Cougar Hunting

A story in honor of Goddess Marquesa’s birthday on July 1

                “Look, mate! It’s the Blonde Bombshell! And tonight she’s alone,” Paul said, in what I had learned was a North London accent. He and I had met as freshman roommates at the University of West Florida. I was from the Midwest, he was from the UK, but we hit it off right away. We had a lot in common. Both of us had good looks and a way with the ladies. Both of us had an aversion to studying and a love for the party-hard lifestyle of our much richer classmates.

Our careers as undergraduates didn’t last, but our friendship did. After washing out of college we both stayed in Florida. It had good weather and was full of lonely, wealthy retirees. Paul and I drifted naturally into careers as local gigolos. We would frequently run across each other in the swankier beach side hotels, which were the best venues for “Cougar Hunting.”

“Holy smoke, you’re right!” I exclaimed. The Blonde Bombshell. Paul and I had seen her at several of the local bars and hotels. She is the kind of woman who draws your focus right away. Drop-dead gorgeous, always dressed stylishly, interacting with everyone around her as if she owned the town.

She had become a figure of myth for Paul and me, the “one we would love to land.” But she was generally unapproachable. She rarely appeared except in a large group of similarly well-dressed women, occasionally in the company of some man. Rarely the same man twice in a row.. There seemed to be local men who were her frequent companions, but they were a large group and difficult to track.

Now there she was, sitting alone on the terrace of the Fenway Hotel, at a table for two just by the railing, with a perfect view of the sunset, sipping a cocktail. She was stunning as always. Lush blond hair mussed immaculately. A stylish green dress that accentuated the fullness of her breasts, displayed her magnificent legs, and complemented the emerald sparkle of her witchy green eyes. She was gazing at the reddening horizon, lost in her own thoughts.

“Let’s see who gets to bag her,” Paul said.

I held up my hand, and we played the usual game of rock-papers-scissors that always decided such questions. I won. “Lucky bastard!” Paul griped.

“That sunset is almost as beautiful as You,” I said as I approached her table, holding my own beer and a lemon-drop martini which the bartender, upon being tipped ten bucks, had helpfully informed me was the Blonde Bombshell’s drink.

She smiled. “I bet that line works on all the girls,” she replied. It was the first time I heard her speak, and it sent shivers down my spine. Like an expensive vintage, her voice had myriad notes and depths, my whole body seemed to hear her at once.

I laughed abashedly,  attempting to project disarming candor. “It will only rate high as a line if you let me take that seat,” I quipped.

She made an inviting gesture and I sat across from her, placing the beer in front of me and the martini in front of her.

“I’ve seen you and your friend around,” she observed. “You two cuties are quite the operators.”

“Oh, Paul and I know each other from college,” I replied dismissively. “We like to hang out, you know….”

She only smiled enigmatically in answer.

“How is it that a gorgeous creature like you is here alone?” I asked.

“That’s not what you want to ask Me,” she replied.

“It’ s not?” I asked, intrigued.

“No,” she affirmed. “I know I’m gorgeous. You know I know I’m gorgeous. This game is not going to work on Me. Deep down you know that, you didn’t really come here to run your usual plays on Me.”

I took a sip of my beer to cover my nervous disorientation. “I’m all ears,” I said coolly, flashing her my most charming smile. “Tell me why I came here, then.”

“All ears…I like that,” she mused. “Yes, it’s your ears particularly that I will use to give you what you want.”

“And wh-what’s that?” I stuttered, my façade beginning to show cracks.

“You want to be punished.” Her tone suggested that this should have been obvious.

I opened my mouth to register a protest, but at that moment a waiter appeared, holding a cupcake in which was placed one lit candle.

“The young man has been sitting her for five minutes exactly, Goddess Marquesa,” the waiter declared, in the tone of a subordinate who was following orders, “Here is the cupcake You requested.”

“Thank you, Enrique,” she said without taking her eyes off of me. As the waiter withdrew, she addressed me again. “You see it’s My birthday,” she explained.

“Happy Birthday,” I offered, my attempt to sound cheerful doing a poor job of hiding my growing discomfort. “I didn’t mean to intrude on…” I began, making as if to rise.

“Stay where you are. Look at the candle,” she commanded.

I obeyed spontaneously, compelled by the force of her voice.

Her finger began tracing a slow circle on her empty martini glass, creating a clear tone that set off a vibration deep in my chest. “You’re a smart boy, David,” she intoned, the rich mellifluousness of her voice caressing my ears. Before I could pause to wonder how she knew my name, she continued, “You knew I was not a pigeon like the other cougars you and Paul chase, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Goddess.” My own voice sounded far away.

“So why did you come over here?” she asked.

“I….I…I…” I repeated, searching for an answer.

“I’ll tell you why,” she soothed. “You love Me. You’ve been falling in love with Me since You first saw Me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” The answer surprised me as I said it. How did she know before I did?

“You and your friend Paul both noticed Me months ago. You must have a name for Me. Tell Me what it is.”

“The Blonde Bombshell.”

She laughed softly. “Mmmmm…the Blonde Bombshell. I like that. It’s very Me. And now I am going to ignite, and You are caught in the blast.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. The words came out slurred. I had become so relaxed, it was difficult to speak clearly.

“It’s My birthday, and I am making you Mine,” she explained.

“How are you doing that?” I wondered.

“I’m hypnotizing you, silly boy.”

“W-w-wait…” I began to protest.

“Sssssh…,” she soothed. “Look at the candle. Listen to My Voice….you can feel your eyelids getting heavy….so sleepy….so sleepy…..”

The next thing I can remember is being naked and on my knees. I was in the parlor of a tastefully decorated condo somewhere off the beach. She was standing in front of me, looking even more gorgeous than she had at the hotel. At the first sight of her my heart began pounding and my cock became a steel rod.

“Where am I? What happened?” I stammered.

“You are where I put you,” she explained. “In a trance, on the floor of my living room. Now open this for Me.” She was holding my phone in her right hand, and extended it so that the locked screen was right in front of my face. I couldn’t disobey her. Or perhaps I could have disobeyed her, if I didn’t want her so much. My hand reached up and entered my keycode on the screen.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked as she hunted through my “contacts” menu.

“Do you remember My friend Irene?” she asked.

“Irene?” I blurted.

“Classy lady. Very attractive. Took you on a cruise to Aruba,” she volunteered.

 Realization dawned on me. “Oh, y-y-yes…” I stuttered.

She cut me off. “You were a real shitheel to Irene. She lavished gifts on you. Treated you with respect. You used her, dumped her, and cut her off. She was devastated.”

“I’m sorry…” I whined.

She laughed, the music making my cock weep pre-cum. “You’re not sorry yet. You will be. I like to celebrate My birthday by giving gifts to My friends. This is My birthday gift to Irene.” As she spoke these words she tapped around the screen of my phone. A ring tone came from it. “Hello, Paul?” she spoke into the receiver. “Listen to My voice….you feel yourself getting so relaxed…..”

“Paul, look out!” I cried.

She covered the receiver with her exquisite hand and shot daggers at me with her piercing emerald eyes. “Go back to sleep, shitstain,” she commanded. My world went dark.

Her fingers snapping next to my ear brought me back to awareness. I was still naked, now on my hands and knees. A tall, muscular blond man was standing naked in front of me. The glassy look in his eyes told me that like me, he had been entranced. His enormous stiff cock was inches from my face.

“David, meet blondie,” she said. “On the count of three you will suck his cock.”

“Wha-?” I grunted. Before I could form a complete word, her count had begun.

“…two…three!”

I could not stop myself. I took blondie’s cock into my mouth greedily, sucking as if my life depended on it. As I slurped and guzzled, the Goddess looked over my shoulder.

“On the count of three you enter from behind, Paul,” she commanded.

“Yes, Goddess,” I heard Paul intone, his accent flattened by trance.

As Paul’s cock entered my ass I felt speared on both ends, like a pig staked over a campfire for roasting. Goddess Marquesa stayed in my line of vision, smiling down at me triumphantly. I had never seen anything so sexy in my life. I was hers completely, I would do anything she desired. Blondie’s cock tasted faintly of piss and Paul was tearing my ass with his fevered pumping, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was that I was making Goddess Marquesa happy.

The sweaty rocking and thrusting had gone on for fifteen minutes before she finally commanded, “Cum now, boys!” Cum jetted from my cock as jiz filled my throat and colon. My whole body seized with ecstasy. If my mouth had not been so full I would have howled blissfully.

As blondie and Paul withdrew, I collapsed to the floor, drooling cum from my mouth and leaking it from my anus. Curling up in a fetal position at Goddess Marquesa’s feet, I trembled in the afterglow of catharsis.

“G-G-Goddess, p-p-p-please…” I whimpered.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Please punish me again,” I groaned.

This elicited an exquisitely deep laugh from her. “That wasn’t punishment, fuckbrain,” she said.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, uncomprehending.

“Your punishment is that I won’t do that to you again.” Her laughter made my cock twice as hard as it had been before I came, even as my heart spasmed in pain.

Her punishment was not as harsh as I deserved. She lets me clean Her house and take care of Her cat, as long as I wear a French maid’s uniform while I work. Sometimes when she is using Her fucktoys I get the job of licking the cum out of the boys’ assholes or off of their faces. I wouldn’t dare complain. Being Goddess Marquesa’s shistain cumrag slut slave makes me one of the luckiest men alive. It may have been Goddess Marquesa’s birthday, and the gift may have been meant for Irene, but I was the one who received the present.

The End

                                 Happy Birthday to the Divine Goddess Marquesa!