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In praise of men of superior years


I love all men, and that's why I do what I do. But there is something particularly special about older men, at least the ones I have been blessed to have been with. For one, they have much more life experience- and the wisdom to make sense of it all- than their younger counterparts. The things they've seen and done, and the perspective unique to their years, make for very interesting learning experiences for me. They can see the bigger picture much better than people with less time on the Earth. They see patterns where we see chaos. For another, in the hobby, they tend to have more hands-on experience (pun intended). They know their way around a woman's body- no fumbling, tentative gestures; no ego-driven requests for me to tell them how good they are. They know they are good. They also know how to ask how best to please me without ruining the moment. They take subtle direction better than younger men do- a slight nudge this way or a gentle turn that way. I don't have to hold up a placard saying, go left!! And that's another thing: they want to please me. They love pleasing me because they get pleasure from seeing my pleasure. They do not try to please me in order to stoke the fires of their own ego. And damn, some of the best tongues I have experienced have been those of older men. They also tend to be a tiny bit more respectful of my boundaries and comfort zones. They don't try to squirm past my screening, or haggle me about my rates. They are usually the ones who bring me beautiful, sweet, and thoughtful things. They honor me, respect me, and adore me. And they are so incredibly adored in return. I'll leave you with this story from my younger days when I for the first time experienced someone much, much older than I in bed. I was traveling somewhere hot and tropical, and was camping on the beach. I got violently ill by food poisoning, and a sweet older English gentleman nursed me back to health. After my illness, I got to know a hot young French guy and made wild passionate love with him. But my English gentleman was hurt; he felt spurned after having taken such good care of me. Fate had us on the same 6-hour train ride to the city, and during that ride we made plans to stay together in the city. That night we made love. It was incredible- the difference was special. He savored my body like no younger man could have possibly done; he took his slow and gentle time to get to know all my erogenous zones. It was a shared experience of deliberate pleasure, rather than the fervent, zealous, and somewhat selfish thrusting of the night before. He was amazing. And he was my first older man. I'll always remember him! So thank you, men of superior years!

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