M is for Mmm, Mmm Good

(Warning: This post is rated MA. Some readers may find some material in this post objectionable. Reader discretion is advised.)

I have another post I’m writing, but it is taking a while. It isn’t quite coming out like I want so I’ve set it aside for a bit to rethink it and see if I can do better another time. So for now, you get this post, a post where I get all introspective about being something of a cougar lately.

It occurs to me that M is the only man I’ve ever had who is in his 30’s. Way back when (you know in the olden days when guys picked you up for a date on his new dinosaur) I had guys in their late teens and early 20’s. There was one guy in his mid-40’s and then W entered the picture and it was all 50’s and older from there. Once I hit my mid-life crisis (or whatever happened a few years ago when W and I started to fall apart) it was still guys my age or older. I even scoffed and laughed right out loud at a few 20-somethings who expressed interest. Sorry, if I am old enough to be your mom then that just skeeves me out. (And you thought I had no limits. Well you were wrong. I do. Very few, but even I draw the line somewhere.) So I mostly ended up with men in their 40’s and 50’s.

Then along came M. I don’t think I’ve really gone into detail before as to how I met M, but that’s a topic for another post. I started to include it here, but it really is its own story so there’s one more unfinished post out there waiting to make its debut.

If I’m not mistaken before M the biggest age difference where I was older than the guy was with K. He was three or four years younger than I. Anyway, I’ve made a big deal out of the whole age difference thing here for a reason. I am unsure whether M’s age, whether relative to mine or just that he’s in his mid thirties, has an impact on the fact that without a doubt he is the best sexual partner I’ve ever had. Perhaps it is just that he’s old enough to have developed his technique and young enough that all the parts still work as desired. I think, though, that there is more to it. He goes above and beyond basic technique. He cares that we both have a good time, and I will say that without a doubt we both have a very good time.

One thing that does not play a part in making the sex so good would be emotional intimacy. We are not particularly attracted to one another in any way except on a physical level. There is no feeling of romance, no feeling of falling for each other, no urge to make anything more of this than an excellent FWB relationship. We chat about our lives on a superficial kind of level. We care about one another on a superficial kind of level. We both are really there for the physical release that goes along with a good sexual experience and nothing more.

There are lots of little things though that M does that help make the sex great. He cares a great deal about my pleasure, and not just the focus on how many times can he get me to cum.

M takes the time to ask me what I like and how I like it and he takes directions really well. He takes things slowly, working me up until I’m the one begging for things to move to the next level. He can last seemingly forever, and I wonder if the age thing comes into play there.

M talks dirty to me while we’re doing it but not in a degrading way to me. He is forever telling me how beautiful my tits are and goes into great detail in describing everything he likes about them. He talks about how wet I am and how much that turns him on. He asks if I like his cock in my pussy and makes me tell him how good it feels. He never ever calls me a stupid slut or whore like some I’ve been with. Maybe that is a turn on for the guy, but to me it is not. The word “stupid” doesn’t belong in any description of me no matter what activity we are engaged in. I think it says a lot about the person saying it, that they have some sick need to put down the other person, to dominate in a less than loving way. Anyway, M doesn’t do that. He talks really, really raunchy and dirty but always with nothing but good things to say about me.

Because M doesn’t focus so much attention on how many times I cum, I cum harder with him than with almost anyone else (except for myself with the assistance of my favorite toy). Sometimes in the past I’ve felt like the guy felt as though it were some kind of contest to see how quickly he could get me to cum and/or how many times he could get me to cum. I felt rushed and not appreciated and not taken care of, but just as one more thing to do. M isn’t that way at all. M spends time working me up slowly, building up so that the orgasms don’t come quickly or even frequently but when they do they are far and away worth the wait. And I don’t feel like I’ve “performed” for him. I’ve simply enjoyed myself to the fullest and brought him some pleasure at the same time.

Now my only complaint is one that I have consistently had with every man with whom I've been -- not enough oral sex with him on the giving end.  In spite of him getting each and every time we've been together, he has only given twice.  Sigh. . .  Ah well, nobody's perfect I suppose.

Eventually we get around to intercourse. We try different positions, and enjoy several, but we both agree that we like doggy style the best and generally end up using that position to bring M off and finish up.

Afterwards, we lie on his bed and chat until his alarm goes off, letting me know it’s time to get dressed and get back to work. We don’t generally have a whole lot of time to chat. As a matter of fact the last time we got together we hadn’t been finished long when the alarm went off (M always sets it for 45 minutes after I get there so I won’t be late getting back to work after lunch).

I told M that it is really hard to believe his wife doesn’t want to have sex with him given just how good he is. He says she just doesn’t like sex of any kind all that much. If he begs long enough, she’ll let him have sex with her, but she wants it over with fast. He said he’s tired of begging. I can empathize. Oh I surely can.

So for whatever it’s worth, sex once or twice a week with M is really good and makes life tolerable. It’s hard to be too cranky when you’re well fucked.