The following is the first installment in a fictional journal kept by a forty-something, single woman. While the main character may share experiences and attributes in common with me, she is a work of fiction. In a way, she may represent my "alter ego" and goes places that I can't (at least just yet). In any event, she is a likeable character. I hope you enjoy her adventures as much as I enjoy writing them.
The great thing about being in your forties is you have a much better sense yourself and what you want from life, from yourself, from your lovers...you get the picture. The lousy thing about being in your forties is while your perception of yourself may not have changed so much, your chassis is starting to feel the miles, your appetites have changed and society has a whole new set of labels for you to contend with. When I was in my twenties, a libido like mine made me a “hot” girlfriend. In my thirties, it was credited with keeping my marriage “vibrant.” I was a “horny housewife”, the kind men have wet dreams about. Now I’m divorced, in my mid forties, and my libido gets me labelled as a “cougar.” I mean who makes this shit up anyway? I suppose I should be grateful. I mean at least it sounds sexy - meow. If only it made getting laid a little easier.
That’s one of the ironies of being a woman in your forties. Your hormones are screwed up, but sometimes that works in your favour. The same testosterone surges that make your aesthetician your best friend also give you great wet dreams and add a whole new edge to masturbation fantasies. If you’re like me and have read your share of period romances, you are familiar with the alpha male hero and, no doubt, he will have been a staple in your fantasies since adolescence. The problem, of course, is all those alpha heroes are typically in their late twenties or early thirties and are always chasing after heroines who are eight to ten years younger than them. Any temporary liaisons with older women are just that – something to tie them over until the right virgin shows up. That’s the first thing that gets changed in my fantasies, of course. In my fantasies, virginity is not a deal breaker. Now it’s not that I have anything against older men either. It’s just they are not so easy to find in romance novels. Period romances, hell the romance genre in general, seems to think that books sell better when them that are having the steamy sex are between 19 and 35. (I wonder why?)
And like I said earlier, appetites change over time too. I knew my tastes ran a little outside mainstream. I’ve always been pretty relaxed about my sexuality and was always open to new things. Too bad, my ex-husband’s idea of new things was usually limited to new ways to get his rocks off. If he had been half as interested in discovering what I liked...on second thought, let’s not go there. I’d been attracted to some of the things he wanted to try, but it was as if he couldn’t decide whether he really wanted me to get into them or not. Such mixed feedback left me wondering how much I should like them – you know?
Anyway, back to changing appetites. In my attempt to expand my fantasy repertoire, I recently came across some great online fiction with a BDSM theme. I’d enjoyed some kink in my marriage so I figured why not. I had such a physical response to those stories! I’d be so wet and agitated, but I wouldn’t allow myself relief until I finished each story. That in itself was wild. Some days I woke up as horny as when I closed my eyes the night before.
It’s interesting too how different people look to you when your hormones are raging. Acquaintances encountered through the daily commute smell better, their smiles and body language seem more provocative. It also very interesting how their response to you changes; eye contact is prolonged, they stand a little closer, fingertips touch as they pass something to you, they find more to say to you than usual. It’s as if you both can sense the pheromones in the air. Some days, the electricity in the air has been so intense I’ve retreated to stalls in public rest rooms to relieve myself in private. Other days, I revel in the tension and direct it into other activities like choosing sexier clothes and lingerie when shopping, painting my toenails electric blue and deciding to shave my pussy for the first time.
A little erotica led to some internet searching and the next thing I knew, I had joined a social website for kinky folk and discovered my preferences aren’t as outrageous as I first thought. One of the groups I joined suggested that newbies might benefit from keeping a diary, by documenting the journey of discovery, so to speak. Since keeping a diary seems too juvenile, I’ve decided to begin “The Cougar Chronicles” to document the adventures of this cougar as she hunts out opportunities to explore and act out her desires and fantasies.
I hope you enjoy this as much as I hope I will.