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“Don’t worry, Joe,” Bernice broke in, “There are definite consequences Marianne faces besides the loss of her bike. It’s that cute little butt you like so well that’s going to pay them. She won’t sit for a month.”

“Allaaan! You didn’t have to tell him!” Marianne was morti­fied. For Linda to know was bad enough, but Joe. My God, he’d never look at her as a woman now.

“That’s okay, Marianne.” Joe smiled for the first time. “I was thinking along the same lines myself. Glad to hear Bernice and I feel the same.” Handing his sunglasses to Bernice, he started to roll up the sleeves of his light blue shirt, exposing his for­midable looking forearms. “Bernice, you won’t mind then if I do the honors. After all, I was the one left sitting in her dust.”

Bernice contemplated for a second then answered, “Okay. That seems fair. Just make sure your do a good enough job.”

Marianne was speechless as she stared at first one then the other in disbelief. Then when Joe took a step forward, she found her vocal cords. “No. No. Noooo!” She would have run but as soon as she turned to go she got tangled in the hammock.

Joe grabbed her upper arm and helped her to stand only to be the near recipient of a blow to the face as she swung her fist at him. He ducked in time but the attack did nothing to soothe his temper, only barely kept in check the last few hours. He pulled her writhing body back against him, ignoring her stocking clad feet pounding against his shins as well as the curses she was screaming at him.

A quick flick and he had the button of her jeans undone. He paused to look at Bernice who was watching the scene with interest, arms folded across his chest. “May I?” Joe asked. Bernice nodded and Joe proceeded to strip the tight jeans down and off the squirming woman. Then he straddled the low hammock and flung Marianne over his lap. Lifting the top edge of her panties, he glanced back to get Bernice’s permission once more only to find Marianne’s brother nowhere in sight. With a shrug, he followed his own inclinations and slipped the flimsy black triangle of material down to Marianne’s knees, again ignoring her struggles and curses. Joe wasn’t surprised at all with her sexy underwear. They suited this sexy, more than a little wild, lady. After this les­son, Joe planned to teach Marianne how to be daring and adventurous in safer, more controlled ways. First she had to learn that there were more dangers to contend with than losing her life when she lived too close to the edge.

Marianne couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Teetering on the unstable webbing and the hard, angled shelf of Joe’s knees, she clutched the swaying hammock above her with her right hand to steady herself. Her left hand smacked the grass to kept her from falling forward. She called Joe every vile name she could think of then screamed in rage as she felt her panties slid irrevocably down her thighs. “You have no right!” She was furious that a near-stranger, someone she had hoped to impress and attract, was stripping her bottom bare and planned to punish her exposed flesh. Punish it in the most humiliating way possible.

In her anger, Marianne didn’t quite remember why she was in this position. Joe reminded her. “No right?” She heard him ask. “I think I have every right.” A biting sting spread on her right bottom cheek, flowing outward like ripples on a pond. She felt her buttock compress and rebound. Another sting, sharper, landed atop the first. SMACK! A blossom of fire grew on her left cheek. “I think this is going to be even more satisfying than being able to arrest you.” Three more, another to the left then two dead on center. Joe’s hand was hard and firm, unyielding against her soft flesh. She could imagine the way she looked with her wriggling bottom turning pink.

“Stop!” Marianne pleaded, her feet kicking ineffectually in the air. “Please stop!”

Joe paused. “Why should I?”

“It hurts.” Marianne couldn’t believe the whimper in her voice. Always before, when Bernice spanked her, she was feisty and defiant to the bitter end. At least until he had her broken and weeping. Certainly she never felt this little girl feeling she felt now, especially at the beginning of the spanking, before she felt any real pain.

“It’s supposed to hurt. That’s what a spanking is all about.”

SMACK! “WAIT!” SMACK!

Joe paused again. “What now?”

The Pain Files

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I’ve been on the site for a little while and I thought it was time to share my story. I was in a committed relationship with the same woman for a very long time. I thought we would end up spending out our lives together. I was so wrong. I can feel the anger welling up inside me when I think of all the time I wasted on her. That’s not what this is about, though. This is about the sweetness of revenge.

She cheated on me

Let me start things off by saying that she cheated on me. That was why the relationship ended. There I was, treating her like a goddamned queen and she was fucking my best friend in the world behind my back. It wasn’t a one-time thing, either. She was sucking his dick and letting him cum inside her pussy for almost a year. I don’t even remember how I found out. Everything blurs together after a while and I try to spend as little time thinking about her as possible.

Then I got horny

I remember that I started getting horny a few weeks after she moved out. I had no outlet or other recent partners to call up for some booty. I was clicking around the internet and looking at cougar porn when I came across https://cougarsex.org . I had always had a thing for older women and was just looking for some spank material. I got a whole lot more after I decided to sign up for the fuck of it.

I started talking to someone

I found a woman I thought was hot and sent her a message. She replied immediately because she was looking for spank material of her own. I got to telling her about everything and she seemed to know exactly what I was talking about. She invited me over to her place that night and I couldn’t refuse. I’m so glad I didn’t. I barely made it through the door before she got down on her knees and started sucking me off. It had been so long that I shot a huge load all over her face. She smiled, grabbed my phone and took a picture of herself. She sent that cum covered selfie to my ex and it made me feel amazing. Last I heard she was single and desperately horny for a man.

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With her hands behind her head and her toes playing with the net of the hammock, she relaxed and let her mind drift back to last Saturday’s tennis game. Linda and Bernice had asked her to play as Joe’s partner in a game of doubles. She hadn’t been interested until she saw Joe. In shorts and a tank top, he looked more like a body builder than a policeman. Like her, he had black hair. Unlike her, he also had a magnificent mustache. Dark and thick, the neatly trimmed “cookie-duster,” as he called it, still let Marianne see the shape of his mouth. His teeth flashed in frequent smiles and his fluid lips seemed to twitch in amusement almost as often as others blinked. And his eyes! Deep blue and full of twinkles, not the expressionless ice of most blue eyes. They were bedroom eyes, the male equivalent of Betty Davis eyes. It made Marianne warm just to remember them.

More than Joe’s appearance attracted Marianne’s attention though. He was just plain fun to be around. He teased her and she teased him back, surprised at how quickly she was comfortable around him. The light flirtation had been diverting but non-threatening because he didn’t push her or get lewd. After the game, they went to the Waffle House for coffee and conversation where Marianne saw another side of Joe. He was sensitive and intel­ligent as well as playful and witty. The day ended too quickly for Marianne. Usually she couldn’t wait to get away from guys that Bernice had paired her up with. This time she left Joe’s company longing for more.

Marianne’s reverie was broken by the sound of feet rustling through the grass. She hadn’t heard Bernice’s car but recognized the pattern of his movements. Swinging her feet over the side of the hammock, she opened her eyes and smiled a greeting. The smile flickered out and her brows knitted in concern at the expression on Bernice’s face. He was clearly upset. “Bernice! What’s wrong? Did something happen at work?”

“No, nothing happened at work.” His voice was calm and cold the way it was only when he was angry — very angry. He held out his hand, palm up. “Give me the keys to your bike, Marianne. Then we’ve got some talking to do.”

An icy fear gripped Marianne as it dawned on her that, somehow, he knew. And that he planned on much more than mere talk. Just the way he was standing, rigid with fury, told her that she wouldn’t get off without a hard, long spanking. That didn’t mean that she wouldn’t try. “What do you mean, Bernice? What do you think I’ve done?”

“It’s what I know you’ve done, you little idiot. You could have killed yourself or someone else today. Never in my life would I have thought that you’d be so reckless. Speeding’s one thing, but driving the wrong way on an Interstate? I didn’t take you for such a fool.” He nodded toward his outstretched hand, his blue eyes flashing and a lock of his coal black hair falling over his forehead. “Give me the keys. I’m not going to ask again.”

Realizing now that it was hopeless, she gave in. Her shoulders slumped and she dug her keys out of her jeans pocket, taking as much time as she could get away with without seeming too obvious. She finally slapped them into Bernice’s hand with a sigh. With every fiber of her body, she wanted to kill whoever had ratted on her. “How on earth did you find out? Who told you?”

“I did.” Joe’s voice came from behind Bernice. As her brother stepped back and Joe came up beside him, peeling off his dark aviator glasses, Marianne was struck with how much they looked alike. Both were wearing jeans and light colored shirts. Both had black hair and blue eyes. Only a slight difference in body build and Joe’s mustache made it possible to tell them apart. Joe looked more like Bernice’s sibling than Marianne did with her green eyes. Right now the fierce scowls on their faces made them look like twins.

The Pain Files

“You?” She couldn’t believe it. “How could you have known?” It was as bewildering as Bernice knowing. “How could anyone have known?”

“Easy, Marianne. I recognized you. I was the fool you left sitting on the roadside watching your dust cloud disappear.” Joe clenched and unclenched his teeth. “You’re damn lucky I didn’t get my hands on you right then. You’d have been given a ticket for everything I could think of and locked up to wait for big brother to come and bail you out.” He put both fists on his hips.

Marianne noticed how big they were, how strong his wrists looked, and shuddered. Easy, she told herself. Knowing that Bernice was going to spank her was making her think strange, impos­sible thoughts. She didn’t have to worry about the size and strength of Joe. Only Bernice mattered. She forced herself back to the real world. “I thought you worked with Bernice. What were you doing in a state police car?”

“Just because we’re friends, doesn’t mean we’re both on the Michigan force. I’m a state trooper.”

“You would have arrested me?”

“You’re damn right. A night in jail would have done you a world of good. Maybe taught you that your actions have conse­quences, ones you’d rather not face besides having your toys taken away.”

For the first time in her life, Marianne felt real shame for what she had done. It seemed different when Joe scolded her than when Bernice did. She felt the childishness of her actions like never before. She wanted to impress Joe, make him interested in her, not embarrass herself the way she had with her reckless behavior. “Are you going to arrest me now?”

“No, I’m not. You managed to get away before I got your tag number. Now, I’d have no proof. If you hadn’t ridden your bike last Saturday, I wouldn’t have recognized you at all. Thank the gods I’ll never forget what your cute little butt looks like in those skin tight jeans.”

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I’m in somewhat of a unique position to offer my advice and experiences. I’m a full-fledged cougar who also happens to be a lesbian. This hasn’t always been easy to deal with. Not only do I need to seek out other lesbians, but they need to be much younger than me. It was a massive strain on my sex life before I found this site. There are so many young people looking for cougars here that not getting laid is next to impossible. That’s why I figured I would share my experience with younger women. I know there have to be plenty of cougars like myself out there. This is how I make sure they always have a good time and come back for more.

Let them explore your body

The first thing to keep in mind is that they love older women. You’re their fetish. They never would have bothered to talk to you in the first place if that weren’t the case. They love the way you look and they love the way you feel. They want to touch every single inch of your body. They want to kiss you all over. You have to let them. It’s why you got together. Sure, you’re going to want to touch them just as much. Their tight, young bodies are practically begging for it. Just remember that youth has no patience. Let her get it out of her system first. You’ll get plenty of time to play with her afterward.

Let them pleasure you

You’re an older woman. You’ve had tons more experience than your cub. You need to realize that they’re going to take it as a point of pride to get you off. If they can say that they were good enough to make you cum, they’ll be in heaven. Just let it all happen. Spread your legs and let her go to town on it. Relax and lie back until she makes you cum all over her pretty little face.

Bring your A game

Then it’s going to be your turn. Don’t just phone it in. Give her everything you’ve got. Show her all of the experience that you’ve been collecting for your entire life from https://cougarsex.org . Make it sensual. Use your entire body to make hers glow with pleasure. That’s what’s really going to keep her coming back. Be the cougar she needs in her life.

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Marianne always rode her motorcycle as if her life depended on it. This time it did. If not her life, then at least her ass. Before she worried about saving her ass, though, she had to worry about saving her life. That was difficult considering the fact that she was riding the gravel brim of I-65 at an extremely high speed ( about thirty miles per hour over the speed limit give or take a few m.p.h.) and she was headed south on the north bound side.

Dangerous, to be sure, but it was the only way she could see to keep the state cop from following her. Obviously he couldn’t turn his car around and follow her. In half a mile she’d be off at the Keystone exit and could duck though some side street, find a quiet little store to browse though and lay low for an hour or so. A quick glance in her side mirror and Marianne saw the helpless police car parked off the road, red lights flashing angrily. She could imagine the frustration the cop felt at being unable to do anything but watch her retreating figure disappear.

Blistered Bottom

Marianne chuckled then shivered as she realized how close she had come to getting another speeding ticket. Bernice, her brother, had let her know in no uncertain terms that if she got one more ticket not only would he take the keys to her bike, he’d blister her bottom like never before.

She knew he’d do it, too. Since she had moved here to live with him two years ago, he had spanked her infrequently but very efficiently. It didn’t take many spankings “Bernice style” to con­vince her to be mighty careful. Unfortunately for Bernice, he didn’t know that, to Marianne, being careful meant careful to not get caught. She felt that she had the right to live her life the way she wanted to. She never did anything really wrong. She just had a part of her that loved to live life to the fullest, on the edge where her adrenaline flowed hot. She loved danger for the rush it gave her.

She knew that Bernice worried. He was only concerned for her safety. He loved her. And he didn’t understand her need to take risks.

Their last confrontation was over her helmet. Marianne always had it with her but rarely had it on. The wind roaring in her ears and tearing at her shoulder length black hair was half the fun of riding her bike. Bernice, an Michigan policeman, had seen too many crushed heads to think the wind in her hair was justifi­cation for gambling with her life. Two months ago he had lifted her leather mini-skirt, stripped her panties off and walloped her bare bottom until the skin was fire engine red. She didn’t sit for a week. Worst of all, he had spanked her in front of his new girlfriend, Linda. The mortification from that had lasted far longer than the pain of her physical punishment. She had been unable to be in the same room with Linda for weeks. It was still difficult.

Now, Marianne was glad she had worn her helmet for a change. Dressed as she was with jeans, black biker boots and a leather jacket, the helmet had completed an outfit that would make recog­nizing her difficult. All the better to escape possibility of being identified later. Most cops wouldn’t expect her kind of riding in a woman anyway. They’d be thinking she was a slender, daring young man. With a last glance back at the distant car, she darted off the interstate, going down the on-ramp, and slipped past the traffic waiting at the stop light, ignoring the blare of a horn behind her.

Hours later, Marianne glided her bike into the driveway of the house she and Bernice shared, pulling all the way forward to leave room for Bernice when he got home from work. He was a detective now, working evenings, and wasn’t home much anymore.

Peeling off her leather jacket, she draped it over the seat of her bike and walked around to the cool shade at the back of the house. Lost in thought, she undid the snap of her helmet and tossed it onto the grass. A second later her boots joined her helmet and she climbed into the hammock slung between two old trees. Marianne felt a moment of sadness. With his work and the time he spent with Linda, she saw little of her brother. She was happy for him and Linda but longed for a love of her own.

Finding a man she could be attracted to was difficult. Most of the men she met were wimps, even the policemen who worked with Bernice. Too tame, with no sense of adventure. The only guys she had met lately that weren’t totally boring were Mark Gardner and Joe Freeman. Mark, Bernice’s long time friend, had a girl. She’d only met Joe once and that had been enough to spark her interest but she wasn’t one to chase a man. If he didn’t find her appeal­ing, or worse yet, was too intimidated by her to seek her out, then he wasn’t man enough to attract her for more than an instant.

The Pain Files

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