RE: The Trophy - Cougar Girl & Little Rooster
This is a side of Heath I have not seen before. I have always seen him as a boy, but he behaves now like a man, a real man, one who is prepared to take control. I naturally deferred to Felicity as the teacher in charge of the class, but Heath isn’t prepared to do that. He makes clear what he wants and his authority is clear to both of us. He expresses his wish, but it takes effect as a command. I stop in my tracks and turn to watch Felicity pick up her glasses and leave. There is disappointment on her face, but admiration too. She is sensing what I feel and I am not just talking about what I feel in my mind, I am talking at a much more visceral level, which appeals to both of us as a woman. Here is a man who knows what he wants and asserts his right to it. His right to me.
Even as Felicity leaves, I know that she is a rival. She admires Heath for his body, respects him for his authority and command, and wants him, needs him to fulfill a need that all women feel. She will not give up.
I go to Heath, drawn by the knowledge of his desire and need for me. One tug of the cord releases the robe and I drop to my knees with his cock rising in my face. My hands glide up his thighs and cradle his balls, kneading them gently as if I am pumping his cock full. It shoots fully erect, the head bulging. My body tells me to take him, to strip off and ride him to our mutual satisfaction. But I cannot do that, not if he is to remain hard.
I take him by the hand and lead him out to the class. Felicity has told them that I will be posing Heath and adjusting his pose. She has probably added some bitchy comments as well. But whatever she has said, we have their full attention. Well, OK, Heath has their full attention. There was no point in trying to cover his erection with the robe. I leave it to fall as it will, parted by his cock riding proud before him. I move behind him, so that he will be visible to the whole class as I take the robe off his shoulders, like I am unwrapping my special present in front of my friends so that they can all see how lucky I am.
Heath adopts the pose that Felicity set, with little need for adjustment from me, but I behave just as Felicity did, touching him and stroking him just for my own pleasure and to show everyone, including that four-eyed bitch, that I can do what I want to him and with him. I lean over, my body pressing against his chest, and whisper in his ear.
‘Don’t worry if you start to flag, I’ll cum over the pump you up again.’
He grins back. By the look on his face he won’t need much attention from me. Not that that means he won’t be getting it. As I settle onto my chair, I realise that Heath and I will have to contain ourselves but in different ways. He is free to show off his feelings, whereas I have to contain mine. I have to sit here and try to concentrate despite the gnawing feeling in my crotch, the tingling in my clit, that distract me. The other women are all staring, not even pretending to study him as a model any longer. Their feelings show in different ways. Face flushed, chest heaving, nipples erect, mouth slightly ajar, tongue licking lips, eyes bright. Out of the corner of my eye Felicity is sitting on a chair watching Heath intently, her glasses perched on the end of her nose, like she is studying a specimen ready for dissection in a laboratory. I realise with a shock that she and I have adopted the same position, legs crossed tightly with our hands crushed hard into our crotches.
Tenatively, each of the students begins to change their drawing, concentrating on the task in hand rather than the body in front of them, at least pretending to, because their eyes show that they are looking only at one thing. I keep an eye on Heath’s cock too, naturally, just to be sure he doesn’t need any assistance. At first, I step forward and make a slight adjustment for the sake of it, to show my ownership and to warn off any thoughts that he is available. I hear and ignore the sighs of irritation behind me as I block his view. On my fourth trip, I bend down and lick a blob of cum that has formed on his cock, which responds with an inviting twitch. Heath lets out a soft moan and I back off. This is not a sex show and neither of us wants him to cum and deflate. It is time to concentrate on my drawing.
I rip my drawing off the easel and start afresh. I draw, and draw as I never have before, my hand moving without thought or deliberation, sketching the outline of his body, then filling in the details. And as I sketch I let my fantasies fly. I see the class going up to Heath as he lies on the couch. Each woman presents herself to him in turn, stripping off to reveal their slim bodies honed and tanned by their leisure hours spent in the gym and the beauty parlour. Each practices on him their sexual skills developed over decades with their husbands and lovers. One gives him a blowjob, another a handjob, while a third rides him cowgirl and a fourth lies on her back for him to mount her. Heath rises to the challenge, becoming hard again as each new woman presents herself for his service. But each time his orgasm is less powerfeul than the last and he struggles more and more to produce his cum.
When all the students have had their fill, Felicity presents herself. She strips to reveal erotic underwear and a strong muscular body, but Heath can no longer respond. He hangs soft and flaccid, his face straining as he tries to get hard. She works on him, with hands, tongue, lips, using her whole body to rub over against his, but to no avail. She retreats, defeated, deflated, frustrated and humiliated. Heath hangs his head in shame … until I step forward. I toss my clothes aside to reveal my overweight, flabby body with sagging tits, and Heath’s cock immediately responds. He pushes me face down onto the couch and takes me like a stallion servicing his first mare of the season. His orgasm lifts me into the air and he pumps me so full of cum that it overflows, running down our legs and forming a puddle on the floor.
‘That’s really very good, excellent in fact.’ Felicity’s voice brings me back to earth. I look at her in amazement; she has never praised anything I have done before. ‘Although …’ I glare at her, challenging her to criticise what I know is the best drawing I have ever made. She stammers on, her eyes focussed on the drawing. ‘Although … I’m not sure … it’s just that … well, have you got his face quite right?’
I look down at my drawing and there, staring back at me, are the beautifully drawn features of my son. Oh shit.
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