The age doesn't matter: A Deep Dive into the Fascinating Dynamics of Intergenerational Relationships
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When age doesn't matter: A Deep Dive into the Fascinating Dynamics of Intergenerational Relationships

on Dec 17, 2023

When I was 21, I was at a club celebrating a friend's birthday. Very quickly, the night got out of hand and I had lost track of all my friends. No worries — I don’t mind dancing alone.

            Finishing my drink, I squeezed my way into the middle of the dancefloor — letting the music take over from there. My hips swayed and my mind drifted as my inhibitions let loose.

Before long, a pair of rough, manly hands gripped my waist. I glanced over my shoulder, ready to see yet another dumb college boy looking to grind. Instead, I met eyes with a silver fox.

            The man was in his 50s, with silver hair and greying streaks in his beard. The man glanced down at me, his hands gripping my bare waist. I couldn’t help but smile back.

            He took me by the hand, claiming me as his own. Despite the pop music, he danced with regal elegance. While everyone else was bouncing around, he danced like we were in a ballroom — I loved it.

            His hands weren’t shy, he would take the liberty to touch me wherever he pleased, and yet, unlike boys my age, he didn’t opt to grope my ass or waist. Inside, his hands rode up and down my back and the sides of my body.

            It wasn’t long before he was pulling me through the crowds, taking me to the bar to buy me some drinks.

I happily obliged, expecting a jaegerbomb or a shot of some cheap vodka. Instead, he showed me his favorite whisky. It was amazing, and unlike anything I had tried before. We sat and chatted while tasting whiskeys for what seemed like an hour.

            The man, let’s call him… Gene.

Gene wasn’t in any rush, he wasn’t pushy or trying to pull me into a taxi or the bathroom for a quick fuck. He wanted to know me, which was a breath of fresh air.

            In fact, I was the one who suggested slipping out and going to his house.

While we sat in the taxi, my hand held his — and my heart was pounding.

            I had been with my fair share of boys. But they were just that — Boys. Gene was a man. Rarely had I even looked twice at a man his age. I had just assumed that they were all too old or tired to have any fun, but in our short time together, I realized how wrong I was.

            Gene wasn’t some horny college boy, but a man who knew what he wanted. He eyed me in the crowd, and instead of grinding on me, he acted like a true gentleman.

My legs squeezed together in the back of the cab. It was a bit taboo. Gene was old enough to be my father, in fact, he was a year or two older than my dad, but something about that just made him even sexier. He could protect me. The watch on his wrist showed that he had money, and as the taxi drove towards one of the more opulent neighborhoods — I knew that he was unlike anyone I had ever met,

His house was huge, and as he took me inside, I was greeted by an actually clean home. Usually, the boys I went home with had a few lawn chairs set up in the living room, with passed-out roommates sitting around with their hands in a bag of chips.

It was a refreshing change, to say the least.

Gene took off my jacket, hanging it as he led me to his study. A fully stocked whiskey bar grabbed my attention. Gene offered me a drink, but at this point, I was more than ready to get down to some fun.

            He could see the lust in my eyes as she tilted my chin up to meet his gaze, my hands riding up and down his chest.

            As I stared at him — I couldn’t help but question what made him so alluring.

            Perhaps it was that Gene reminded me of James Bond. A rugged, older man with exquisite taste, who knew how to treat me like I deserved. I think that was it. Boys treated me like a girl — while Gene treated me like a woman.

            We kissed, and his stubble brushed against my soft chin. It was clear that Gene knew what he was doing as his hands began to lift up my shirt.

            As Gene led me to his room, his confidence shone through. I was used to playing games with boys, but Gene didn’t want to play around.

“I want to eat you out for hours.” The man said, rather bluntly. Blush filled my cheeks, rarely did boys care about my pleasure as much as Gene did.

            I nodded emphatically, feeling my body quiver.

His room was huge, the bed could fit an entire family. We quickly undressed, our eyes fixated on one another.

            Gene’s body… Well, it was what I expected. His skin was leathery, and his chest was covered in grey hairs. Though he was fit, his stomach did bulge a bit, revealing stretch marks on his waist.

The interesting part was how confident Gene was in his own skin.

            Usually, when I went home with a boy my age, one of two things would happen.

Either, they would be too embarrassed or shy about their body — turning the lights off immediately before they undressed. Or, they would act like some sort of God incarnate. They would flex and tell me to touch their muscles while sporting a less-than-impressive set of abs.

            Gene didn’t do either. His body was perfectly normal for a man his age, and he knew it. Not only that, but he rocked it!
            There was no shortage of compliments either. As Gene laid me on his velvet sheets, his hands, and lips explored every single inch of me, complimenting me from the softness of my skin to the taste of my slit.

            This next part surprised me.

“I love eating ass, do you mind if have a taste of yours?” He asked, his face buried between my thighs.

            The blush in my cheeks intensified. “S-sure…” I muttered.

In fact, I enjoyed it when boys would eat out my ass. In fact, I loved it. Though, I would never even think about asking someone to. Boys would rarely ever tell me what they liked either. Gene on the other hand wasn’t afraid at all to voice his preferences and fetishes.

            Now this is the part where I expected Gene’s age to be a hindrance. Up until now, things had been perfect — but I couldn’t expect Gene’s endurance to last during sex.

I was only partially correct.

            Gene didn’t have the rabid ferocity that boys my age did, but he knew that, and he knew exactly how to compensate. Gene knew when he needed a break, and would go back to eating my pussy and ass, or he would just hold himself inside me, letting his hands explore.

            The experience ended up being one of the longest sexual encounters I’d ever had. Gene also made sure that I orgasmed… A lot. And I did… A lot.

            There were a lot of things that made my experience with Gene such an amazing one. His confidence, his straightforwardness, and the way he treated me like a lady were all at the top.

Gene was my first encounter with an older man, but he definitely wasn’t my last. All the older men I’ve been with were just like him. They weren’t afraid of saying that they liked, and they weren’t pushy or needy. They made sure I enjoyed it as much as they did.

            Sure, some of them needed some help finishing, or needed to take it extra slow. But I didn’t mind. I always made sure to show the same care and compassion that they did.

            To this day, while I mostly stick to boys my age, if I see a silver fox like Gene sitting in the corner of a bar — I’ll go and say hi. Who knows where it may lead?

 

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