Between 1985 and 1989, I dated a man named Paul. I was in my late thirties at the time, and Paul was eleven years younger than I was. Without planning it, I was a “Cougar” before anyone really knew what the term meant. It happened by accident, and as I look back, was the best time, from a sexual stand point, of my life.
Paul and I were very different people. I owned a real estate agency at the time, owned my own house, and drove a sports car. Paul worked for his dad in the family owned jewelry store, he lived at home, and drove a seven year old Buick. Being a business woman, I was always dressed up, where he was a jeans and sweatshirt kind of guy. I like classical music, love stories, and golf. Paul was into hard rock, liked action films, and was a huge pro football fan. I am a small woman, and at that time, had shoulderd length auburn hair, 36D breasts, and a little bit of baby fat. I was soft and curvy, and very submissive. Paul stood just under six feet tall. Had an athletic body with a tan, and his hair was almost down to his shoulders too. You couldn’t find two more different people. For some reason, I found him to be cute.
I lived a very quiet life. My nights at home were basically watching movies. On weekends, I enjoyed going to flea markets, or playing golf with friends. Paul was a bit wild, kind of an action junkie. He always wanted to do things that I found to be crazy, yet exciting at the same time. I remember that, at that time, I was constantly horny. I was dating a man who was eight years my senior, who I found very boring, both in bed, and out. Because I owned my own business, I was always on the go, and didn’t have time for a steady relationship. I was looking for a steady lover at the time however, and wasn’t having any luck. That’s when, by chance, I met him.
I had been in his dad’s store before, and he and I had chatted. He was always a bit flirtatious with me, and being an older woman, I found it flattering. Our conversations were always of a business nature. One day I came in to pick up a bracelet that I had repaired, we chatted for a bit, and then he asked me out on a date. I politely declined, stating that I was too busy, but in reality, it was the age difference.
A part of me wanted to go out with him. I spent a week trying to justify it but that age difference always loomed in the back ground. Finally, after about ten days, I decided to give it a try. I needed more jewelry repaired, so I went back to the store. Paul waited on me, and was very polite. We chatted for fifteen minutes or so when I noticed that he didn’t ask me out again. I found that very attractive. I never liked pushy men who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
As I was ready to leave, I decided to take the initiative.
“So, do you still want to take me out?”
“Sure,” he replied, with a stunned look on his face, “My treat.”
“No, no, we’ll go Dutch.” I said.
I asked him to call me on the following Saturday night, which was a few days away. During that time, I had very mixed feeling about it still. I was tired of my boring, lonely life. I was ready for some excitement in my life, and figured that a younger man could provide that. In no way was I planning it to be a sexual thing, that hadn’t crossed my mind. I just wanted some fun.
On date night, Paul arrived ten minutes early, which impressed me. I didn’t even invite him in, I asked him to wait on the porch, and told him that I’d just be a minute. When I came out, he said that I could drive if I wanted too. I had a 1985 Mazda RX7, and I think he was impressed by it. I agreed, I started the car, opened the sun roof, and off we went.
We had decided to go to a beach front restaurant that I liked. It was a good thirty minute drive, just enough time for us to chat on the way. I really don’t remember what we talked about, except that he was impressed that I was a woman who drove a car with a standard shift. It was a hot night in June 1985, so how I dressed was important. I wanted classy, yet comfortable. I certainly wasn’t going to dress in a provocative manor, though a little cleavage is always acceptable.
I noticed two things about him that I found appealing. The first was, at a time when a man wearing an earing was acceptable, he didn’t. He also wasn’t wearing cologne or after shave of any type, which I really liked. I don’t want a man who smells like a woman. He appeared to be a bit shy, even a bit nervous. When I mentioned it to him, he told me that his father told him the I was a bit out of his league, too sophisticated for him. His father was wrong.
Though I was brought up in an affluent family, and dressed that way, there was always a tigress trying to get out. I had spent most of my adult life with boring, wealthy older men who didn’t like fun. They were all about image, and in some cases, I was their trophy girlfriend. Now I had this younger guy, who was far from wealthy. He was wild, fun, and honest. He wasn’t afraid of a woman with class
Where the restaurant is there used to be an amusement park. At this time it had just recently closed, and most of the rides were gone. There was still the old carousel, boardwalk arcades, and a miniature golf course. Knowing that I play, he suggested mini golf. I kicked his ass, but he didn’t seem to mind. After that, we went for ride on carousel, and hit boardwalk shops. He bought me cotton candy and flowers.
At eleven o’clock, everything closed, so we decided to drive home. Again, we talked on way back. I remember thinking about how much fun I had. When we finally arrived at my house, I invited him in. I asked him if he wanted anything, and he said a cup of coffee, so I made some. I asked him to wait while I changed my clothes. I put on my pajama bottoms and an old shirt. I remember him stating that I looked tired, and he’d leave if I wanted him too. I told him that I would be up for a while, and he could stay if he wanted.
I abhor bad language in conversation, or when it’s used gratuitively in movies. I think it’s used way to much now, and I have now idea why. I also believe that there are certain times, like writing here, or in sexual situations, when that kind of language is fine. In this forum, because we’re all adults, I will use that language.
In all of my life to that point, I rarely fucked on the first date. I was brought up that women shouldn’t do that. The times that I had, were when I was in college, and were basically one night stands. I was never a prude when it came to sex, but did have certain beliefs. I had also been dating the same man for close to five years. A man that, though I liked, I found to be boring. Now I have this wild, long haired twenty five year old young man drinking coffee in my kitchen. I found him attractive, and was very aroused. After a while, he saw that it was getting late and stated that we was going to go home, and thanked me for a wonderful evening. As I walked him to the door I gave him a big kiss.
“You’re welcome to stay awhile.” I said to him.
“Okay.” he replied.
I think he knew why I had asked because of the look on his face. We kissed again, and then I grabbed his hand and led him upstairs to my bedroom. When we got up there, we kissed again, and both ended on the bed. After a few moments of making out, I asked Paul to get undressed. I got naked as well, he was lying on his back as I climbed up and proceeded to give him a very wet and passionate blow job. As soon as he got hard, which didn’t take long, I straddled his legs. I reached down, grabbed his cock, which was quite large, by the way, and put it in me.
He looked up at me with his big brown eyes, watching my tits bounce up and down as I rode him. I know that he wasn’t expecting sex, and honestly, neither was I. The spontaneity of it was exciting. I put my hand on his chest and began to quickly grind on his cock. He reached up and squeezed both of my tits. My brass bed squeaked beneath us. I rode him for at least five minutes.
Suddenly, he sat up and grabbed my waist. He gently pushed me on to my back, with my head facing the bottom of the bed. I gently gasped as he grabbed his cock and put it in me. There’s a big difference between making love, and fucking. I enjoyed hard, deep sex, but not rough sex. I didn’t like to be slapped, even on my ass, or my hair pulled. After years of boring love making, Paul was about to give me a good, hard fuck, and I needed it.I spread my legs and raised them high. I looked down and watched his cock go in and out of my vagina as he began fucking me with long, deep thrusts.
“Fuck me,” I said, “Fuck me hard.”
He looked me right in the eyes and his thrusts got faster and deeper. The bed squeaked loudly as he pounded me. I thought that he was trying to drive me through the mattress. I hadn’t been fucked like this in a very long time. He got on his knees, and lifted my legs straight up, and closed them together. He put his hands on my thighs, pulled me toward him, and started literally banging the hell out of me. The sound of our skin slapping together was loud.
“My God.” I said, in a loud voice.
He fucked me like this for a few moments, then grabbed my waist, and flipped me on to my stomach. My house is in a cul-de-sac. It was a hot night, and I had my bedroom window open. I didn’t realize it until I looked up, and noticed it. I’m in a quiet neighborhood, and it was late. I had though of getting up and closing it, but in all honesty, I was really into the sex.
He lifted my hips, grabbed his cock, and shoved it into me. While on my hands and knees, he put both hands on my waist, and began to fuck the shit out of me. I was still facing the bottom of the bed, and I could feel it moving beneath me. My headboard was brass, and expensive. It was fastened to the bottom of the bed frame by bolts. Yet, the bed was moving so much, I could hear it hitting the wall. The sound of our bodies slapping together was loud. It certainly would have been heard by someone outside.
I was impressed my his stamina. My body tingled as his hard cock filled me with his rapid fire thrusts. He was showing me no mercy. As I said earlier, I abhor bad language unless the situation calls for it. Paul hadn’t really said much during this time, neither had I. That was about to change.
“Fuck me Paul,” I said “Fuck me hard.”
“Move that ass.” he commanded.”Fuck it baby.” he said.
I obeyed his command, and began moving my body. He put his hands on my shoulder blades, and lifted my body slightly. As he did, he picked up the pace. I had a mirror on my dresser on the other side of the bedroom, far enough away to see my bed. I turned my head right, and looked into the mirror. I could see his cock going in and out of me, my breasts moving back and forth, in unison with our skin slapping together. I noticed that the bed sheets were off of the top of the bed, I could see the bare mattress.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
“You like to fuck, don’t you whore.”
“Yes,” I replied,in a submissive voice “Fuck me.”
He reached around and grabbed my tits. He pulled my body straight up, with my back against his chest. I could feel his warm breath on my neck. He began giving me fast, upward thrusts for what seemed like an eternity. I can remember that, at that moment, I felt so slutty, yet so satisfied. I had been looking for a lover, and as he was fucking my brains out, I was hoping that he was it. Then I said something that I had never said before, and never thought I would say.
“Give it to me, please,” I said. “Give me that cock.”
He pushed my upper body back on the bed, still having no mercy on me. I was being completely dominated by this young man. I felt the blood rush to my head.I was acting like, and being treated like, a slut. I noticed that I was sweating. I was thirty six years old, and getting the best fuck I ever had by a guy eleven years younger than me. I was hooked, I wanted him. I felt young and invigorated. I hadn’t had a real orgasm in years., but was about too. Paul grabbed a hunk of my auburn hair, which was wet. He used it as like a lever to move my upper body. I had never liked my hair pulled, but was enjoying this fuck so much, I didn’t care.
“Oh God, Paul, you’re going to make me cum!” I exclaimed
“Cum baby,” he said, “Cum for me.”
He hammered away at me for a good four or five minutes. It was hard, dirty, and noisy.
“I’m cumming.” I said loudly.
He let go of my hair, and grabbed my hips. He was like the energizer bunny. He fucked away at me like that for about three minutes. I heard him begin to breath heavy, and start grunting.
“Laura, baby, I’m going to cum,” He said.
“Cum inside me,” I squealed.
Just as I said that, I felt my vagina fill up. I wasn’t on birth control, and would never, ever ask a man to cum inside of me. It was too late, I felt his cock shoot loads of his cum deep inside of me, one powerful squirt after another. I looked in the mirror, and noticed that my ass was still moving. I watched as his hard cock emptied it’s contents into my vagina. He collapsed on top of me, he was soaked, and his cum dripped out of me.
We cuddled for a bit. Then I realized that it was late. The thought of asking him to spend the night crossed my mind, but being the first date, I chose not too. He took a shower, and dressed. Wearing just my bathrobe, I escorted him to the front door, He gave me a passionate kiss.
“May I see you again, Laura,” he asked.
“God yes,” I replied. “Please call me.”
I watched him drive away, took a shower, and went to bed. I slept like a baby, and for the first time in years, woke up truly happy. I had wanted a lover, I got a young stud. It was the beginning of four years of the most fun time of my life. I was a cougar, before anyone, including me, knew what it was. More to come, I promise.