Cougars and Cubs Guest Post by Willsin Rowe and Katie Salidas

Younger Men

A woman’s perspective

Katie Salidas

http://www.katiesalidas.com

Now, I’m not going to say I’m old enough to be a cougar. (I believe I qualify as a Puma, but don’t think of asking my age. A lady never tells.) I do, however, appreciate the charms of a… ahem… more youthful man.  I’m guilty of oogling younger gentlemen like Taylor Lautner, a man more than 10 years my junior. Hey, even we married women can look, right?

And looking around, there are so many hot young things in the spotlight. Yummy!

But why do we more experienced ladies look to the younger man?

I think there is something to be said for the disparity of age in sexual peaks between women and men. We women tend to peak later, while men enjoy theirs at the ripe age of 18. Which means for the Puma, or Cougar, its natural selection. It’s almost as if nature wants us to look to the younger man.

A younger man is not just attractive for his physical appearance. Having all that energy and ability to “go all night,” they are also generally more willing to take the time to please their woman… if they know the how, what, and where. In our youth (both men and women alike) we don’t often know how to communicate our desires and needs. However, with age and experience, you learn. A cougar can take advantage of this, really direct her young stud, and teach him exactly how to please her.

You can only imagine the mind-blowing sex that must result from a pairing like this. *evil grin*

And that’s where Patience comes in.

It’s a wonderful sexual fantasy; being the one to catch that hot younger man. He’s headstrong and cocky, with a hard body at its sexual peak. Even though he is more than capable, he’s still a little wet behind the ears and willing to try new things. Yummy! Oh how I’d like to be the one to teach him the ropes. And that right there is what makes it such a fun fantasy.

Older Woman

A man’s perspective

Willsin Rowe

http://willsinrowe.blogspot.com/

In a culture that seems more insistent than ever that youth is everything, what is it about the sexy older woman that gets the pulse of a young man racing?

Well, of course, I can’t speak for all men, so I’ll speak for myself. I’m sure it has roots in the fact that most boys grow up basking in the love of an older woman. So I guess there’s potentially something a little Oedipal in it. Then there are the teachers you form crushes on, too.

But it’s obviously much more than that. An older woman is usually more independent and self-confident. She’s had the attention of men for 20 years, maybe longer. She is a more powerful being than she was when she was 25.

And that’s a huge factor.

See, being a man comes with its own set of expectations. Different from, but equal to, the expectations women feel. Being a man means you’re expected to be in control. Financial control. Physical control. Emotional control. But when you’re 24, you’re still trying to find out how life works. How fast you can run, how hard you can hit. Figuratively and literally.

A woman of 40, say, has almost certainly ridden shotgun on that particular journey of self-discovery at least once. She knows how brittle a young man is. He’s strong – very strong – until he’s not. Then he’s powder.

Being with an older woman offers a young man the chance to relinquish that show of power. Because she knows it’s a show. That he has very little idea what he’s doing for 90% of the time. He’s more willing to be guided by someone in a position of power. And by the age of 40, most women know how to speak to men.

Paradoxically, an older woman offers a young man the chance to prove his power. To use a very male analogy, a boxer cannot become world champion without beating the current world champion. Men do that. They need to conquer, and so shape their experiences to fit that world view. Everything becomes a competition of some kind.

With all the wiles that a sexy cougar has in her armory, she is a worthy opponent. And a young man knows how hard he has to work to gain her approval.

Thankfully, most men love a challenge!

Patience may be a virtue, but the reward is sin! 5,000 word short erotic story. 

Publisher: Exessica

http://www.excessica.com/books/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=2&products_id=583&zenid=0b09da74332ae6c3d5a580bb3ee5220f

Release: August 31^st 2012

Genre: Erotic Romance/ May-December

Format: Ebook

 Synopsis:

Donelle Fortier is no billionaire. She runs her ad agency with passion and scruples...and it shows in her bank balance.

Edan Dalca is the cocky young hotshot Donelle hired to pump life into her business. He’s intense, passionate...and downright hawt.

But when his arrogance threatens the agency’s future, Donelle realizes he needs to be taught one very important lesson: patience.

And with Donelle’s consummate skills, it’s a lesson that Edan will never forget.

This title contains graphic language, older women/younger man nookie, and an intriguing use of confectionary.

Katie Salidas

http://www.katiesalidas.com

Willsin Rowe

http://willsinrowe.blogspot.com/

Patience © August 2012 by Willsin Rowe and Katie Salidas

Excerpt 1

He turned, drilling his steel-gray eyes into mine. “You regret last night, don’t you?”

“Last night...” I bit down on my burgeoning smile. “Well, I’ve certainly done smarter things than seduce a co-worker.”

“The way I see it, I seduced you.”

“Such is my skill, young man.” I couldn’t suppress my smile this time. “No, it wasn’t my smartest move, but I certainly don’t regret it. Anyway, I thought you boys compartmentalized everything.”

He slipped his hand onto my thigh. “How can I when you’re right here?”

I bit my lip and squeezed my legs together. “Stop…” It was barely a whisper, not convincing at all. He had such big hands they were impossible to ignore. Especially sliding up my leg like that.

I clamped my hand over his. “No, Edan. We have to get back to the office. We have another pitch tomorrow.”

He dug his fingers in, a needless show of strength. With a puff of disgust he pulled back and turned away. “Fine. Then maybe tomorrow you’ll let me drive.” He shucked out another mint and ground it to death.

“Oh, act your fucking age, Edan.” Jesus. I sound like I’m his mother. I started the car and mashed out my frustration on the gas pedal.

We drove back in man-made silence. Before I’d even turned off the engine Edan had his door open, ready to storm upstairs and broadcast our failure. To distance himself from the stink of it. I curled my fingers around his arm.

“Wait.”

He pulled loose from my tenuous grasp and flounced out of the car. I turned off the engine and rushed after him, my clattering heels echoing off the concrete ceiling of the parking garage.

“Edan, stop!”

The touch of my hand on his shoulder seemed to calm him a little. He stopped and let me turn him around. I felt like his mother again as I pressed him back against the wall. In my heels I was almost eye-to-eye with him. Or would be, if he’d look at me.

“You still have so much to learn, boy.”

“Don’t call me boy. I’m 24 years old.”

“In every way possible.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Look, we need to present a united front. Yes, we probably lost the pitch. But those people up there rely on me, and now you, to bring business in. They need to believe in us.”

“Then untie the apron strings! Let me take more control.”

I rested my hand against his chest. Even through the thick wool of his suit, I fancied I could feel the heat of his skin, and I nearly lost my train of thought. “This is not the time for that discussion, Edan.”

“It never is.”

“Stop. I mean it, this is not the time. We need to radiate calm, give off a positive vibe. Can you do that?”

He shook his head and puffed out a resigned chuckle. Finally his cool eyes met mine. “Maybe. What’s it worth to you?”

The warmth of his hand was all too real as he cupped the fullness of my breast through my blouse. I’d been so focused on his eyes I hadn’t seen him move. My breath tripped up as he squeezed my hardening nipple.

“Edan…” The simple urgency of my own voice sounded like a betrayal. With my hand over his I rested my head on his chest, just to take the weight off my untrustworthy knees. With my eyes closed and the heat of his body against me it was easy to forget he was born the year I finished school.

Suddenly he was all hands and breath, all heat and muscle, and lord, did it feel good. I clutched at his belt for balance and he pushed his mouth onto mine.