Year of the Cougar

I’ve always been attracted to younger men. There’s not much to read into there - other than the fact that I like to dominate the male species and it’s easier to do when they’re tweens. What’s new, however, is my age… I just turned 35 last week, and, if I’m not mistaken, that puts me within reach of cougar status. I got very excited by the prospect of that so I felt the need to try it out.

I’d been stalking some fresh prey for a few months. He was 21 when we first met and reeked of innocence despite his attempts at manliness (you know, multiple tats, drinking Jack, smoking, etc.). For months I told him that I was going to violate him, but he, like so many other wide-eyed innocents before him, mistakenly took my comments as jest rather than the blueprints they were. But he learned soon enough that the Viagra Vixen does not fuck around when it comes to fucking.

I used to judge men with ridiculously younger women on their arms. It seemed like such a double standard that dudes are allowed to dabble in teen meat without so much as the bat of a societal eye. But today is the dawn of a new era and now you’ll find me high-fiving my male cradle-robbing counterparts as we troll the parking lot of the nearest mall. The Chinese have it all wrong - this is not the Year of the Ox… it is the Year of the Cougar!

This piece of cougar meat in particular was fun to snack on. For thirty-six hours I held my doe-eyed man-child captive and thoroughly enjoyed devouring him and spitting out his bones. When I finally released him, he was reborn. He was initiated. He was a man… well sort of. And this is the best part of the whole encounter: Man-child still had to call his daddy to come and pick him up in the morning because he can’t drive.

Fucking delicious.