Cougars and Cubs
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Cougar And Her Five Virginal Cubs Ch. 19 free porn video
Chapter Nineteen – Thanks for the Memories
Without warning or notice, Kathleen unexpectedly moved from the neighborhood shortly after our day of sexual fun. I wonder if one of the neighbors overhead us talking about our sexual adventures. Maybe someone, other than my four, horny friends, saw her posing and dancing in front of her windows naked. Maybe someone with binoculars saw the five of us have sex with our very own, Mrs. Robinson. Maybe now that she fucked us and took our virginity, she’s off looking for more virgins. All that I know is that she’s gone.
A closed Italian neighborhood, the residents don’t take too kindly to single women, especially a good looking redheaded, Irish woman, having a good, sexual time with the neighborhood young men. Boston already had an infamous reputation for burning redheaded witches, back in the 18th century. Definitely, if discovering her past and what she’s been doing in her present, I could see them tying her to a stake and setting her on fire. Yet, although Kathleen wasn’t a witch, certainly, she was nothing like the other women in the neighborhood. The women who lived here don’t like any woman, who wasn’t just like them. I can just picture a contingent of Sicilian Italian women marching down to her apartment, dragging her out by her long, lush hair, and making her an offer that she couldn’t refuse to accept.
We never saw her leave. One day she was still there and the next day she was gone. Had we known she was moving, we all would have helped her pack. Yet, why would she even bother painting her apartment, if she knew she was leaving, unless she was asked to leave or else, unexpectedly?
When I walked upstairs to look for any sign of her, her doors were still off the hinges and everything was gone. Gone, gone, gone, she was gone. She must have left in the middle of the night or the first thing in the morning. Knowing the Mafia Moms like I do, I hope they didn’t take her for a ride, if you know what I mean. I hope Kathleen isn’t swimming with the fishes, if you know what I mean.
I wished I could have said goodbye to her. I wished I could have thanked her for making me a man. I wished I could have reconnected with her later in life. I wished she hadn’t left. I wish I could have had just one day alone with my Maureen O’Hara. I would have enjoyed one more day of sex.
I wonder where she went. I wonder who she’s with and what she’s doing now? I wonder if she told her husband or the man in her life about the times, when she was a cougar, a seducer, and sexual education teacher of young, virginal men. I wonder if she thinks of us in the way that we all think of her. I wonder if she thinks of me in the way that I will forever think of her.
Wherever she is, albeit elderly now, I imagine she’s still beautiful, fun, funny, and sexy. With her big blue eyes and her big tits, I imagine her looking even more like a mature Maureen O’Hara. My real live movie star, she was my first love and the imagined image of her stayed with me throughout my entire life, even after I was married and had children. I hope, wherever she is and whoever she’s with, that she’s happy.
Still, trying not to think any less of her, not wanting to think of her as a whore, now that I’m older and have daughters and sons of my own, before I discovered the reason why she was the way she was, I wondered why she was like that. With all the young men she seduced in Charlestown and in the North End of Boston, and only God knows where else, why was so driven to have so very much sex with so very many young, virginal men? Why did she seduce me and then invite my friends over to gangbang her? What woman does that? No woman, unless they are a paid prostitute or a professional call girl, does that. What woman behaves like that, so sexy, so sensual, so willing, so easy, and so nice?
I wondered if any of us made her pregnant. Maybe she has a 43-year-old child that looks exactly like me, Ralph, Anthony, Stephen, or, God forbid, little Joey. Hopefully, she couldn’t have children or was on birth control. Hopefully, none of us made her pregnant. I’d be sad if there was a child of mine out there, somewhere, wondering who his father was. Maybe, if she did get pregnant, she told everyone that she was pregnant with someone else’s child, instead of pregnant from gangbanging five, virginal men. I have no idea and, probably, I’ll never know where she is and what she’s doing.
Surely, glad that she had turned us all into men, nonetheless, her sexual behavior wasn’t normal, not even close. Even for the sixties, during the height of the sexual revolution, her behavior would have raised eyebrows, even from the believers of free love on the West Coast, forget about the uptight proper Bostonians on the East Coast. Much in the way of everything else, even fast food, fast cars, and McDonald’s hamburgers, the sexual revolution started on the West Coast in the early 60’s and, the sexual wave that consumed the country, didn’t hit Boston, until my time with Kathleen in 1968.
Missing her in the way of a lost love, I used to routinely check her abandoned, empty apartment for a clue to where she went. Newspapers collected on her stoop and mail piled up in her mailbox. Even though it was illegal to do, with a careful eye cast over my shoulder, I’d routinely go through her mail to see, if there was some new information that I could use to find her. I didn’t discover where she went, but I discovered why she behaved, as she did, so dangerously promiscuous, when there was a letter from her husband’s sister in the mailbox. Her sister-in-law? Wow! I didn’t know she was married. Holy shit. Even though it was against the law, in the name of finding Kathleen, I couldn’t help but open her mail and read it.
Dear Kathleen,
I hope this letter finds you happy and well.
I found these, when I was cleaning out Doug’s old room. We cleaned out his room years ago, after he married you, but there were still boxes of his things stored in his closet. He told us he’d be by to collect them, once he was discharged from the service and after you found a place of your own to call home. I still can’t believe he’s gone. As if it all happened yesterday, I still miss him.
Anyway, here are a few snapshots of him as a teenager, one taken, when he was on his way to his high school prom with you. You have the recent photos of him in his uniform and if you still have them, please send me one of him in his dress blues. I’d like to have that to frame for my wall to show my sons that their uncle was a hero in the Vietnam War.
To this day, I still don’t understand why he dropped out of college to join the Marines and volunteered to go to Viet Nam. He was so happy with you. You were together forever and I couldn’t wait for the two of you to have children. Only, he was taken from us too soon. Only 25-years-old when he died, a month away from being discharged, he was excited about coming home to you and to us, his family.
Love,
Donna
Wow. Kathleen was a married woman. Her husband was a Marine killed in Viet Nam. Holy shit! From what Donna wrote, Kathleen was once a nice, normal, married woman, who married her childhood sweetheart. Maybe, after having gone through so much misery of losing the love of her life, sex is how she was able to feel something enough to quell her pain. I don’t know. I guess I’ll never know why she did the things that she did. Yet, happy she crossed our paths, I never would have met her otherwise.
Suddenly, I was angry. I felt used and abused by her. Suddenly, with the memory of her tarnished by deceit, I didn’t like her anymore. Then, I looked at the pictures that Donna sent. One of them, the photo of her brother, Doug, with Kathleen at their Prom, in that photo, Doug looked just like me. He could have been my older brother. Maybe that’s why Kathleen picked me out of the group of five to help her paint. Maybe that’s why she kissed me, as if she was kissing someone else. Maybe kissing me made her
think that she was kissing Doug and that he wasn’t dead. How so awful? How so sad? Maybe lost in time, she was thinking of better times and places, when with me and my four friends.
I was happy that I could give her some peace. I was happy that she could feel some pleasure. Only, I always wondered where she is now. Maybe she’s dead. Maybe she’s married with children. If she was married with children, by now, she’d have grandchildren. Maybe she wouldn’t even remember me, but just once, I’d love to meet her again. Just once, I’d like to pretend she was my Maureen O’Hara again. Just once, I’d like to hold her in my arms, kiss her, and tell her that I miss her and still love her.
THE END
Madison
- 08.08.2021
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