality.  I find the more I let my energy flow, and my juices, the more male eyes I attract when I am out.  They sense it, and they are drawn to it, and that excites me, too.  That, and the fact that if one catches my eye, my desire, I can take him, if I choose to.

I think a lot of young guys like the feeling of danger, of being swept up in the potent force of free-flowing female sexual power.   Succumbing to that desire, being used by her, being consumed by her, is intoxicating. 

I think about my lover’s cock, its hardness, and the way it felt in my hand and mouth.  Male virility, existing for my pleasure.  I think about my mouth on his, my probing tongue, and him yielding to me.  I think about lying back, yielding to his lust, and taking it all inside of me.  It is all so delicious.

Well, I Must Say

You know Saturday night must have been good because it has taken me roughly four days to write about it.  Twenty-two years old, and I must say, he is gifted, which is rare.  We met at about 11:00PM.  I was up until 5:00Am.  He was ready to keep going.  He had to drive home, so I sent him on his way, lest something happen to him.  I don’t usually have a young man back a second time.  I already have plans for this one this weekend.

We met at one of my favorite local bars.  He sat at the end of the bar.  I had already been there a little while, waiting and watching.  He walked in, and I thought “dinner is served–dead man walking.”  I walked over to him, cutting through the throngs.  I sat down next to him, gave him a sideways smile.  He smiled back, and gave me a hug.  We chatted a bit, had a drink, and went to another club to hear a band that was playing.  All foreplay for me.

As we listened to the music pump through us, we talked a little more, and then I reached over, pulled his head to mine, and started kissing him.  It was a good, long, deep kiss, just like I like them.  A little talking, a little touching, more kissing, all building up the steam.  At one point I felt his hard cock through his pants.  I really like a hard cock in my hand through a guys pants.  So enticing.

We departed, and went to my car.  More kissing, more touching, then we went to my bed.  He was totally bent on pleasuring me, which of course aroused me greatly.  Long touches, long kisses, no rushing, no hurry, no impatience for his own pleasure, which just guaranteed that he got a lot of it. 

I love the give and take–him touching and pleasing me, my turning on him, and sucking his cock for long stretches.  Slow, smooth fucking, that builds and quickens with our desire.  Primo.  It only gets better after the first time.  I’m looking forward to it.

Anticipation

I think about him, and the inside of my upper thighs start to hint of a tingle.  It moves in between, and I feel a familiar warm tug.  A tingle, a throb, and a hint of moistness.  I smile at my secret. 

I think about my eyes on his mouth–his lips.  I imagine my hand wrapping around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth close to mine, and holding it there–feeling him wonder, waiting.  I turn and slip my face next to his, barely brushing him, close to his ear, letting him hear me smell him.  I pull back slowly, letting him see my eyes on his mouth.  Slowly, I pull him to me, lips softly touching lips.  My tongue tasting his mouth.  Slowly, gently at first, so as not to frighten.  Then, I hold him pressed against me, and taste him fully.

 Our first kiss.

Prey

We all know that Cougars hunt prey, but Prey also hunt Cougars.  The thing is, boys, you need to know how to approach a predator safely, and effectively, otherwise you might get hurt.  I haven’t been an “official” cougar for very long, but already have had to cull the herd of milling hopefuls, and it is evident that there are some questionable if not downright deficits out there amongst prey.  Telling, or commanding, or otherwise instructing a cougar may even get you killed.

Here are a few examples of how not to approach a big cat.  This came about because, after deciding to play along with the label, I posted an ad on my local CL in the “women for men” section, looking for fellow cougars to go out hunting with.  I thought it might be fun to compare notes, and perhaps trade morsels.  For fun, I included a line asking about where to find the most succulent prey.  One woman responded.  I lost count of how many men.

Most young fleshlings were appropriate enough:  they gave their age, a little information such as the fact that they attend our local University, what year, etc.  Eager, primed, hopeful–looking with a combination of slight intimidation and lust for something different than an experience with a peer.  A cougar can tolerate slight feebleness upon approach if it is caused by fear, or lack of experience, and I am willing to coax my prey out into the open if they catch my attention, and make me salivate.  The most important thing to remember is that as a cougar, there is one of me, and many, many prey circling around me.  If you want to be noticed, you need to stand out in a good way.  If you stand out in a bad way, you’re dead.

I’ve had guys send me an email demanding a picture up front.  They act as if they are entitled, and won’t talk to me unless I send a pic first.  I care?  This is the rule, with me, I can’t speak for other cougars.  If I find you interesting, or attractive, I will send a pic to entice you further.  I will not send a face pic.  I am a professional, and I am not into finding myself posted somewhere that is not my choosing.  I am attractive.  If you don’t like me when we meet, walk away.  There are plenty of attractive men who do.  If we chat by email, and I want to entice you further, I’ll send another pic.  It is up to my desire to do so.

You must send a pic up front.  It is about sex.  Period.  If I don’t find you attractive, I don’t want to spend my time chatting.  No offense.  Just because I am not attracted to you, doesn’t mean you are not attractive.  We all have different taste.  I have a wide range of tastes and moods.  I will tell you if I am not interested.  Then, move on.  Life is short.  I am not your therapist.

If I do like you, I will arrange to meet you face to face.  I little chatting by email first, then we meet.  A lot of guys get cold feet at this point.  That is why I prefer to hunt in person, and find my prey in a live forum rather than online.  That, and I can cull without having to let someone know they’ve been culled, and that can be kinder.  I am not out to hurt people’s feelings.  I don’t like that, and it can be awkward when people email me and I have to reject them.   I try to be kind, but if someone is an asshole or inappropriate, than they are fair game. 

Let’s face it.  At this point in my life I’m dominant.  I don’t respond to guys trying to dominate me in an unsolicited way.   But, I do like the smell of fear on a tender, tentative young morsel.  That, and an eager to please look on the face.  We can get along.

I’ve had older guys write, telling me when I get tired of messing around, to give a real man a try.  Now there’s good advice.   Gee, I’ve never had an older man.  I actually have a very steady man who is over 40, who is my dream.  I’ve had all sorts of men.  I like some older men, but that is not what I am looking for right now, so why not go for someone who is?  Why bother writing me to display your resentment that I am not looking at you?  That is so not sexy.

Do not approach me with a chip on your shoulder, something to prove, bitterness, resentment, issues, or pissy, whiny, or demanding tones.  If you are clumsy, or I can see you ask for a pic up front because it is what you have seen others do, and you don’t know how to approach me, I may redirect you.  No problem.  Lack of imagination and playfulness will not make you stand out, though.  Mr. Saturday Night (oh, that’s tonight) had the right combination of intellect, wit, charm, respect, and sexy pics.  I am salivating in anticipation.

What is a Cougar?

Here is a link to a fun site, that explains the apparent vernacular of “Cougar” and “prey”.  I never knew what a cougar was until recently.  Apparently I was a CIT from a very young age.   I didn’t really find a classification I fit into, except the “Sabre-tooth”.  I try to leave more than a shell behind when I’m finished feeding, but, well, it can be hard.

Making Peace With My Butt

I think one of the grandest parts about being in my forties is the freedom and peace of self-acceptance.   When I was in my twenties, I was constantly feeling inadequate about my body.  I was never pretty enough, thin enough, and that ultimately translated into a lack of confidence–even though I was attractive to be sure.

As I progressed through my thirties, I started to move towards this time of self-love and appreciation.  I still struggled with body image, which is a plague of huge proportion for American women.  At my thinnest, when I hardly ate, I was a size 6, at over 5′8″ tall.  I was very thin, but still had a butt.  I finally realized, along the way, that I was supposed to.

Women are women and look like women because we are curvy in really fun and enticing places.  We have all sorts of delightful slopes and peaks that are really fun to explore, be it with finger tips, tongues, or paint brushes on a canvas.  Despite the American obsession with anorexic, concentration camp looking preadolescent boy/girl appearance, I think a lot of men actually want women to look like women.   Here I have to salute mama over at mamaVISION for the work that she does exposing the crime that is the modeling industry, and its effect on young women.  It is a disease.

Women in their natural state come in all shapes and sizes, some naturally very thin, and some stocky, bulky, and curvy–and everything in between.  Isn’t that, for you connoisseurs of women out there, what makes it so exciting?  That no two women are the same?  That there is so much variety in beauty?  Women are the symbol of immortal beauty, and have been idolized and worshipped as such since the beginning of human conscious thought.

Every man, and woman for that matter who is attracted to women has distinct tastes for what turns them on and excites them, and that is based on many different things.  It is time for women to be themselves, and embrace who they are, and what their DNA has made them to be.  We can care for ourselves, and keep ourselves healthy and attractive, but it is time to put away the scalpels, the unhealthy diets, and the tears that come with self-hatred.  After all, there is nothing more sexy than a confident, sexual woman, and that over-rides a few extra pounds, a few wrinkles, or a few stretch marks.  The secret to being alluring, is in feeling alluring.  And I can tell you that from experience.

  Pictures of statues reprinted with permission from Soma Luna