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 Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop(PART TWO) by S.N.McKibben The moment you've all been waiting for! (Or at least in my head it is.) The conclusion of COUGAR BAIT IN THE COFFEE SHOP. If you missed Part One, you can always go back and read the first part: This story was fun and seemed to drip from my hands like water. But this was way back in 2013 when writing was my experiment. I started off with the male perspective and have continued it for most my stories. I can't explain why (men) but it seemed natural to me. Perhaps because the male mind is a fascination for me. Perhaps because I enjoy the company of men. Or maybe because I can identify with men more often. You'll may notice that this story is up on Amazon for purchase, so why am I posting it here for free? It's because I'm hoping that if you like it enough, you'll want to support me or have this story on your kindle/kindle app or whatever you use and give me $1 for entertaining you. I also believe in giving people the chance to see if they like my stories. Hence, the reason why I do free stories once a month. Who knows if I'll be able to do this for how long but if all you can give is a share and a like, that will get the word out to other people. Believe it or not, that does help. If $1 isn't too rich for your blood, click the button below for the full version, formatted ebook. If you're strapped for cash, then consider this a gift. Pay it forward. Smile at someone and that will payment enough for me. Happy reading! ♥ ~ Stephy  Copyright © 2012 S.N. McKibbenNo part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, with the exception of a reviewer who may quote passages in a review, without written prior permission from the publisher. WARNING: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENTThe content below is for people 18 years or older. If you are offended or uncomfortable by mature, sexual content, please STOP reading and find another one of my stories with less material with sexual content. Thank you. Cougar Bait in the Coffee ShopPART TWO Like an eager mastiff, I’m early. I remind myself to breathe. Don’t show you’re anxious. Be that guy. The one in the mirror. That guy tells me showing eagerness is a turn-on. It shows I’m real. Interested. I don’t have to be insecure about what I want. Yeah, but I want her real bad. Even in public I’m a little out of control. Just a little. All because I know I’m going to see Satomi. A shock of beautiful white hair walks through the door, and my control explodes. I want her. My mind rips down those tight jeans of hers and my inward alter ego pounds Satomi, rabbit style, against the glass. Fuck, I’m horrid. She looks around, and her gaze slides right past me. Damn, I know I look a little different. Maybe I should stow away the fake-rim glasses. I walk towards her, and she moves away giving me a place to exit at the door, still scanning. Halting by her side, I smile and let her eyes continue the search. “Maybe I can help you find who you’re looking for?” Her wandering gaze freezes and her head drags its way to my face. I love when people’s jaw hinge becomes suddenly inoperable and hangs there limp. But with Satomi, I’m thinking about a long hard shaft of a certain part of my anatomy going in and out that open mouth. Oh, the woman can read my mind and those lips clasp together in a smile. Teasingly she licks her lips, and I remember how that tongue feels against mine—and my index finger. “Oh. My. God.” She scans me head to toe. Oh, yes. I wish I had that little black helmet Vader pen that said “I have you now” when you pressed its head. I’d lay my thumb down on repeat. “Hello Satomi.” “Kal?” I dip my head. “Yes.” “Wow.” She shakes her head. “Just wow.” My heart leaps inside the ego-train and both ride off into the sunset together. “Wow enough to forget about certain society restrictions?” Looking like this, she couldn’t think of me as too young. “It helps.” She wraps an arm around my waist and rubs my stomach. “But I hope you still look twenty-three underneath this.” All brain function ceases. I think my heart stutters. She’s touching me. Oh God, she’s touching me. Gentleman. Promised. “I…pastry? Coffee?” “Yes.” Her agreement sounds dirty. Or maybe that was just me. I place our order while she grabs a table. The girl behind the counter looks at me differently, too. I like it. Geez, if all I need is to put a little make-up on, I’d done this sooner. Still I’m nervous. Coffee may not have been the brightest idea. Put some ice in my mocha, and I could make you a frappe with my shaking hands -- no blender needed. If I’d known my nerves would be this bad, I might have ordered herbal tea. Thank goodness they put caps on or Satomi might have half a coffee and crumbs to eat. As it was she took the coffee out of my hands and ignored my temporary Tourette’s syndrome. “So,” At least nerves didn’t make it to my voice. “Is it just in public that you’re shy about younger men?” I made an Asian blush, not that it’s really hard. But a flushed Satomi is sexy as hell. “I wouldn’t say age specifically but there is a level of maturity that comes with older men.” “Why is it that women find it difficult to be with younger men, but not older ones?” She rolls her eyes. “Why is it that men prefer younger women but not older ones?” “I’m young.” Pft. Younger guys went with older women all the time. Frowning, I have a sense of what bothers her so much. “Are you divorced?” Satomi’s mouth thinned, and she nods. Ahhh. I know what happened. “He went with a younger woman, I take it.” “That obvious, huh?” She grimaces. “Satomi, present company excluded, we’re not all assholes.” Her eyes crinkle. “You’re not an ass.” I rolled my eyes, remove my rim glasses and stow them in my shirt pocket. That silence that’s uncomfortable around strangers, the kind when you’re getting to know someone and you don’t know what to say…this was different. Satomi didn’t let that happen, yet we say nothing for a very long while. Instead, she soundlessly asks for my hand with a gesture. I take it. Our connection hums up my arm. “He used to talk. A lot. So, please don’t. Unless you have something you want to ask. But not for menial conversation, please, dear God, I’m sorry if you like the sound of your own voice.” I smile. “I can go days without talking.” “Good. Because that’s all I want to say about my past.” She looks so fragile at that moment. Imagine my brave Satomi, the woman who reads soft-porn in public, the lady who takes a meek guy in hand and gives him confidence enough to break out of his shell, the woman so comfortable with herself -- cowed. It wasn’t the silence that got to me. I just want to know what she is thinking. “Do you want to have sex with me?” Yep, classy as ever. White eyebrows lift. “That wasn’t made clear yesterday?” “My version of the story is I seduced you to bringing me home, ravished your mouth, humped your leg and then retreated like the cowardly dog I am.” White mocha spills over the table. Satomi covers her mouth with a battalion of napkins and holds her stomach while heaving. I think she is laughing. I hope she is laughing. “Are you okay?” I pat her back. She nods, tears streaming down her face. I go to gather more napkins and help clean up the mess. God it felt good to make her laugh. We both needed it. My nerves calm down with someone other than me to worry about. When she settles and I have the nerve to ask, I say. “So, I look okay?” Satomi rewards me with a smile. “Oh, yeah.” It makes me sad in a way. This must be what girls feel like when they have to put on a mask for their dates. But Satomi is different. “So you’re not embarrassed to be seen with me.” I tease. She leans back in her chair searching my eyes. Oh shit. She looks like she is going to cry. “I’m sorry.” She whispers. “I didn’t really expect you to look different, or older.” She reaches out for my hand again. “It’s the sweetest thing a guy’s done for me lately.” Whew. Being with her is so easy. I should let it lay. Not having a filter gets me slapped. A lot. It’s never stopped me. “Why is being with a younger guy bothersome for women?” She smiles at me, and I prepare for teasing. “Because most women aren’t pedophiles.” A very unmanly squawk flutters a protest. I am legal. More than legal. I can drink! Go to bars. Hell, most people tell me I’m past my prime. Isn’t that a sucker punch. Even if I deserve that, because I asked, this wasn’t getting me anywhere. Time to change tactics. “This is definitely not the type of conversation I have with girls my own age.” She tilts her head. “You’re much cuter if you just sit there.” My mouth hangs open. Now wait a minute. Wasn’t it the guy telling the girl to shut up? I close my mouth, sit up and sip coffee. On my own, I realize that I needed to prove that I am mature enough to be a contender in her life. If I want to have her, I am going to have to step it up. I ask my inner Richard Gere how I can prove my worth. “I’m curious about you.” I sip my coffee with as much sophistication as I can pretend to possess. “What do you want to know?” Her smile and her eyes tease me into thinking about all the nasty things I want to do to her. Oh, I could ask what she did, or what she liked to do for fun, all those bland questions you ask to get to know someone but I need memorable. I want engagement. “Have you ever…wrestled with alligators?” She stares at me for a fraction of a second. “No. Have you?” “It’s on the bucket list.” I shrug. She takes a piece of her crumble cake and pops it into her mouth. She chews in silent contemplation. Her gaze falls to my hands, and she traces lines from my knuckles to my fingertips. That simple act of touch has my groin on fire. It is so intimate and so naughty the way she has my dick on end that I feel embarrassed for being in public. “You’re going to make it uncomfortable and embarrassing to walk out of here.” “How so?” She grins in a way that tells me she knows exactly what she is doing. “Am I just fun for you?” She pulls her hand back and retreats in her seat. Oh crap. If not my dick, it’s my mouth getting me in trouble. “I mean that’s okay if I am. I just want to know what I’m in for.” She smirks. “A companion would be nice.” No hard involvement. Would a relationship with her go beyond the physical? Is this too fast to be thinking about this stuff right now? I have her now. Isn’t my goal to get laid? Or could she be the one? I remind myself of what I look like. Having make-up on could be an advantage. As best I can in a chair, I puff out my chest, lift my chin and look her straight in the eye. Not to intimidate. To invite. With a low baritone voice, one that guy in my mirror would use, I say, “Tell me about your day.” Her gaze mimmicks my own. “I massaged three people, did some yoga and set up an appointment for a new client.” A massage therapist! I didn’t think my cock could get bigger, but it did. The throbbing starts to hurt. She narrows her eyes and points a finger at me. “If you ask me if I give happy endings I will hurt you.” “I put on make-up for a living.” I raise my hands in defense. “I have no room to talk.” “I thought you were in school.” “That’s what I’m in school for.” God. Can we go to bed now? Fuck I’m an asshole. As ever the blurter, I announce, “This is going the wrong way.” Satomi’s perplexed look ages her face. I want her to smile, to have that easy air around me again. I wave my hands hoping they'll cancel out my last sentence. “I mean, I'm really nervous.” Her smile of relief stills my shakiness. “Me too.” “Can we agree on one thing?” “What?” The angst returns in her body making the wood chair underneath her look plush. “Can we not push anything?” All the girls I'd "known" used me like a wet rag, and tossed me aside. Yeah, that's great in theory, but one-night-stands don't make you coffee in the morning. They don't stay the night and keep your bed warm. One-night-stands don't giggle at your jokes because they're too busy gathering their clothes and leaving, half-dressed. I've had one too many encounters where I'd gotten laid, never to see the girl again. It was like I couldn't keep any of them satisfied. If true, what an ego rake. So, as I was saying, sleeping around is great in theory, but in reality, it's lonely. Which is why I want to do something different. I like Satomi's smile. I love her soft white hair. The way it parts, how she wears it. How she smells. How she tastes. God, I can't go down this line of thought right now. The way she was staring at me, in that bewildered awe, gets me thinking maybe I could start something--something substantial. Then a bright smile plasters over her face. "But I had plans." I catch my breath at the gleam in her eyes. My pants riot. I can’t trust myself to say anything, so I don’t. A slight look of concern flashes across her face. "Okay, now I need you to say something." "Satomi," I breathe. "You're going to make it extremely difficult for me to leave with my pride intact." "Oh?" The table bumps and she wraps her leg around mine. All that crap about waiting--yeah, that notion didn't bother to walk out the door, it expired on the ground in the promise of her seductive, coy word. She sips the dregs of her mocha. "Kal, you are a wonderful man. For you to do this," she waves at my face. Was she blowing me off? "Nah, I'm desperate." She laughs and the sound sends me to heaven. "How long did it take you?" "Hey, I'm a professional. I was good to go in fifteen minutes." Liar. Liar. Pants on fire and not just because of my verbal embellishment. She isn’t buying it either. Christ, the shift in power washes over me. Was I that easy to mow over? But, God did I like it. Letting Satomi take control was a heady aphrodisiac. I grit my teeth in response to the under table play. Her leg on mine is enough to make me explode. "What's the matter?" Her face drops in concern. "Nothing." I hiss. "Just a little sore." Her eyebrows draw together and then her eyes fly wide. "Oh, blue balls?" That makes me chuckle. "You could say that." Or you could say chafe rash from cumming in my pants after an encounter between a stucco wall, jeans and scratchy wool underwear. "Are you done with your coffee?" She gets up and tosses her trash. When she returns I take her hand and say, "Not yet." "Well, when you're ready, I'd like to help with your problem." I freeze mid drink. Rotating what she implied in my head, I set my cup down. "What happened to not pushing?" "Am I?" She raises a brow, the edges of her lips turning up in playful mischief. "Promise me one thing." I grimace at the painful twitch in my pants. She leans down, and we touch foreheads. "What?" "Don't kick me out, like, right after." Her look of pity gets to me. Shit. All this time, am I just a lousy lay? "I was hoping you would spend the night." Her somber face brightens. "I learned a new yoga move I can try." Wheezing down the rest of my pastry, I held up a finger. "I need a minute." She sat. "Should I talk about fluffy kittens?" "So I don't come in the coffee shop? Yeah, that'd be nice." I reach in my breast pocket and put my fake glasses back on. She laughs. "You are too sexy. I'm almost floating off my chair." I tilt my head. “Appreciating the sexy part, but the other comment?” She rolls her eyes and whispers in my ear. "I'm really wet." Oh. My eyes fly open. "Not helping." I hiss. I kiss her knuckles and breathe. "Ready." Or as ready as I'll ever be. The ache in my groin slows my ascent. Pride won’t let me stiffen or allow a hitch in my step, but my jaw clenches and takes the brunt of my sore package. Things aren’t all bad. I am holding Satomi's hand and our arms swing, lazy hammock style. We are quiet during the walk to condo number one twenty three, but once we get to the door, I turn to her. "Would it be weird to ask you on another date before we have sex? I mean, if you still want to have sex." What a dweeb I am. Satomi snorts, an honest-to-God pony squeal. "That made no sense." Sighing, I start again. "Do you want to have sex?" "Jesus, you've got to be the only guy in town that I have to plead for it." She pulls a key from her very tight jeans pocket. "Okay, okay!" I hold up my hands in surrender. "I just kinna don't want this to be like, a one-time thing." "Awww." Satomi coos. "Don't get too mushy," I shoulder her arm like a guy buddy. I don’t want her to think I am getting serious. "I'm just securing another date." I muse nervously. She unlocks her door and tugs at my shirt sleeve to come inside. When I stumble into her condo it feels like I'd taken a walk into the orient. The floor isn’t wood, but it isn’t carpet either. Some kind of firm but squishy interlocking mats that put a spring in my step. A regal bonsai tree stands on an equally impressive wood mantel near a window. Symbols on tapestries line the walls. Sparse furniture in strategic placement displays a demur setting. Soft light cast this place as a quiet haven free from traffic or unwanted conversation. Perfect place for a message. A low table, and I mean low as in take your shoes off and there’s barely enough room to fit your knees under, sits in a dining room area. My eye drifts to an odd bamboo chair. The chair is odd because it isn’t on the ground like most Japanese chairs. In fact cushions usually replace couches in many a Japanese home. But not only does this chair have legs, it has a low back and arms. An imperial chair. I am not sure about it so I turn conversationally to something I do know. “Beautiful hiragana.” I motion at the tapestries. Hiragana is one of a few Japanese alphabets. Each corresponding character represents a word. And like many poems on tapestries, this one is sad. Satomi turns to me in curious fashion. “Wow. Can you read it?” “It’s a Haiku.” I adjust my fake spectacles and read. “Everything I touch, with tenderness, alas, pricks like a bramble.” She claps her hands. “Oh Kal! You’re amazing!” Despite the depressing message, I beam at her. I wonder what kind of life she’s had to surround herself with sorrow. Many of these haiku have somber meaning. Before I can reflect any further she wraps her arms around me. The feel of her heart racing kept time with the throb of my cock. “Kal.” This close to her, feeling her small frame, absorbing the heat her body threw off, I’m not thinking straight. “Yes.” My response is more of a take me answer. Her words came soft in apology. “I can’t promise anything.” “Will you do me a favor then and tell me if I’m a lousy lay? It would explain a lot.” My brain kicks in, and I reciprocate with my arms around her. Her smile fades and her eyes darken. She looks mad. “Who said you were a lousy lay?” “No one.” My hands drift up and down her back. “It’s just that I don’t seem to get a girlfriend.” Satomi slid her hand down my front. All the way to the hardness between my legs. I gasp. “Oh God.” “All you need is the want to please your partner and a little communication.” And at that moment, she is communicating fine. I did a little communicating myself, just not with words. Lips collide, tongues thrash. I taste the white mocha along her teeth and the inside of her cheeks. If I was feeling especially forthright, I could tell you if she has tonsils or not. She meets me with as much force. I grab her ass and pull her in closer. My other hand does the same to the back of her head. “Satomi,” My blood roars through my ears. “I need you naked, now.” She pushes me over to the imperial chair and I fall into it. Her shirt floats over to drape me. My helpless eyes rake across flesh and sexy underwear. Her pants disappear and fuck all if I didn’t receive the most beautiful lingerie show of my life. Lacey panties and matching pink bra, Satomi kneels before me, clawing at my zipper. Never in my life have I seen a comparable desperation to fuck as mine. The sight paralyzes me. My very own sex banshee. Expert hands whip out my cock with fluid ease, and her greedy mouth plunges down over my exposed masculinity. Hot, raw need blinds me, literally. Unintelligible cries escape my throat while my mind tries interpreting the intensity of both pleasure and pain. Her tongue swirls around, stroking all the facets of my dick while her head bobs. She is really getting acquainted with the part of me I love. Hell, I think she loves little Kal as much as I do. Her tongue feels so good wrapping around, dipping down, teasing all the veins supplying blood to the ruthless organ dictating my bliss. But my cock also throbs in soaring agony. Little Kal makes his displeasure known at having to wait so long for this. Satomi strokes me as any connoisseur would a rare delicacy and soon the pleasurable shock evolves into revelry. Without shame, I wail in pleasure. Each moan boosts her rapport. Every cry receives hearty oral engulfment. I can admit it, I called her name. Several times. All the while she sucks a little harder for my unabashed surrender. But my end is coming too fast. Watching her head bob up and down while she brings me to new heights does me in faster than I anticipate. I grip the arms of the imperial bamboo chair. “Satomi, I’m close.” I wheeze. She does not slow or pull out. God she drives faster. Fuck. “Satomi, I’m going to come.” Admittance gets me more excited. My chest tightens. Breaths rattle in-and-out in gusts. I’m not ready for the annihilation of every nerve in my body. My entire self is the whole of what Satomi is doing to me. Air pricks my arm hairs to full attention. Every muscle denies my request to relax. This orgasm will be swift and unstoppable. All control lost, I try to warn her. This isn't just pleasure. It is an onslaught of domination. A conquest of decimating every thought until all I have is the final explosion. The power she has over me. The power of my complete and utter attention. She owns it. All my strength goes with my spasms of ecstasy. Cannon-shot rips out my cock and down her throat. A second spasm tears a cry from me. “Oh, God!” She is still pumping, and I halt her very talented mouth with a hand pressing against the back of her head, holding her in place. Satomi swallows every ounce I shoot out. A third explosion, or possibly the seventh, rips through me as strong as the first pump and sinks me so far into myself I think I lose consciousness for a moment. The last dribbles squeeze out and now I can’t move. Not that I want my dick out of her mouth, but I wonder if her jaw is tired. Releasing my hand from the crown of her head, I caress her cheek. Cock still in her mouth, white eyebrows and hazel brown eyes look up at me. A wave of lust flushes over my chest. Fuck that was hot. As tender as my shaking hands capable, I brush an escaping lock of that beautiful white hair off her face. “You are amazing.” This close to her, being allowed to touch her I can’t stop. My hands glide over skin and under pink lingerie. A heart stopping smile rewards my praise. My dick flips aside as she releases her “captive”. The whistle of a kettle breaks her away from me. Completely drained, I can’t stop her from going. Two minutes of dozing, and she was back. Tea was my prize for listlessly waiting. Not like I can stand up at the moment, but compared to the loss of her company, the gesture is almost trite. However, a woman waiting on me like this feels rewarding. Scantily clad Satomi is beautiful. They say give a guy ten minutes and he’s good to go for another round. Being that this is usually the time women point at the door and tell me “out,” I’d never experienced that second wind. It was great being thrown out the first few times. But, with Satomi I hope for more. Life pulses back into my dick. Christ, I want it again. An unfamiliar ache rises along with little Kal. One that tells of strain from use. Excellent! Satomi notices my rising from the dead. Fast as a button pop, her pink lacy bits go to the way side. Oh, yes! Again! Not as desperate this time around, allowances for my own stripping commence. Standing, albeit meekly, I pull off my pants and tighty-whities—or would have if my shoes were off. Wow. She has me backwards and loving it. Eventually, I’m naked and blushing at the hungry expression on her face. This time I fish out a condom from my pants and roll it on, knowing the sexiest woman I know is my audience. Preparing to lay her down and go at it, I don’t have the chance. Satomi turns tigress and pushes my ass back in the chair, then climbs on top of me. “So, it’s true that older women like sex more.” A pause. I don’t like the pensive look she gives me. Shit. I shouldn’t mention age. “Hey, don’t go down that road. We’re having a good time.” Running her hands over my pecks, I wonder what else I can do to close this gap in maturity difference. I know that’s what is bothering her. “Come on baby, you look twenty-five.” Satomi snorts and slaps my chest. “Seriously, I pegged you with code name ‘felony’ when I first saw you.” My hands glide along her front. I want to be on a first name basis with those puckering nipples. I want to know her very intimately. What she likes. How she likes to be stroked. What do I need to do to make her arch her back in sweet, indulgent abandon? My fingers travel down her sides to the folds of her hairless sex. Her body relaxes. “It’s my Asian blood.” My free hand reaches up and gently pulls the ties holding her braids. Setting those aside, she lets me unwind her two pigtails. Even after having a blow job, this feels like the most intimate thing I’ve done with her. White, wavy hair hides her face and covers her breasts. Long hair has the same effect on me as playing with buttons. Rigid, hard and ready, my cock leaps and slaps her belly. “You like that.” She giggles, cupping her breasts. My response comes out more serious than I intend, but heartfelt. “You’re that beautiful.” She leans and sucks my bottom lip. I moan. “Get on the floor.” Satomi ignores me and instead she grabs the back of the chair. “What are you doing?” I grin. Her breasts are in my face. How was I to object? She spreads her legs and steps on the chair’s arms. Crouching, Satomi has me pinned to the chair. Yes, it’s odd to say a hundred-pound woman with her ass on your crotch has you pinned, but that ass was very persuasive. My attention is all hers. If she has plans to mount me, stallion-style, I have no objections. Satomi hovers over me. This woman is strong. She suspends that luscious slit over my dick, holding herself up with arms and feet. A shot of sexual current flashes down from my brain to my groin. I’m not going to waste this virility. I reach behind me, drape a hand over the chair-back and interlace our fingers together. I squeeze her hand, admitting my awe while my other hand holds my cock. Playing prey to her wild cat, I wait for her next move. An urge to tease her flits at the edge of my thoughts, but she wastes no time in lowering gently down my engorged shaft. Oh, dear God. She claims my dick. And I do mean she claims me because that is how it is. Restrained, pinned down, unable to move my joyful entreaty proclaims her authority. Every inch I yield seals my fate. Yes, this woman can own my dick, my balls, my body and every rapturous thought I can give. Jeeesus. The hot molten pleasure obscures my already dirty mind. It’s her pussy proclaiming me hers. Do I want control back? Her ass settles to my hips, and I can feel the end of my cock touching the very end of her vaginal wall. Oh I can die a happy man. My other hand meets with hers. Control belongs to Satomi. I fill her every which way her pussy stretches. She rises up just as slowly as she’d come down, and I gasp, “More.” Her hips rise till cold air hits the flare of my head, and she starts the process down. Tortuously slow, she lowers, warming my cock. I squeeze her hands, expressing my pleasant grievance. Subduing the temptation to pry my entangled fingers out of hers, place my hands on her hips and pound into eternal bliss cost me a bit of control. But that might hurt her. This is her show. She’d taken the lead and hell would freeze before I squelch this kind of initiative. As fast as her mouth had been, her body is slow. In effect, she forces me to feel every crevice of her inner walls. When I said I wanted to know every part of her, I meant it. I was getting what I asked for and express my gratitude with very unmanly moans. My pleasure excites her. Every one of my gasps widens the pupils of her eyes. Sweat pools at my belly. Muscles concentrate on remaining still and not driving in-and-out with fierce conviction. I let her pussy suckle me, envelope me, trace itself and mold to my dick. That’s what I want, a perfect mold of my cock on her insides so every other man wouldn’t—couldn’t make her feel this good. “Faster.” My plea fell on deaf ears. Satomi gazes at me with a crazed look. I ‘m not the only one “suffering.” God, how much control did it take to deny oneself the ability to let go? Again she sits all the way down, and again she lifts with the same precise slow claiming of my body. Hell and heaven had never been one place for me. This is an interesting type of torture for which I would volunteer. Again with another slow prolonged engulfment, and I can’t take it anymore. “Satomi, fuck!” I steady her hips and keep them high while my feet brace on firm ground. My hips and lower back pump to meet her. I am not gentle. I am not slow. I desperately shove myself inside her. Our bodies slap out a tempo. We make music and produce a symphony of pleasure. Gaining some control back, I want it all. “Hold onto me.” I lift us both out of the chair. I impress myself. I can still gyrate while taking a step and setting her on the padded floor. Being on top of her, covering her, brought out all the possessive drive a man feels when he’s with his woman. I need her attention. I want her supplication. She won’t be the only one dominating how I feel. Her reserve drives me to madness. I will not allow her to be the typical quiet Asian woman. I want to hear her. “You like this?” My hips pound sending shock waves of nerve-frying pleasure through my dick. She nods with eyes closed. Oh-no-you-don’t! “I want to hear it.” I growl. Hands positioned for push-ups I plunge madman-style, tightening my ass to drive harder. Satomi tries to pull me down, but I have none of it. She wraps her legs around my thighs. Her lips brush the tip of my ear lobe. Only her ass touches the rug. Then the slightest whimper. Hot breath against my ear unleashes the real monster inside me. “Oh, yes!” My frantic pace less methodical. With Satomi saddled right where I want her, I lift to my knees, hips driving, rabid as ever. “Don’t hold back.” Her entire body jitters. I hold onto the earthquake ripping through my lover, feeling every shock wave and then, “Kalyan!” Oh God my dick is being milked for all its worth. I pump twice more before I meet her in orgasm. The deluge has me wondering if she peed on me. Still felt good. More than good. Fantastic. I crinkle my eyebrows. “Good?” The ear-to-ear grin on her face pumps up my pride. “Yes.” She flops into me, and I hold her. Both of us gloriously sweating. That’s right. I just had sex…and a blow job! We lay there for some minutes─content in every way, my body full, sated, relaxed. While I drift further into the other side of consciousness, Satomi wiggles. Springing back to resilience, she lifts herself in my arms. “I’m hungry.” “Okay.” I grin in idiot happiness. “We could go out, come back and do this all again.” I like that idea. Damn if that twinkle in her eye says she likes that idea too. “My treat, I don’t cook.” One of my louder snorts sneaks past my non-existent social filter. “Okay, okay,” Unwrapping herself from me she stands and holds a hand out. “I know how to cook, but I’m not going to. Shower first.” Another idea I like. Slippery soap, my hands, Satomi’s nipples. Sounds like a great combination. I take her hand. “But before we go out can you take off your make-up?” I frown. Touching my face I wonder if the latex is peeling. “Do I look that bad?” “No.” She leads me down a hall. “You look flawless. But, I think I can wait until your grey highlights are natural.” “Hey, it made you comfortable enough to…” Wow. I do have a filter, only it’s too late. She smiles and teases my chest with her fingers. “Make love to you?” Not what I was going to say, but—”Yeah, that’s it.” Satomi laughs. She totally got me. “I want the real Kal.” Oh look! Hope. “This is the real Kal.” “I want the no make-up Kal.” I smile following her into the shower. “You have him.”  Dear Reader, When I started, I noticed a theme occurring in my writing. It was about things I wanted to talk about, but didn't know how. Spreading my short stories out as a whole I realized I was a not "normal" girl trying to work in the confines of a "normal" world. I have now realized the un-normal is me and I'm just fine! I might push the limits of acceptable concepts in my writing, but that's why I write. The Shorts-off series are stories that explore relationships and human behavior. I love reader input so don't be shy about leaving me a message. Contact me here on my blog or my Facebook at: If you want to know when more of my stories are released, join my exclusive readers by clicking the button below: In doing so, you'll receive a free ebook as a thank you! I hope you enjoyed Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop. Sincerely, S.N. McKibben  Excerpt for “But For You, Yes”Copyright © 2012 S.N. McKibben “Can I ask you a question?” I posed in the bed with my muscled arm flexed holding up my head. Thoughts swam around in my mind about how I should ask my girlfriend of six months my deal breaker question. She rolled over slowly, staring at me with that oh-so-familiar serious look. Melonie was the intuitive type. She always knew when I wasn’t joking and when my jokes had truth to them. It made her an invaluable companion, along with her olive skin, ebony hair, and eyes with the power of a black hole. That combination of hers never failed to get me to “rise” to any occasion she wanted. Plenty of those occasions were kinky enough to make me have hope that this relationship could go much further than ones in the past and fulfill my sexual perverseness. “What do think about back-door love?” I thought I was being as suave as possible about the subject but wasn’t reassured by her giggles and shaking head. She climbed over me, pinned a kiss on my forehead and sauntered out of the bedroom. I lay there wondering what she had implied. Damn woman, that wasn’t an answer. Again, her intuitive nature deflected my question. A metallic squeak followed by hissing water from the bathtub rang like a mating call. Excited that this may be a “yes” to my real question, I flung the covers over and strode to the shower. She was already in, bent over adjusting the temperature, when I pushed the curtain aside and hopped in behind her. That friendly pull from my groin started the blood flowing, and I stroked myself in anticipation. Melonie straightened and turned to face me, “No.” Her tone of finality shocked me. She was always the one to coherece me into nerve-wracking situations when it came to hot monkey sex. And she was telling me “no” for the first time. I caressed her smooth arms, “No to shower sex, or no to the other question?”  Other Taboo Fiction you will love!Lady Alene and the Widower Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop The Demon Inside Me Escape to Vampire Dam Dr. Vampyre Spoils of Allsveil  Cougar Bait in the Coffee ShopBy S.N.McKibben  STORY TIME! I'm tots cheating this month on everything! But it's the time to give thanks for the opportunities I've had. In honor, I'm doing another free story, like I always do! So you could say I honor my readers every month! November is Part 1 of COUGAR BAIT IN THE COFFEE SHOP and it is a story about an older lady and a younger man. This story is a bit niche. People don't want to think of old people having sex. Even though wrinkles don't stop people from having sex. Would you stop having intercourse because of age? Maybe? *Nothing like body issues to force celibacy.* The POV is from a guy and it's crude. I can't stress enough that this story is... NOT SAFE FOR WORKOr prudes. Or people who get skirmish around sex. I promise I do have stories that are not all about sex. Though, they are few and far between. Anyway. BE FOREWARNED! Sex, sex, sex. If you haven't been scared off by all the sex talk, proceed! Of course if you would like to support me as an author and have the ability to spend $1 on the story, you can purchase it on Amazon and give me a coffee... to write more stories about Coffee Shop Cougars. :) Here's the link: If not, no big. But you'll have to read it on this website. However, it will be available any time. I appreciate your support and am putting it out there for your enjoyment. Happy Reading!  Copyright © 2012 S.N. McKibbenNo part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, with the exception of a reviewer who may quote passages in a review, without written prior permission from the publisher. WARNING: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENTThe content below is for people 18 years or older. If you are offended or uncomfortable by mature, sexual content, please STOP reading and find another one of my stories with less material with sexual content. Thank you. Before we begin the story, I have visuals! There are only two characters in this story. Satomi and Kal. I thought I'd give you my version of what these two look like before I started. In Cougar Bait I was trying to show the contrast of the testosterone induced needs of a decent guy. Not all men have a chip on their shoulder, are confident to walk up to a stranger and say hello and yet, a lot of pressure is put upon guys to make the first "physical" move. Of course, women signal a guy first by checking him out, making eye contact and smiling. Which if read incorrectly, by the guy who approaches a woman, can lead to embarrassment and further descent into insecurity. Maybe it's insightful. Definitely entertaining. Anyway... Carry on!
Cougar Bait in the Coffee ShopPart 1 I just want to get my dick wet. Fuck. Now I sound like an asshole. But damn if I’m tired of dating rosy palm. It’s been six months since my last good lay. Since my last lay actually, without the assistance of my hand. This fact is driving me nuts. It’s like I have this monster clawing from the inside to get out and fuck everything. Trees, pillows, couches, shoes—everything is fair game. Everything is a potential hole. God, if I let that monster go, I’d be in jail. Humping legs walking by isn’t right. It isn’t right that some of those legs don’t necessarily belong to women either. I think about driving up to Vegas. It’s about a five-hour drive from California, but five hours is a bit excessive for paid assistance. Prostitution isn’t legal here, and in all honesty, it’s not about getting laid. Not entirely. It’s about having a warm body to cuddle at night. It’s about smelling her hair, her skin, rubbing against her softness, pulling her close and… I’m driving myself crazy. I can’t do this. Staying indoors is a prescription for madness. I’ll go get some coffee or something. And, then I’ll be up all night thinking about fucking a mermaid. Whoopee for me! It’s probably my fate for a while, unless those masturbation blisters on my hands have gone down. Which they haven’t. The keys in my hand make my idea real. I just need to get out. So, smart phone with downloaded coffee app in hand, my hard-on and me drive the zero point five miles to the closest college hang-out. Ordering my sissy drink while I try to cover up the bulge in my pants with hands in my pockets, I smile at the girls behind the counter -- managing not to think about how they’d feel naked in my arms. Okay, okay, I didn’t think it twice. Getting out of my head helps. Being surrounded by people keeps my mind from wandering even if some of those legs look tempting. But getting out gives my control back. I don’t feel the clawing fuck monster trying to get out. Talking to the baristas brings me out of my head and back into the here and now. I pay, grab my drink and sit in a corner where I can observe life. You know, other people who regularly get laid. Coffee doesn’t give me release, but it does give me a taste of mocha, sugary-smooth goodness. And a good look at this odd girl. Just so I’m straight on things, I’ve nicknamed her, “Felony.” She looks way too young for me with her school girl braids, but for the color. Her hair is pure white, like old-lady-grey but beautiful. Not kinked out or rough. I wonder how those braids would feel splayed across my thighs. They’d make great “handle-bars.” Something to hold onto while those puffy lips sucked on my cock. Fuck. Back to being the asshole again. Watching other patrons I see a guy in a suit with a newspaper. Probably relaxing before he goes home to his wife and kids. Taking for granted that he has someone, probably bemoaning the fact that he does. Now I’ve made myself jealous of the suit executive and glide my sights over to a lady talking on her cell phone. Christ lady, we don’t need to know about your horrible date last night. In fact, you might meet more good guys if you stopped talking on the phone and smiled at the dude in the baseball cap over there that’s sneaking glances at you over his iPod. That girl with the white braids is reading. Oh my God, she’s got that erotica book, something about the different colors of grey. I’ve heard that book is straight up mommy porn. The balls on that girl are way impressive. I mean, reading about bondage and sex here? Isn’t that a book girls curl up in bed and masturbate with? One can only hope. I get the flash of hazel-brown eyes and a wildfire shoots down to my feet. Crap. She caught me looking. Heat rises up to my cheeks, and I take a sip of coffee. Fuck. Now I’m that creepy guy that’s staring at her. Yet, that’s not what her smile tells me. I peek. She’s still looking at me. Just to be sure, I look behind me and come face-to-face with a wall. Nothing transparent there, so yeah, she’s looking at me. Or the freaky Dali-like painting. Crap. Do I go over to her? What do I say? Oh now she’s laughing. What is up with this girl? Great. Now I’ve done it. She’s getting up to leave, probably so she won’t be stared down by a creepy guy who can’t keep it together in his own home, alone. You fucking dick. Oh shit. Is she walking over here? Is she going to talk to me? Oh crap, crap, crap. What do I say? Maybe she’s just going to the bathroom. Nope. I get a good look at her jeans and button down blouse as she stands before me. God I love buttons. “Hi.” Ms. Felony sets her book in my lap. “You look like you need this more than me.” I can’t get over the fact that the book in my hands, this very book, was in her lap. Now I’m touching it, which means I’m sort of touching her. Wow, I’m officially beyond desperate. “Satomi.” She reaches out a hand and, mindlessly, I take it. Her grip is firm and warm. Now that she’s this close, I can see the crows-feet spanning across her eyes. Older than thirty then. Her Asian heritage is obvious from this distance, but she’s tall. About five-seven. Half of me is screaming--name, give her your name. While the other half is dumbfounded and asking, what’s a name? Ms. Felony giggles, and I shake out of my reverie. “—Kal. Kalyan.” “Nice to meet you Kal.” She’s touching me. Dearest God, thank you. “Hope you enjoy the book.” Satomi smiles, turns, and I get a great view of her jean-clad ass. Wait, she’s walking away. Shit. This girl takes the initiative, and I completely botch it. Fuck a duck. What do I do? My next action could’ve been dick-inspired or heart-inspired, I really don’t know, but I get to my feet and follow her out the door. “Satomi.” She turns around and beams a smile at me. The kind of smile that stops hearts and feet. “I can’t take your book from you.” I hand “fifty shades” over, but she doesn't reach for it. “Weren’t you in the middle of it?” “I’ve read it three times already.” “Uh—” Intelligent conversation, I know. But what do you say to women? “What was your favorite part?” No hesitation on her side. “The ending.” Okay I deserve the monosyllabic answers. She’d stuck herself out there, and I completely failed her. But she looks like she is laughing at my discomfort. Even so, I am talking to a girl! Not just my mom. Not just ordering coffee. “The ending?” “The part where the girl leaves the guy to stick to her principles, even though she loves him.” This makes me look at the book in a whole different perspective. I thought she might tell me about one of the sex scenes. Christ, I’m a perv. “Isn’t it about bondage?” Satomi giggles. The sound wraps around my ears the way I wish her legs would. “It’s about pleasure.” And now I’m back to salivating, non-speech Kal. “It’s also about limits and communicating what you want.” There was a very long pause before she spoke again. “You have a hard time communicating don’t you.” Engaging my brain, I come up with the wittiest comment I could. “My internal monologue is not fit for public consumption.” “What about private consumption?” Satomi is completely out of my league. She is beautiful, witty, loves sex apparently and isn’t afraid to speak. Everything I’m not. Except for the love of sex part. A softness appears in her eyes. Like the light of intuition is on and she’s looking into me. “I make you nervous.” Automatic reaction has me shaking my head. Then I correct and nod my head. “A little.” “Why?” She takes my hand. The contact is a gentle reminder that she is a human being that deserves proper respect. I could have baulked. I could have shrugged. But she was holding my hand and it felt like a line to my heart. Taking a breath I collect my thoughts. “I don’t know what to say.” It’s the best thing I can come up with, and it's the truth. “You don’t know why I make you nervous or you’re nervous because you don’t know what to say?” “That last one.” “Then you don’t have to say anything. Even standing here we have this moment.” Wow. Yeah, way out of my league. “But I want to talk.” Biting her lip makes her look younger than my estimation. “How old are you?” Shit you fucking asshole, you’re not supposed to ask that. “I’m sorry, never mind.” “No, I don’t mind. I’m forty-one.” I whistle. “You’re way too young to have grey hair.” A very sexy, very mischievous gleam shines in her eyes. “And some guys go bald at twenty-five. How old are you?” I quirk an eyebrow and smile. “Young enough for you to claim cougar-ship.” She laughs. “I’m twenty-three.” Her eyes widened. “Oh.” “Please tell me that’s not a problem.” I keep my hand locked with hers and held firm. “I mean it’s enough to be shot down for not having the right hair or clothes, but my age I can’t help.” She hesitates. “It’s a problem that shouldn’t be a problem.” Satomi looks away from me for the first time. Deflated, I squeeze her hand. “Let me see you safely to your car.” “I live across the street.” She pulls me in the direction of black pavement, and I pull her back. At this time of night there is little traffic, but all I need is some crazy speeding down “booty” boulevard over the blind hill as we’re crossing the street. “Jay-walking isn’t safe.” She laughs. I don’t. Satomi huffs out an adorable snort. “You’re serious.” “There’s a cross walk right there.” I let go of her hand and point at a distance of maybe five-hundred feet. “Oh my God, you’re going to make me walk all the way around when my house is right there?” She points to a row of condominiums. They are your typical wood and stucco luxury apartments. “Yes.” She cocks her head and takes my hand again. “Well, I guess that means I can spend more time with you.” My breath catches and a wave of perverted and not-so-perverted thoughts came to mind. I might get laid. Does she want to see me again? Does her whole body feel as soft and warm as her hand? What other books does she read? Will she invite me up? I wonder if she’ll let me take down those braids and comb my fingers through her hair. Why do all the cool girls have some aversion to me? Because I’m a fucking asshole, that’s why. Satomi pulls me in the direction of the cross-walk and I submit to her guide. God, if I get laid by this mare, I’d be her slave. Sated and happy, she could pull me around all day. And thinking these things makes me a chauvinistic asshole. We reach the cross walk, and the button chirps its acknowledgment of pedestrians. I had to talk, even if she seems content on silence and holding my hand. “So, do you go get coffee every night?” That twinkle in her eye appears again. I recognize it in a way. A combination of knowing and confidence. “Not every night.” I stare at the buttons on her shirt wanting to fiddle with them. I could reach over and pop one off one-handed. Except, I have a book in one hand and my other clasps hers. “See, you know what to say.” My mouth goes completely dry. I am a failure at this. “Girls kind-of want to talk about things like clothes, and I don’t know anything about that.” Except how to operate buttons or zippers. “Then maybe you should be talking to women.” God she’s so smart. And I’m so dumb. “What do women want to talk about?” The light turns green for us, and I happily walk her across the street and back up the way we came on the other side. “You in college?” “Yeah.” I blush. A reminder I am too young for her. “What’s your minor?” I baulk a little. “My minor? Aren’t you supposed to ask about my major?” “If you’ve got a minor, it means you have a contingency plan. A good thing to have.” “If I had my way, I’d like a minor in fucking with a major in relationships.” Oh God was that my outside voice? She howls. Tears stream from her eyes. “I think that would be a popular duo.” Her acceptance bolsters my confidence. “Hey, they are complimentary. Too bad Rockford School of hard knock-ups doesn’t run more courses.” “What kind of requirements do you think you’d need to get in?” She wipes a tear from her eye. “Personal audition after a video introduction.” I look down at the book. “Maybe a written dissertation.” Satomi is the kind of girl to fill in the blanks about what kind of video, audition and dissertation I was considering. All of it had sex before each required format. She leans a bit into me, pushing me down a curvy pathway. “Tell me something.” I look around at the condominiums. “They say older women like sex more. Is it true?” She smirks at me. I wonder if I’ve gone too far in asking. “Honey,” she drawls. “How am I supposed to respect you in the morning if bedding you is too easy?” My brain flips over, and my dick twitches alive. “What?” The first thing I think is I’m going to get laid. Then the implications of what she said filter through. “Are you…” I look back at the coffee shop. “Did you…” I turn back to her. “Did you go to the coffee shop to pick up a guy?” She hid her laugh through a beautiful, well-preserved hand. “I went to the coffee shop to get coffee. But you’re way too easy.” “Okay,” I held the book up in defense. “Go back to that respect part. You’re saying I can have a one-night stand with you tonight but there’s a chance of seeing you again if I resist?” “See, you understand women.” I do a double take. She has me pinned and figured out. Or she thinks she does. A smile slips across my face. “Then I choose to leave you at your door tonight and see you again.” She squeezes my hand and leans into me. “Oh, I’m not letting you go that easy.” That sulky voice. The promise in her eyes. Her words get me thinking about how she’d taste with my nose at the apex of her thighs. How she’d feel if I bent her over and took her from behind, then face-to-face with her legs wrapped around my hips. How many positions could we do in one night? My knees suddenly have no hinges. They turn solid as pudding. “But, I’d rather have more than less.” Asian eyes drill into mine. “The only problem with talking to women is they know what you’re thinking.” She is so close I can smell the mocha on her breath. “Satomi, that’s not fair.” Her lips cover mine. Heaven lies between our tongues. The heavy book in my hand falls away making a thunk and a rustle. One hand roams her body. The other pulls her closer to me. In all my haze, I tell myself to be a good kisser. I need to be. Girls judge you by first kiss. So I am slow yet demanding. I have to show her I have some confidence in my minimal skill. Oh, yes. Choose me. Fuck me. I pull away. “What if I said I couldn’t resist. That there is something about you. Would you see me later?” She opens her eyes, slowly. Yes! My academically inclined noodle did a proverbial fist pump. I fucking impressed her. I might get laid AND see her later. This felt good. I felt alive. My erection might not be in vain. Then her eyes turn down and my heart sinks. “Hey, if this is about the age thing…” How could I convince her it didn’t matter? “What am I doing?” She shook her head. “I’m old enough—” I put a finger across her lips. Girls can get away with looking adorable when they do it to guys. Me? I look like a brute smashing her lips together. A tongue strokes my index digit. My spine shivers all the way down. That just makes me want to fuck her all the more. She kisses the pad of that restraining finger, and I knew I only have one chance. “What if I put make-up on to look older?” She pulls back with a disturbing amount of scrutiny, but I can tell she is thinking about it. She seems amicable to the idea. “You’d put make-up on to look older?” Her eyebrows scrunch together in disbelief. “Yeah, I can do it in about fifteen minutes. Give me another ten and I can dye my temples grey.” That look of incredulity makes me think about how gay that sounds. “I’m studying to be a special effects guy. I totally pull off old. You want wrinkles? I’m really good at those.” She laughs in a nervous kind of way that means no, but she says, “Oddly enough that’s actually comforting.” “So what do you say? Tomorrow? Same place? About six? I’ll buy you a coffee and a pastry.” “Big spender!” She laughs for real this time. But she pulls back in a way that tells me I haven’t won her over on the idea. “Hey, you took a chance on me.” I raised my arms in offering. “I came a-running, so give me a chance.” I smile as big as the corners of my mouth can go. “I’ll make it worth your while.” She purses her lips, not in a scowl, but in a trying-not-to-laugh way. “All right.” Even though I just fucked myself out of a lay tonight, I have a date with a woman tomorrow. “You want me older than you? Ten years older? The same age?” “Not too old.” She drawls looking at me with different eyes. I like it. She is evaluating me or rather peering inside me. “Maybe a little younger than me.” That smile of hers is really something. Light, carefree, promising playful teasing and, oh damn, I’d do anything to see that mouth wrapped around my cock. The thought makes my dick act like some marsupial’s prehensile monster. Somewhere along the line my wanting became less desperate and more yearning. I ache in a different way. Not only for release. I wanted her to know me. Satomi isn’t some chick to pick up at a bar or a coffee shop. She is a goddess to be worshipped. The kind of goddess that receives and reciprocates. “You boost my ego.” She sighs. “I’d better let you go.” Not after that comment. “I’ll see you to your door.” “We’re here.” And so we are -- at a door. Number one twenty three. A question drags up my balls and through my mouth. “May I kiss you goodnight?” She looks so venerable. Her eyes grew big. A stammering Satomi is irresistible. I shouldn’t have pushed. She’d kissed me just a moment ago. But that came from a lust she controlled. I hope she didn’t think I expected anything. Okay, yes, she led me down this road, but it’s not ON until the clothes are OFF. I shouldn’t have said anything but the last word—“Goodnight.” Torn in that moment of indecision, whether to take the lead or allow her the choice, I freeze. She is a lady that can make up her mind. She has every right to refuse me. It is the wisest thing for her to do actually. She doesn’t know me. I am acting a little predatory. Shouldn’t I back off and let her take the lead? Fuck it. I kiss her. My tongue seeks to find what promises that mouth offers. She gives back. Two souls yearning to find each other in this slight dance of dominance. Sliding in and out, darting my way to the smooth underside of her tongue she chases me with her own intoxicating skill. My probing turns desperate while she takes in everything I give. I lean in close. My hips pump embarrassingly against her. My cue to pull away. “Sorry.” I pant. Satomi, wild eyed and panting, presses against the door wildcat style. Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman tomorrow, please forgive me.” “I don’t want a gentleman.” “Fuck Satomi, don’t say that. I’m a beast.” “Gentlemen don’t get laid.” I am perilously close to losing it. The rise in my heartbeat hasn’t slowed. I am not going to make it to my car or her bed. “Goodnight Satomi. I will see you tomorrow.” I turn knowing there isn’t much time. The front of my too small pants rub against my hard cock. I just have to make it around the corner. Out of sight I slam face first against a bumpy stucco wall. I pump, one, two and then shameful bliss. My dick throbs in excruciating pleasure, annihilating any pride I might have left. God, I really have to take care of this celibacy thing. Two minutes of catching my breath later, I notice a chill in the air and my cold gooey front-side. Scraping myself off my concrete lover, I find the way back to my car. Dick placated I go home. It feels so good to get under the covers and be able to fall asleep instead of fighting my hungry cock’s daily supplication. * * *Applying weird make-up or creating creatures from latex, molding and a paint kit isn’t as difficult as applying subtle natural-looking wrinkles. First, you have to get twenty-year-old skin looking less elastic. The aging process takes a bit of handy work and subtle strokes. So it’s very annoying when my attachment, located between my legs, acts like a fifth limb and starts asking for attention in the middle of applying the final touches. Don’t get me wrong. I love my dick. My dick brings me a lot of pleasure. I would not part with that portion of my anatomy. However, I can see the benefits of a detachable penis. I put on jeans, a clean shirt and kept my mind off Satomi while I brush stroke my face with natural color dye. One of my friends said to me once that in the Victorian era guys use to wear make-up and preen for women. Originally, it was guys strutting around like peacocks for attention. All to get laid. God, my Satomi didn’t need to get dressed up for me. Her beauty was in how she made me want to try. Christ, I haven’t even had one date with her, and I’m already calling her “my” Satomi. I pull back for a final look in the mirror. Not bad. I’ve got that Richard Gere thing going on. A little grey in the mane, a few crow’s feet. I really like how I aged the pallor in my cheeks. Even through my nervousness my dick waggles around. Fuck, did it think—oh wait, no, it doesn’t. I have to be the one to tell the fucker to calm down. As if that’s possible. My dick is a horny erratic mastiff chasing cats, pulling me around by the waist, while my brain gets left behind. It’s annoying. The guy staring back at me though, he has control. Where youth and inexperience have agility, age has experience and wisdom. Yeah, that guy in the mirror has been through school, owns a house, and a dog. And he’s fucked lots of women. That guy frowns at me and amends that last sentence. No, he’s had women who adore him for what he brings to the table. Stability, feral masculinity and control. That guy is the guy I want to be. Fake it till you make it, baby.  Click below for Part 2 and the conclusion of Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop. If you feel inclined to support me as an author, the complete version can be read in one sitting and is available at the retailers below: If you liked my story, please use the share buttons on the right hand side!! Dear Reader, When I started, I noticed a theme occurring in my writing. It was about things I wanted to talk about, but didn't know how. Spreading my short stories out as a whole I realized I was a not "normal" girl trying to work in the confines of a "normal" world. I have now realized the un-normal is me and I'm just fine! I might push the limits of acceptable concepts in my writing, but that's why I write. Taboo Fiction are stories that explore relationships and human behavior. I love reader input so don't be shy about leaving me a message. Contact me here on my blog or my Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/snmckibben If you want to know when more of my stories are released, join my exclusive readers group at: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop. Sincerely, S.N. McKibben  Excerpt for “But For You, Yes”Copyright © 2012 S.N. McKibben “Can I ask you a question?” I posed in the bed with my muscled arm flexed holding up my head. Thoughts swam around in my mind about how I should ask my girlfriend of six months my deal breaker question. She rolled over slowly, staring at me with that oh-so-familiar serious look. Melonie was the intuitive type. She always knew when I wasn’t joking and when my jokes had truth to them. It made her an invaluable companion, along with her olive skin, ebony hair, and eyes with the power of a black hole. That combination of hers never failed to get me to “rise” to any occasion she wanted. Plenty of those occasions were kinky enough to make me have hope that this relationship could go much further than ones in the past and fulfill my sexual perverseness. “What do think about back-door love?” I thought I was being as suave as possible about the subject but wasn’t reassured by her giggles and shaking head. She climbed over me, pinned a kiss on my forehead and sauntered out of the bedroom. I lay there wondering what she had implied. Damn woman, that wasn’t an answer. Again, her intuitive nature deflected my question. A metallic squeak followed by hissing water from the bathtub rang like a mating call. Excited that this may be a “yes” to my real question, I flung the covers over and strode to the shower. She was already in, bent over adjusting the temperature, when I pushed the curtain aside and hopped in behind her. That friendly pull from my groin started the blood flowing, and I stroked myself in anticipation. Melonie straightened and turned to face me, “No.” Her tone of finality shocked me. She was always the one to coherece me into nerve-wracking situations when it came to hot monkey sex. And she was telling me “no” for the first time. I caressed her smooth arms, “No to shower sex, or no to the other question?”  Other Taboo Fiction you'll love!Lady Alene and the Widower Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop The Demon Inside Me Escape to Vampire Dam Dr. Vampyre Spoils of Allsveil  ***** Mature Content!! 18+ Only!! ***** Mature Content!! Author reading from "Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop". Kalyan, nearly twenty years younger than his would-be lover, would do anything to become Satomi's cougar bait. Including but not limited to: meeting her on her own terms, dying his hair, aging his face with make-up and being the subject of a little PDA. Satomi is actually resistant to the idea of dating younger men, but Kalyan finds a unique way to get around her age discrimination and their generation gap while proving that maturity isn't hindered by age. Where to get "Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop"  Connect with S.N.McKibben!Praise for Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop! 5.0 out of 5 stars Another winner!
by OCMD "bookworm" (VINE VOICE) After reading, and loving “The Demon Inside Me” I had to check out the author’s other books. This title caught my eye because my husband is younger than me. Our age difference is only a few years, and there’s twenty years between the would-be lovers in this book. But I loved the extremes Kalyan went to in order to get his cougar. Another winner from Ms Mckibben. I’ll be looking for more.  Dear Reader,
I bet you can tell me what this story is about just by the title! Yep. Older woman, younger man. I've had my fair share of dating younger/older men. In fact my parents have a little more than a decade difference in their age. As I look around, it seems to me age being less and less a social taboo as people get older (more mature if you will). I recall one relationship in which I felt everyone's eyes on me, judging me for being with a guy about 15 years younger than me. It didn't matter to him. But for me, I was rather nervous being in public with him. Reverse the situation when I was with a guy 15 years older than me and I was fine with it. I have to ask myself why was older fine for me but younger not? Hmmm...perhaps you, my dear reader, can shed some light on the subject? I'd love to hear your experiences! I've heard some very interesting things that make me feel as though I'm not the only one! ~ Stephy |
Welcome to The Enclave Thanks for taking a look at my little hodgepodge of a blog. The format and subjects of my blog has changed through the years as it's my log of S.N.McKibben's writing journey. You've now been sufficiently forewarned, happy reading! Categories
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