I have to be honest. There is nothing that drives me crazier than some brash snarky entitled kitten, fresh out of the sandbox, who thinks she’s “all that” and superior just because of her youth. And how she refers to anyone over the age of 40 as “granny” or “past it” or “ancient” or “prehistoric”. As if just being young means anything in this crazy world. I usually am able to teach some of these kittens the error of their ways just by throwing them a condescending look or comment. This makes the smarter ones scurry back to the sandbox for more seasoning.
Erin, however, is a different story. She continued to be an annoying little bug, flying in my face, just begging to get swatted. Buzzing constantly with snarky comments, insults, trash talk, not knowing when to stop. Until I finally had enough. The ONLY way to deal with a too-confident-for-her-own-good kitten like Erin is to give her the beating she’s been asking for. A beating this fit cougar is happy to give her and more than capable of delivering. Sizewise, we are very very close. Same weight, she is three inches taller. A bit bigger in the breast department than me, but quality beats quantity every day of the week. Right, guys?
Only difference is age. She’s 19, I’m 46. She THINKS this will give her the edge. But I’m an extremely fit 46. Even after having two kids I can still rock a bikini better than a lot of girls half my age, thank you very much.
I arrive at the apartment building and don’t bother waiting for the elevator, taking the stairs up to the penthouse. On my way over, I saw Erin’s tweets about “chair lifts” and “granny needing oxygen” so I decided to prove a point by taking the stairs. Plus, using the stairs is a great cardio warmup for the war about to happen once we get our claws on each other. I enter the penthouse and wander around, inspecting the spacious living room lounge with the furniture pushed back against the wall. Even so, I know that there’s a damn good chance something will get broken. Besides Erin. Probably a lot of somethings. But I have no problem paying for damages. A small price to pay for putting that snarky kitten in her place! I notice that Erin is already there and changing in one of the bedrooms. So I enter the other bedroom, plop my bag on the bed and start to get ready. Off come my boots. Leather mini peeled down and stepped out of. Top pulled off. Bra and panties go last. I inspect my tan tight bod in the full length mirror. Taut flat tummy, still firm and damn fine boobs, lithe legs. Oh yeah, I’m hot. And ready.
I quickly put on my lucky fighting colorful Aztec design bikini I was given in Cozumel by a generous gentleman friend. One final quick inspection in the mirror. 46 years old, 5’3, 110 pounds, 34C boobs, bare feet, raven black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, brown eyes, crimson lips and matching nails. Humming softly and confidently, I stride down the hallway and enter the lounge, giving my kitten rival a dismissive glance and slight smirk as I step onto the carpet, feeling the plushness between my bare toes and soles. I move to the opposite corner and start to stretch. “After I’m finished with you you’re gonna wish there was a chair lift available, Erin!”
