OLD GUYS
Old guys rule! They’re interested in more than just your dick. They’ll lick you from top to bottom and suck your fingers and toes, not just your knob. Young guys just go right for your meat and expect you to go straight for theirs.
Old guys understand your need more than just to get off; that young guys can get off for free – for nothing – with anybody or by themselves. So, old guys are willing to, you know, help you out with the rent. They don’t mind. They know. It’s not a loan. Life’s expensive.
Old guys take their time. Young guys just want to shoot and shuffle. Old guys take longer to get off themselves, so they take more time with you. Of course, a young guy’ll cum three times to an old guy’s one, but hell – what’s wrong with that? Cumming three times with the same old guy just saves the time and energy of making contact with two other young guys.
Old guys are all upfront about their needs, too. Young guys have to talk all in code and be mysterious and vague. They’re skittish about seeming “gay” or who does what in what order and shit. Old guys just ask and tell. “This is what I want; this is what I’ll do for it.” That’s the old guy way. Clear. No shit.
Old guys like to kiss. And they know how. Young guys, my age, they don’t kiss ‘cause that’s “queer.” They’ll swallow your meat and suck your nuts, but kiss you? They act like they did in the second grade – scared they’ll get girl cooties or something.
Old guys know a lot of shit. Young guys are just interested in their own orgasm. With old guys, their orgasm means it’s all over for them so they think of themselves last. Which means the young guy like me gets all the focus.
Old guys will take you to bed, expect you to get all naked. Young guys want it on the fly. In a car. Up against a wall. Anywhere you can get your zipper down.
Old guys play with your butt. Young guys act like butts are all hazmat; nuclear waste zones, like. Old guys kiss it, finger it, blow on it, call it crack names. Hell, I know old guys who’ll play with your butt by the hour. Shit, the stuff they come up with by the second hour – shit! They can make me feel stuff up my butt like I’ve never felt in my dick before!
My old men, you know, appreciate me. One of my old men, he calls other young guys “callow.” That’s kind of like common and shallow put together.
Another great thing about old guys, there’s no competition. You know, no jockeying for position. No possessiveness. Nobody’s competing for them anymore, ‘cause they don’t know a good thing when they see it, so you can just take your pick among them. And if it goes good with one of them – they’re happy to share you, just pass you along among their pals. What young guy’s gonna do that?
Old guys rule ‘cause they’re not judgmental. They’ve been around and they know. I’m really skinny, all scrawny and all. I wear black ‘cause I like it, and most people don’t even look at me twice ‘cause of my tats and my hair. Hell, old guys don’t care. They don’t even see all that. They look right at you. Right in the eye and smile, while other people frown, look away, and even talk about you like you can’t hear. Who needs that shit?
Hey, I love being young, hung and full of cum, don’t get me wrong. But when you got the time, old guys rule. Who needs all the games, the disapproval, and the self-disgust just under the surface of those clandestine quickies?
And hell, it even makes you think maybe getting old won’t be without its advantages.
— “me,” Handjobs magazine
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