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.” Read more…
She stood over me silently for several minutes. Nothing is more terrifying than her silence. I knelt obediently, eyes downcast, unable to resist stealing glances at her through my peripheral vision. She is soooo beautiful. Standing tautly erect, her magnificent legs and tits, her regal air, drew every ounce of my energy toward her with irresistible magnetism. Her face, cast in fury, was so gorgeous I felt like my heart might explode from the sight. 
