How an over 60 destroyed a grad student
I’m 62. She’s 25, finishing her master’s at the same university where I teach. We’ve been seeing each other off and on for a few months. This past weekend she stayed at my place from Friday night until Sunday evening.
I didn’t rush a single thing.
I spent the first long stretch with my mouth between her legs, slow and steady, the way I learned works when you’ve had decades to practice. No frantic tongue-flicking. Just pressure, rhythm, and paying attention to every twitch of her hips and every change in her breathing. When she came the first time I didn’t stop. I kept her right there, riding the aftershocks, until the second and third ones rolled through her. She was already shaking and laughing when I finally moved up her body.
I stayed hard during the appropriate time. That’s not bragging; it’s just what happens when you stop treating sex like a race and start treating it like something you actually know how to do. Use pace, and timing and rhythm. I used my fingers the way older men do: deliberate, angled, patient. I knew exactly when to curl, when to slow down, when to push her over again. She kept count out loud after a while. From the shower to the couch to the back porch to the pool and bed. Taking time, treating a lady right. By the time we finally stopped for water and food on Saturday afternoon she was at nineteen.
Saturday night and most of Sunday I just kept going. Different positions, long stretches of me moving inside her with that steady, controlled pace younger guys never seem to have. No pounding for the sake of it. That just makes a pussy sore. Instead a experienced man uses deep, focused strokes that make her eyes roll back and her legs lock around me. Every time she came I felt it and adjusted, kept the pressure exactly where she needed it, and made her come again before she could fully recover. A good lover pays attention to a woman's body and gives what she needs.
By Sunday evening the number was in the forty's I lost count (honest). Her legs were useless. She tried to stand up and laughed because they wouldn’t hold her. She walked wonky. She had that dazed, wrecked look that only comes from being taken apart slowly and thoroughly by someone who knows exactly what he’s doing.
I didn’t need to prove anything. I just paid attention and used the skills that only come with time. No ego. No rushing to finish. Just making sure the woman in my bed was completely, repeatedly ruined in the best possible way.
Younger guys can keep their twenty-minute sessions and their frantic energy. Some of us over sixty are still out here leaving graduate students unable to walk straight.
Any of you old guys like me got a younger partner and getting good action on the weekends?