Mature cougar gets fucked

Old Young lonely hearts, yearning to burst. Once bitten, twice shy. But oh, this mature cougar bites with such authority. The youthful cub presses towards her, a prime example of human nature’s common impulsiveness. Woe be to him if he does not heed the siren song of her call.

Pulled away from his youthful bravado and into her world, the young buck follows her lead, bobbing as the apple of her eye. In the end, he will be the apple of her hunger, falling from a branch laden with regrets. But that will suffice until later. For now, the harvest beckons.

Grasping his youthful form, she pulls him near, her mature curves like gravity and him her willing sundial. She kisses him deep, a taste of her authority and his naivety. The cub mewls like a babe, but oh, she weans him well. Her tongue lulls into his mouth, a serpentine promise of lust to come.

His hands touch her body, unsure, inexperienced. A child stumbling through a china shop. He will learn soon enough how things are broken. She guides his touch, an old hand on a young knee. Gently, she instructs. Oh, you will learn my dear, I can teach you. With that promise, the first button falls in surrender.

She pushes him back onto the bed, a predator sizing up her prey. Clothing is shed as she licks her lips. The pout of youth Comparative to the sated rest of the cougar’s body. Nickname now, what once was name. She mounts him, riding the high of her desire. Her mature breasts hang low, but her libido rises fast. Up and down she goes, a glistening horse in pursuit of her cock.

Looking up at his face, she revels in the innocent curve of his neck. He is a meal, and she will consume him. Licks of her tongue trace his collarbone, pushing him to limits unknown. “Good boy,” she whispers, stroking his ego as much as his hair. She pulls him in, a puppet on her mature lips.

Lower that head goes, her prize clamped between bared teeth. A toy of his sex, a wonder of her world. Down his throat she rides, pushing his neck to its limits. The buckling of his voice, the gagging of youth vs. experience She relishes in the feeling, a narcissist of pleasure. In and out, she bobs in his lap.

He tries to back away, pulled in and out of senses. A fly to her cup of sugar, so sweet and unknowing. But she is a jealous spider, unwilling to relinquish her catch. Deeper she goes, his hilts choked by her need. She bounces, his tears lost in the bobbing.

She beckons him, yet another puzzle he was never meant to solve. She begs on his knees, but thankfully this puzzle is so much fun.

“Why don’t you taste me?” His youthful need, a crackling call for ascend. “Fuck me then. Lay me down, put yourself in my house. I want it. Your stick, always so hard and ready, like the dickens to find a home.”

Grinding against his knee, the siren tongue of a cougar, slick with her own making. Not for a second does her mind slip from its purpose. Bowl over, the buckling of a new sex. He is ready to shoot, though mother knows not quite where.

The young and the old, throat full of hunger. Her words, medicine to his wanton ear. Nudged towards her center, she parts the seas. “This is a bargain, a favor done. Come follow, your need non-ended, a duty best begun.”

And he kneels in prayer, young hips between mature thighs. He half believing, never quite knowing. Her breath hooks, his tongue wags, and damndest if he strips peace from raging.

“Lick me, yes so deep. Good boy. Bury that young face. Your tongue, my symphony. My clit, your chord. Come mad with us both.”

He tries with all his might, but there was never enough. Her groans, his guile. Her want, his skill. She rocks into his face, a sloven beast in pursuit.

“Come, put that thing in. Take me, treat me. Leave your mark, me so untamed. You’re not my master, but I’ll let you lay this claim.”

Tender, cold, her need consumes. A tomb of lust, forever his only lesson. He slides inside, a young man’s struggle. Deep her lust begs, forever she asks more. His hands shake, hers clench tight. She needs his rhythmic pace, his penis her gyroscope.

She rocks, moaning, an ocean hurricaned by her lucked pleasure. Her hands open, clench and retreat, a symphony played on his penis. His rhythm bates, her pleasure pants. The dance begins again.

She moans, her need redoubled. He staggers, his near ending. Her mature body, a prison redoubled, her lust forever his one prisoner. His youth, a lesson to repeatedly break, her world forever the class that gives it out. He rocks, her prison shakes. All will be taught, no lesson ever lost.

She rocks, she begs, her need forever regained. His youth, a puzzle to break open, his quest forever regained. Her mature flesh, a song to repeatedly abandon, her need forever regained. He bucks, she bucks, all their lessons resolved in a single scream of pleasure.

“Fill me,” she begs, her body his temple of need. “I crave you, I need you. Leave your mark, your burden to bear. Let worship at its altar be my privilege and curse.”

She rocks, he bucks, forever the lesson taught and endured. And she collapses, spent, forever the weary student ready for another class. His youth, her fate, forever entwined in the dance of lust and lust’s aftermath.