Cougar in the Hunt Ebook Preview

Mr. Man’s hand continued to explore my bare skin under my shirt and stroke the hair. My desire and pulse increased in

affair, cougar, 21, transition, reflection, regret, denial, infatuation, conquest, lust
As the desert sky turn the room dark, he stared down at me, silently…

intensity with each stroke of his hand. As our bodies moved closer together, his unusual anatomy was more revealing. His chest, though tiny for a grown man, was rock solid especially at the shoulders. I could feel and see how his shoulders developed out of proportion with the rest of his body. His shoulders felt hard and solid like an avid bodybuilder but in a small package. This was intriguing and my mind wandered as I thought about how he spend a lifetime pulling himself up using his upper body; He had done this several times during our visit and I also observed this the night we met when he pulled himself up from the couch. Initially, when as head rested on his chest I noticed this anomaly which inspired me to work my way over his entire chest with my hand….. affair, cougar, confusion, temptation, lust, attraction

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Cougar in the Hunt, Part 8

Cougar in the Hunt Part 8: Here’s To You Mrs. Robinson

Continuation of Cougar in the Hunt Part 7: Sun to Moon #cougar #Mrs.Robinson #lust #infatuation #21 #menopause #singlewomanover40

The decision to invite Mr. Man to my house to see the Graduate with me, a film made decades before the “cougar” euphemism, was an affectionate way of warning him about sexual involvement with an older woman. My intentions and his responses to this activity were nothing like I expected. The process of sharing this entertainment media revealed many things about the person Mr. Man is and the circumstances of his childhood. It became crystal clear as we watched “the Graduate” that they way he grew up was nothing like my childhood. He was not able to relate personally to the LA upper class suburban lifestyle parodied and made surreal in this film where as it had always been relatable to my paradigm. In the midst of these differences being revealed, I observed how quick and unafraid he was to ask questions and seek explanations for societal norms before his birth or outside the experiences of his short life. This humility inspired an increasing respect for him and admiration for his courage. He was revealing his tremendous potential which complicated my clean, detached, and objective approach to this pending affair.

#photocollage #cougar #Mrs,Robinson #lust #menopauseandsexulaity #21
The intense fantasy of his disfigured anatomy was impossible to escape in the dark of the desert night…#Mrs.Robinson #photocollage #cougar #lust #sex #affair #attraction #infatuation #fantasy

His willingness to learn and not appear more experienced than his age was a pleasant surprise.  As I layed in the presence of such humility and courage, I didn’t mind stopping to explain words and concepts and give mini and micro-sociological history lessons. The significant women’s history lesson, pertinent to the film, was describing the sad position women lived by when the Graduate was produced and released. He gave me a puzzled look when I explained the phenomena; I was born into, known as the Mrs. Degree where women went to college to find husbands, not to earn degrees. My father worked hard at ensuring that my sister’s and I earned a college education. Our father constantly lectured us to avoid marrying too young and to first earn a college degree, procure our own income and security before seeking marriage. I realized, as we watched the pathetic unhappy Mrs. Robinson, how much this movie was a composite of all my father’s efforts that I was also exposed to frequently growing up, in my formative years, and into my young adulthood. Since Mr. Man was so so open to learning things outside of his reality, I made sure that he caught all the subtle nuances of the film not just the fictitious Mrs. Robinson’s character being representative of women going to college to find a husband, but also being forced to get married due to unplanned pregnancy. All events to follow this afternoon and evening, a tiny grain of sand in time, we shared would implode in a literary irony that even my long life was not prepared to endure.

Growing up watching The Graduate in multiple sittings, the main character was relatable to how I grew up and I had always taken this for granted. Mr. Man had a hard time understanding the suburban upper class post college homecoming. I had learned that Mr. Man had grown up under different circumstances with a single mother and upon his mother’s remarriage became a Marine brat. He told me in one of our earlier text conversations that his father died when he was very young, so he never knew him and his mother remained single until she married a Marine when he was 13, which is how he ended up in this area. I found out within the first 10 minutes of

#cougar #mrsrobinson #vixen #sex #lust #21
The touch of his fully developed hand seemed to compensate for the deformed one

meeting him that he had no further scholastic intentions and had made up his mind to seek a working class blue-collar high paying industrial type profession. Everyone I had ever known who chose this path spent the fair level of income on cheap bulk liquor, cigarettes and drugs. This will likely be his fate, but since he is only 21 the impact has not spoiled him yet.

As the movie played, and the plot progressed, I continued to explain the class and generations of the characters as they had been explained to me watching the graduate with family from the time I was a little girl to the formative years and into adulthood. At one point, I was worried that he might be bored, so I checked with him and his response surprised me. He actually said “I am really into this movie” In that moment I was impressed and felt warm towards him, but I had no idea that the source of his peaked interest in this film would end up leaving me the blinded fool, left out in the biting cold without a parka.

Mrs. Robinson, Cougar, sex, full-moon
His fingers slipped under my shirt and traveled across my waist.

I was baffled as I had half expected our interaction to be awkward and that like Mrs. Robinson and Benjamin Braddock, we would end up having nothing to talk about or say to each other. I could not believe that I was relating to him far beyond my expectations and this only increased my desire and anticipation. We remained side by side, watching the movie, as he continued to keep his hands to himself. There were no subtle manipulative schemes to get closer to me physically. Mr. Man stay, the same guy with bold words of lustful desire for me, stayed put.

Out of the corner of my eye I looked at the side of his body angled away from me from the head down. On the bean bag chair the two of us made a triangle with our heads and the tip. When I blinked, my body felt the full sensation of his near presence, I could smell him, I was hearing and breath that touched my skin while circling through my body with every shift of his body or subtle movement.

His whole hand was on the same side, I was, as it happened, and I found myself reaching over and placing each finger in between each of his and as we moved our palms together, I rested my forearm on his and my elbow rested inside the bend of his arm. He shifted slightly and everything fit into place like a puzzle. Periodically, he stroked my hand, back and forth with his thumb.

#photocollage #diva #Mrs.Robinson #cougar #image #fantasy
He dived in as if were a desert oasis, yet also as if he was afraid he would drown or not find his way out…

My weak, injured hand was wrapped in his that was not deformed, yet I was not hurt by his grip as so often a man’s hand grip would unintentionally hurt me. With one eye I continued to watch the film and with the other I stared at his bronze skin either from the sun or a small percentage of a culture with a darker brown skin or both. He did not reek of nicotine as I had expected and his sweat was intoxicating to breathe.
Mr. Man had not recognized the very young Dustin Hoffman in his first movie. It was the Dustin Hoffman before I was born, so for him the gap in years was wide. There was a commentary after the movie ended where Dustin Hoffman with longer hair and a few grey hairs speaking at which point Mr. Man did recognize him

I turned the TV off with my toes and naturally found myself placing my head on his chest and nestling myself into his willing arms. His heartbeat pulsated through my right temple so strong that I it reverberated through my head and ears while also feeling his hand stroking my hair and neck. I thought about how his “normal” hand, the one not deformed by birth defect, must have the power of two hands from a lifetime of compensation. Several times I reached over to touch and stroke his deformed hand, working my fingers through every crevice, each finger not fully developed, the small birth defected palm with the sprout like fingers frozen in his time of early childhood jutting out the end of his half palm. His tiny fingers subtly grasp my fingers as they moved about exploring the entire oddity of this hand, not like any other hand on any other person, a beautiful shaped in all its deformity. I could even feel the lines on his palm, not fully developed, cut short by finger sprouts nearly as thick as the fingers of a grown man, but soft, short, and delicate like a toddler. With every movement of my fingers grazing his tiny fingers, my heart became warmer, as his heart pounded into my right temple faster and harder, while his other full hand crept down from my neck into my back and waist.
His fingers slipped under my shirt and traveled across my waist. I became aware of the firm, elastic of my leggings wrapped around my waist, as his fingers butted against the edge like a refuge fighting the border, desperate to navigate a way past the barred entry and enter.  It reminded me of all the times in my high school years when boys, full of determination, would run their hand across the elastic of my bra trying to find the hook, which was always up front in my control.  I am sure he knew how to get past the waistband; perhaps he wanted to sneak his hand in without being obvious.
The sun was setting in the outside world, bringing back the luminous quality of our respective physical features. If Mr. Man had not been there with my head on his chest and his fingers stroking the skin under my shirt, I may have been outside gazing at the moon and the wonder of the desert’s endless night sky.

The power of the night sky could be felt from inside and the luminous quality the moon coated the darkness illuminating the two of us in an intense embrace of pre-coital anticipation.

LELO

“This is nice…” He said with a tone that was relaxed, but also eager, as I continued to stroke his chest with one hand and unbutton my shirt with the other.

Cougar in the Hunt Part 9 and 10, too hot for a public blog, will be part of my Wisdom From the Galaxy Ebook! Submit a comment and your email for a discount! One random subscriber will receive Ebook FREE. Ebook will be available November 15th! Sneak Preview!

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As a woman over 40, pushing 50, I have created this blog for the purposed of using my writing skills to create something
especially meaningful to women. The best show of appreciation, since this blog is brand new, is feedback, sharing my site with others, and a donation of any amount in that order. Even a small donation, will go a long way to support my gourmet coffee habit!
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cougar, Mrs. Robinson, sex, lust

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Cougar In The Hunt: Moments

He said to me “…Immaturity is a burden,” and that he was….

In just a MOMENT

cougar, sex, dating, romantic encounter, attraction, lust, infatuation, leg, Mrs. Robinson, photo collage
Not even the crowd, all around me, distilled his penetrating gaze. “
a young person, unexpectedly crashed into my world,
for a moment
In  just a moment, a young person was under a spell I never cast
In just a moment a young person was hypnotized lost in the moment, with me
In a moment he fell down to my feet,
For a Moment, a young person ignited an impulsive fire and impetuous spirit in me….
For a moment, a young person promised me
the moon and the stars,
his everlasting devotion,
to serenade me in the dark of night,
I did not believe it for a moment,..but for a moment I believed that he believed…..
For a moment, I believed in this young person
For a moment, I believed that for at least a moment, I could
Believe
For a moment a young person helped me to live in the moment,
sharing fleeting moments with me.
For a moment, this young person showed me a kind of courage rarely seen in young people.
For a moment, I forgot what is wrong and remembered everything that is right
for a moment
For a moment I let a young person near
and in a single moment I wished I hadn’t
In a moment he said that ‘immaturity is a burden’
and in just a moment a burden he became
For a moment, this young person forced a painful reminder of how confusing, turbulent, unstable, and traumatic my 20s were
how betrayed I felt, so often, as a developing woman, so much of the time…
For a moment, my very life was suddenly forced into a time machine, that hijacked my soul back to that tough stage of compulsive drama and heartache,
revolving mistakes I could never comprehend,
mistakes repeating, repeating, repeating,
constantly spinning through my head and my heart,
through a vast time and space…never knowing my place.
cougar, lust, encounter, attraction, infatuation, admiration, menopause, aging women and sexuality
“…..he said immaturity is a burden, and a burden he was…”
For a moment I was lost to everything I have struggled to be and became everything I am and stand for.as a woman.
For a moment, I cried for the naive, unsure, and vulnerable young woman I once was,
the scarred girl wearing her trauma,

like a brooch piercing her heart.

a lifetime ago….
moments.
#Mrs.Robinson #cougar #cub #lust
Now
In THIS moment, here and now, I am more happy than I ever thought, to have left so many painful moments, my 20s, behind forever-ago.
In THIS moment, I am wise, enlightened, and fully aware that my 20s are not only past, but that I will never have to pass that way again.
In this moment, I will look to myself and how glad I am for me and will look to all future moments when I will grow older and better
till I meet my next life.
And….at this moment, I will be grateful for what this young person revealed to me,
in a just a moment,#cougar #Mrs.Robinson #lust #infatuation #21 #menopause #singlewomanover40

The Desert Diva

The “In Just a Moment” Story: Cougar In The Hunt 

As a woman over 40, pushing 50, have created this blog for the purposed of using my writing skills to create something Shop For Jewelry, Clothing And More To Help Rescue Animals!especially meaningful to women. The best show of appreciation, since this blog is brand new, is feedback, sharing my site with others, and a donation of any amount in that order. Even a small donation, will go a long way to support my gourmet coffee habit.

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Cougar in The Hunt Part 1

Below is the story that inspired In Just A Moment:

In the blinding haze of the preceding story, I am less able to comprehend why so many mature women have taken part in the cougar mythology. After playing cougar, for five minutes, I can say I did not experience the wild adrenaline of a predator on the hunt or the euphoria of capturing prey. Instead, I felt like a wild cougar, preyed upon, in a canned hunt.
sepiaIt was after midnight and the band was midway through their final set. While celebrating love and life in all its purest forms, the night transformed into Valentine’s day. At this point I could not anticipate the drama was including me as a key player.

I am not sure when or how the saga began. What I can say, with factual conviction, is that I sat down on a bar bench next to a nondescript stranger, across from my friend Finesse, who was sitting next to her friend Tin-Man. Finesse’s friend, Tin-Man sat across from his friend who, at the hand of a bizarre fate, sat next to me. Finesse’s friend The Tin-Man said, “My buddy here needs a hug” With these words, I looked to the left at the figure seated beside me with scruffy golden brown hair and a blanket-like wool jacket. I wrapped an arm around it, to hug it, with little thought. When I let go, he turned toward me and in an instant a pair of green eyes, wide as canyons, were looking deep into mine. I could see a baby deer caught in headlights combined with the eye shift indicative of immediate attraction. That is how I met the young buck, Mr. Man and how I transformed into a veracious feline.

As I showed Mr. Man a video of my rabbit Galaxy, whatever had been wrong with him disappeared in the infinite desert night as he ventured into the land of me. Engaging him in conversation took little to no effort which was odd. His wide-eyed naiveté displayed great appreciation for my talents and accomplishments.

Throughout our initial encounter, Mr. Man was quick to fire blunt and uncensored expressions of attraction and desire for me that seared through my body too rapid for me to put up defences. The odd connection sparked something in me while at the same time my sense of better judgement kept me anchored though inside I was spinning. In the midst of this strange encounter, my hot flashes imploded. As the heat surged through my body and the sweet travel through my pores, I looked at his youthful face and I could not escape the our successive juxtaposed realities.

feature As I continue to grow older, the surrounding people seem to grow younger often limiting my compatible choices. Although cleaver in his own right, Mr. Man was way too inexperienced to set pretences. I had been his age, long ago, he had never been my age, not in this lifetime anyway. His courage and forthright manner prevented me from believing he was way to young. At the very least, these bold qualities left me open-minded to possibilities not yet explored

Mr. Man asked me to guess his age and without much thought, I looked into his face, trying not to lose myself in his eager green eyes, and replied, “32?” A baffled expression gave me a momentary warm sensation that I had guessed right as I had mentally adjusted my line of demarcation to accommodate this bizarre connection.
Mr. Man asked me to guess his age and without much thought, I looked into his face, trying not to lose myself in his eager green eyes, and replied, “32?” A baffled expression gave me a momentary warm sensation that I had guessed right as I had mentally adjusted my line of demarcation to accommodate this bizarre connection.
My instinct turned proved as he told me he is 21 which was less  than half my time on earth. This warm sensation turned to an ache in my head accentuating the lines in my face he was unable to see. My wrinkles creased tighter as it occurred to me that Mr. Man could be my son and his mother my same age or younger. A twisting sensation occurred in my stomach as I tried to tighten my grip on the ground beneath me. Clearly, I had reached the edge of the cliff with the earthen soil eroding under the weight of my stance. My only choices were to fight or give way to gravity, but someone would fall.
In the course of our conversations, I described to Mr. Man my quick insights into others, often within seconds of meeting them. In response, Mr. Man was quick to ask for specifics about him, his eyes widening in the hopes of capturing me. These same keen instincts told me he was eager to see inside me, far more than inviting me into his world. His navigation efforts played out through the night and into the following week

Cougar in the Hunt Part 2: Did You Really Say 21?

 

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