Posts Tagged ‘younger men’
by hannah
March 24th, 2010
From Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 1, Winter Season (CHAPTER 7: FRIDAY NIGHT CUTS)
It’s Friday night, and all over Los Angeles people are getting ready to go out: some, on a hot date; some, to a hot club; others, to Blockbluster. I’m at Chopper’s hair salon about to get my hair cut, hoping it will help inspire a hot date—one of these Friday nights.
Ben is washing my hair. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since he left the bouquet on my doorstep. “I loved the flowers.”
Ben smiles and keeps massaging my head.
“We should hang out again sometime.”
Ben continues smiling and nods. And then he straddles my reclined body, his hands continuing to rub tingling conditioner into my hair.
My hands grasp the arms of the chair in anticipation—of something. He looks at me, still smiling and rubbing. And then he leans his head close to mine and brushes his lips against mine. I part my lips and feel his tongue. His tongue swirls around my tongue, and my tongue swirls around his tongue. I don’t understand how someone can be so great at foreplay but so bad in bed…
by hannah
February 23rd, 2010
All right ladies, we’ve been going over this whole younger man thing for weeks now, and while I totally support the cougars in the crowd, I’m still not sure whether ALL us women should drop everything over 27 and start shackin’ up with a young pup.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m anything but closed-minded when it comes to getting frisky with fresh, firm, young meat. You know I’ve barked up Ben’s tree house quite a few times. And while it’s exhilarating to know that my body is on par with the Spring-Break-going, beer-pong-loving skirts he chases, I’ve found our time together to be a bit…sub par.
It always starts off with a bang. The clothes come off. He gazes at me, and I gaze right back. I fall deep into the throes of admiration for his supple skin, his firm abs, his pure puppy-chasing-a-frisbee excitability. And we start getting it on.
I tell him, “Faster.” He obliges. I tell him, “Slower.” He obliges. I grab his head as if adjusting the speed on a vibrator, and yell out, “Right there. Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop!”
He lets out a jerk and a moan. And…stops.
I tell myself: I really don’t like orgasms, anyway.
Needless to say, I’ve never been sold on the youngins. I’ve always preferred the well-trained and experienced caresses of a matured man; although…that’s not always worked out in my favor either. So I’m starting to think I’ve been hanging around the wrong Kindercare, because the tots that Ireland and 86% of you Think Tank voters are frolicking with seem to be top-notch…
by hannah
February 19th, 2010
I get an email the other day: I was sitting in a bar two nights ago and this very cute, somewhat drunk boy I was talking to invited me to his place to…listen to Eric Clapton. I bought him a drink but I didn’t take him up on the offer. What’s a cougar to do?
Ummm…take a pack of condoms everywhere you go. Seriously, what’s a cougar to not do. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this lately (hence the recent poll) and as far as I’m concerned, if you’re a cougar you have it all. You’re old enough to take care of yourself, and experienced enough to know exactly what you like in the sack. And the best part, you feel no pressure to get married or have kids because you’ve been there and done that. Relationships are suddenly not complicated because they don’t have to go anywhere, and there is a sea of eligible bachelors dying for a no-strings-attached rendezvous. Being a cougar is like getting to relive your twenties the way you always wanted to. So my advice to you: go ahead and be a slut. I’m so jealous.
p.s. more questions always welcome:)
