Miami Actress: Conclusion
Part I: b3ta.com/questions/cougars/post319969

Part II: b3ta.com/questions/cougars/post320702

So, where were we?

Oh yes, your reluctant protaganist had just been pissed on in a bathroom in Miami by an actress 13 years his senior who he had known for less than a week. That about covers it.

(The original plan had been the other way round, but one thing these fetishists don't tell you is how hard it is for a man to direct things when he's 'excited'.)

Ahem.

Anyway.

I basically stayed with her for the rest of my holiday. I had an amazing time.

There were times we even seemed just like a normal couple, with her added sparkle on top.


We went to the cinema, to see Zoolander. (blow job in the cinema)

We drove across to Sanibel (shagged in the sea in front of a crowded beach)

We went to South Beach (drank a bottle of vodka between us and then fucked on the sand)

We rented a video (I am assuming you can guess which kind)

We sat on her porch and watched the sun come up after being up all night (vodka was again involved, and I missed the sun coming up because I couldn't see it with my face between her legs)

We went to the aquarium (and, trust me there are LOTS of dark corners in an aquarium, you can get away with murder)

We went to Key Biscayne (where she asked me to bugger her over the bonnet of her car. I obliged)

There are many things I did with Miami Actress that I have not done before or since.

But two stick out in my mind more than any.

The nudist beach, the name of which I forget, but it's a long drive from South Beach.

I think the name was pushed from my mind by the overwhelming memory of getting a very unsubtle hand job and then being straddled in the middle of the beach with no one batting an eyelid around us.

And the sex shop.

I can't pretend to be naive, I'd been in an American sex shop before. I’d been in the peep booth. I'd seen the holes in the walls, and I knew what they were for.

I had, however, never used one until she pushed me into one booth then went into the one next door.

You know the rest, I'm sure.

And, still amongst all this were long, long nights of listening to music, discussing books and plays and films and the famous people she'd worked with (her Ronnie Wood stories I still repeat to people today), our pasts, our regrets and hopes.

All fuelled by glass after glass of straight vodka and ice.

But, and now, dear reader, if you are just here for the titillation, I suggest you stop reading, because I am going to get serious.

Among all this, she was a kind, caring, wise, gentle soul.

She was a sex crazed alkie, but a kind, caring, wise, gentle soul nonetheless.

We talked a lot.

About everything.

And this carried on long, long after my holiday was over and I was back home starting to rebuild my life from the state it had been in before I had left.

We talked regularly.

She talked to me all night a couple of times when I was at risk of sliding back.

She gave me the strength to change my job, move house, cut down my drinking and help me pull my life back together.

I shaped up, I got better.

We talked non stop on September 12 of that year. About what had happened the day before, about life, about what we wanted, where we were going

We decided we wanted to see each other again before we moved on with our lives.

Before the month was out, I was back in Miami.

Things were more sedate this time, largely because we were both drinking far less. But it was an amazing two weeks still. Another two weeks for which I will always be grateful.

I last saw her in early 2002. She'd known Charlotte Coleman (the short spikey girl from 4 weddings, who had died in late 2001) and was over for a fundraising/memorial thing.

This time we met as friends,nothing more and we parted the same way.

We'd both calmed down completely, and she told me she'd met someone.

I was in the very early stages of a relationship too.

She's married now. Living in a big house in South Florida and is a very successful theatrical actress.

One day I'll pick up the phone and say hello again.

But at the moment I am happy with the memory of what we had. How she energised my life and turned me around when I was the lowest I have ever been.

And, any woman I have slept with since 2001 owes her a debt of gratitude too.

I learnt a lot.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 12:21, 6 replies)

My brother
My dear brother was, until he met his fiance, a filthy, filthy, boy. He's had pretty muh every age of girl from teens (legal teens I hasten to add) up to what could generously be desribed as 'Mature' ladies but more accurately summed up by Grounds-keeper Willie with the phrase "Back to the loch with YOU Nessie!" I believethe oldest woman he was 'with' was in her late fifties. He was 19 at the time.

Anyway, one of his most infamous conquests was a young lady I shall name Carla. Carla was, and presumably still is, six years younger than my brother when they met in a scummy nightclub he used to frequent. Anyway, they started 'going out' with each other (as we used to say in those days) and things appeared to be going well until one day he came home in a less than pleased mood.

"What's up" I enquired

"That bitch Carla, she's been bangin' her best mate for the past three months! (This was the same approximate time he and she had been bumping uglies) and she's effing dumped me for her!"

I let out a small laugh at this revelation. He took offence to this an gave me a good kicking until our dad seperated us (when told dad laughed too).
( Funkenschlag still likes dogs more than cats, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 12:13, Reply)

Santa Claus the guilt trip...
Tis the festive season and this week while in Tesco with the gf she spots the dvd of Santa Claus the movie (remember it? with Dudley Moore?).

Anyway I remarked that my gran took me to see it at the cinema when it first came out.
Girlfriend looks at the back of the dvd box and says "I wasn't even born then".
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 12:01, 2 replies)

I am 25
my girlfriend is 18

I win!
( SiX and his hat, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 11:56, 10 replies)

Getting married
Soon to the most wonderful man ever. He was previously married, has two sons.

Both of which are older than I am.
(KelBardi is somewhat bemused, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 11:52, 6 replies)

Epic paedophail...
London Pride, 2007. I've been drinking since fairly early in the morning and the day's festivities are wearing on. A cute girl sidles up to me at the bar, nudges me and says "hey, could you get me a drink? I would but I've lost my ID..."
No alarm bells at this point. Oh dear.
"Sure, if you give me a kiss..."
So drinks are bought and saliva is exchanged. Only then do I hear what I assume was her mum storming up behind us, shouting at the top of her voice: "WHAT THE BLOODY FOOK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, BUYING HER A DRINK?! SHE'S FOOKING THIRTEEN!"

You.
What.

Oh my god.
I take my rainbow-flag off my back (too distinguishable in a crowd), gather my wits and peg it. My mates have seen the whole thing, and are pissing themselves, of course.
(jothemofo, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 11:45, 6 replies)

the right girl for me
Having had my marriage fall apart earlier this year I'm delighted to say that I'm now happily with my new girlfriend and TODAY we've committed to moving in together :-)

These days she's 22 and I'm 31.... but when we first met 5 years ago she was 17 and I was 26. Stupidly I had to go and marry someone else before I realised she was the right girl for me... It always felt right but somehow I'm less guilty about the age gap now ;-)



I'll ignore the time aged 19 that I was snogging some woman who must have late 40's.... funny thing is I was trying for her daughter at the time!
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 11:32, Reply)

Getting married tomorrow
to a lass of 37. I'm 41.

My family breathe a collective sigh of relief as my previous relationships have been with women who are now aged 45,55,54 and 60.

Guess I finally learnt which way to go.

Wish us luck !
( I_Was_Mordred, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 11:24, 7 replies)

I can't!
I've been told by the ex-boyfriend who's 14 years younger than me, that was (and still is.. and I'm very weak sometimes) astonishingly good at sex, despite being a total control freak, right down to choosing my clothes.
Anyway he told me not to post on here about how much he learned from me over the past 9 years, and how patient and loving I am. Despite him upsetting my family etc etc..

So I'm not going to.

I may however tell you about the further adventures of Creme-de Menthe man, if you play your cards right, because I damn near pissed myself laughing at them..
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 11:17, 2 replies)

It's over
I was 23 and newly married. She (not my wife) was 35 and in a long term relationship. Let's call her Sara.

She flirted with me outrageously and I enjoyed the attention. After a few months my wife was away and Sara invited me round to her place 'for a coffee'. She made it very clear what she wanted, but I didn't want to go there, and left. Next morning I phoned her, went over, and we had mindblowing sex with the autumn sun shining through the curtains of her bedroom. She was a lot more experienced than me, and somehow I felt more at ease during sex with her than with my wife. Sara likes to talk dirty, likes to be screwed hard, and loves oral. She has the tightest pussy I've ever known, the softest skin and the most welcoming mouth. She would get wet just at the thought of me, and delighted in telling me this. She introduced me to phone sex and loved hearing me get off while she talked.

Our relationship lasted for years. She kicked out her long term boyfriend, not because she wanted me to move in, but because being with me gave her the confidence to do it. Sara found another bloke, older than her, and married him, but we kept seeing each other. Even when I moved away from the area we would still find ways to meet and have sex. We both got something very physical from the relationship - she was great in bed and loved dirty sex. She said her husband was 'quite traditional' about sex, and she loved the fact that I was still 'a young man'.

However over time our needs changed. I became a thirty year old, she was in her forties with an attentive husband. We stopped seeing each other so regularly. Our relationship changed to being mainly phone calls and e mails, and we would talk about everything and nothing. We had similar interests and the discussions came to mean more than the physical side of our relationship. This could have been due to the fact that we lived many miles apart, but it was also due to the age gap and us both growing up. We got to the point where we hadn't seen each other in several years.

Her husband is older than her, I don't know by how much, but as she approached her late forties he went off sex. So the sexual side of my relatoinship with Sara picked up again - and this was fine for me. Phone sex with her was a real turn on - she played the part of the experienced older woman very well, making me feel very wanted. We met up again, and sex was still explosive. I still thought she looked young, but she was starting to get very concious of the effect of ageing on her body.

Over the next few years we met up rarely, but kept our long distance relationship going. She started the menopause, and this had a huge impact on her libido. Sara discussed this with me, very openly. Then after not meeting up for 3 years she suddenly wanted to see me again. I very much wanted to - my memories of sex with her had always been very good. But she was nervous: nervous about how she looked, how her body was, and nervous about how the menopause had affected her.

So we met, and it was like starting all over again - we walked, held hands, kissed, had a meal. To me she looked great. Then eventually we got into bed together and did the deed. Her skin was still soft, her lips welcoming, her pussy gripped me like a glove. For me it was almost like old times. But for her it felt wrong. I was no longer the young man she fancied. She was dry and sore. It didn't work out.

So that was the end of that. We argued about how we had reacted to each other. She said I wasn't caring - I replied that I thought she liked me being the younger man, getting dirty. But by now I was in my forties: hardly the younger man any more. One final phone call, a last e mail, and it's over. I still fantasise about her. She sent me an e-card on the anniversary of our first shag. But it's ov
(Smale is stuffed, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 11:17, 11 replies)

Ok, this may be messy.


I was working part-time with a brilliant bunch of people, always up for a big night out, whatever day of the week. Naturally I was making very little money and spunking what I did on various boozes. One of my very occasional fellow part-timers was a beautiful tall, pale, willowy (ok, skinny) blonde from the midlands who was 16 years my senior ( I was 21). Naturally, I'd get flirty with , let's call her P, when we went out but I knew deep down she was way out of my league. As time went by, I realised she was working fewer and fewer days and always seemed to be ill, but those days she worked, she always seemed to be working alongside me. We'd chat about the world and its' injustices, but never anything personal as that just didn't seem right, seeing as we were meant to be dealing with members of the public as well. I did notice that she wasn't hitting the boozer anywhere near as much as she used to, so we could never really get any further.
One afternoon, I was working with P and just thought, Sod it...why not? and asked her to a party my flatmates were throwing that week. Amazingly she agreed and asked of she could bring her mate, a fairly successful (financially if not artistically) actress.

Damn Right.

The party was pretty mediocre, and I noticed the object of my desire was sticking to the soft drinks, thus, so I thought, lessening my chances from little to none. However, with the absolutely bizarre come-on line of 'Do you want to see our sauna" (don't ask) somehow everything fell into place. After a few minutes of dicking about with the thermostat, and pondering the etiqutte of removing clothing in the sauna (Yes, really. Don't ask,) she settled the matter with the immortal line "Look, sod the sauna, let's just have sex."

Bloody Nora!

...

The next few weeks were a bit of a blur, I must have slept about 3 hours a night on average and lots about 4.7 litres of man-goo, but inevitably came the 'it's not you, it's me.' speech.
But this was different.
It was the 'I've been given 6 months to live' speech

Holy Shitting Christ.

Suddenly it all added up, the long absences from work, the concern about how she was from my colleagues, and I had never been told and never guessed quite how seriously ill she was. She lay in my arms and cried for hours about how every ones attitude towards her as a sexual being had changed after she had been diagnosed with cancer 2 years before, that she was too far gone for chemo, and that she understood if I wanted out.
Now your average 21-year old can't deal very easily with that sort of heavy-duty emotional weight dropping on them. I was your average 21-year old. We agreed to call it a day after one last night of tears and sweaty biology. Then I did the bad thing.
We both went out together with her mate, the actress who was 'only' 6 years older than me, and one of my best friends. As we had cabbed it back to the actresses flat, it was fairly clear that some horses were being changed mid-stream. Yup, we both did the dirty on each other with our best friends in the same flat on the same night, and amazingly I'm still with the other woman to this day.

When the end came for P over 12 months later, both me and the missus were at her hospice bed watching her hover between reality, the land of morphia and the big sleep. She died on a foul and rainy spring day while we had gone down the pub for lunch and a couple of pick-me-ups.
(Pickettywitchfinder General, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 11:16, 3 replies)

I think being gay means you have to
Be a complete slag. I have had 'relations' with people most probably twice my age or more. When I was in my late teens and early 20's, i regulary had a 'meet' with guys off a gay chat line...sometimes, their descripton of themselves as a handsome young buck, was not quite accurate upon arrival at their door. However, I never let that get in the way...I would still let them suck me off or something, and took comfort in the fact i must have made them feel better about themselves...kind of a public service I thought.

The latest and most recent was a 22 year old, and I am 29...it must be true that what goes around comes around...karma and all that!

What can i say, I am a sexual deviant of the highest order, with a very high appetite for cock.

God writing it down makes it all seem so vile, filty, dirty and sorded, but my god, I have had some fun in my time. I love being gay!! Yay woo

Dirty boy.
(iwantmybed Is counting down the hours till home time on, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 11:10, 7 replies)

To save Apeloverage from writing it...
So, I married this lovely girl. I say we were childhood sweethearts, but there was 13 years between us.

Everybody said that we were a fairytale, a match made in heaven, and we had the biggest wedding imaginable. I couldn't believe my luck – what a BABE!

We had two lovely boys, but things started to fall apart about then.

We both started to play about, and, frankly, I've got my doubts about my younger boy, but the least said the better.

Eventually, we split up and we went our own ways, only to find that she died – tragically – in a car crash with her new boyfriend.

Still, it's not so bad. I've remarried and despite what everybody thinks, it WAS an accident. Really.

Your pal

Prince Charles.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 10:52, 2 replies)

21.42 from Platform number 3.
My boyfriend is quite a lot older than me. 16 years, to be precise.

Let's start from the start.
In early 2007, he posted a video on YouTube. It was a reply to the "Pissed Catholic Mother" video (anyone remember that?) and he was basically talking about Atheism and that...
He had a nice face and a nice accent, and I'm not ashamed to say I watched that video a few times. But all he was was a person on the internet. I never once thought about meeting him, he was obviously a lot older and lived on the other side of the country, it was never gonna happen.

I found the link to his blog and kept in touch with him a bit through there and through email. That video he did on YouTube got his blog quite a bit of traffic, and as well as attracting me, it also attracted a lady in America, who our man obviously fell in love with and announced he would be going to meet her over in the States. Yes, I was slightly jealous but like I said, he was a person on the internet and nothing more.

Through his (and her) blog I followed their progress, watching from afar. I looked at the pictures of their visits to the Golden Gate Bridge and other places. I congratulated them when they moved in together in California, and then later when they announced they were getting married. I'd been following their progress and feeling so happy for them, they I accepted their offer to come to their wedding.

Months gone by and for some reason, I emailed him my phone number, I can't remember why. He was feeling troubled about something so I thought he might like to talk, but I never expected anything.
A few weeks passed, and then as I was about to go to bed at around midnight on a weekday, my phone started ringing.
I picked it up and it was him. He was upset and crying. His blog and every other account he had anywhere on the internet had been hacked. Anyway, not to go into too much detail, after a lot of searching he found out it was his future wife. She'd turned out to be a crazy American nutcase and because she had certain links with the government or whatever, she'd typed his name into a database and found lots of internet naughtiness that he'd taken part in, that to us British was nothing worse than they show on a Channel 4 after nine o'clock, but because she was American, to her it was positively hardcore.

At the time I was in a 2 and a half year relationship with somebody, I thought we were happy because I hadn't really had a proper relationship before that, and he made me laugh. But there was other things I wasn't happy about. I'd get angry at him because he wasn't what I wanted him to be. He watched TV too much, and he wasn't aware about important things. He never watched the news, and the only newspaper he read was the Mirror or the Star.
If there was ever any national news, he wouldn't know about it because he was too busy watching I'm A Celebrity.
There was certain things I wanted in a boyfriend, and he didn't have them.

So the internet man became single, and moved back to the UK. To be honest, even though I keep saying that all he was to me was a man on the internet, I actually felt happy that he was single and back home. Even though I was happy for him and the American, from watching the various home movies (not dirty ones) that they posted of their travels, it was plain to see she wasn't right for him. He was a proper Northerner and she couldn't understand his jokes or what he was going on about half the time.

Me and him started emailing more, and I eventually admitted to myself that I had to look into this.
I wasn't happy with my boyfriend, and because he wasn't right for me, i'm ashamed to say i'd been looking elsewhere. I know I shouldn't have and I know it was wrong, but I understand that I did it now not out of spite or malice, but just because I was trying to find some happiness with the right person.

Internet man asked if there would be any chance of me becoming single, and him traveling the 3 hour journey to visit me, just to see how it goes. I decided there was.

A few months later and I was sitting in his local pub, in the north of England. A few pints inside me and I realised, that little list I had previously of all those things I wanted in someone. He had them all. There was nothing I could complain about.

Fast forward to now, seven months and one day after we met. Everything is going perfectly. The distance between us isn't ideal, but i'm getting used to the 5 hour train ride I do on a Friday night. I see the same commuters every week.

His family and friends have been nothing short of amazing when it comes to supporting us. The age difference never crosses our mind, and it actually surprises us when somebody mentions it because we seem to forget it's even there. Things are difficult at the moment because studies and work mean I can't visit him as much as i'd like, and a lack of money means he can't really move down here. Sometimes it feels too difficult to carry on, but then I just think that at sometime in the future when we have a nice little house we'll look back on these times and feel glad that we stuck with it.

It's strange to think that we were both going off in other directions with our lives, but then realised that the things we wanted were right in front of us, we just didn't see it.

Apologies for length and blah blah.

Edit: Just incase you go looking, his original YouTube video is no longer there, the American Psycho deleted it when she messed up his internets.
( Lollylegs lite, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 10:52, 7 replies)

London shop girl
I once shagged a 19-year old shop girl from London.

We had quite a romance, actually. I took her to places she'd never been before and showed her amazing sights no-one had ever seen before. We fell out a bit over her dad, but soon patched things up.

I went through a bit of a mid-life crisis when all this shit from my past turned up, but she helped me through that and saved the day, would you believe, with a kiss.

After that I was a changed man with a new outlook on life and the romance entered a new stage. We were giddily happy, madly in love and wanted everyone to know. I didn't even mind when her ex-boyfriend turned up and came along for the ride for a bit (but I was glad when we had to abandon him).

Unfortunately, eventually, some other shit from my past turned up and I had to leave her forever. I thought that was the last I would ever see of her, so I shacked up with a young black trainee doctor from London and then this lairy 40 year old ginger temp (I was getting desperate).

Then the WORST shit from my past turned up and so did she again. This time I sorted it for good (I hope) but had to abandon her again, this time with an awkward compromise which satisfied nobody.

I still miss her. She was fantastic. The age difference? 881 years.

The Doctor
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 10:40, 6 replies)

Keeping us on our toes.
My bruvver Dave is 39. He was seeing this 20 year old lass and had her convinced he was 27 for about 4 months... until she ran into his 19 year old son in some bar. Bugger.

As for me - I hooked up with one of my students 12 years ago (graduate level mind you, so I guess that's sort of ok).

It all keeps us on our toes I guess.
( hismastersvice cunting flange-jammer, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 10:34, Reply)

I was about 25
And I got talking to this girl (23ish, I think) in a club, and we ended up kissing, then chatting to her friends, then kissing.

She asked how old I was, and I told her. She looked disappointed and said she assumed I was some naive innocent 17-18 year old. And she pretty much lost interest now she knew that I I wasn't.

Paedofail.
(teebie jeebie, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 10:30, Reply)

First one way and then the other
I've had the flipside experience of being the older and also the younger, each coming with their own good and bad points.

A year or so ago, I had a brief dalliance with a girl 9 years my junior, didn't last, but it was odd to be the reliable foil to her non-confident, neurotic, slightly mental, self.

A wee while ago, I very nearly ended up with someone 12 years my senior, and as much as I'd like to say the gap didn't bother me, I couldn't help thinking of the point where she'd be retired and grey of hair, whilst I would be middle aged, while still comparatively young and active.

The current Ms Shifty is only 2 years younger, which is much simpler to deal with and doesn't lead to me having to constantly reassure her or discuss the benefits of certain interior decorating styles.
(ShiftyBastard won the World Cup on World Soccer Champs 2010!, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 10:27, Reply)

So there I was, sat on my horse.
Okay, so I'm probably over the hill, but I try to keep active- I'm back and forwards all over the place, I've got projects to keep me busy (I once built a freezer), and I'm a lot livelier than some people half my age.

So like I said, there I was on this horse, talking to my friend, who we'll call M. Now M was a good few decades younger than me, and had absolutely no dress sense. Fortunately, he- and his wardrobe- are required merely to set the scene.

Out of the blue, we hear a terrified scream and a lot of banging and clattering. Over the hill, there comes a horse and cart going as fast as the horses could run. The single female passenger's screaming her head off, and the horses are bolting out of control- straight towards a gorge.

Being the non-twat that we are, both M and myself shot off following this cart with a view to saving the troubled young woman. We manage, and the cart plunges over the gorge. She was about 40- a lot younger than I- and wearing a beautiful purple dress.

Now over time, we grew to enjoy each others company and, eventually, love each other.

Then I lost her forever- she thought I was lying when I said I had to go back to the future.
Anyway, I'm off to the pub. I hear they have good whiskey.

Dr Emmett Brown
( uberdeity Wondered why Owen Lars knew of the term "hell" on, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 10:08, 4 replies)

Age of Innocence...?
I generally make it as a rule not to date anyone more than 2 years younger. I know this sounds rather arrogant, but the fact is I barely have anything in common with people younger than me. I was born middle aged and got older from there on in!

Having said all that, I do have a thing for Thora Birch (American Beauty, the film and a good descriptive of her).

Naturally, age (to a sensible extent) shouldn't really matter, if you like someone, go for it and this story perfectly illustrates this.

When I was at university (about 18) I met a girl who was roughly the same age as me (I think she may have been a year older than me). She recently got married. One day I got invited to meet her husband. When I did, I got the shock of my life. He was a 50 something barrister! Now while I commend him for a young wife, I simply HAD to know what his secret was!

Turns out, she was best friends with his daughter (which means she was YOUNGER than 18 when she first met him!) and he was going through a messy divorce at the time. She started flirting and joking around with him. Eventually, a mutual attraction formed. I think he was happy that other women (well, "girls", in this case) liked him and she genuinely liked him. This kind of put the daughter's nose out of joint (understandably when you think about. Imagine your best friend becoming your step mother!) and caused them trouble. They still stayed together, despite the daughter trying to break them up. I lost touch with them after university. I'd like to think they're still together. They were nice people. Though, I have to admit, I did tease them quite a bit:

Husband: (On the phone) WIfey, could you pick me up, please?

Wife: (On the phone to him) Where are you?

Husband: On the bathroom floor......

Also, at university, there was another girl who was 18, but her boyfriend was 36. He had a family from a previous relationship and this 18 year old was thrown straight into it! She coped well, but it did take her patience to the limit. Because they loved each other, they saw it through. Again, I lost touch with them, but I'd like to think they're still together.

Kind of reminds you that love can exist anywhere, if you look hard enough.....

Length? No....let's leave this post on a good note. :O)
(The Stig, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 10:07, Reply)

Family fun
A couple of years ago, after the first game of the rugby season, post-match drinks turned into a pub crawl round town, ending in that tacky "nightclub" that every town must have, with sticky floors and the same songs played every Saturday night, all the way from Take Me Home Country Road to the extended Bohemian Rhapsody megamix. Which all seems brilliant when you're ripped to the tits. While the young bucks were trying to look cool and attract the attentions of the pretty young things, I just reverted to my usual stratagem of barging onto the stage and dancing in every woman's face until one reciprocated or they'd all recoiled in disgust. My luck was in that night, as it wasn't long before I'd been grabbed like a man trap by a pair of firm thighs in leather trousers. My first reaction was that she must have been about 45 (12 years my senior at the time), but she wasn't showing much wear and tear, so I was quite happy for the groping to continue. The groping soon went into trousertown, which swiftly sobered me up enough to become aware of where I was - fortunately this meant me quickly manoeuvring her over to a darker corner, as before I knew it she'd pierced my brown eye with a pointy finger (not something I'd ever encountered before).

At this point I was under no doubt at all that I was in for a fun and likely sordid night, but the surprises kept coming when she took her tongue out of my ear long enough to ask me "Have you ever done it with a mother and daughter?". I answered in the negative, being a purely factual answer, but while my brain was still trying to fathom what I ought to do next, she'd already guided me through the doors to the cab rank. When the taxi set off I decided to reason that was the point of no return, and started thinking about the juicy possibilities that lay ahead - concentrating more on the fact that I'd never had a threesome and the biological likelihood that her daughter would be in pretty fine nick than on thinking "what kind of family does that kind of thing?!". As the "heavy petting" continued all my apprehensions disappeared, and in no time at all she was sticking her key in the front door of a red brick semi on a pretty grim council estate. I confidently strode over the threshold with my chest puffed out, to hear her yell upstairs "Mum! Mum! Are you awake?"
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 10:07, 3 replies)

The Miami Actress. Part II
Part I: b3ta.com/questions/cougars/post319969

For those that haven't read, or can't be bothered to read part I, a quick recap.

We left our hero (that would be me) after he had moved into the hotel room of an actress he had met drunkenly in Key West the previous night.



And so, we continue.

We spent an afternoon alternating between inappropriate behaviour in the swimming pool and appropriate behaviour in the bedroom before she had to head off to the theatre to prepare for her show. Again, I assumed I would be being kicked out, but I was told to make myself at home and be down there for 7.30.

'Help yourself to the vodka and I'll meet you after the show'

Now, to me, that's an invitation not to be missed.

I can tell you now that the only reason I know the following is because I went back to see the show the following night, because I helped myself to so much vodka that I have very little recollection of that first night.


She was genuinely an actress.

A very good one

In a very good, very funny play.


But the next thing I really remember is watching strippers with her in the early hours and then being back in the now empty swimming pool with a bottle of vodka and a bucket of ice and some even less appropriate behaviour than the inappropriate behaviour we had indulged in earlier.


We had a couple of nights in this vein before she had a few nights off from the play and was heading back to South Beach where she lived.

Yet again, I expected this to be the end of our fling and yet again she surprised me when she said 'why don't you come back with me?'

Now, with hindsight, I can't see why I thought this was a good idea. The alarm bells should have started ringing I'm sure.

But three days of vodka fuelled deviant fun had clearly clouded my judgement, because at that time, I couldn't have imagined a better thing to do.

So we sobered up (which was all relative for this woman) had a good nights sleep and the next morning I followed her car back up the Highway through the Keys to South Beach, stopping only when she unexpectedly pulled over at Virginia Key, took me for a walk and then fucked my brains out on the rocks in full view of the highway.

(as an aside, you have no idea how excited I got as we drove across MacArthur Causeway and went past the 'Welcome To Miami Beach' sign that they always used to show at the start of Miami Vice')

We pulled up outside this apartment block, in the early evening.

She got out of the car, she walked towards me and told me to leave the bags because we were 'going drinking'

Now, this is South Beach, I'm worried that a) I am not dressed to go drinking with the beautiful people and b) I can't afford to go drinking with the beautiful people.

These were wasted concerns, as Club Deuce (locally known as Club Douche and featured in 100 Bullets fact fans) is not a place where the beautiful people go.

It is, however, a place where it was perfectly acceptable to down double vodkas and ice all night while chain smoking Winston cigarettes until you can't breath.

We emerged, again in the early hours, and made our way back to her studio apartment.

I am slightly reluctant to describe what took place once we got back, but to give the full picture of what this beautifully insane perverted alcoholic woman was like, I think I need to at least hint at it.

So I will leave this section with the following

Lets just say that is a good job she had a tiled bathroom, not carpeted.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 10:03, 6 replies)

It aint all it's cracked up to be.....
Last year, when I was 38, I was 'seduced' by a 20 year old young lady at work. Well, when I say seduced she came over to me in the smoking room one day, sat on my lap and said "it's shaved, do you want to see" and promptly proceeded to place my hand on the evidence.

Whilst all my mates were jealous and there was the usual lads chorus of "go on my son" I definitely knew she was a 20 year old because:

1. It was like shagging a corpse, but slightly warmer (allegedly)
2. She got up at 2pm, farting and looking like frankensteins monster from the drinking session the night before.
3. My bathroom regularly had puke all over it from the session the night before
4. I would walk downstairs to the kitchen naked to get a drink only to find random student "friends" kipping on my sofa
5. The fridge got emptied whilst I was out. Where's my fucking sausages gone??

And to add insult to injury she was only 4'11 (I am 5'11). It was like fucking Frodo's sister and made me feel like Gary Glitter.

Thank god for women in their thirties. I love you all so much and am grateful for you every day.
(Mong The Merciless Older not wiser, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 10:01, 4 replies)

Thinking about it...
All my boyfriends have been roughly the same age as me. But all my girlfriends have always been a few years either side of me. I don't understand why this is the case, just seems to be the way it works out.

A few high (or low, should you choose it that way)-lights:


1) The 17 stone Scarborough-ian. Met at the National Student Drama Festival. I was 18, she was 24. Sex was more akin to surfing on a wave of blubber... I could lift up both arms and legs and not move in a vertical position.
Desperatly wanted to lose weight and couldn't understand why a diet of cheese, Aunt Bessies roast parsnips (pre-deepfried), pasta and chicken just made her keep gaining. Managed to get her on to eating actual vegetables and exercise. Also couldn't understand why I refused to go done on her after she'd just been to the toilet and hadn't wiped properly.


2) The 36 year old Scouse dance teacher I saw for a few months- blonde, fit, very flexible and thoroughly filthy. Also living with her partner of 9 years who didn't seem to mind playing Warcraft while I gave her a good seeing to in their bed. That one stopped when their 9 year old daughter asked us to keep it down because she had to go to school the next day. I still cringe whenever I think about that (blessedly small amount of time).


3) Elisabeth. This is my girlfriend who I have been with for nearly two years, and by the look of previous replies from certain members, I look to get flamed for. Known her since she was 13, we got together shortly after her 15th birthday - which happens to be the age of consent in Sweden where she lives (not far from Mr Humpty, coincidently).
Despite only seeing each other every 3-4 weeks, this is by far the strongest reletionship I've ever been in. I've never been with anyone who makes me as happy as she does, and her family are all very very lovely people who help us be together as much as possible. She's done some amazing things for me - getting my head straight, taking care of me on my down days, spending a fortune on phone bills to make sure I'm ok, being very understanding when I go slightly potty and what it quite possibly one of the bravest things I've known - leaving her country for the first time ever and flying over here to be with me, all by herself, so we could go to the Bloodstock heavy metal festival for my 23rd birthday this summer. Sadly, I don't really have anything funny to say about this reletionship, it's just one big bucket grabbing fest. Well, except for when she was staying over here, started sleepwalking and got in to bed with my parents...


Now back to your regualar B3ta fun and games....
(Potty Jag har smör i min rumpspringa, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 9:53, Reply)

It was the third time I'd gone out with Alex.
He was twelve years my senior.
After a few glasses of wine, decent conversation, a bit of hand holding and shy flirting we ended up back at his flat.

The lights were low as he gently pushed me onto his bed. His hands expertly unbuttoning my top as he kissed my neck.
I started to giggle. "What's so funny?" He purred. "Ohh nothing much really." I replied, "I was just thinking that when you were my age I was 8."
"Ummm I'd rather not think about that." He said and I could feel him backing away from me.

My brain has a habit of not being able to catch up with my mouth which results me blurting out some utter shite sometimes. I'm cringing as I type this and I still have no idea what posessed me to say "but don't you find it funny? I bet it makes you feel like a bit of a dirty old man. Thinking of me running about in school uniform, my barely budding breasts and not a pubic hair in sight."

He sat bolt upright, the moment lost.

I got the bus home.
( wanderlust, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 9:51, 6 replies)

Falfa beans and a nice chianti...
This is weird; hear me out.

Many years ago whilst studenting in Manchester, I happened to be in the Student Union on a cold February night with my nearest and dearest. Got talking to a girl named Emma; which involved me spewing the usual verbal bollocks in an attempt to get guts deep in this 18 year old first year (I was in my final year at the time).

Things are going well and my mate JimBob Fruitbat sidles up to me and says: 'Hmmm, falfa beans and a nice chianti.' Then he does the sucking sound through his teeth and fucks off. Now, JimBob Fruitbat took alot of drugs, so I put it down to him having just scored some ajax in the toilets and thought nothing else of it.

Little did I know it was, in fact, a warning.

The night wares on, my charms work, and I escort Emma back to her place with the promise of spunky fun n frolics to come. SpankyHanky, the old dog, strikes again.

Emma lives in a house just off Oxford Road, so it doesn't take long to walk there.

We start off in the living room. Getting down n dirty. And after the most intense, passionate, amazing two-and-a-half-minutes of foreplay I suggest we go up to her bedroom.

And this is when it starts to get weird.

I'm stripped and ready to go by the time we reach the top of the stairs cuz I'm dead classy, me.

And then we're on her bed and getting down to it.

Emma says she wants the light on - click -

And I take a moment away from nuzzling her ample bosom to take a look around.

Hmm, thats a bit odd, thinks I.

Emma had decked her room out with film posters. Lots n lots of um. Shadowlands, The Remains of the Day, Howards End; even the sodding Bounty... and, of course Silence of the Lambs.

While she's on top of me, riding me like a screaming banshee, I turn my head to her bedside cabinet and see...

a framed fucking photo of Anthony Hopkins.

Emma notices I'm looking at the photo, and then says the scariest thing I have ever heard in my life. Emma says:

'Do you know what would be really fun? It would be really fun if you... put... that... photo... over... your... face...'

Now, I'm not proud of this, but I did.

A few minutes later, having finished the job in hand and feeling like I've just had an outer-body-experience shag, I got out of there as quickly as possible and ventured home.

And had the following conversation with JimBob Fruitbat who had snorted so much speed he wouldn't be sleeping for a good few days.

Me: 'You did too, didnt you?'
JimBob: 'Oh, yes.'
Me: 'And the photo..?'
JimBob: 'Oh, yes.'

So, sorta qualifies for this Question of the Week as the time when I fucked an 18 year old nutjob whilst in the character of an aging Welsh actor with a perchant for starring in crappy Merchant Ivory productions.
( SpankyHanky, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 9:51, 4 replies)

Miley Cyrus
No, I don't care that she's got a nose like Ferenghi.
( Bert Monkeysex is waiting for the mods to delete him, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 9:43, 4 replies)

To Miss, with love...
He's 27, she's 40...

...now that's not the weird part....

...they first met in college - she was his teacher! Aparently he was quite attracted to her but quite rightly, she couldn't respond. Two years after he left college, we find out that they've got together and are living together! Aparently they got married a few years back and have 3 kids...

'C' (who knows who he is, and is a b3ta regular)... you were always an odd bloke!
(caveman_dave, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 9:42, Reply)

First shag
I was 20.
She was 38.
Cue one crash course in what women want. Steep learning curve but it was worth it. Ended up with the potency of a 21 year old and the knowledge of a 30 year old; the challenge was finding ladies willing to help me put said knowledge to good use (chatting up isn't one of my string points).

Mrs Lolwhites is 7 years younger than me but a lot more mature.
(lolwhites, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 9:38, 2 replies)

When I was a lad
I had a best friend, we used to do everything together, long walks, play, discovering the world, getting into scrapes. The usual stuff.

One day I got an erection and just thought I'd stick it in her for a laugh. She didn't say anything, just let me grunt away for a couple of minutes till I'd finished. I lay back, exhausted and a little ashamed, she ran off into some trees.

I lay there for some time, worrying I'd broken our friendship permanently, but soon she was back, licking my face with warm affection.

I was 14 when this happened, she was 5, but in dog years that's 33, I dont know if that makes me a cradle snatcher or a granny grabber ? All I know is that it was the start of something beautiful. We're still together now, 24 years on. She died some time ago, but I had her stuffed and with the help of some modern technology, I we still enjoy a healthy sex life.

Sorry for the length.
( Goatworrier had your mum and she was shit, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 9:18, 6 replies)