I don’t know why it is the way it is. All I know is that it is what it is, and I am who I am. I often used to question myself as to why I liked older men. Why at 13 I was obsessively flirting with my 40 year old rock climbing coach. Why when I started dating, I was only interested in men in their mid to late 30’s. Maybe it’s because I so heavily obsessed over and sexualised my adopted father who is 20 years my senior. But I don’t think it’s that. It predates him coming into my life. It was always there, he just became a central focal point for my need.
However as common as it is for the quasi taboo of a young girl dating a man 10 or even 20 years her senior to be accepted, my fantasies went further. When I lay in bed to make myself cum before I went to sleep, the porn I looked up on my laptop was of barely legal girls fucking men in their 60’s. Over time my obsession grew and as my obsession grew, my desire for increasing older men grew. What would it be like to fuck a man not 10 years older than me, but 30, 40, 50 years older than me?
So one day as a newly turned 18 year old, I joined a dating sight. Not the normal ones. You know the kind; the sugar daddy ones. I’d had a friend join one and she complained to me that all the guys on there were gross dirty old men who thought they could have sex with younger women for the promise of gifts. My ears perked up! “Dirty old men?” Was this true? I had to ask more. Quickly I had it confirmed. Yes there was a place where older, successful, cultured, educated, retired, horny, dirty men met much younger women… I made a profile that night.
I woke up the next morning to a flood of messages. I cringed at first, but felt a sigh of relief as I read the first message. These were not the tinder or Instagram messages I was used to. Intelligent, coherent, and interesting messages with perfect spelling and grammar filled up my inbox. That night I looked up grandfather-granddaughter incest porn on literotica to read as I came.
“I felt my cunt clench and wetness soak my panties”
A few weeks later I found myself in an elevator on my way to the penthouse apartment of a luxury high rise apartment block. He was a gentleman in his late 70’s. We had spent the past two weeks discussing art, music, culture, and politics online. He had taken me out on a few dates to his favourite fine dining restaurants, exclusive bars, and art galleries that he was a patron of. He was polite, well spoken, witty, interesting, extremely intelligent, and ever the consummate gentleman. As the elevator smoothly lifted me skyward I ran through scenarios in my head. I would have to take the lead. This kind old man would never make the first move. Even knowing exactly what I was here for today, I knew he’d just end up chatting politely over a glass of wine and a cheese plater unless I did something about it.
Entering his home I gasped at the full glass frontage of his home that offered a 180 degree view of the city, only interrupted by the Grand Piano sitting proudly in the middle of marble floor. Looking at me from across the room he moved toward me. There was a different look in his eye and intent in his walk. He stopped one pace in front of me and smiled like he knew a secret. Then in the next second his palm collided with the left side of my face with an audible slap. Before I could react, his hand was around my throat as he slammed me back into the wall, and kissed me deeply. The kiss felt different to younger men. His lips were harder and felt cracked. His tongue felt dry as it lapped against the softness of mine. I felt my cunt clench and wetness soak my panties. As he pressed against me I could feel his hard cock through his pants. He grabbed a hand full of my hair and forced me roughly to my knees. My hands fumbled and I eagerly undid his belt and pants. His cock sprang out and I did a momentary double take at the sheer size of it, before hungrily devouring it. He gasped and grabbed my hair with both hands and forced himself deeper into my throat, fucking my face violently.
“You really are a little teen slut aren’t you?”
Moments later I was bent over the marble counter top as he eased himself into me inch by inch. When he was all the way inside me, he bent down and whispered into my ear. I could smell the whiskey on his breath as he growled “You really are a little teen slut aren’t you? How does it feel being fucked my a man 60 years older than you?” My eyes rolled back in my head and I shuddered. I could have cum and died happy right then and there. My moment was interrupted by him slamming himself into me again.
“I sunk to my knees, pulled his condom off and sucked him dry, savouring the taste of his cum, swallowing all that was left”
Over the next three hours he fucked me several times on most surfaces in his home, twice in the shower, and on the piano. This wasn’t the gentle love making I had forecasted for, but I wasn’t complaining. He fucked just the way I like to be fucked, and he was an absolute savage as he did it. By the third hour though I was getting sore and wondering if he’d ever cum. He should have been a spokesman for Viagra. But just as I was giving up hope while on my back in his leather couch with my knees next to my head, his rhythm picked up and his breathing increased. Suddenly he kissed me deeply and groaned loudly. I felt him shudder and his cock spasm inside of me. He collapsed next to me and I sunk to my knees, pulled his condom off and sucked him dry, savouring the taste of his cum, swallowing all that was left.
That night as I lay with my head in his lap while we listened to jazz he asked me to be his girlfriend. I smiled and told him that I already had a girlfriend of my own, but if he was ever going to another gallery opening, he should definitely call me. Before I left, I walked out into the cold air on the highrise balcony over the sparkling lights of the Sydney skyline at night and he walked up behind me, kissing my neck gently. The savage within him had been tamed for now and the gentleman had returned. And I thought to myself how most girls my own age were missing out on experiencing the best of men at every age. And I thanked myself, that I was smart enough to know that there’s no such thing as too old.
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