Oscar And Dangerous Latin Cougars

Thank you all for supporting my last iteration of this story, but I think it may have been the worst thing I've ever published. I rewrote the story and will hopefully be able to continue it in at least one, if not two more issues. Anyways, all characters in this story are fictional and of the legal ages of 20, 43,43 and 42. Any real life similarities to any real people are purely coincidental and accidental, as with the fictional Arizona city in the story. Any suggestions for further writing are welcomed. So please enjoy, and drop a comment telling me what you did or didn't like.

The elevator stops. I take a deep, shaky breath. The doors open. I look up, this is my chance. I moved out of the house at 20, a little late. I have been so nervous. What if I fail? This is my chance to make life my own. Find myself. I take one big confident step out of the elevator at the end of the hall, and turn to my right. Four doors. Two on the left and two on the right. I walk to the end of the hallway, to the last door on the left. The numbers Four-Oh-Four on the center of the door, my one shot at life lies behind these numbers. Taking a second to appreciate the moment, I stick the key into the lock and open the door. A small, open plan apartment awaits. A kitchen, bed, sofa and wall mounted Tv are immediately visible. A small bathroom/ closet combo sits around a corner, smelling of fresh lavender from the efforts of the property management.

The town of San Gria is a small community situated on the border of Arizona and Mexico. Only about 32 thousand people live here, not terribly small but far from a metropolitan area. My parents let me stay with them after high school so I could get my degree from a community college back home in New Mexico. They kicked me out after that, and I'm hoping to find my footing here in San Gria. I majored in business hoping to find some small office job for now whilst I pursue my clay sculpting and pottery passions. While my side gigs do net me a little extra cash in the spring when people want new pots to plant things in, I doubt I will see any success for several years.

I spent hours unpacking boxes, moving in furniture, cleaning my dishes that were caked with cardboard powder. I dedicate a large portion of my living space to my first love, pottery. Well, I say pottery but I actually mean any clay projects. I have spun all of my plates and bowls, but I've also carved statues the size of action figures, mimicking all of the most famous art forms from around the globe. My most recent collection is modeled around Aztecian idols. I work through lunch time and into the later hours of the evening before I finally break to eat. My dad and I used to watch this show called "Food trucks, Delis and Bistros." A pizzeria in San Gria was featured in one episode, and I promised my dad I would get some pizza on my first night. I placed an order over the phone for one medium thin crust margherita pizza, their specialty. Thirty minutes later I get a notification that the delivery man is at the door.

"Thank you sir, you are a lifesaver." I say in an exhausted voice as I take the pizza from him.

"No problem, have a good night" he says as he walks out the door.

Delighted with my dinner's arrival, I head back to the tired elevator for the last time today. My aching back groans from all of the pushing and lifting. The elevator travels from the third floor to the fourth, before the little light shows it finally descending. I guess I finally get to meet my neighbors.

The elevator doors slide open and there stands a woman with golden skin, deep brown eyes and pursed lips that she smacks as she puts away her lipstick. She's wearing this beautiful orange tank top that provides little cover for her magnificent cleavage. Her jean shorts riding over the top of a generously large behind and her vans sneakers squeal as she turns to walk around me. She locks her gaze with mine for a second as she strides past me. My heart pounds at her beauty and I was almost too stunned to hear her say "Hold the elevator for me, handsome."

I slink into the elevator, holding the door for her with my foot as she requested. She had walked to the mail lockers in the lobby, retrieving a package before walking towards the elevator. After my initial gawking I could tell that she was a little older, maybe her early forties. She casually strolled back to the elevator, looking at her package and mumbling to herself.

"You know, I'm not mad that they didn't ship this discreetly, I'm mad that they said they would and didn't." She huffed before looking up to meet my gaze. I couldn't tell what the package was but the branding was "Exxxcitement" in all red letters.

"I don't believe I've met you, are you the pizza guy?" She asks me.

"My name is Oscar." I say. "I moved into 404 today."

"Ohhh, it's nice to meet you Oscar. I heard that Bill's apartment was being taken over by a new tenant. I'm going to have to tell everyone that you've arrived." She says with a smile. She sticks out her hand like she wanted to shake mine, but instead she grabs my right bicep.

"Tell me about yourself, Oscar." She says as she breaks eye contact to look at my arm as she squeezes it. The elevator stops on the second floor but no one gets on.

"I'm Oscar, I just moved here from New Mexico to start a job here in town." I reply as the physical stimulation from this woman causes my heart to skip a few beats.

"I can tell you're new, DeBlazzo's pizzeria hasn't been good for about three years." She says as she gestures to the pizza box. "Not since the owner died and his nephew from Florida took over... What a pity. If you want to choke back the pizza tonight, I won't stop you, but tomorrow night I'm having the rest of floor four over for wine and dinner. Come join us, Oscar." She smirks as she adds a weird emphasis to the word "choke" that rubbed me the right way.

The elevator opens up and we both step out into the hallway. I watch her as she glides the length of the hallway to the door labeled 403. Each stride her voluptuous butt hypnotizes me with its rhythmic dance. The sway as it rises up on forward stride, and the subtle jiggle it dances when her heels strike the ground. I can feel myself stretching out my sweatpants as I watch.

"I'll be there, and thank you for the invite ma'am." I squeak out as I needed to string the words together before she disappeared behind the door.

She stops in the doorway, and turns to face me, the arch of her back twisted to allow her to face me, her tank top sliding a little further down her breasts.

"No need to call me ma'am, Oscar, I'm not your mommy. But you can call me Cynthia. And dinner's at 6:30 tomorrow." She says as she slips into her doorway.

I walk back to my apartment and stop when I get inside, my erection trying its best to blast a hole in my pants. I hope she didn't see that. I eat my pizza that was indeed terrible, and sit down at my clay throwing set up. I have never met a woman who made me forget how to be a human before. I have to carve the essence of this woman right now. I work furiously for many hours, sculpting and re-sculpting over and over again until it's perfect. A woman of clay who's lines lead your eyes on this beautiful adventure. She's curvy, twisting in the same way she did when she stopped in the doorway. She looks so seductive, and I have a hard time removing my eyes from the statue. That is until they nearly closed themselves, it was 2:30 before I went to sleep.

I awoke to an ungodly amount of sun in my eyes. I really need to get curtains for my window. I check my phone and see that it's 1:00 in the afternoon. Great. Sleeping in is the perfect way to start my new life of independence.

I run through a fairly routine day. Buying things from the Walmart, unpacking and setting up my new apartment. I set the statue in the window to sun bake for a while as I don't have access to anything else right now. 6:30 can not come fast enough as I try on every outfit I have in preparation for this dinner. I shower and put on my best smelling cologne, a gift from my uncle in Egypt. I try to dress respectfully, not wanting to cause any tension between Cynthia's husband and I, though still adventurous enough that people at the party won't think I'm a dweeb. I prepare myself to hold it together while in Cynthia's presence, take one last look at the statue to remind myself of the wonderful views I had last night, and slip into the hallway. The door opens after a knock and Cynthia is there. She is wearing the tightest pair of blue jeans I have ever seen in my life, an orange crop top that exposes the top of her immaculate bust and no shoes.

"Hola Guapo." She says while looking me up and down, biting her lip. "I told everyone you would be joining us and they're all excited to meet you. Don't worry if you didn't bring any drinks." She smiles as she looks at my empty hands.

"I'm sorry!" I panickedly exclaim. "I'm actually only 20 so I can't buy alcohol yet. Should I have brought some food or something?"

"No no no, you're perfectly fine Oscar! I thought you were older than that, you look so physically mature for someone so young!" She says as she looks me up and down a second time, a low purr coming from her chest.

I walk into her apartment and see two other women sitting at her kitchen island. One is a darker, almost rose gold skinned Latina who must be about 6'0". She has on a red dress made of velvet, it accentuates her powerful yet feminine build. I can't get much of a look at her body from the way she's sitting, but I can get a read on her face. She has big eyes that seem to look through me, her chin points up as she glances over me, like she hasn't decided if I was worth her attention yet. She has a single mole adorning her left cheek akin to Marilyn Monroe.

The other woman is fairly light skinned, and she smiles brightly at me. She is probably around 4'11" and there isn't much of her, but her demeanor is bright, she exudes joy and smiles big when we make eye contact.

"Hello, my name is Oscar." I say as confident sounding as I can, though I am incredibly intimidated by these three beautiful women.

"I'm Mable!" Exclaims the third woman. "Cynthy was telling me she met a handsome young man and I can see now that she wasn't lying."

I blush hard and give a small dismissal of the accusations, but I can't turn my head from the tall woman sitting under the island light.

"Yvonne." She says coldly as she continues to sip her red wine. She turns her head away from my direction but I can see a small smile creep across her lips, knowing that I was looking at her.

"It's very nice to meet you all." I say as Cynthia walks past me to the kitchen, giving my arm a slight squeeze on the way past. "Where is everyone else?"

"We're all here!" Mable cheers.

"Cynthia is divorced, I never married and Mable's husband died on their honeymoon." Yvonne says while still refusing to hold my gaze.

"Oh, I'm very sorry to hear that Mable. So the three of you young ladies are alone?" I say, trying not to crack any eggshells for the three of them.

"We don't have husbands but we're not alone." Cynthia pipes up firmly. "The three of us have known each other for about a decade now. Since we were all about 33 or so. That's when I divorced my husband. Many men have moved in and out of 404 who think they would be a perfect match for one of us." She stopped to laugh.

"Real macho men who think women can't take care of themselves." Yvonne added. "I'll tell you what though, we've been through a lot and we're still here. Tell us Oscar, what do you do?"

I stop for a second. Do you typically tell people about your job, or about your hobbies?

"Well, I haven't started the job yet, but I was hired by a bike manufacturer here in San Gria last week. I'm going to be part of their brand outreach program. But I moonlight as a sculptor. I make all kinds of clay creations, hopefully soon I can turn that into something all its own. My most recent collection was modeled after Aztec artifacts, and I stayed up pretty late working on a special project last night." I say through a smile, talking about both seemed to be the good option.

"Cynthy you didn't tell me he was an artist!" Mable exclaims. "I think that's wonderful Oscar, art is a pure way to express yourself.... Speaking of, I'm expecting a set of original Oscar plates and bowls." Mable says with a wink.

For hours I talked to them about going to school back home, my family heritage, how my dad is half Egyptian and half white, while my mom is part Spanish and part Irish. We talk a while about their past relationships and past experiences.

Yvonne loosened up throughout the night, and I think I even saw her chin lower when she was talking to me. I would buckle whenever she looked me in the eyes though, diverting my gaze towards Mable or Cynthia. Even a moment of eye contact with this aphrodite would make me wheezy. As Yvonne is telling her life story, she sips more wine and I find myself staring at her. She is so beautiful. I daydream about her breasts. I know I shouldn't, but they are captivating and really really big.

Cynthia insists that I sit and talk with the other girls while she does the dishes. Mable tells us about a book she's reading on the history of taboos and the origin of fetishes. I feel embarrassed talking about sex in front of these ladies, and I think they could tell, doing it at my own expense. Yvonne talks about wanting a man who will pursue her, Cynthia talks about how I was able to help her put her new Amazon delivery to good use. The women laugh about it and I chuckle nervously.

"Do you have a special lady in your life Oscar?" Cynthia chimes from the sink.

"No ma'am. I mean Mommy, I mean Cynthia!!" I blurt as I reel from the embarrassment of what I just said. Maybe I shouldn't be sipping some of the wine.

The girls laugh up a storm after that, their eyes are bleary and they double over trying to breathe. Cynthia sits on my lap, throwing one leg in the air. "You're going to have to earn the right to call me Mommy!!!" She howls through tears, sending the girls into another fit of laughter. I'm relieved that they are so busy laughing because Cynthia mounting me like that so suddenly excited a certain part of me that definitely poked her somewhere between her pillowy cheeks. I breathed a sigh of relief as she stood up to return to her dishes.

"It's because she said she wasn't my mommy and I got all tongue tied!!" I protest in vain as the girls refuse to let me defend myself, insisting that Cynthia was my mommy now, and they would all take turns in the role as long as I lived with them.

The night continued like that, fun had by everyone as dinner concluded and we played some board games. Yvonne and I teamed up against Cynthia and Mable all throughout the night and into the haunting hours the next day. Yvonne had too much wine to drink and needed me to help carry her down the hall and into her apartment. I obliged and held her over my shoulder as Mable assisted us to 401.

I carried Yvonne into her apartment, which was decorated somewhere between early 20's broadway and a burlesque show. Which is a great way to describe Yvonne's personality. We hobbled our way to the bed where Yvonne threw herself down. She asked me for assistance removing her heels, which I was surprised stayed on the whole time. She lifts one leg up seductively while making eye contact with me. I take a deep breath and try to calm the monster in my pants as I reach for her foot.

Yvonne pulls her foot away, folding her leg over her other knee which causes me to stumble forward as I reach to grab the renegade appendage. Her leg comes back up, and she rests her stiletto against my chest, she begins to slide it down towards my stomach. I can feel myself getting more and more turned on as it glides, her leg providing a great runway for my eyes into the folds of her tight dress where her color matching scarlett underwear stretches over...

My eyes widen as I realize that I may be taking advantage of a woman who is intoxicated, I may be reading into something that isn't there. Yvonne showed no interest in me until she was 4 glasses in. I panic at the thought, turn around and run out of the door.

I rush back to my apartment and close the door behind me swiftly, gathering myself for a minute.

"You did the right thing Oscar. You helped her get home, but you stopped there. Keep it in your pants you moron. This is your new lease on life, don't fuck it up before it ever begins." I whisper to myself as I calm down. After a few minutes of panicking, I return to a level head and return to what is apparently going to be a daily occurrence for me, sculpting my neighbors out of clay.

Never in my life have I met a woman who seemed so powerful and sure of herself with a figure like that. I know I sculpted Cyntia last night, but I have to get Yvonne too. Cynthia took my breath away with her physicality and confidence, Yvonne is just powerful and beautiful. I sculpt a woman in a dress, her body beautiful and mature. Her head I had to remake 17 times to get it right. A woman with so much self confidence and stature. I put her statue in the window as well to sun bake for a few days, then I finally embraced slumber.

Bright and early the next morning I got up and biked across town to a flower shop. I bought a bundle of tulips (I think she said she liked tulips?) and took them home. I wrote an apology to Yvonne and stuck it to the bouquet, arranging the whole affair in a vase I had made last year. It's modeled after a statue from Africa I saw in a museum. The vase is a woman with large nipples, symbolizing fertility and feminine strength, appropriate for such a powerful presence. I left the vase at Yvonne's doorstep and headed off for my first day of work.

I didn't speak much with the women of the fourth floor that week, settling into my new job schedule and catching up on the sleep I missed all weekend throwing clay. Speaking of the clay, I posted some of my pieces on a local market app, advertising the Aztec collection. In one of the listings I captured the two busts of Yvonne and Cynthia in the background, and I received over a dozen inquiries about them. They aren't for sale I explained multiple times, but offers for upwards of $50 were hard to turn down. Eventually I saw that Yvonne had liked the listing, and I rushed to delete it before she could connect the dots and realize it was her own body on the window sill in the background.

Friday night I went on my first grocery run. I mainly lived off of burgers from this food truck outside of the office my first week, but the four options they have got boring after a couple of days. I looked at my list of chicken scratch in the frozen section, crossing off fish sticks because they didn't have my favorite brand.

"Whatcha doin?" a voice behind me boomed that startled me and sent the list flying from my hands.

I spun around to find Cynthia laughing hysterically behind me, her white sweater easily swaying with her bust as she shook from her laughter.

"You scared me!" I replied shakily. "I'm just trying to shop in peace."

Cynthia stopped laughing to bend over and pick up the fallen list. Even in my adrenaline state I managed to appreciate the purple thong stretching from her back into her pants as she did so.

"Fish sticks, but only Captain Oord Brand." She giggled to herself. "Whole Milk, for a growing boy. Spinach because it's green and that's healthy, Fruity Pebbles or Fruity Dino Bites, White bread and eggs. Sounds like a complete diet there mijo." She chuckled as she handed back the list.

"Yeah, I don't really know how to cook anything, but I have an air fryer at home and I'm tired of food truck burgers." I stated defensively as I took the list back.

"Obviously." She said matter-of-factly. "Tonight, I'm coming over and I'm showing you how to make food the right way. Vamanos!!" She exclaimed as she spun on one heel and waltzed towards the produce section.