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The Cougar and the Milf Pt. 01

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The Cougar and the Milf: Part 1

It was a random encounter on the street by the Perth Mint on an overcast spring day in 2007. I had the day off and decided to investigate the history of gold production in Western Australia, a commodity that economically transformed the ‘Cinderella Colony’ in the 1890s.

It was lunchtime that Friday, and as I negotiated my way through the crowds spilling onto the streets, out of a mass of bodies, she stumbled and almost fell to the ground. My reflexes enabled me to grab her arm in time to prevent her from planting her face into the pavement. Luckily, I was able to sit her down on a nearby bench.

“Thank you!” She breathed as the shock wore off.

“What happened?”

“It’s these shoes,” She answered, “They’re giving me hellish blisters.”

She removed one shoe and sure enough, the back of her heel was red raw and bleeding.

Amazed that a pair of shoes could inflict such damaged, I audibly let out a “Shit!”

She laughed and said that the latest fashion accessory had some disadvantages.

“Hang on,” I blurted out, remembering something of importance, “I’ve got a couple of band-aids in my bag.”

I had a deep cut in my finger, inflicted a couple of nights ago when, after consuming an obscene amount of beer, with some friends at a BBQ, decided to open a packet of cheese with a knife, rather than using scissors. The inevitable occurred and a sliced my finger. The fucker refused to stop bleeding and was plenty painful. When I finally patched up my wound, I found that bending the finger reopened the gash and bled furiously. Hence the need to carry a pack of band-aids.

While she bound up the heels of her feet, I took the opportunity to evaluate this older woman, through darkened sunglasses, of course. Her legs were very shapely and tanned with delicate toes at the end of the feet. She wore a black dress with a modest hem along each side complemented by a flowery-patterned top that was sculpted around a very generous chest. Her face was pleasing to look at with a pouty mouth, straight nose, and hazel eyes. The hair was naturally brown, punctuated with fading blonde streaks. In sum, she was a tidy package.

“Thank you so very much!” She beamed at me as the last band-aid was applied.

Her smile made my heart skip a beat. I decided to ask her name but was overcome by an awkward shyness that prevented the words from coming out. For her part, she seemed to be expecting the question, and this awkward silence ensued.

Then she got up and said that lunchtime was over, and it was time to return to the office. With another sweet smile and a thank you, this alluring woman melded back into the crowd from whence she had appeared. Hell, I blew my chance!

There was nothing for it but to visit the Mint. While the tour was informative and enjoyable, I could not take my mind off that women with a superb chest and blistered feet. I was single at the time and on the hunt for fresh meat, but my natural shyness was a liability for in the heat of the moment, I did not grab my opportunities.

After the tour, I contemplated what to do for the rest of the afternoon. Being a Friday, the pubs would be filling up with workers before too long, so securing a choice position would lead to some satisfying bird-watching opportunities if nothing else.

Outside the Mint, I struggled to free my tangled earphones when I heard a female voice yelling from across the road.

“Hey, hey!” I looked up and saw her waving at me and seeking a way to cross the road in between the traffic.

It was the woman with an impressive rack and the blistered heels. She was carrying a bunch of ring-binder files. What were the odds of two meetings in a single day?

“I can’t believe we’ve ran into each other again.” She puffed, drawing up to me.

“Meant to be,” I offered boldly, before adding, “How’re the blisters?”

“Much better thanks to you,” She beamed, “A good Samaritan when I needed one.”

“No worries, glad I could help.”

“What you up to?” She asked.

“Well, I just completed the Mint tour and was contemplating what to do for the rest of the day.”

She looked over my shoulder towards the impressive colonial building that houses the gold museum—the actual processing of gold was done at an alternative location close to the city’s international airport.

“How was it?” She asked, staring intensely into my eyes.

“I enjoyed it,” I answered, “Was thinking of investing in the stuff.”

“Oh, a man with prudence.”

I smiled, and this encouraged me to go through with my boast.

“What are you up to?” I asked, referencing the binders she was carrying.

“Just dropping these off to a law firm then I’m done for the day.”

It was approaching 3 pm.

“Fancy a drink after work?”

She did not reply instantly but took a second before flashing me her gorgeous smile before agreeing. Yes! I can conquer this debilitating shyness.

“Where?” She asked.

“How about The Grosvenor, canlı bahis down there?” I replied, pointing towards the end of the next city block.

“Perfect,” She beamed, “Let me get this job done, and I’ll see you there in about 15?”

“Sounds good.”

I was about to turn away when she offered me her name. Oreillan. I cannot believe that I had just asked this beauty for a drink and was about to leave without formal introductions.

Baby steps, Jason, baby steps.

Just before 3.15 pm, Oreillan arrived at the pub that was already humming from the lunchtime crowd. With a drink already in hand, I asked her what her tipple was.

Wine.

So off I trotted to get one for her.

“Glad that week’s over!” Oreillan sighed as she took a sip of cold chardonnay.

“Week from hell?”

“Yeah, it was full-on!”

We chatted, laughed, and drank for a couple of hours about each other’s lives. Oreillan was recently divorced but without children, and ten years older than me. After a traumatic divorce, an event I was to experience with another woman in the future, she was happy with her single status.

Oreillan was hot to trot though, and I knew I had this one in the bag. Over several hours, she visited the ladies’ toilet, and each time Oreillan returned, one of the buttons of her blouse was undone. At the point of leaving, a pronounced cleavage was on display. The other factor was her fingers intertwining with mine.

“You want to go?” She asked me with a determined look on her face.

“Sure.” Not knowing where the night would lead.

Unbeknownst to us, the weather had turned nasty, and the rain was falling with increasing urgency. Luckily, Oreillan drove to work that day, and so we had a short walk, undercover, to the car park.

When we closed the doors of her car, we embraced and kissed furiously. I kept my hands from her generous boobs for as long as I could, but when she grabbed my crotch, that was my green light to touch her. As soon as I began pawing at her meaty jugs, Oreillan’s moans of pleasure increased. It was clear that she considered her breasts as her best feature and that they were sensitive to the touch. I looked forward to the moment she freed them for me.

Alas, I was temporarily denied.

There was an unexpected knock at the window with some stranger telling us to “get a room” before laughing uproariously, getting in the car, and driving off. The sudden shock gave way to giggles of our own at being sprung.

“Where should we go?” Oreillan asked as she straightened up and rammed the key in the ignition.

I almost offered my place as a destination but felt that was too presumptuous on a first date. Oreillan felt the same, and so she drove us to a park that was equidistant from where the two of us lived.

The park, nestled on the north bank of the Swan River, was dark and deserted. With the rain driving hard now, no sane person would want to be out in such weather. As soon as Oreillan turned the engine off, we were on each other again with a furious passion.

Before long, my jeans were unzipped, and my cock was released. Oreillan worked my swollen pole while our mouths were firmly planted together. For my part, I pinched where I thought her nipples were, hidden beneath the blouse and bra.

Suddenly, Oreillan broke off, mounted the seat, leaned across the gear stick and sunk her lips around my cock. She certainly knew how to please man meat and bobbed up and down with practised skill.

The cramped space of the car did not allow much access to her parts, but I tried all the same. I easily unclasped the button on her black dress and undid the zipper, but I could pull it down. Then I tried to pull up the dress to get at her pussy, but that was a dead-end too.

I managed to pull the blouse out from the dress and undo the buttons working upwards while Oreillan worked her oral skills on my cock. With the blouse undone, I fumbled at the clasp of her bra before finally achieving success. Snaking a hand underneath, I managed to prize the bra away from Oreillan’s enormous puppies.

I never have, before or since come across a pair of tits so big and so firm. There was so little sponginess in my grip that my first thought was they’d been artificially enhanced. Oreillan’s nipples stood to attention in my fingers, like bullet heads. Playing with those lush puppies had an electrifying effect on Oreillan. The more I tugged, the louder she moaned, muffled by my meat deep down her throat.

Suddenly, she broke off, throating me, and her body shuddered for a few seconds. Like a sexual trooper, she continued pumping my saliva-coasted shaft with her hand.

“Did you just orgasm?” I asked incredulously.

Oreillan laughed playfully.

“These babies are super sensitive, and I can orgasm from them being played with.”

“Wow,” I responded, “What other tricks do you have?”

“You’ll have to discover those secrets yourself.” Oreillan giggled in response before focussing her oral attention on my cock.

How bahis siteleri I kept my composure under such ability amazes me to this day, but I honestly could have endured hours of Oreillan’s lips on my cock. During this onslaught, I managed to dislodge more of Oreillan’s skirt, allowing me access to her pussy and arsehole.

And fuck me was she wet!

And tasty.

Inserting fingers into her moist hole was so easy. Each time I did so, Oreillan’s well-constructed frame shivered in pleasure.

“You want to fuck?” I asked impatiently.

“I’m quite happy to keep doing this.”

A minute or two later, I asked again.

“Where?” She asked, releasing the head of my cock from her lips with a smack.

Good question! The back seat of her car was crammed with work files and random female flotsam. Even a male-inspired rearrangement would yield enough space for two grown people to fuck.

“What about there?” Suggested Oreillan pointing to the darkened toilet block in front of us, “I need to pee.”

Oh yes, this random meeting was heading the best direction yet. Would Oreillan let me watch her pee, would she let me put my hand in her stream? Was it too soon to even propose a subject as deviant as water sports? Again, treading carefully, I kept my mouth shut.

With the rain beating down hard, we needed to dash it. Oreillan discarded her bra, buttoned up her blouse and fixed up her skirt. Then she fumbled in the back for a pair of comfortable, non-fashionable shoes, while I placed my raging boner back in my pants. As soon as we were prepared, we exited the car and dashed across the lawn to the toilet block.

But it was locked up, tight—no chance of getting entry.

Shit!

So, we went back to the car, and we tried to make some space in the back seat to at least try and ratchet up the action. The best we achieved was for one of us at a time to lay down while the other performed foreplay. It meant that one of us had our arses hanging out of the car door in the rain. Luckily, the ambient temperature was not too bad, and with the rain slackening, neither of us got too wet.

I was lucky enough to eat Oreillan’s tasty pussy. She was super sensitive and very leaky, and when my tongue flickered across her arsehole, Oreillan jumped in surprise.

“We’re getting married?”

Laughter was exchanged, and I went back to eating her fuckholes for all I was worth until she came hard. I drank down everything she gave me, like a cat with the cream. As she writhed in pleasure, when I withdrew my slimy face, I noticed Oreillan was pinching both nipples hard. Sensitive breasts indeed.

Then it was my turn. Oreillan blew me hard, intending me to orgasm. What came as another surprise was that, on a first date, she rimmed me purposefully and without being asked. Oreillan was no amateur, getting her tongue deep inside my pucker while wanking me. Seriously, she administered an oral masterclass in the clearing rain.

Under such expert attention, it was not long before I needed my balls emptied.

“Come on my breasts!” Oreillan ordered, quickly shifting position by backing out of the car, resting on her haunches and pushing her meaty titties together, thereby presenting a tempting target.

With my pants around my ankles, I awkwardly shuffled off the back seat, and to my feet.

The rain was now just several intermittent drops.

With a few jerks of my saliva-coated length, I blew an enormous load across those boobs. Oreillan squealed with glee as I painted her chest.

When I finished spurting, Oreillan massaged my cream across her magnificent breasts, revelling in the abundant stickiness. Pinching her nipples while massaging my boiling sperm into her skin, led Oreillan to another orgasm. Confirming, yet again, that her breasts were sensitive.

We quickly dressed, and Oreillan was kind enough to drop me home. After exchanging phone numbers, passionate kisses, and promises to catch-up again, I exited her warm embrace and waved goodbye as her car raced away into the night.

Over the weekend, Oreillan and I exchanged cheeky texts but did not meet. The following Monday was a sunny, warm spring day, a day perfect for drinking. Throughout a workday’s texting, Oreillan wanted to meet after work. She swung by the office at 5 pm and collected me before driving to King’s Park that supplied sweeping views across the city. The important thing about this park is that there are many discrete places to park up and have fun. Indeed, my first session in King’s Park took place five years earlier when my squeeze suggested a lunchtime hookup.

On this day, however, Oreillan chose an isolated spot off from the beaten track. As expected, it was deserted, and we parked up. In daylight, Oreillan was genuinely stunning. She was not slim, but she had a figure that supported those enormous breasts, and the butt was generous too.

As per the previous Friday, we began with lots of furious kissing and performed oral sex on each other. As soon as I finished drinking down Oreillan’s bahis şirketleri tasty pussy juice, she announced her intention to fuck.

Where?

In the bushland, of course.

We exited the car and crunched through the scrub to a place by a tree that concealed us from the car park. Oreillan bent over a tree, dropped her skirt and pulled her sexy lingerie aside that peach of an arse and leant against a tree.

“Fuck me!” She ordered.

I was drooling with anticipation for the order.

I entered her soaking pussy easily and began pounding her tight box. Each upthrust was met with a stifled moan. Before long, however, her hips started to counter-thrust against my own, and I knew her orgasm was about to strike. Her pussy was so cosy, hot, and welcoming that it became a race against time as to who was going to orgasm first.

Given that we were engaging in unprotected sex, I was not sure Oreillan would welcome me unloading inside her without an invite. Luckily, she shot her bolt first and came loudly, shuddering wildly.

I hugged Oreillan tightly towards me as her orgasm destroyed her and kissed the back of her neck. She placed a hand on my thigh, willing me to be as deep inside her as I could.

“My turn?” I whispered in her ear.

“Over my breasts!”

I reluctantly withdrew from Oreillan’s swampy cunt while she dropped to her knees and pushed her meaty breasts together, presenting me with the same target for my glistening cock as on our first date. It was an attractive target!

A few tugs later, I exploded in an orgasm of surprising strength, unleashing rope after rope of boiling sperm across Oreillan’s breasts. Just before my world went to black, I saw Oreillan’s eyes disappear into her head at the sensation of being washed in milky man juice.

To my surprise and after my balls were drained, Oreillan took my twitching member in her mouth and sucked gently. The second wave of pleasure was equally as strong as the first.

“Mm, yummy.” Oreillan expressed as she released my sagging member from her mouth.

“Fuck, that was good!”

“You’re telling me,” Smiled Oreillan, getting up off the bush floor, “I haven’t come like that for a while.”

“How long?”

“None of your business,” Oreillan responded, playfully hitting my arm, “But it’s been too long.”

We hugged, kissed, and dressed quickly in silence before Oreillan drove me home. Our relationship developed rapidly from that point with sexual escapades taking place at both of our houses with the occasional sleepover, and in nature. The outdoor sexcapades were far more enjoyable to me. The possibility of getting caught seemed to amplify the urgency and strength of my orgasms. The arm’s length nature of our relationship supported both of us who were career-focussed.

One day about a month into our relationship, I received a text from Oreillan telling me that she was horny and for me to make my way to her place. It was a workday for me, but she decided to take a ‘sickie.’ I checked my work calendar and estimated that I could leave the office by 3 pm without any adverse consequences.

After leaving at the appointed time, I took the bus to Oreillan’s house. She lived on a hill, and the challenging trek walking up there, in eager anticipation, left me gasping for breath when I finally knocked on the door.

Oreillan greeted me with her usual beaming smile, and I instantly began hardening in anticipation.

“You want a glass of water, or something stronger?”

“You know the answer to that!”

One of Oreillan’s more telling characteristics was her love of fine alcohol, particularly Scotch and Irish whiskeys. At any time, she usually had ten or twelve bottles on the go, costly ones too. I was not a big spirit drinker, a bourbon or a tequila shot now and then, but Oreillan was big into her whiskey. Throughout our relationship, she imparted to me a genuine appreciation of those drinks. We clinked glasses and down the peaty goodness, but not without a splutter from me, the amateur.

Oreillan sidled up to me, put an arm around me, looked into my deep blue eyes and asked if I was ready.

“Ready for what?”

With that, Oreillan pulled me into the bedroom and pushed me on the bed. With practised ease, she undid my trousers and freed my raging cock. Without any of the usual foreplay and fully clothed, Oreillan straddled me and threaded her soaking snatch down the length of my pole. She sure was horny today!

But the surprises did not end there.

In less than a minute of pussy fucking, Oreillan rose and expelled my cock. Grabbing my length by the base, she directed my helmet to another, more intimate opening. I barely believed what was happening-or my luck! I felt my head of my cock breach Oreillan’s O-ring, she hissed as I stretched her before she eased down, buried balls deep.

Oreillan let out a gasp, “Fuck, that’s a big cock!”

“You okay?”

“Better than okay,” She responded, becoming comfortable with the intrusion, “I’m fucking on fire!”

With that, Oreillan began jacking my cock with her arsehole. Eyes tightly closed, she rode me cowboy-style, hissing the word “Fuck” over and over. Minutes later, she came hard; her pucker choked the life out of my cock.

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