My young 24-year-old friend came over right on time yesterday afternoon and we pretty much just got done to the business at hand. As this was going to be our third time together, it tends to make things much easier later. He came to the door, I showed him to the living room where we drank 7-Up together, then went to my bedroom, and had a nice afternoon. We weren’t in a rush this time, so I was able to slip into something a bit sex for him to feast his eyes upon. I don’t often have the pleasure of having a young man gazing upon my scantily clothed body wearing only but a lingerie slip as we lay in bed talking, as most of the time we get straight into the action.
But soon, our slow start ignited our passions and we were shortly in one another arms kissing and touching one another in what can only be described as a mad impassioned embrace.
We spent some quality time in our foreplay, and I was very happy that my young lover wasn’t trying to rush things as most young men tend to do. When he finally did mount and enter me I was ready for him and enjoyed the feeling of our bodies uniting into one.
The first two times we made love I was surprised at how long lasting he was. He was able to give me quite a sustained pounding in the missionary position longer than most men. The first time I was very happy. The second time it took longer for him to come but still it felt wonderful. However, this third time I could tell that something was wrong. He was very enthusiastic, vocal, and was very hard inside of me. But he seemed to be struggling in having his own orgasm.
I’d climaxed a few minutes after he first entered me, and though I enjoyed the continuing intercourse for a good fifteen or twenty minutes afterwards, I realized that though he was thrusting hard and fast, he seemed to be having problems. I then saw frustration on his face, so I told him to stop and change positions. Instead, he got off me, and flopped onto his back obviously upset at himself.
After turning towards him, I put my arm around him, drew close, and just remained silent. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know how to approach it. I saw that his penis was still very hard, so I took it into my hands and stroked it softly. I then realized that this was stupid, so I just came out asked him what was bothering him in a tone that made him realize that I wanted answers right now.
He confessed that he’s been suffering from depression and that the medication the doctor put him on makes it hard for him to orgasm. He can get hard, have sex, but he really has to concentrate on orgasms. I asked him what the medication was and he replied, “Zoloft.”
He was very embarrassed that I knew about his condition and probably assumed I’d ask him to leave my bed. “People get depressed,” I said, “but the difference with you is that you sought help for it.” He tried getting out of bed, but using my authority of being far older than he was, I told him, “You aren’t going anywhere Mister.”
I finally calmed him down, and began playing with his penis again, which had gone a bit soft. The beauty of being so young is that erections tend to come quick and are usually very hard, and my young friend was no exception.
I then let him try various positions on me, anything he wanted, as long as it didn’t bend me too much – at 54, I’m not as bendable as I used to be.
Eventually, he got back on top of me and had me put my legs way in the air over his shoulder. This was a bit uncomfortable for me as it made me bend in a way I wasn’t used to. But he seemed very excited to have my legs on his shoulders, so I went with it and let him enjoy himself. I guess this excited him more than I thought it would because after pounding away for a good while he was able to have his long delayed orgasm and soon he was flooding me with his semen.
He got off me quickly, but I told him his work wasn’t finished yet. I turned onto my side, had him get behind me, lifted my leg a bit, and told him to reenter me as his penis was still very hard. Then, with my friend firmly embedded deep inside of me, we relaxed and we both actually fell asleep for a few moments.
I woke up first after about ten minutes, and felt him softly breathing on my neck with his arms still draped around me. It felt wonderful, as for me this after-sex hug is what I craved in all of my sexual encounters. If men only understood how much a woman needs this after sex.
Eventually, he woke up and he said he had to go and got dressed. I did hug him close to me and told him that I was glad he let me know about his medication and that it didn’t change my opinion about him at all. I also let him know that he was welcomed at my home and in my bed any time he wanted. He seemed moved by what I told him, and he held me close for a moment, kissed me, and left.
I have a feeling that he may become a regular part of my sex life for the foreseeable future.
Photo Credit: Kim Cattrall in, “Sweet Bird of Youth.” 2013