Two Birds, One Coug

I haven’t always been a hunter. In fact, as a child I was really against the whole idea behind hunting. It wasn’t until I had my first taste of the thrill of the hunt, that I knew I would be a lifetime hunter. I didn’t bag a mountain lion (read: cougar) that night, but I think it drove my desire more than if I would have made the kill.

We’ll fast forward to July ’07. My brothers and I had congregated up at the family lake place (which may be a stretch to call it that) because my brother-the-younger was “running” the show up there and my brother-the-elder was out in Montana for work. As per standard operating procedure, we decided to have a bonfire accompanied with a suspended sack-o-wine and homemade tunes.

A couple females joined the T-berry boys’ shenanigans and ballyhoo that night. One of them being the PhD that brother-the-elder got his master’s degree under. She is a shorter, cute, sporty lady that had been through a less than fun divorce and was ready to party down. Luckily for her, she was with the right crowd.

The night got started per usual: Drinking beers and doing 3^rd party administered shots of wine. 3^rd party administered is the only way to go, as it doesn’t allow the consumer to decide when enough is enough. The shot pourer gets the privilege of deciding how much you need. And at the cabin this person was usually James…drunk James…drunk James that is working hard to get you to the level of “I’m going to make a bad (read: fun) decision”. That is exactly what we did too: Got to that level. I believe there was 6 of us there, and we all locked arms together in a mini drinking circle and shuffled around like a little wheel. Each time you were under the sack of wine you took a drink then continued to shuffle to the left. I’m not exactly sure how many circles it takes to drain a sack of wine using that method, but I do know that we had that many in us that night. We finished that bitch off proper.

At this point I think it is safe to say that most of us were on the blackout/verge of blackout stage and feeling good. We sat by the fire and continued to shoot the shit when I noticed that El Doctor, who was one row below me, had her hand on my knee and was leaning against me. I was golden…In. Like. Flint. I shuffled my way over so that she was between my legs and we proceed to give each other the type of touch that says “hey, when these other people get out of here, we really ought to get our groove thang on!” Sure enough the other drunks peeled off and went up to the cabin to pass out (Or perhaps, even better, they walked up into the woods about 30 ft for the show that was sure to ensue. That's what I would have done) After the last person rounded the corner El Doctor and I started to tongue wrestle.

30 seconds later…

El Doctor: Do you have a condom?

Me: Nope.

El Doctor: I have some in my car. I’ll be right back…

I took the time that it took her to wander up to her car and back to lounge back on the rocks, smile to myself and stare at the fire that was half blocked by the circus tent that I was pitching with my pants.

When she came back, we went right to work. It was a good time too! Those little girls are fun. Their lightness allows for a lot of acrobatic type positions (My only complaint with small girls is bottoming out. It’s really a bummer when you can’t do certain moves without that “it feels like you are stabbing me with a knife in my belly” look in her face). We were flipping around on those big flat rocks like two pancakes being cooked by a blacked-out dude at 3:30am. Did this for quite some time and then headed up to the cabin.

I hadn’t busted a nut yet, so as soon as we hit the bed we were back at it. This didn’t last long as we were both fading hard. Or fading soft in my case…

I woke up and we were a bit cuddled up and my hand was on her breast. Being the Tsaoist that I am, I instinctually started to play with it.

El Doctor: Keev, that is making me really horny.

Sure as shit her nipples had just jumped to attention like the cooking indicator on a butterball turkey. This caused a Pavlov’s dog effect, and my morning cedar turned to morning maple. I mean Louisville Slugger hard. In no time we were off to the races. I’m not sure who won, but I know I had a strong finish.

There is something about hungover morning sex. When my eyes open, I’m ready to go. That mixture of “I feel like death” and “god this feels good” has me percolating so fast.

After that sexual kick-start to my day, I was ready to go. I had just killed two birds with one stone: I bagged my first coug, and I hooked up with my first doctor AND professor. Damn, 3 birds one stone. That stone must have been fired from a sawed off 12 gauge of desire! Well we all got up out of bed, the girls went on there way, and my brothers and I had a great day. Not sure what we did, but I’m sure it was great.