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Cougar Express

A New Year's Eve dream come true...

The young man wanted his dick sucked. He needed a blow job. By her. He'd always had. He'd been waiting for a very long time. She knew, so she decided that she'd start with that.

Over the years, she'd thought, he'd probably jerked off a hundred times to that vision of her mouth on him. Running his fingers through her long, brown hair as her lips wrapped around his cock. Warm. Wet. Wonderful. For her, it was flattering. For him, an uncontrollable urge and necessity.

When she talked, he listened. Intently. Always had. Always did. He made a habit of watching her lips move when she spoke. They mesmerized him. Soft. Savory. Sexy. She'd caught him staring more than once. They were his weakness.

Knowing their effect on him, she occasionally fed that weakness by wetting her lips between sentences or during breaks in the conversation. She'd slowly drag her tongue across their fullness, leaving a moistened sheen behind. The result was immediate, and he'd excuse himself to the little boy's room. But now, he was all man.

Teasing him had its effect on her too. The image of him blindly stroking his hard, virgin cock to the thoughts of her mouth and body had frequently chased her too, to the privacy of a room. She'd reappear, always later than him, satiated but still trembling, with the hopes that he'd suspected what she'd done. But tonight was unexpected. He'd be surprised. Chances are probable that he'd also be nervous. Very. However, she'd ensure he'd not have any time to be.

As she prepared her body, from the soft soles and small toes of her delicate feet, to the shaved smoothness of her lean calves and imagination-leading thighs, to the shapely curve of her well-formed hips, to the flatness of her belly and the rounded bounce of her large breasts, all on that same body that her son's friends like him had lusted for since their puberty struck, she decided to leave only a strip of soft fur between her legs. She was a woman. Not that there was any doubt. He had none, but after tonight, he never could. Plus, she looked forward to pressing his nose into her soft curls when he tasted her for the first time. She'd hold him there while he took in the complex aroma of her maturity.

With her body now pampered to succulence and scented with floral seduction, she stood nude in front of her closet, deciding on black or red. She wanted him hard, and he'd need her fast, so the only red should be his sole fetished-focus. She'd address her lips last. As she applied the rest of her makeup, she imagined how she'd begin the night.

After she’d arrive, she'd drop to her knees, with mysterious, smoky eyes looking up as she'd use her tongue to guide him to her glistening lips. His knees would almost buckle from her tongue's texture and moist heat. She'd tease him, flicking and licking, then kissing his cock, taking her time while bringing his wet dream fantasy to life. She had to touch herself, and then taste. Her body tingled with anticipation.

Once it stood erect from his body, she'd ensure that he observed the transfer of her lipstick. She'd smear it like icing on a cake. She'd press her pouty lips against his shaft, traveling up and down its taut length, before taking him in her warm mouth. His moan would please her, more than he could've ever known.

She’d feel her dripping wetness, which would puddle on the floor beneath her. Droplets would also chase along her inner thighs, only to be trapped by the top band of her stockings. This night, there was no need for modesty. There was no need for restraint. And there was no need for panties.

She’d take him deep. She’d make him tremble. She’d make him shake. And she’d make him cum, taking the multiple ropes of his thick seed in the back her throat. She’d then coat her lips, watching his eyes grow wide before she'd swallow. Every. Last. Drop.

His cock would remain hard. It was young and had no choice. Her aching cunt made certain of that too. She'd mount him, and ride him until he came again. He'd then take her upstairs and fuck her on his parent's bed, staining the white linens while each of her multiple orgasms caused her to scream his and the Lord's name in vain. Precisely. Just as they'd both always wanted.

She had now arrived. The Christmas lights were on. His parents were gone. He was alone. Just as she'd known. Just as she'd planned.

It was cold, so her long overcoat covered his surprise. Soon, she thought, she'd be unwrapped and ready to perform. To make their long-awaited dreams come true.

He answered the door clothed as most college boys would, with faded jeans and a white t-shirt. But tonight, he also wore stun, surprise, and disbelief. She placed her hand on his pounding chest, saved herself from the cold, and then dropped her coat.

She gave him time to scan her presence, the lace bra, the garter belt, the sheer black stockings, and her spikey heels. As his eyes slowly took the guided return trip up, he noticed her manicured perfection, and then, his ultimate sundae cherry, her lips. His mouth watered. He then swallowed.

"Hello Phillip," she said in a gravelly, nightclub voice.

With his stare affixed as expected, she opened her mouth and watched his eyes follow her tongue as it slowly moistened her red lips.

"Happy New Year," her smoky eyes smiled as she reached for his pants. His best friend's mom then dropped to her knees and opened her present. She knew that she had the rest of the night to show him how much of a woman she'd always been. However, she first had to marvel at how much of a man he had become.

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