DM's time line, (may contain fond memories).
By n large I've had an enchanted life in my near 50 years (I always say I'd rather be lucky than good and it's certainly worked for me).

So looking back over my life (in reverse order) at my main squeezes, goes something like this.

Wife number two is nine years my junior and firmly entrenched as my only squeeze nowadays (life is so much simpler n sweeter)..

Jack n Gill, (see Guilty Secrets) Jack was two years older Gill was 8 years younger....

Then there was L a great passion in my life for such a short time who was 11 years my junior.

Mags, five years my Junior and hornier than a bag of rabbits.

Wife number one who was also five years my junior (still a little fondness there, even if she tried to destroy me)... (don't you just love the passing of time)..... .

Kate, a true love in my life and six years my senior, I still miss her dearly. (good timing in following on from Irene as I was able to polish the skills I had learnt there).

Irene, (see earlier post re Lady On Top), eleven years my senior, red haired and a truly vibrant woman, (she just sparkled whenever I saw her).

Helen (my little pixie), 5 years my junior, who allowed me to share her most guarded possessions at that time in her life, (my one and only).

Maureen, my first "older woman", I was about 18 and she was 23.

Janice (she of the flowing red locks and the first of a long line of red heads), who took my V plates at the grand old age of 15 when she would have been 17 (and thus not technically a woman, just a teenager) , she worked in my mum's shop, I was the Saturday boy, and what we lacked in finesse in style we more than made up for in frequency..

Aye, on reflecting I've been a lucky lucky lad......
(Dark Matter All The Wonders In The World & We Invent Boredom, Mon 8 Dec 2008, 13:16, Reply)

She's 16, I'm 33
I've said 'no' but I'm not sure how long I can keep it up. No not that - my resistance to such sweet temptation, I mean. I'm going to hell. Or prison. The age of consent in Ireland is 17.
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Mon 8 Dec 2008, 12:24, 11 replies)

Near miss
Oh Blackpool... Sin City Seaside of the North.

I was there as part of a party of stags - but bearing in mind that the groom to be was a strict Baptist, this wasn't going to be quite the riotous night one might expect of these thigns. Nevertheless, I'd decided to try and enjoy the eerie combination of strict morals companions and the town that taste forgot.

First off, on arriving at the hotel there were splayed handprints on the wall, dragging in a downward motion. I can all too easily imagine how they got there, and the thought dogs me to this day.

That in mind, we headed out, getting the poor victim drunk, as is expected. Long after the rest of the party had vanished into a seedy strip bar, I was left carrying the incapacitated innocent back along the seafront to our hotel when he stopped to be violently sick outside a bar.

While leaning against said establishment, a terrifying vision lurched her ancient head out of the window bellowing in a Lancashire accent so broad it went from coast to coast "AH'VE GOT TO SNOG A GINGE!!! YOO LOOK LARK A GINGE, C'MERE!"

At which point the filthy harridan of the night sank her talons into the back of my scalp and dragged my protesting head towards her Bacardi Breezer coloured gaping maw. In utter terror, I did the only thing a man can do in such situations...

"But I'm not ginger! (true)... HE is though..."

And lo, with vomit dribbling from his still trembling lips my up until this moment pure and innocent mate ended up in the crosshairs of the aged cockicidal vulture. I have never seen a man go from inebriated to sober in such a short space of time. Or move so quickly.

So not quite an age gap shag - but a very near miss.
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Mon 8 Dec 2008, 12:11, 2 replies)

Crikey
A few years ago I was back in my hometown after several years away. I was bored and lonely - all of my mates had packed off to uni so I was the only one around. I spent my time pissing about on the gamecube and drowning my sorrows in the local. Then one particularly memorable lunchtime pub sesh I got chatting with one of the uni-goers mums that I had met a few times previously - y'know, saying how we both missed him (me mostly to be polite, to be honest), how the town seem starved for youth at the moment - then her eyes lit up - "Except for you, y'young scallywag!"...

... several pints and a lot less judgement later, we ended up back at her gaff. stumbling into the kitchen, I wandered over to the fridge to grab a coke - this may have been an attempt to sober myself up a little, I'm not sure now. "I'm glad," she said, "that at least on of [son]'s friends has managed to stay off those awful drugs."

Ah, thought I, methinks I'd better stash this weed I'm carrying surreptitiously into the fridge so it won't get found in the ripping off of clothes which was so obviously on the cards. So I hid it behind the coleslaw.

And then we were off - in the kitchen, the hall, the bedroom... the bathroom... oops. a slight slip on my part had jism ending up all over the tiled floor. More than I would have thought possible, actually. "Dammit!" says I. Then looking up I notice she doesn't look too happy...

"Oh shit!" she cries, "Is that the time? My husband will be home in half an hour! We've got to get this cleared up!"

Her husband? Oh shit! [son]'s dad! In my drunken state and rampant horniness I'd made the unforgivable mistake of forgetting that the guy even existed!

"Right, where's your mop?"

"It broke! I chucked it away! Oh what are we going to do?"

"Don't panic... Don't panic... there's a shop just over the road isn't there? I'll go buy one."

"Are you sure you'd do that for me?"

"Yes, of course!"

"Really really sure?"

"Yes!"

"You're sure?"

I was starting to get annoyed. "SURE." I had a feeling I wouldn't be calling on her again.

"OK, take my credit card and go get a mop."

So I legged it out the door, over the road, grabbed one of those squeegee mop things, paid on her card and got back in time to mop the floor and beat a swift retreat before hubby arrived home. However in the panic I left the weed sat behind the coleslaw in the fridge...

So there you go, Cool Grass and "SURE" Card/Addis.

Length? I've measured it from side to side, twas three feet long and two feet wide.
( laminasni isn't., Mon 8 Dec 2008, 12:06, 2 replies)

Don't hate me 'cos I'm gay - hate me 'cos I f**cked your grandad!
You know the bit in Little Britain when David Walliams snogs the old woman - well I'd snog her husband!

I've had a *thing* for older men since I was a teenager - I met my first BF when I was 24 and he was 50 - we were together (though lived apart) for nearly 20 years.

He's now 76 and I left him and the UK for a younger man who is now 75! - only 25 years older than me.

Some like blondes, some like brunettes...I like grey - to me (and many others) it's perfectly normal.

For more info, see my website, GrayGay.com and the collection of T-shirts at www.cafepress.com/graygay
(Daddylover Putting the sex into sexygenarian since.., Mon 8 Dec 2008, 11:39, 5 replies)

Otter
Otter was the stage name for an American burlesque cabaret dancer who graced the nightclubs of Amsterdam in their late 80’s / early 90’s heyday. She – for she was most demonstrably a genuine she – often performed at the Roxy for Wednesday’s gay night cabaret. Her acts? Well, the weeks before the events set out below she had, amongst other things, performed her fire breathing pussy show, which – guess what? – involved her squirting fire out of her fanny, and had also pierced herself – live on stage - in her holiest of holies (which presumably got even holier as a result). No shy Otter, she!

To the night in question.

A fresh-faced school-age Ja For Sure had been dragged to the Roxy Gay Night by his fag hag older sister Win (who was a friend of Otter), dosed with half a phenomenally powerful disco biscuit and let loose on the dance floor, dreamily oblivious to the attentions of the circling slavering homosexualists.

Otter had performed that night, and was walking around the club naked, her hair in two cutesy pig-tails and body-painted head-to-toe as a Frisian cow. She cornered me in the bar whilst I was chatting to my Sis.

“So, hello Win, who is this de-lect-able young boy you have here?” Otter purred as she slid an arm around me which promptly dropped to my arse.

Laughing, my sister indicated that I was her baby brother.

I myself was still in la-la land and my head was finding it quite hard to process this unfolding reality. Mutely I stood as Otter turned, pressed her naked body against me, looked me in the eye and asked my sister (!): “Can I take him home and fuck him, please Win?”

Languidly I stirred. Her frotting was leaving a white body-paint smear on my leg. And I was starting to get a painful boner.

“ Er … Mmmmmmm?” quoth I.

“So, are you gay, or straight, or bi?” Otter asked as her hands wandered and pussy rodeo-d. “Cos I can really show you some fun”.

At this point I was mesmerised. Her naked body pressed against me, her hot crotch, the promises of pleasures illicit, the pierced nipples, belly-button, clit …

And then she smiled up at me. Showing her fangs.

FANGS!!

She’s had her fucking canine teeth extended and sharpened!! And then I knew. I had a Moment of Lucidity. I was not going home with this girl. O, no siree! Because no matter where I’d stick it, it would get sliced. Or burned. Or something worse.

She was 35. Old Otters are scary.
(Ja For Sure, Mon 8 Dec 2008, 11:35, 2 replies)

The first time I had sex
it was illegal by 3 weeks

but we just couldn't wait

My mum found out and I was grounded.
( Peej, Mon 8 Dec 2008, 11:15, 2 replies)

Bet this never happened to Bond...
Picture the scene if you will, I'm a much younger Fuckarma, in fact, possibly more of a BuggerKarma. I've just come out of a 3 year relationship, am currently at uni and think that I can drink like a fish. Pretty much an average 19 year old really, however I'm also working for a local supermarket and sounds a bit like gamesburys and this place makes me work till 10PM on a saturday, not fun when you're 19 and there is a works do on!

So this one saturday I knock off work half an hour early for the do, I pitch up at the venue and decide that I need to catch up with everyone else so start having a beer with a vodka chaser. I'm not sure how many I had but I did get the calculation wrong and so instead of merely catching up with my co-workers I actually overtook them...

As the evening wears on we go to a club (the only club in Ellesmere Port at the time, Oscars!) and I carry on at my own set pace, getting drunker and drunker. As with all things a good thing must come to an end and the club closes, somehow I'm in the taxi queue with S, a middle aged (she told me she was 38 at the time, although I reckon she was older...) lady who is a bit on the large side, now I point out at this time that I'm drunk, 19 and horny so not exactly a great combination when trying to be a discerning male. So things take their course, I'm smooth and suave (in my head) and we end up getting a taxi back to hers where much nakedness ensues.

Now I'd love to be able to say that we had fantastic sex and that she taught me things that have been a massive help with any other girls that I've slept with since but that would be a total lie as I was far too plastered to be able to take any advice.

However, I did manage to leave a lasting impression as when she was riding on top of me (remember I'm pissed as a newt in brandy) I suddenly decided I needed to be ill, so did I do the right thing and politely ask her to dismount so I could perhaps use the facilities?

No

Did I shout for her to get off because I'm going to puke?

No

Did I say nothing then puke on myself and the bed?

Yes...

Not a fantastic idea although after I went to the toilet and cleaned myself up we did carry on so it wasn't a total loss!

Although my other experience with an older lady wasn't quite as disastrous as this and worked out quite well.

I was 26 and she was 36, tall, blonde and very fit. I somehow mange to chat her up in a bar after an all day session (the fact I'm still standing and able to talk coherently is amazing in itself) and we go back to hers for some sexy time. Sexy time is had and the question you should never ask is asked 'do you like it in the arse?' (yes I am that smooth)
to which she replies 'Only for birthdays and Christmas'

There's a couple of seconds silence while I process this information...

'Soooo... what if I said it was my birthday today?'

Didn't get me anywhere (funnily enough) but we did have more ST and she did give me a a lift home the next day so that was jolly nice of her!

Apologies for length but when you get to bed you may as well despite the disappointment...
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Mon 8 Dec 2008, 10:47, Reply)

A completely relevant repost methinks
'A year or so ago I started a rather seedy little fling with a 17 yr old girl I know (I was 29 at the time)..and the morning after a particularly sordid night of coke fuelled depravity with this girl in a cheap hotel, I had to attend the memorial service for my Fiancee's grandfather.It was also that weird day in the catholic church when they wheel all the sick oldies out to be blessed and I was taking catechism classes at the time (being a somewhat lapsed catholic) so that I could marry the poor girl that I was cheating on- and had to do a reading in the church...So not only did I have to sit with my fiancee's family and listen to them say what a 'good boy' I was and that my fiancee was 'soooo lucky to have me' but I had to read a passage from the good book while loads of poor old wheelchair bound wops blubbered in front of me..
All the way through I couldnt help but remember with near sickening shame, that only 12 hours earlier I had been snorting class A drugs off a 17 yr old girls arse cleft before sodomising her for about an hour.'
( bigmeuprudeboy is using powerpoint or paint...have MERCY, Mon 8 Dec 2008, 10:16, 5 replies)

My boyfriend of 5 years
is 10 years older than me. I am a delightful 24, he is 33. Okay, 9 years older, and sometimes 10 depending on the month. This places him as finishing university while I was finishing primary school.

I like to imagine that had he met me while he was 17, instead of being able to sing "She's only seventeen..." (which would be an illogical song to sing anyway, considering he would be 17 as well) he would have been able to sing "She's only seven..."

Unrelated But Bonus - once his friend sent him a text saying "Merry Christmas! Well it will be, she has big tits." Feel free to use it in a Christmas card.
(heartbreaker, Mon 8 Dec 2008, 10:00, Reply)

Ram It!
A "friend" of mine at the tender age of just 18 years old finds himself posted to Germany with the Army. Trying to make the most of a poor life, he decides to take up drinking in one of the local bars that happen to be frequented by all the expat brits. As is the case when it's the last weekend before payday, he didn't have much money to buy drinks for a quality bird so ended up going home with a 66 year old woman with grade 4 bleach blonde hair "because she said she'd be the best shag ever". She was the Über Chav with a voice like Futurama's "Mom" to boot. It's the voice that I remember most clearly. It resonated around the billet shared with 7 others like a very low pitched fire engine, temporarily interrupted by the shouts of "Fuck Me!" "Fuck Me you Cunt!" "Fuck Me! Fuck Me! Fuck Me!". Then came the body blow- "Turn the Fackin' Light on!". I swear at this point she sounded like what i'd imagine to be a cross between the Viz's Cockney Wanker and fag ash lil! "Turn the Fackin' Light on! - I wanna see you fuck me!" She ordered. She reached across and turned the reading light on. It was then discovered upon looking down, she had the words "RAM IT!" quite clearly tattoed above her lady bits. There may even have "Big Boy" underneath, but this was obscured by pubes so that is unconfirmed at this stage. The traumatic experience put me off sex for a week.

The week after that we all ventured to a different bar. On the hunt for new, younger, and much better looking meat. A friend points to two young, very sexy fille's and says, "Those two girls want to talk to you!". So, collars up, trying to look cool, we swagger over, trying to look good and deliver the line: "Allo' Ladies!" to which one of them replied, "Hey, didn't you sleep with my auntie last week?"

Roger that, lets run like hell.......
(sunray18, Mon 8 Dec 2008, 7:17, 3 replies)

Partner is 5 years my senior
And we've done the whole comparison that they were graduating highschool while I was in primary.

Through events of our meeting, it was established that we should have met sooner as we could have a longer time living happily ever after.

I had to reassure my partner that if, in fact, we had met years before we did, it would be a criminal offense.



Oh, and don't let the age gap be a la-di-da fact either. My parents had not but 3 months between them, my father remarried a lady* 9 years his junior, and then she has the gaul to tell me off for dating someone 5 years older.

*lady used as a loose term.
( glasnt is playing herself off., Mon 8 Dec 2008, 5:08, Reply)

Oh, all right then.
Apologies in advance for length and lack of laughs. If you're in for a quick laugh, skip to the next entry.

I wasn't gonna post this, 'cos it's still a bit painful, but I barely ever post on here and I've been looking for a while for an opportunity to make a contribution.

Once upon a time (only a couple of years ago really) I was a sad little bugger in sixth form who'd barely been kissed. However, since switching from my old school to this one where I had more friends, I was gaining confidence. Long story short I met a wonderful girl (we'll call her J) just a month younger than I and we struck up a friendship, which soon blossomed. I was happier than I've ever been, before or since. "First love and all that jazz" as someone else has said on this QotW.

We argued a fair amount, especially when I wanted to go out and make more of a career out of my film-making hobby, but we were fiercely in love - or at least I was. Not long after Christmas and the end of our first year together, it emerged that she'd fallen for an older man - forty years old, a friend of her mother's, a charmer of a guy who was, he said, kicking his coke habit following a failed marriage and suicide attempt. He had a flashy car, plenty of money, age and experience, the works. Let's call him S. J admitted her feelings to me and asked what she should do. Naïvely believing in my love for her and hers for me, I told her to "do what would make her happy," believing she would see the error of her ways and choose me over him.

She didn't.

I barely saw or heard from her outside school for the next few weeks. In the end I called her up and asked for her decision - me or him. We battled it out for a long time, me trying to be logical and rational about the whole thing. Eventually, it was over. I sobbed down the phone for a while, then hung up.

The next couple of months were hell. J was happier, more confident - freer - than I'd ever seen her, and I felt more broken than I'd ever felt before (which isn't inconsiderable). Being unable to avoid her at school, and having to work with her in one of my classes was uncomfortable to say the least, but I did my best to keep my anger and pain from her and remain amiable. Her relationship with this man was still illicit, hidden from her mother, but it was fiery where ours had become more complacent. Eventually, though, her sister learned from her friend that S was seeing her friend's mother behind J's back. I'd kept in tough with J, of course, and I can't remember if I phoned her or she phoned me, but now it was her turn to cry down the phone at me. I remember feeling relief at my lack of glee at the news, only remorse that she now had to suffer the same pain I did.

When she eventually plucked up the courage to confront him about it, he shouted at her, blamed her for the collapse of their relationship, accused her of lying... when J's mum next met him in their local, she punched him in the face, prompting, I gather, a round of applause. He was later banned from said pub for trying to ruin the second unfortunate woman's life via the landlord, and punched his ex-wife (and only remaining friend) in the face before never being heard from again, as far as I know. One part of me hopes he's dead, and another that he isn't so I can do it my self. I'm not by nature a nasty person, and this is the only time I've ever allowed myself these feelings.

J and I are still good friends, and she now lives with a good bloke she'd fancied for years, so that's all fine. For my own part, I've barely spoken to a girl since. I guess I'm still not over it.
(idle insomniac enjoys listening to Sigur Rós at stupid hours, Mon 8 Dec 2008, 4:38, 2 replies)

Apt
.
Kind of apt this question coming up as it relates to something that happened only last week.

I went to church and headed into the confessional booths.

"Father" I said "I have to tell you that last night I made love to two twenty year old blondes at the same time"

The priest sighed.

"And how long has it been since your last confession?" he asked.

"I've never been to confession" I said "I'm a Protestant"

"So why are you telling me?" enquired the God-Botherer

"I'm telling everyone" I giggled


Cheers

Thenk you very much - I'll be under the pier all week


( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Mon 8 Dec 2008, 4:30, 10 replies)

(a partial pearoast) The first Mr Maladicta
who I now prefer to refer to as Twat Ex With Child, was 30, and I was 18 when I met him. At the time I didn't think too much of it because I was too amazed that an older man was interested in me and quite flattered. Nor did I think anything weird of him being in his first year of uni at that age.

What I didn't know was that it seemed he considered me to be past it once I got towards 20, and promptly shacked up with a girl who was about 18 and to this day looks about twelve (strange looking little creature, dresses like an old woman, but who I've met out of context and is so infuriatingly nice that as much as I'd wanted to cunt her in the fuck when I met her, I couldn't). There are, in fact, two reasons why I call him Twat Ex With Child and that is but one of them.

Being 19 and, I thought, about to embark on a wonderful relationship that would be fluffeh and healthy, I was less than happy to run into TEWC in town one day, in the company of a glamorous looking woman not much older than me, plus a small child of about three, who he was holding in his arms and cooing to softly. The child was the spit of him - same hair, same nose, same everything, and it was blindingly obvious that he was doing something he shouldn't because of the look on his face when he saw me, which said "ohshitohshitohshitshe'sgoingtokillmeandIwillnevergetanysexytiemagain".

Naturally, I was not impressed, wanted to kill him and wasn't planning to ever give him any sexytiem again. Unfortunately, I chose to take the advice for my next step from Stalker Girl, the confirmed bunny-boiler, who suggested the sending of a very sarcastic text message which said "Something you're not telling me? :P"

Amazingly, TEWC texted back, as he normally preferred to ignore me and pretend to have no credit the next time he saw me, to say "Fancy meeting for a drink?" and half an hour later tramped into the pub I'd happened to be in at the time, looking utterly pissed off. He sat down, grunted a hello and a "how you been?" before launching into his obviously rehearsed speech: "About what you saw in town. I keep my private life private, OK? I like it that way."

He then leaned closer and launched into an equally pre-prepared whisper of what he'd like to do if we were somewhere more private, which, fortunately, my mind has scarred over, but he was determined to try to placate me with as much dirty talk as it took to stop me wanting to fling his pint in his face and say "Of course you can have a private life, darling, now let's go somewhere public and shag." While he did know how to push the buttons (verbally only, his only advantage was knowing how inexperienced I was made him automatically a sex god in my eyes), he soon realised it wasn't going to work on me and made his excuses, before legging it.

I did tell the story of how we met on a very, very old QOTW which was probably open at the time we were seeing one another, but I never posted the full, unexpurgated version, otherwise known as How Maladicta Got Herself Into Trouble, Part 1.

~~ Wavy lines ~~

One Friday night in my first term of uni, I'd sent the usual "bored, what are you up to tonight?" text to about ten people and mostly got the "home for the weekend, sorry hun" response. However, one came back with "we're in [bar] if you want to join us? You'd be more than welcome!"

Twenty minutes later, customary double shot of Baileys in hand, I am sitting in the bar feeling a lot happier. People are milling around, societies are meeting, it's a typical campus bar. Among the societies circulating are a group of ragtag gentlemen wearing a variety of ludicrous hats. We take little notice of them until we decide to move to another place, and find ourselves walking up the steps in the company of the aforementioned gentlemen.

They mill around us, and explain that this is an introductory social for new members and involves drinking in every bar on campus. One in particular, who is very inventively wearing two baseball caps, one on top of the other, takes a shine to me and chats to me most of the way downstairs, already revealing himself to be at least some of the way to Drunkstown. He dances around me, sings Uncle Fucker at the top of his voice, waxes lyrical about Monty Python and generally behaves like a child with ADD.

We reach the bar, and he offers to buy me a drink along with his own, and we head into the throng, where he tells me his name - R - and mentions that he is "very experienced with women" - something that, at this age, would at least put up a red flag in my head. After some brief haggling over his age, as I'd thought he was a lot younger (the years since have not been too kind to him) and after some incredulity, we head into the main room and commence dancing.

About five minutes later, claiming to be being blinded by the strobes, he ducks down to my level and asks "can I steal a kiss?". Thinking "aw, fuck it, he can have a peck on the cheek for having bought me a drink," I lean in to do so, and end up attached to his face. Shit. Didn't quite mean to do that.

This continues for some time until he suggests getting some air, and again grabs me before I can say anything, and before I know what's going on I'm saying goodbye to the girls I was out with and heading off with TEWC in the vague direction of home. Drunken staggering, more singing, and hand-holding later, we end up at my front door, whereupon he comes in, comes into my room (bounces all over my bed in his trainers) and the next thing I'm aware of is being half-naked with something small (very small*) and insistent, whose name is apparently "him", poking at me and quite insistent on paying a visit to the ladygarden.

"Hold on, hold on here. What do you think you're doing."

"What do you mean, baby?"

"You should know I've not done this before and I'm not really ready to get into all this right now."

"*siiiiiiiiiiiigh* But... you do want it, right?"

"Yes... but not right now."

TEWC then begins to back-pedal: "I promise you I'm not just after a one night stand, baby, you're special, I respect you..." and, being 18, I lap it up like a thirsty kitten. Afterwards, he is out the door at first light, claiming he had a train to catch, leaving me his number and blanking me the next time he saw me, a pattern that would repeat itself twice more.

Later, I might relate the story of the pervy swinger I met a few months later. It's cheaper than therapy.

* Length? Let's just say I'd never seen one before, and the voice of reason in my head's best advice was "If it's not going to go away, whatever you do, do not, repeat, not, laugh at it. Make sure you tell him it's enormous."
( Maladicta, Mon 8 Dec 2008, 0:27, 4 replies)

Let's review:
Up to 20: Essentially no action due to crippling shyness, no tolerance for the drink, and no lady friends.
20: Lost virginity to a girl who must have been in her late twenties. Next few years are just a few one night stands and such.
22: Long term relationship with a girl who was 4 years older than me. First love, and all that jazz.
23: Relationship with a girl who was five years younger than me. Due to a lack of chemistry, we never actually consummated this.
24: One night stand with an eighteen year old girl, sort-of-relationship with a recently divorced woman who was about four years older than me. She basically used me for the sex, and treated me like crap, sleeping with other people too. (Bitter, moi?). Also slept with one of her friends.
25: Actual relationship with a girl three years older than me, lasted for a few months, ended in her simply not getting back to me ever. After this, met a woman via the internet for some fun and frolics, she was 42. That lasted for a few months, mainly involving her driving me to out of the way spots and ravishing me. Definite enjoyment.
Present Day (26): A few weeks ago when on a night out I got chatting to a pretty girl. She asked how old I was, I told her.
"26"
"I thought you were my age."
"How old are you?"
"18."
She refused to believe I was 26 until I showed her some ID. Then she kissed me.

I'm not sure what to make of this record. I do seem to get on best with older ladies (they're better in bed) but somehow manage to pull younger girls.
(stapleface, Mon 8 Dec 2008, 0:19, Reply)

What the fuck?
My boyfriend is 37, I am 24. It's never much of a problem, but I was a bit abashed when Kurt Harland, the lead singer of Information Society, gave me queer looks and started treating me like a simpleton when he heard this information. First of all, aren't rockstars supposed to be all about that sort of thing? And also, we were visiting him and his wife, my boyfriend's longtime friend, who is no less than 13 years younger than him herself. What the fuck!?
(twat factory, Sun 7 Dec 2008, 23:44, 5 replies)

My Grandad got married a few years ago...
...to someone about half his age, he's 91 now - and no she didn't marry for money because he's got none.
( Haku Orange Whip? Orange Whip? Three Orange Whips., Sun 7 Dec 2008, 23:39, 2 replies)

Legal implications may follow
I spend my senior years at a (really shit) private school, that acommodated for kiddies ages 3-18. One of the teachers was a complete knob. For example, he went to Oxford AND Cambridge and used to prance around in his Oxford hat and his Cambridge jumper at lunch times trying his hardest to envoke authority.

I left for a different 6th form but some of my friends stayed and this lovely teacher of ours was there year tutor. Anyway as time went on they noticed that he had formed a strong friendship with a Korean immigrant in the year below.

One fine day said teacher left his phone carelessly lying about while he went to teach a class. My good friends pounced on the oppertunity to investigate further :) They text the girl about meeting up, which it turns out they were doing that night anyway. Further texting revealed that they had not been meeting up to discuss world politics or bee keeping but they had been sexing away for god knows how long... She was 16. He was 36, and bald.

I dont think it lasted much longer as she soon found someone of her own age.

He also asked a girl in my R.E. class to get her rat out*



*she did ask him 1st though
(i should have joined myspace, Sun 7 Dec 2008, 23:09, Reply)

For a second there I saw a lifetime of therapy stretching ahead of me ...
I like older men, I just always have - but only once have I feared this would end up with me sobbing on Jerry Springer (this was pre Jeremy Kyle). So, let me set the scene:

* wavy lines, taking you back to around 2001 and a fresh-faced, if not entirely naive, 21-year-old Peng*

I know I'm not alone on B3ta in admitting I have a big thing for BDSM ... and back when I was in my early 20s I was becoming acutely aware of the fact.

At that time I met a lovely 41-year-old man. After we'd both thrown a few almost innocent references into the conversation it emerged he was rather experienced. We talked frankly, he offered advice and we exchanged ideas on the pscyhology behind our desires (by this time I was rather well versed in the theory of it all, just hankering after some practical!).

He made it clear he was attracted, but happy to act as a friend and offer guidance, I was increasingly drawn to his quiet confidence, intelligence and charm. So, we arranged to meet up again, just the two of us ...

I'm going to leave out all the filthy details of what followed I'm afraid, but we became a couple over the next few months - his friends impressed by his turning up with someone young enough to be his daughter, mine a little confused, but accepting.

A great time was had by all ..... until one evening we were chatting about family, history etc. It emerged that I was adopted as a baby ... he went quiet, got a strange look about him.

He then told me that he had had a daughter when he was young and (military background) based very near where I was from.

There was probably only about 25 seconds between that point and us establishing, from a few basic facts, that there was no way it was me (over a year out and I was actually born somewhere else). But those 25 seconds of "ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather, ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather, ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather, ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather, ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather, ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather, ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather" will haunt me forever.

I think that took the shine off of that particular relationship and it ended pretty soon after - but it did open the door to a perverted wonderland, so no regrets!

Length? It was juuuust right!
(Penguins_Made_Me_Do_It is a dolt ... and she don't care, Sun 7 Dec 2008, 21:36, 5 replies)

Best Ever BJ
She was 60, I was 16 and a virgin, and my piano teacher, she took her false teeth out.......... what a BJ!!!
( The Scrunt Wants a Dozen Pints, Sun 7 Dec 2008, 21:32, 4 replies)

Statutory rape and semi prostitution
So, this story takes place in 1996, when I was almost 17. I lived with my mum and sister in a terraced house. Next to ours was a 36 year old divorcee and her demon spawn child (cut up the tires of my mum´s car he did!).

It was a saturday night, and I had just come home from a night out, completely wasted, staggered out of the taxi and promptly fell down into the snow. When I look up I see my neighbour standing in her doorway laughing at my graceful exit from the cab. I shake the snow from my clothes and out my nose in the manliest of fashions and it seemed to impress her because she asked me to come inside.

Once inside I see she has company: A guy she´d apparently been screwing for a while and her mother! So I sit down and have a glass of wine with them. At one point I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, and somehow forgot to lock because in midpee my neighbour walks in and says quite frankly that she´s randy and wants me to take care of that.

I review the situation in my head:
I´m a 17yr old virgin, basically an erection with a central nervous system.
She´s drunk and obviously desperate and crazy - which suits me fine.
She may not be the prettiest woman alive, but neither the ugliest.

So basically, despite her esteemed guests, we go to her bedroom and make monkey noises for two whole minutes, because that´s just how awesome I was.

Now things started to get a bit weird (normality as a whole took a day off that evening). As I am putting my clothes on she asks: "how much?"
And before I manage to come up with a Bond-esque retort she goes into her dresser, grabs a handful of jewelery and puts it in my pocket, telling me that should be enough for my crack habit.
This prompted me to make a quick exit (without the jewelery, of course), and as I open the door I am greeted with her aforementioned guests, her mum telling me that it´s "time for me to leave". And I did.

Probably scarred me and that poor woman for a while after, but makes a great "losing virginity" story.
(snordfjord Cranky...like a crank!, Sun 7 Dec 2008, 20:31, 3 replies)

the older woman - repost
was 17 at the time working as apprentice car mechanic at a luxury car dealership. Went on a works night out for some reason or other and on the bus trip back to our town sat next to hot 35 year saleswoman and had a long chat about our mutual love of heavy metal. As the bus pulled up for drop off she asked if I want to stop by her place to check out her record collection. I knew what she really meant as it was 1am. Anyway went for it twice before we (I) fell asleep. In the morning I wanted more before we both went to work. She complained that her front entrance was a bit sore from previous evening but I could try the back door as long as I was slow and gentle. Both turned up late for work but so did 10 other people so no one noticed we turned up together. Don't think anyone twigged what went on between us, as she married the sales manager 4 months later.

Any way a mighty result for my first night of sin. Must have had a smile for a month. Still say hello when I see her, and she's still hot even though now pushing 50 ish.
( nikdude, Sun 7 Dec 2008, 20:06, 1 reply)

both ways in many respects,
looking as i do i've found it much easier to take what i can get. A few years ago when i was about 18 or 19 i drunkenly ended up giving a 48 year old a good seeing to. There's something to be said about the older woman. Last year i ended up with a 17 year old guy on several occasions....and both him and his friend (female) on another occasion. (7 years younger than me). Various other bits of excitement throughout the years but i'm now happily with my relatively new girlfriend who's a mere 3 years younger than me, though we've managed to include a few other people in our activities (not excluding said 17 year old)
(clayud, Sun 7 Dec 2008, 19:51, Reply)

Honest your honour, I didn't know...
I was 28, it was New Year's Eve, it was Edinburgh. Alcohol was consumed, fit wee lass who laughed at my bad jokes in some club comes home with me. A few more more drinks, several condoms are used she goes to the loo wearing dressing gown. By this time the low winter sun is starting to come up. She returns and drops said gown to floor. If any of you are familiar with the works of 'erotic photographer' David Hamilton, imagine one of his 'models'. (If you're not familiar, Google him, but not at work.) She had not a blemish on her and was clearly 'under-developed'. As I started to focus a little, aided by by the light I asked a question I should have asked in the club,
"Er, how old are you."
She visibly panics. "Why?"
Me, "just wondered.'
Long pause as she wonders what she can get away with.
"17?" she finally says.
"Are you sure" says I.
And then her killer line: "Don't worry, I wont tell anyone." Hmmm, underage then.
Naturally I did what any red-blooded male in my position would. I fucked her twice more and sent her home. Never saw her again.
(creatrix CX, Sun 7 Dec 2008, 19:45, 46 replies)

I need looking at
Not because I'm shagging somebody a hell of a lot older/younger.

But because I refuse to go out with somebody if there's more than a 2 year age gap.

Not entirely sure why, probably because I have a younger & older brother and it'd feel a bit weird if said shag was younger/older than my brother.

Crap story I know. Sorry.
(rhyswynne - on every social network mullarkey known to man, Sun 7 Dec 2008, 19:04, 3 replies)

my mum is 55
and my dad is 51. For a few weeks of the year, there is a 5 year age gap between them. A few years ago they decided to have a joint 100th birthday party (their ages added up to 100). They invited all their best and oldest friends, and while some people gave them "happy 100th birthday" cards, the majority sent "happy 50th" cards to both of them, or one each. I know 4/5 years isn't a big gap but clearly no one could tell my mum was older. The only thing you can tell is my mum had several boyfriends before my dad, and my mum was my dad's first girlfriend - at the age of 31.

I however have an issue with my parents suggesting I should go out with my cousin as a joke. There is the same gap between my parents as me and my cousin but even if he wasn't my cousin - just euw - he's way too young!
(deadly_sinners, Sun 7 Dec 2008, 17:16, Reply)

Doomed for failure
When I was 21 I was a supervisor at a local bookstore. I hooked up with the payroll super, aged 42.

Of course my parents went a bit bonkers over it, but more importantly, the woman's son lost his mind. I'm not sure what bothered him more: that I was a year younger than he was or that he was stuck living at home whilst I regularly shagged his mom.
(jasper johns is not very creative, Sun 7 Dec 2008, 17:08, Reply)

i'm well aware there is a bugs and whatnot doofer
but in the words of Sher Khan

"I can't be bothered with that, I have no time for that nonesense".

if this question does nothing else it proves we need a "i dont like this button"

or possibly a

"please, i may well be sick" button
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sun 7 Dec 2008, 15:42, Reply)

just remembered this one...
last year my wife and i (see answer below) went to a gig (the bills) and i had reserved tickets.
when we arrived at the venue i mentioned the reservation to the old bird on the desk and she asked "was that one and a half?"
as quick as thought i replied "ah, yes indeed" and saved seven and a half quid!

but i felt a bit dodgy for a few minutes and we had a wee laugh about it...
( blaireau69 , the Cumbrian Travis Bickle., Sun 7 Dec 2008, 12:38, 3 replies)