tagErotic CouplingsIn Praise of Older Men Pt. 01

In Praise of Older Men Pt. 01


First in a series of reflections about my experiences -- some real, some imagined:

It was almost closing time and I decided to step outside for a few minutes.

Bartending had turned out to be a fun job. I'd known the owners, a married couple, for quite some time and I'd even hung out at their bar on a somewhat consistent basis. It was a neighborhood place in a great part of town, mostly regulars with a sprinkling of tourists. Everyone had been very nice and respectful. I was OK with the occasional flirting and inappropriate jokes, most of which I actually thought were pretty funny or at least somewhat clever.

Since I'd become "between careers" I figured I would pass the time doing something totally different from my previous corporate gig. And when Mark and Tanya offered me some bartending shifts I jumped at the opportunity and eventually became full-time.

I was soon to turn 30, however, so sometimes I felt a sense of urgency to do something more "career-centric" ... whatever that might be. But then again I was confident everything would be OK. I was enjoying time away from the stress and environment and personalities of my previous job.

As I stepped outside I lit a cigarette. I'd stopped smoking years ago after a few years of the weed-and-booze party-girl lifestyle in high school and college, but sometimes, on the rare occasion, I enjoyed one after work or after sex.

Unfortunately there hadn't been much of the latter recently. It had been about six months since I'd broken up with my boyfriend, and we'd been together for a little more than four years.

It was a difficult break-up but I surprised myself with how quickly I'd moved on. Before him I'd only been with three other guys, also long-term relationships, and I'd had a year-long relationship with my roommate (female) as a college senior.

Hooking up with girls had been easy for me, but usually it was just to make out and touch and have a warm body to sleep with. I hadn't really felt like being with girls lately but there were times I definitely felt the itch, the urge, the heat to be with a guy.

I had even wondered about a couple of regulars in the bar, what they might be like as intimate partners. Both were older men, perhaps early to mid 40s. I'd found myself becoming more and more intrigued by older men in general. Why? I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it had something to do with the combination of age, experience, wisdom, intelligence and patience.

Older guys didn't seem to have the hang-ups of guys my age. They weren't aggressive or boorish or inappropriate. Around women they were confident but laid back. They seemed to enjoy conversation and were genuinely interested in what I had to say. And even if they were interested in something more or perhaps they were even super horny, they seemed to take a more measured approach. They believed in the art of seduction.

And I'd always been impressed with just about any man who was a true gentleman: polite, respectful, kind, wise. Even if he was a flirt.

Having the occasional in-depth conversation with an older man had been one of the unexpected perks of bartending. And, yes, I'd had more than one masturbatory fantasy about something happening. Then I always remembered their wedding rings, felt guilty, and turned my mind elsewhere.

Yet I'd most definitely fantasized about being the mistress of an older married man. Dressing in ways I knew pleased him. Treating him to things he desired that perhaps his wife was no longer interested in, was never interested in or was never very skilled at. Helping him explore his deepest secret desires, even if they were a little kinky.

I fantasized that he thought about me all the time when we were apart. He was having more frequent erections, even at the most unexpected times. He was beginning to reject even the most basic intimacy with his wife because he preferred jerking off in the shower while thinking about me. His orgasms and ejaculations would be intense and potent and spectacular, reminding him he was still worthy of a younger woman, still capable of pleasing her.

There was also the thought of his experience and skill, how much he probably desired going down on me, how skilled he was with his tongue and lips and hands and fingers. And how much he paid attention to all the little things about me, from the way I wore my hair to the way I walked, and how those things about my persona and my body fueled his fire.

And of course there were thoughts that he truly knew how to fuck and that I so looked forward to the times we could spend together fully exploring, fully pushing our limits. I fantasized that we made his penis the center of our universe, the instrument that gave both of us so much pleasure and was to be honored and cherished and perhaps even worshipped.

And sometimes I'd gone even deeper in my fantasies. Perhaps he had a friend he shared me with. Perhaps we explored group scenarios. Perhaps we arranged to take the occasional trip together where no one knew us. The non-tourist beach. The mountain cabin. The luxury resort.

I even liked the thought that I had a boyfriend who was completely in the dark about my older gentleman. I would care for my boyfriend deeply, but he would never know that he was not the most important or the best sexual outlet for my mind, body and soul. That designation belonged to the older man.

Such thoughts about betraying a boyfriend were cruel, of course. And fantasizing that I was irresistible and constantly arousing to men I came in contact with was extremely conceited. In real life I'm a different person, and sometimes I wondered if just having those kinds of thoughts was bad.

But as I stood outside the bar I wasn't thinking about any of that. It had been a fun night with a good crowd. The door opened and Danny, the chef who sometimes helped me with bartending, asked if it was OK if he went home. I said sure, that I was only waiting around another 30 minutes or so before closing a little early.

As I watched Danny head down the street I noticed a man approaching. There were plenty of people out walking because it was a nice night, and the late movie had apparently just wrapped up as people were leaving the little theater a couple blocks away.

As the man got closer he looked familiar to me but I couldn't place him. Then I realized the bar was his destination. I was still smoking as he stopped.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey," I responded, diving right in. "Do I know you? You look familiar to me."

"Well, maybe," he said. "I was here earlier with my wife. We had dinner and a couple of drinks."

Aha. I did know him. They sat near the back and anytime I sort of scanned that end of the room they seemed to be having a very deep conversation. It was like they were the only ones not really enjoying themselves.

"Oh," I said, laughing. "So that's why you looked familiar!"

"I'm impressed that you even sort of remembered me," he said. "It looked like you were pretty busy."

"Well, it wasn't too bad. I've had far crazier nights," I said.

We small-talked for a few moments and he revealed he and his wife were in town to attend a wedding and had stayed an extra night. I began to notice he was quite handsome. He was dressed super casual, just a T-shirt and shorts and running shoes, and it was obvious he had a pretty nice body. Numbers were running through my mind about his potential age but I couldn't decide.

And I noticed he was checking me out a little as well. I had on jeans and a black T-shirt that was kind of tight, and my comfy boots. I saw his eyes linger on the tattoo sneaking down my arm from underneath the sleeve of my shirt. If the light had been brighter he might have been able to tell I wasn't wearing a bra. Or maybe he noticed that earlier.

"So," I said, blowing the last big cloud of smoke into the air," did you leave something behind when you were here earlier?"

"No," he said. "I was just kind of restless and went for a walk. My wife turned in early. Are you guys still open?"

"Yes," I said. "I was going to close a little early but why don't you come in for a drink since you walked all the way over here."

"Are you sure?" he said. "I don't want to create more work for you."

"It's no problem at all," I said. "It'll be nice to have some company as I finish up."

As we walked in I told him I was going to talk to Danny real quick and walked toward the kitchen. I wanted him to think someone else was here just in case he turned out to be a psycho. I had a gun and a couple other weapons at my disposal if the situation called for it, of course, and the police station was half a block away. But I had a good feeling about him for some reason, that he was just a regular guy.

There had only been a couple of times I'd felt any inkling of trouble since I started bartending, and both times it was because two guys who had maybe been overserved decided to fight. I'm petite and I'm told I look younger than my age, and even though I'm fit and somewhat athletic there was no way I could break up two big men fighting. Thankfully, both instances took care of themselves before I had to call for reinforcements.

As my lone customer sat down at the bar I came back from my phony visit to the kitchen.

"So, what'll you have?" I asked.

"Just a beer will be fine. Maybe one of the locals?" he said, eyeing the taps. "Your recommendation."

I poured him a pint and told him a little about the brewery and this particular beer. He seemed to like it.

"I'm Ron, by the way," he said, extending his hand across the bar.

"Deena," I said, using my nickname.

I went about some routine closing duties as we talked. I don't know if he noticed that I turned off the "open" sign and had closed the blinds and casually locked the front door, which had only a small window at the very top.

I finally went back around the bar and settled in and we continued chatting as I did a little more cleaning and straightening.

Already there was something about him that intrigued me beyond his looks. He was checking off all the boxes of the kind of older man I desired, yes, but this was deeper. Our conversation had gone from small talk to more personal but still innocent stuff about where we grew up, our hobbies and interests, our work ... general sketches of our lives.

He politely asked if I was seeing anyone, that he wondered how my significant other felt about me working in a bar. I told him there was no significant other at the moment, and that if there were, he (I also dropped in a "she" to gauge his reaction, which was a blush) would have to be OK with wherever I wanted to work ... short of a brothel, I said with a laugh.

I told him about my ex and he asked a few polite questions about the relationship, which only reminded me how long I'd gone without intimacy. I was surprised to find myself getting just a little flustered by that thought, so I decided to "go check on Danny" again.

Was I actually getting horny in the presence of this stranger? Was it because of the reminder of my ex? Or was something else at work here?

I took a few moments and then re-emerged from the back. It was clear he was in no hurry to leave, even though he reminded me a couple of times to kick him out whenever I was ready. But I was in no hurry either, and in fact I was curious to learn more about him and see what might spill out.

I steered the conversation back to his visit earlier with his wife and said I couldn't help but notice a couple of times that they were in what appeared to be a very serious and sometimes intense conversation.

"Well," he said, pausing. "Yes. That's part of the reason I had to get out and take a walk. Not to go into great detail but things have not been so great lately."

He talked a bit about their marriage, how they were still so strongly connected yet at the same time drifting apart.

"I'm guessing you've had similar moments in your relationships," he said. "The frustration of not knowing exactly how to fix it, not knowing how to re-establish what you had, or just to evolve yet keep the bonds that once tied you so tightly. I guess it's all about dealing with change, which can be difficult for anyone under any number of circumstances."

I paused. His words struck a chord. I'd had exactly the same feelings in my previous relationship.

"Obviously I'm still young and my relationships were never really about the kind of commitment that comes with marriage," I said. "But I've had those feelings as well. Perhaps when you're not married it's easier to just bail, and I've probably been guilty of checking out of relationships without really, truly, fully trying to solve the problems. It sounds as though you are dedicated to at least trying, and I must say I totally respect and admire that approach. It seems so rare these days. People just go straight to breakup or divorce."

I tried to lighten the mood a bit with a chuckle as I continued:

"But, like I said, I'm probably the last person to really comment intelligently about relationships. Here I am behind a bar at 11 o'clock instead of in a cozy bed with a nice guy or girl."

He smiled. Our eyes met. I felt an unexpected surge of heat in my body.

"No," he said. "I'm not just saying this ... but your comments are extremely thoughtful and intelligent. It's funny how I've opened up to you, a stranger of sorts, more than I've opened up with anyone about all this stuff. I appreciate you listening to me."

For a second my mind swerved to the possibility that he was going to lose it, that his emotions were going to get the best of him. I wasn't prepared for that. But it didn't happen.

Instead there was another pause. My mind was racing and I wasn't sure why. The way he spoke. The tone of our conversation. The fact that I found him attractive. I was very aroused, to a level I hadn't experienced in quite some time.

"Speaking of a warm bed, I suppose I should get back," he said.

"You can stick around a little longer if you like," I said, looking into his eyes. "I still have a few more things to do."

He smiled and said thanks, that he was enjoying our chat. He admitted he wasn't really ready to go back even though his wife was almost certainly asleep.

I began the final few tasks I needed to finish and there was a moment of silence. I stopped and looked up.

"OK, this is maybe too personal of a question," I said. "But I wonder how it is for married men sometimes. How do you deal with the lack of intimacy? It's such a basic but important need. What goes through your mind when you have those moments?"

He looked down in a very serious way.

"Excellent questions," he said, looking back up at me. "Let me ask you first, because I don't want to be too forward in my response."

I smiled and chuckled.

"Well ... I masturbate," I said. "A lot."

His expression remained unchanged.

"So you've never done more than that?" he asked.

"Such as ...?" I said.

"Hooked up with someone, I guess would be the term," he said. "To satisfy your cravings."

Another wave of heat rushed through my body. My mind was buzzing as well.

"Honestly," I said. "I've never done that ... well ... with girls, yes. But to me that's a little different. I don't think guys realize how often girls hook up, and maybe not for anything super sexual. It's more about just being with someone, being tender, holding someone, sleeping together and, usually, actually sleeping."

He nodded.

"I totally understand," he said.

"But back to you," I said. "Have you ever strayed?"

He looked down, as if he was trying to decide what to say.

"I've been with a prostitute," he said. "But it was years ago, before I was married."

"How did that go?" I asked.

"Well ... actually it was a lot of fun," he said. "She was great, very sweet."

He paused.

"Or maybe she was just a really good actress," he said with a laugh. "I was not in the best shape at that time, physically or mentally."

My mind was in overdrive. It was exciting to be having such an intimate conversation with a stranger. But he didn't really feel like a stranger. And I didn't really feel like the conversation was inappropriate at all. It was as if we were connected or that the tentacles of connection were beginning to take hold.

"But nothing since then?" I asked. "Surely you must know other women or have had opportunities with other women."

"I have," he said. "But I always declined them. Not that there were a lot, just a couple, really. And sometimes I might have said something suggestive but I never really pushed it too far. I still believed in my marriage at the time."

"So do you just ... " I asked.

"Masturbate?" he said with a slight smile. "Yes. Guilty as charged. I'm a guy, after all."

Images raced through my mind: I saw him in the shower ... erect ... his hand unable to resist ... cum gushing from his hard penis and splashing on the shower glass.

But I held it together.

"Well," I said with a laugh. "We have that in common. We're a couple of masturbators."

He laughed. There was a pause. The phone rang.

"Sorry," I said. "Excuse me for a minute."

I answered the phone. It was Mark, the owner, checking in from out of town. I gave him a quick overview of the night and quietly told him I was thinking about staying in the apartment upstairs tonight if it was OK. He said of course. I asked how their vacation was going and he gave me a few details and we said goodbye. I didn't dare tell him I had allowed a stranger to stay in the bar after closing. I was taking a big risk just having him here but I still trusted my instincts.

As I hung up the phone I noticed Ron scrolling through his phone. Something came over me. The heat I'd felt throughout my body for the past hour was taking over. I decided to take another risk.

I walked around the bar and walked toward him as he sat on a barstool.

"That was the owner," I said. "He and his wife are on vacation. Sounded like they were having a good time."

I was now standing just a couple feet away from Ron.

"Is he a good boss?" he asked.

"Oh he's great," I said. "They're great. I've known them for a long time. They're kinda like a second family."

"That has to make the job so much better," he said.

"Totally," I said. "This has been a really great job."

He looked around the bar.

"So are you finished?" he asked. "Ready to run me out?"

I looked into his eyes and stepped closer. He remained still, unfazed. I wasn't in his personal space but I was on the edge.

"I am finished," I said. "But if you want to stick around a while that's OK. I'm really enjoying your company and the conversation."

He seemed to be deliberating an answer.

"I guess maybe I better go back ... " he said.

Before he could finish the sentence I pulled my T-shirt over my head and stood before him topless. I saw his eyes take in my small boobs, erect nipples, flat tummy. His expression was mostly unchanged but he was clearly blushing.

"Or we can maybe explore a bit of the intimacy we've been missing," I whispered, stepping closer to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

There was a pause as we looked into one another's eyes. I smiled. He smiled. He kissed me.

It was tender and gentle and ... perfect.

And then it became a bit more intense. Tongues exploring and meeting. I felt his hands on my sides, then my back and then around to my boobs.

As we broke the kiss he kept his fingers on my nipples. Teasing them. Pinching them just a little. Pulling them just a little. How did he know I loved that? It was like we'd been together before.

I pulled up his shirt and my hands roamed his torso and back and chest. I lifted the shirt over his head and tossed it on the bar.

I felt a raw hunger begin to rise within me. I needed him. I wanted him to need me. I hoped he needed me.

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byFantasiesD© 5 comments/ 26501 views/ 29 favorites

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