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Hot Cougar Roleplay

Bardia is still roaming the country after our two trysts in Boulder, and I am in the Northeast, so like a good cougar woman I rent a car and drive 6 hours to meet him in Boston. I’ve retrieved some of my clothing from New York, which I know he will be pleased about. I check into the Boston Hilton and hang all my clothing carefully on their hangers that can’t be stolen.

After showering, put on a pair of dark skinny jeans, a pair of designer sneakers, a push up bra, and a shirt that hangs around my arms, leaving my shoulders bare except for the bra straps indenting into them with the strain of holding up the weight of my bust on two thin strips. I dab on some essential oils of cedarwood and frankincense and patchouli, put my hair up, and put on a light dusting of makeup, gold sparkling eye shadow and mascara.

I pick Bardia up from the Boston airport. He notices every detail. Immediately.

“You look amazing. I love the jeans. They fit you so well. You look so hot in them.” he continues to acknowledge every bit of what I’ve done to please him. I’m driving on the highway and we’re catching up when I catch him with his hand on his dick, looking at me while I’m talking to him.

“Let me do that for you.” I say, reaching my right hand across the console to his lap. I stroke him through his pants and his back is arching.

“Wow you can do that while you drive?” he says, amazed and breathless. “Is it safe?”

Nothing is safe.” I reply, unzipping him and putting my hand back on the wheel. I don’t mention that Boston isn’t the easiest driving city in USAmerica. “Do you think it’s safer for me to watch you, or for me to do it for you?” I ask.

He moans and impatiently grabs his cock, pulling it through the slit in his boxers. “What if someone sees?” he asks.

It isn’t Iran.” I respond, taking his cock out of his hand. 

“But isn’t it illegal?” he asks. He’s shaking a little and rock hard.

Lots of things are illegal.” I say, increasing my pressure and stroking him a little faster. The blush starts showing on his face and I know he is already close. I don’t break rhythm.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask. 

“Please don’t stop.” he whimpers. He turns towards me, staring at me. My right bra strap has slid down my shoulder and he reaches over and pulls it back up, watching it press into my skin, and with that his hips are bucking in the seat and I see him looking around. There’s a box of tissues in the console and he grabs one just in time to catch long squirts as he lets out a loud sigh. “That was great. Cougar woman.” he grins.

I smile, driving in silence for a moment. 

“I have my period again.” I admit. 

Didn’t stop us last time.” He smiles and leans over to kiss me on the cheek.

As soon as we’re in the room he’s immersed in my closet. Flicking through the hangers and making his reviews known. He spends the evening greedily dressing me up in different permutations of the outfits I have on hand. 

Bardia wants me to be his nursemaid. He is convalescing and I am sponging him down with a warm washcloth. First his forehead, then his neck and chest, and then his cock and balls. I run it underneath his balls and his cock shifts. 

“Do you have that oil?” he asks. I do. I sit on the edge of the best, fully dressed, stroking his cock, pretending it’s a medical treatment to help him recover from something he surely doesn’t deserve. He loves it. I play with his cock for what seems like hours, and finally he takes over for me. 

“Pose for me, cougar woman.” he commands as he jerks himself fast and hard, staring at me.

I sit up and turn my head. Then dive to the bed, ass in the air. On my side, legs crossed. Then on my back, hands unbuttoning my jeans. Bardia forces a “yessss” through clenched teeth. 

I love watching lovers pleasure themselves. I’m slippery wet, no sign of blood anymore, and my clit is swollen and it sends shocks through my spine when I rub myself. Staring at his handsome face, dark hair, and thick brown lips parted to reveal beautiful, straight, white teeth. He’s moaning, I’m moaning, our eyes locked on each other’s faces.

Looking for different things with the same result, we come at the same time, me howling through a smile and him a long sigh against one of the hotel towels. 

The next day we explore Boston and have dinner at a four star restaurant. Bardia has never had a tasting menu and is blown away at the artistry and composition.

He looks at me again with admiration and tells me again how much I remind him of a cousin. I smile at the contrast between my concept of cousins and the cougar woman archetype and drink my Mezcal.

That night after returning from our day in Boston I change into a very short pair of cutoff camo print button up shorts, with my buttcheeks peaking out of the fraying material. On top I’ve got the off the shoulder shirt again, Bardia loves to watch straps against my flesh. I’m sitting cross-legged above him. He desperately wants me to give him a handjob while looking at me clothed. Bardia loves moving his eyes over the fabric against my skin, and my face. 

He lies more still than he ever has, entranced with every move I make. It inspires me to move, to slither around him, to extend the back and forth motion of my hands over his cock to into my arms, through my shoulders, down my back, into my hips and thighs, and out through my wiggling bare toes.

He follows every move, eyes sliding over my body, cock ready to burst.

“Talk.” he begs, starting at me. “I can’t take it. I can’t take this. It’s too much, you’re too much. It’s too good.” he says.

“You deserve it.” I respond. “Just lie back and take it, you don’t have to do anything.” He lies back for a moment but then props himself back up on his elbows.

“But then I can’t see you” he says.

You shouldn’t be looking at a woman so much older than you.” I scold him. He considers it but doesn’t seem to take in the energy or want to be humiliated.

“Age is just a number.” he says.

I smile and think of Sepehr. Boston isn’t Wichita.

I’m moving to the rhythm of the house music playing in my head, dancing over him. My fingers thick with oil twisting around his cock.

“You have such a beautiful cock. I’m so lucky I get to play with it.” I say while stroking him.. “I love giving you what you need.” His eyes flare. Again he’s overwhelmed, almost backing out, unable to take it all in.

“You’re hotter right now than you’ve ever been” he says intensely.

His hand grabs for a towel. 

“You have no idea how hot you are.” he moans almost sadly as he comes in jets.


This story is #3 of 4 dedicated to Bardia:

How we met: Young Persian Lover

Bardia on Drugs: Babysitter

Meeting in Cambridge: The Persian Lovers: Bardia at Cambridge


Like stories about Persians? Read about other Persian Lovers.


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