I just don’t get it. I mean, sure they look pretty…ripped abs, nice teeth, tight ass, good head of hair but what’s upstairs? Aside from sport fucking, can you really have a meaningful conversation? Will you always be reminded of how old you are every time you get on top and the gravity hits?
But what about love, you ask? Is it not blind?
Not when your tits are down to your belly button.
I tried the cougar thing once. It wasn’t pretty. I was at a fabulous media party for a new television show launch a few years ago and I met this junior agent at an I-won’t-disclose–the-name big Talent Agency who was about 18 years younger than me. He had a very well groomed look about him, but not too perfect. He was sexy in his 20 something sort of way. His full head of hair was a little messy, he had some stubble and for lack of a better category, I would call him an Aging Abercrombie. Can I just say it? The Kid was HOT!
I was engaged in a funny conversation with his boss and he kind of joined in and introduced himself. He laughed at all of my jokes, which I have to admit, always makes my panties get into a twist. He was definitely flirting with me and as his boss drifted away, we started to chat. It was after some chatter about the TV business, that I noticed that the sexual banter entered the conversation. He made mention of a bar down the street. I can’t say I wasn’t flattered by the attention but I did notice that it made me forget that my super sonic shapewear was cutting into my thighs. I made the decision to go with it.
Anyone who has been divorced knows how hard it is to get your head back in the game. You tend to keep the appropriate distance at first, but sometimes your horniness and longing for lust just takes over.
After a few drinks and some porn worthy conversation, we went to my place. On the way there, I prayed that my mouth guard and menopause books disappeared from my nightstand. The highlight of my encounter with AA was trying to get the shapewear power panties below my knees. AA had a good laugh at that one as did I, but I began to feel some distance coming between us. I felt like I couldn’t talk about how I came to be in those power panties and how I used those power panties to hold something in that I was afraid to roll out. I jiggled my way through the sex, but the conversation came to a dead stop. After some awkward goodbyes in the morning, I promised myself to take AA off the list. The sex was okay but he just didn’t make me feel good about myself. Fuck that.
A few months later, I met a balding, 60 year old lawyer through my friend’s cousin. He was funny and delightful but wasn’t what I would call sexy. I always imagined myself with someone younger but I was swept up in this man’s natural charm. We went to movies, hiked in the woods, hit the street fairs…he was the best company I had had in a long time. He made fun of me endlessly but I began to realize that it was complimentary to my personality. I tend to be self-deprecating in a certain way and he just plain got it. It was an awesome flirtation that turned into the best, most comfortable sex ever.
I am a recent convert. I love older men. Even the bald ones. Even the gray ones. Even the ones that pole vault through my bedroom on Viagra. Older men are so sexy. Talk about feeling good about yourself…this sixty year old gentleman gets me off in a big way. Older men have a certain command, an experience, an appreciation of women. It’s the closest thing to feeling like royalty when you’re 40.
Screw the Cougars. I can’t get enough of my 60 year old man. I want him to tattoo my name on his baldhead. I want him to be mine, forever.