I've said several times that one of the things I really like about getting head from older women is that for many of them, oral sex is more intimate than intercourse. I like that a woman is willing to share herself with me in a way that she feels makes her more vulnerable. Maybe it's just an ego-feeder. Or maybe it just makes the act more special. Personally, I've always thought that the most beautiful thing a woman can do for a man is to take his cock into her mouth and suck him until he cums. So naturally I lean more towards women for whom it's also very personal.
As I've said in earlier entries, it seems like younger women see oral sex as less intimate than intercourse. It's like it's become a way to keep their boyfriends happy and still retain their virginity. Or, at the very least, it's the stepping-stone to fucking. In other words, younger women may see it as second or third base, where an older woman might not be as willing to do it for a man unless she was already intimate with him. Why wouldn't I prefer older women, if they're the ones for who giving a blow job is truly something special?
There's also another reason I tend to go my age or older. After a few years out of college, you just don't fit in with that crowd anymore. By the time you've been out of college for five years, you start to realize how naive you were then about almost everything. It's not easy to relate to people who still live in that world. College aged women might have beautiful, tight young bodies, but if I can't talk to them, what's the point?
Of course, there are exceptions. Not everyone who is twenty-one is naive. Some women are more mature by then than I'll ever be. But that's not the case with this next entry. No, there are other reasons to make exceptions, as I'm sure you can imagine.
I was in a bar at happy hour with a few people from work when I noticed a girl across the bar looking in my direction. In the dim light of the bar it was tough to be sure, but she didn't look familiar. She looked a bit young and was dressed in sweats with her hair pulled back. I wrote her off pretty quickly as too young, but I couldn't help noticing that she kept looking over at me. Naturally, I looked back and smiled once or twice, but more out of habit than because I was interested.
I was surprised when she came around to me and addressed me by name. I had no idea who she was and told her so. She scolded me playfully for not remembering her. Her name was Stacy. It turns out she had worked part time last holiday season at my old girlfriend Cheri's boutique. She had seen me a few times when I had popped in to visit. I vaguely remembered seeing more people in the shop, but I never would have remembered Stacy.
"I'm a good friend of Stephanie," Stacy told me. "That's how I got the job." I looked at her blankly for a moment before remembering that Stephanie was one of Cheri's regular employees.
"That's also the reason I remember you in particular!" Stacy gave me a sly look that I couldn't figure out. The blank expression on my face must have told her that I wasn't following. "I'm Stephanie's friend," she said, emphasizing Stephanie's name. At first I couldn't understand what she was trying to tell me.
Then it hit me. Stephanie was the girl that had almost caught Cheri giving me a blow job in the back of the shop. Actually, she pretty much had caught us. Cheri had been squatting down less than a foot from me and I had been standing with my back to the door tugging frantically at my zipper. The only thing Stephanie hadn't seen was Cheri's mouth on my cock. Or had she?
I suddenly remembered seeing the vacuum cleaner Stephanie had been using hovering by the doorway between the front and back of the store. There had been a mirror there. Had Stephanie been watching the whole thing? I remembered thinking at the time that it was possible. I also remembered that, having just gotten an incredible blow job, I hadn't really cared if the whole thing had been carried live on CNN.
The way Stacy was talking, it seemed that Stephanie might have seen something. But I wasn't going to let on. I just looked at her, careful to keep my expression blank. Stacy must have figured that I didn't know her friend had seen Cheri and me. She changed the subject.
"I really liked working for Cheri," Stacy told me. "She was more than a good boss. She was more like a role model." I nodded and politely agreed. "I want to own my own place someday, you know," she continued and started telling me as if I was her best friend.
Stacy went on for a good twenty minutes, telling me all about her dreams of owning her own shop and how she would do this or that. I nodded and asked a polite question when appropriate, but the more Stacy talked, the younger she seemed. Not that I was all that interested in her to start with, but the more she went on, the more I was eager for her to go back to her friends on the other side of the bar.
Stacy was a cute kid, but that was the problem. I was thinking about her like she was a kid, not a woman. Clearly, she was at least twenty-one, or she wouldn't be in a bar. She was also, from what I could tell, a very attractive young lady. But nothing in what she was saying was piquing my interest.
I guess my lack of interest was obvious, because Stacy suddenly stopped talking and looked at me. I looked back at her, noticing for the first time what beautiful blue eyes she had.
"You know what I really admire about Cheri?" Stacy said after a brief pause. I felt the momentary excitement of looking into her eyes start to fade as I shook my head. "It's the way she can be in charge, you know, like a boss and all, and still be a woman." I nodded, but not in a way that would have encouraged her to continue. But she did anyway.
"You know," Stacy said, "Like the way she can give someone orders to clean up and still go in the back and give a blow job." I looked at Stacy, raising an eyebrow. We looked at each other for a long moment. "I told you," Stacy went on at last. "I'm good friends with Stephanie. We talk, you know?"
"That's nice," I said, annoyed with myself for letting her catch me off-guard so easily.
"And I told you," Stacy said in what was presumably her seductress voice. "I want to be like Cheri." She gave me a significant look. "Just like her."
"Well, you've got your work cut out for you," I replied.
"I don't think you're, like, getting what I'm saying, you know?" Funny how when I was in college it didn't bother me that everyone said, like, 'like' every other word, but now I find it slightly irritating. Guess I'm gettin' old.
"I think, like, you're the one not getting what you're, like, saying, like." I shot back. I looked at Stacy and gave her a wan smile. She looked back at me steadily, a little bit of a smirk on her face.
"Yeah, well, like, if you think you're so up to it, like," Stacy said and ran her tongue across her upper lip in a move clearly intended to seduce. "I'll show you what I like." Her attempts at seduction, had they come from a good-looking forty year old woman, would have given me an erection. But I was only mildly amused by Stacy's efforts. I don't know why the double standard.
