Senile Sex?

There are more people over the age of fifty having sex right this second in your community than there are people fucking between the ages of 16 and 40+

And what’s more, they are probably doing things together (and maybe even singly for the viewing pleasure of their partners) that they would never have dared to do when still young and not quite sure about the logistics involved.

For instance, there are certain qualities and conditions of the whole sexual universe that take a bit of sophistication and persistence to acquire.  Certain smells, like the aroma of a freshly stroked and glistening cunt, are acquired tastes.  Just as is the flavour of that first droplet of pre cum fluid shining on the head of an erect and straining cock.

As a girl fresh out of my gym knickers I can tell you that the idea of a cock in my mouth was well, a tall order to swallow!  I had to work at g-ing myself up for the big moment when my lips and tongue would tentatively taste and lick, sternly admonishing myself not to engage the gag reflex merely in theory of the act itself.

The smell of a man’s skin in my youth was foreign and not entirely pleasing.  I often found myself insisting upon a thorough wash to clean away imagined germs. As you can imagine, introducing soap and water to the proceedings doused the flames entirely.

Well, that was youth.

Today?  The very idea of a man’s body, those well known planes and angles, the fur and the ridges and musky depths beneath his balls makes my mouth water.  Yes, very Pavlovian of me, I know.  If He tells me to bark like a bitch, I guarantee I’ll be howling at the moon in short order.

His scent is so tantalising I can almost smell it in my dreams.  In youth I’d have shuddered and demurred had he stopped at a lay by on the way home from the rugby match where he’d just kicked a scoring try, growling, “Suck my cock!”  In youth I’d have missed that unparalleled delight of his own special elixir of hormones and pheromones and juices and sweat drying on his well used and masculine body.  I’d have forgone that exotic pleasure, repulsed by the very fragrance of manhood which now alerts my entire female chemistry that it’s time to fuck!  Now, I’d be ripping his clothes from his damp body like an animal and ravaging him just as He ravages me.

The joy of youth is in discovery.  In thinking this thing, this illicit, dirty wonderful thing called sex is something invented by the young for the young and perfected by the young as well.  I must admit that the learning curve for me was often embarrassing and uncomfortable, though I made up in enthusiasm what I lacked in expertise.

If asked would I like a string of pearls, I now know not to grab my jewelry box.  Similarly, if my partner enquires after a bit of rimming, I won’t be salting the rim of his margarita glass.  In youth, the idea of my tongue being in the same room as someone’s naked anus was enough to send me packing.  Today, I might be considering the trajectory of my body arcing through the air as I tackle my mate to worship His ass.

But, hey, that’s me.

One of the many joys of maturity is sexual confidence, the knowledge that not only do I know how to do this, I LOVE doing this!  A degree of body unselfconsciousness helps.  Knowing that we speak in snippets of sight and sound and sensation, not experiencing the whole as much as savouring the parts.  Discovering the beauty of the bits and pieces.  Indulging in the languor of simply holding a recently flaccid and spent cock in one’s mouth while the scents of sex, the funk and spunk and cunt juice and sweat all mingle like a heady cocktail of sensual delight, and knowing, KNOWING, this is bliss.

We forage amongst the treasures our bodies have to offer one another, eyes open, lights bright, minds focused on the multitude of pleasures we are to share.  This has become an art form, a religion, an avocation of elevated awareness and deep muscle massage.  We devour one another daily, never finding that aha moment, the epiphany that says this is enough.  No.  We are forever perfecting, disassembling, recreating our sexual universe.

I am on the scent, intrigued, teased, seduced.

And I want more of HIM.

ONLY HIM