Cougar at the Cottage
An Interracial Hotwife Fantasy
Molly and Greg are just settling in for a week at their rental cottage when Greg sees a strange man lurking on the dock. What threatens to become a confrontation explodes into a wild surprise when Molly joins him by the water and, instead of heeding his calls to keep her distance, throws her arms around the man's neck in a hug.
It's her old kinesiology professor from college. In a stunning coincidence he and his girlfriend have rented the cottage next door. The two couples quickly become friends over drinks and a barbecue.
But it doesn't take long for Greg to sniff out that there might be more to Molly and Devon Johnson's past than she's letting on. When his suspicions are confirmed he becomes obsessed with discovering more about his wife's old flame.
Molly's reluctant to give too many details about her dalliance with Devon. Which only makes Greg more curious about what she could be hiding. He finds an unlikely ally in Brigid, Devon's woman. Together they conspire to push the two former lovers back into each other's arms. Will Greg live out his fantasy and get the answers that he wants?
Greg opened the back hatch of the Audi and hauled out the two big suitcases Molly had packed. Let out a huff at how much they weighed and wondered what she needed this many clothes for? They were only staying for a week. He grabbed the small backpack he’d packed for himself, threw it over his shoulder and picked up the suitcases again.
He’d made it half way to the house through a swarm of mosquitoes when Molly called out. “Greg? Greg? Can you grab the sunscreen? It’s in a white paper bag on the back seat!”
Sighing, he set the suitcases on the ground and trudged back to the car. Scooped the sunscreen out of the back seat, took it out of the bag and popped it into his shirt pocket. Walked back to the suitcases and did another dead lift to pick them up.
Molly walked out onto the screened in porch just as he was lifting them. “Oh no! Did you put those on the ground? They’re going to be all dirty Greg!” she complained.
He gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the criticism. “I’ll dust them off before I put them in the room,” he muttered as he squeezed past her into the cottage.
“Better use a wet paper towel. It’s pretty muddy out there.”
He glanced back at where he’d set the luggage down. Dry as a bone. Better to not mention though.
“I think there are paper towels in the kitchen. Oh, just hold on. I’ll get it,” Molly said.
He drew in a breath and closed his eyes. Thought back to their last therapy session. Empathy. He was supposed to be practising empathy. In these moments when something Molly did got his goat he was supposed to be an observer of his own emotions. Supposed to watch them pass, acknowledge them, just not react. He couldn’t control his emotions. He could control his reactions. He did some deep breathing with his eyes closed until Molly swept into the room like a tornado, tipped the luggage on it’s side and started wiping them down with the wet paper towels she’d brought.
He stood watching.
“It’s just I think there were ants out there and we don’t want to get ants into the house. I think that’s in the contract, actually. We’re really supposed to take care not to let any insects or wildlife in. Apparently they paid a lot of money to…”
He sighed as she prattled on. Instead of letting Molly’s worrying upset him he focused his mind on the twelve beers he’d brought in to cool in the fridge. A week sitting around on the deck of a cottage hadn’t been his first choice of vacation. He didn’t do sitting around very well. But Molly, who spent a lot more time managing humans than he spent interacting with them, had insisted. A lonely, secluded place with just the two of them. Somewhere on the water. Somewhere she could swim first thing in the morning and any other time she wanted. He’d agreed but only after extracting the only concession from her he needed to have as good a time on this sort of vacation as she would: beer. Unlimited, day-drinking guzzling of all the beer he wanted was all he needed. If he had that Molly could do whatever the hell she wanted.
“Okay I think I got most of it. Did you bring my purse in like I asked?” Molly said, standing up from her crouch.
“My hands were kind of full with all these,” he said, lifting the suitcases again. “I’ll go back out and…”
“Oh never mind. I’ll get it,” Molly said, vaguely irritated.
He closed his eyes and did a few more deep breaths before staggering into the bedroom and setting the suitcases down next to the dresser. Knowing Molly she’d unpack for the week. Organize her socks and underwear into the various drawers.
He threw his backpack on the bed, pulled out his swimming shorts and changed into them. Unzipped the bottom pouch and took out his flip-flops. Let them fall to the ground with a loud smack, then tucked his sock-less feet into them. He smiled. This felt better already. This was doable. This wasn’t going to be nearly as bad as he’d thought.
He walked through the center of the spacious a-frame and to the fridge in the kitchen. Opened the door and pulled out one of the bottles. Not exactly cold enough. He tucked the bottle into the freezer and started rummaging through the cupboards by the window to try and find a glass he could cool. Froze in place at the view outside.
A very young woman in a very skimpy bikini was passing by the kitchen window. She, too, was wearing flip-flops. And not much else. The thong bikini covered exactly zero of the surface area of a tanned bubble-butt that, had it been a squash, might have won the biggest pumpkin competition at the local fair. Two round, firm orbs of flesh that bobbled up and down in time with her stride. Her breasts were equally prodigious. He didn’t know sizes but these things were big. Two hands each sort of big, if you meant to lift them. A row of fluorescent fabric straps zig-zagged along the woman’s chest, again covering very little.