Families eh?
Mr. Jugular is 5 years older than me, but I'm 31, so it's not exactly cradle-robbing. The oldest guy I dated was the same age as my dad, the relationship was good while it lasted, but not interesting in any way. The story I will impart is not about me

Here is a story from the Family Jugular!

My Uncle Eddie (who has no teeth) and Auntie Marion were married for 20 years before they got divorced. They were both about 40 at the time and had three children, two girls (17 and 14) and a boy (16)

Their respective rebound shags caused some raised eyebrows

He started dating a woman 30 years older than him who looked just like my grandmother and had a similar capacity for alcohol.

SIDE POINT: My rather "classy" grandmother died after getting so drunk, she fell down the stairs and broke her neck. The occasion? Her sisters funeral

Anyway.....

She started dating a trolley boy from the local supermarket, aged 17.

For the love of biscuits, was I the only one seeing the Freudian implications of this?

Actually, yes I was! Everyone else was too busy avoiding Auntie Marion out of embarrassment and avoiding Uncle Eddie because his new squeeze always requested 2 drinks on our round.

I'm surprisingly normal compared to my family, I have another uncle who married a lesbian by accident and my brother is marrying a girl who was kicked in the head by a horse.

Just thought you might like to know that
(Jugular, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 21:24, 1 reply)

There are 3 days between me and my missus
3 days and 10 years. It's a weird one though, when people ask it's the 3 days that occurs to me, not the 10 years, in my mind we're the same age and to be honest it's pretty rare that it ever feels any different.

I think I do go for older guys in theory though, when I got into my first proper relationship I was 16, and he was about 27. The next one after that was 25 to my 18.

Though I was never bothered about actual age the lads I met were mostly so fucking immature, it always seemed that anyone half decent I met was always older! I still maintain that it is a matching of mental ages that matters not physical, despite the often significant gaps I always felt like the mature person in all my previous relationships.

As a side note, I did meet that first guy again recently, he was actually a pretty creepy guy in retrospect and more than a little mental. On seeing me he tried to shake my hand.
( Jessie © needs pirate name suggestions, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 21:24, 3 replies)

a friend of mine
was given advice by his uncle to become a sugar daddy when he's older. he's not very tall, so his uncle also suggested seeing 19 year olds when he's 25. he uncle is a bit odd, but good at cs and 2142. (damn you EA!)
(venort apparently exists, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 21:20, Reply)

ok so here's the deal this week
1. female posts:

i am awfully young but slightly (insert: chubby/ugly/slow) but MY man (who is WELL old enough to be my filthy uncle) is: great in bed/not a nutter/possibly on the register. we are massively happy and i enjoy the constant comments/derision/attention from 'the straights' but hey WHAT EVAH!

2. male posts:

'ere! 'ave a laugh.. my dodgy 'mate' fucked a granny, the dirty caant. I (while not exactly paul gadd) attract young girls like a B&Q half price pony sale, and my cock is fakkin huge. get in my son!

ok, so MM bucks the trend but hey, that's MM and there's not many of them
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 21:04, 9 replies)

A year older than my Mum....
Fcuk buddy for a while.

Carpet burns on my ass that had my grundies sticking to me for a week and the best BJ ever. Still quite tidy looking and always wore sussies :D

I was 21 she was 45......
(regthing Scouting for boys, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 20:53, Reply)

First post, be kind
Ok, about 10 months ago I broke up with my girlfriend of six years. Cue much misery and woman hating. About 3 months later I had driven home for a few days to help my mum move house. She leaves a note on her front door for me to go to the local as she is in there. In I walk and she is sat with a couple of her mates. I sit down , introduce myself and have a couple of jars. After closing time, its all back to my mums for a some wine. Anyway to cut a long story short, one of them turned out to be 36, (I'm 26 mum is 55). As people slowly went to bed, we were left alone and after 3 bottles of red. It was agreed that she would take my bed and i would sleep on the sofa, then changed that i would sleep in a sleeping bag on the bed.

I could see what was coming but didn't anticipate the ferocity. She had clearly used her extra 10 years to learn a few things i didn't know and by god I enjoyed them. Coupled with her lack of children she had the body of a 25 year old and the mind of a porn star. No sleep was had.

The worst thing was the next morning, the amount of piss take I got from my mother who had heard the majority. Not a conversation I ever expected to have with her.

Anyway, this carried on for the 3 days, I then went to hers in Liverpool and basically broke her as I had a lot of pent up energy. Then she turned.

Agreed to go see her again a few weeks later and she told me she loved me, cue me on the first train outta there and feeling very pleased with myself for getting 4 days of fantastic, dirty, life-affirming sex and a perfect excuse to stop when i wanted.

Apologies for the length. (But she didn't mind).
(richtherobot, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 20:41, Reply)

12 months younger is the worst for me!
Someone at work who is nearly 70 had an 18 year old girlfriend until recently.
( thistle, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 20:13, 2 replies)

i must like em older
reminds me of an ex- gf

i was 22 she was 35, her kid was 11. somethin a bit wrong when you are closer to the kids age

worst thing, apart from the dissarpoval of friends and relatives is being caought 'at it' by said 11 year old child...

to be fair the lesbian thing is enough of a challenge,why not add the older woman and kid as the cherry on top

and as an extra note my (ex) gfs ex hubby (the kids father) lived next door to the ex's best mate

AWKWARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(jenko83, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 20:03, 4 replies)

This probably should have gone in last week's QOTW...
...but what the hell, it fits here too.

A long time back I posted a story about how I lost my V plates. What I don't think I mentioned at the time was that I was 18- I'm a bit of a late bloomer. And I also think I failed to mention that I never saw the girl again- probably just as well, because like most who have no idea what they're doing the first time, I was a really lousy lay.

But hey ho, after that I had my groove on. That summer I had new confidence, and wound up with a girl I worked with. Three months of (admittedly) low quality sex later, I ended up at college. And that's where I met Marina.

She was 23 to my 18. She had brown hair and blue eyes, and laughed at my somewhat geeky jokes. She had large boobs and a round butt, and she was interested in me.

She roped me in hard and fast. I never had a chance.

Within two months I had learned how to do oral properly, had learned where her ladybits were and what to do with them, and generally got a crash course in how to fuck properly. I remember one night going five times in one evening- the last time was more effort than consummation, but what the hell. I went from geeky near-virgin to seasoned sex god before Christmas. In retrospect she was actually a rather selfish lover who demanded that I satisfy her first every time, and put little effort into my pleasure- but what did I care? I was gettin' LAID!

Unfortunately she was also a raving lunatic, and managed to wrap my emotions around her little fingers and make me dance like the puppet I was.

Things ended very badly, of course, and it messed me up for a long while. It took me years to stop hating her, and by that time she had had a couple of illegitimate kids and was living in a trailer, while I was waiting tables and living in a different city. I don't know what ultimately happened to her, but I suspect that it was extremely bad.

Ah well... at least she did give me something lasting. She taught me how to use what I have to make a woman happy, and broke down a lot of barriers for me. So for that I am rather grateful.

Here's to you, Marina, wherever you are.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 4 Dec 2008, 20:01, Reply)

Nothing to write home about
my husband is 4 ish years older but I don't really notice the gap.
Closest I get to a big age gap is some obscene ideas of what I'd do with Gregory House if he were real and a had a chance.
( moogy boobles, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 19:48, 3 replies)

some sort of backward sugar daddy
i was 22, he was 38..
i wasn't a nieve 22y/o but he was a professional con man and managed to con me out of a comicall amount of money i didnt realise i had...
(kola, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 19:43, Reply)

I've been a good boy.
The ladies in my life have been much of an age that I've been at the time- technically my first girlfriend would have been jailbait but then again so was I. Mrs Hatred is five months older than me which works nicely I feel.

Earlier this year I was in a lapdancing club with some friends. We were talking amongst ourselves with some of the girls hovering about. I mentioned in passing to a mate, that I hadn't lived in the UK until 1989 when one of the strumpets chimed in "oh that's when I was born."

Oof- that's me getting old. Almost didn't agree to a dance.
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 19:43, 1 reply)

... runs in the family.
My great-uncle *he's not that special actually* at the age of 55 has just had a child with a 27 year old lawyer from Transylvania.

She has a bit of a horsey-look about her, but to be fair, he looks like Uncle Fester from the Adam's Family.

Me dad is 7 years older than me mum, gran is a few years older than granda-in-law, my sister likes really old men, and I like 17 year olds.

I will point out that I am 20.

Oldest I've shagged? 33, and she has a 12 year old daughter.
(DeactivateThisDisaster No., Thu 4 Dec 2008, 19:38, Reply)

My wife to be...
is seven years my senior. Never had a problem with it (and neither has she) but when told some folk react... oddly.
(Captain Skippy pooed in a bag and left it on your doorstep, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 19:19, Reply)

Minimum age
I always thought the rule (for a gent) was half your age plus seven years. Never had a chance to test the upper limit though...
(Kendal, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 19:18, 4 replies)

v plates
i lost my v plates to a one nite stand in portsmouth- lots of intervention by my mates and whiskey for me.

as we were mid shag she told me that she was in high school when i was born

killed the mood a little to be honest
(jenko83, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 19:03, Reply)

this applies to a friend of mine...
I knew at university, lets call him 'C', his parents split up, and after the divorce, found new partners, his mum found a man roundabout same age, however his dad ended up with a new woman younger than 'C' ,('C' was 28, his stepmum was 24 i think..)

'C' was also a lil on the wierd side, he had an addiction to having cybersex with 14 year old american/canadian girls on Gaiaonline.com

Personally, the oldest girl I slept with was 25 (when I was 20), she werent too bad to be fair, scary thing was that she worked same place my dad worked :$
(Lord Chode, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 18:37, Reply)

She was a trollop
Id been with my good man about 5 years since I was the grand old age of 12 :) The christmas before last we were going very well and we were planning to go away together at the new year.

And then she came...

This local slapper had been texting him for a long while trying to convince him to meet up with her. Anyway I didnt think much of it so I just ignored her and I thought he was doing the same. Then one day about a week before christmas we had an argument. Nothing significant whatsoever, I think it was about food. I rang him the next day and he said that he'd been for a drive with 'Carrie' (thats her name and she deserves to be shamed) and she told him that it didnt seem like it was working with me (WTF?!) and he went back to hers and they had sex all day. Brilliant.

I took that as 'we're not together anymore.' I should have pointed out by now that said boyfriend was just 18, and she was 28.

I was absoloutely devastated and didnt leave my bed for 3 days. I started to confide in one of my friends who happened to know the sister of this harlot. Turns out that she was 7 weeks pregnant by a one night stand which she knew about before she copped off with my fella. But she told a mutual friend (that I didnt know we shared) that she thought it was my boyfriends. hmmmm, fishy eh!

Anyway he saw the light about a week later and I welcomed him back with open arms.. I cant express how daft I can be at times. But she continued to persue him. By the time she was heavily pregnant she was still sending him rudey naked pictures of herself and ringing him drunk, yes drunk, saying that she loved him. I think he's changed his phone now.


She packed in her job to live off benefits and took hard drugs when she was up the duff as well. Please hate her as much as I do :)
(i should have joined myspace, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 18:36, 3 replies)

not quite a cougar but
i have a client who writes to me on her personalised stationery.

on the front, it's white, with black and orange accents, giving her name, address etc.

the back.... oh god, the back...... is bright orange, and it says in large black letters: SHE'S A TIGERRRRRRRRRRRR!

i am not sure there's any excuse for that.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 18:29, 2 replies)

My Uncle
Is 50 next year, his wife is 25 or something, and quite the stunner whilst not pregnant( as is her current condition)

I want to be him in 31 years, plenty of time. . .
(Lukekull Fuck, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 18:17, 3 replies)

Short and sweet no 2
Me - 30

Him - I dread to think

All alone one night in a bar as my friends had just left and I was drunk and didn't want to leave. I get chatting to someone I know slightly and with them is this cute guy. Skinhead and goatee, just how I liked them then. We chat, we flirt and we cop off. He drags me off to his house, some council house in the middle of Manchester and in we go.

Shhh! he says, or we'll wake my mum.....eeek!

I should have just left then but in for a penny, so we creep up the stairs to his bedroom and in we go. Single bed, posters of some rap stars and football players. We chat for a bit and I decide there's nooooo way I'm chancing been caught by his mum rogering her little boy so I decide we go to mine.

Thankfully after getting naked and with a bit of a kiss and cuddle, I fall asleep. Phew!

I'm sure he was legal, he had a goatee for fucks sake, but I'm bloody glad I was too pissed to go the whole way.
( girlinthehole, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 18:04, 14 replies)

Oh God
This QOTW is dredging up buried horrors!

I just remembered sitting in the old local club about ten years ago, aged about 21, with a lady who was definitely around 60 drooling in my ear while my usually extremely jealous fiance at the time looked on and laughed maniacally.

I was too drunk to realise what was happening :(
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 17:53, Reply)

Wow
And I thought 4chan was where most of the pedos hang out.

You people are almost all fucking disgusting.
( Barry Chuckle III - the troll with a soul., Thu 4 Dec 2008, 17:48, 13 replies)

Granny Sex
A friend of a friend who happens to be a member of a famous Ska band was 40-odd when he slept with a lady in her late 70's.

When asked what it felt like he said "Cool".

So, Gentlemen. For a refreshing Summer shag...
(kingnutter, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 17:48, 1 reply)

When I was 17 I started "seeing" a lass I met theough an ex.
We had been for a few drinks and so I decided to take her to a BBQ my dad was having. She got talking to my cousins (older) boyfriend and he asked if she had any older sisters he would know. She told him her sister was 31 and he probably wouldn't know her, so he asked if there was a large age gap... Not at all... she was 27!

GET IN THERE! I had no bloody idea. I thought she was about 19 at the most.

A few weeks later I was in Blackpool on holiday and got a drunken, crying phone call telling me how I was using her as I hadn't phoned or anything (I'd been away 3 days) so I decided it wasn't worth it and gave her the Big Fade, where you just stop texting and phoning. Nutter.
( Maffers I flow kinda strange like Spina Bifida footprints, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 17:47, Reply)

Not me, but
A few years back I had a colleague who was close to retirement age.

She had a daughter who was about the same age as me (I'd be around 31 at that point - aaah, lost youth). Daughter had been in a serious relationship for a while and her bloke would have been about 75 at that point. They married, and went on to have twin babies together.

The age gap thing doesn't really matter in my book, but in this case the kids are probably going to grow up without a Dad fairly early in life. Or perhaps grow up a bit with a Dad that sits dribbling and soiling himself in a nursing home.

I find that a bit sad.

On an opposite note, my ex missus' cousin went out with a guy who was about 15 years older than she was. She kicked into touch because he ws firing blanks and she desperately wanted a kid. So she used a mate of mine as a sperm bank instead and then fucked him off as soon the baby was born. He was gutted.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 4 Dec 2008, 17:45, Reply)

Browns in Bristol
My friends insisted we go to a poncy rich-persons bar for a 6-pound drink.

I could have objected to the ambience, clientelle or prices.

Instead I went for "waaah, the old lady's looking at me"
(teebie jeebie, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 17:42, 2 replies)

My record with women
as you may or may not know, is a total disaster. One failed marriage with someone who still, despite everything, has her hooks firmly in me if recent events have proved anything, a couple of brief tonsil hockey matches with ladies a clear ten years younger than me, and a deeply disturbing escape from jabba the hutts stunt double as she tried to drag me caveman style behind a building whilst whining "pleeeeeeeease", all of which i have previously used as answers here if you care to look.

I've also moaned about how I generally don't understand women. Some of my friends, bless them, have a tendency to cheat, lie and generally use their conquests, drunkenly knobbing semi conscious "ladies" behind some bins before feeling up their friends, yet have no end of willing victims queueing up for a future let down. I, as always, am considered the "nice" one, but my queue is decidedly lacking. There is, however, one person who restored my faith in humanity and made me feel as if I'm maybe not viewing the world all wrong.

She is a friend of my cousin's and I met her briefly one night in the pub. a fair bit older than me, which these days is saying quite a lot, she's probably in her mid forties. Now I'll admit she's not bad looking, but apparently after I spoke to her for a bit she would not stop talking about me. My cousin kept saying "She loves you to bits, by the way, shes mental about you!"

I was a trifle scared, to be honest.

I met her again about a month or so later and got talking to her. The woman is mad as a hatter and absolutely hilarious, and as I've said, not too shabby either, and I started thinking that well, maybe, it was worth a go. Within about an hour she turned into a hyperactive octopus. There were hands in places I didn't know I had places, while other hands grabbed my hands and put them places where I knew there were places but thought I was barred from. No spit was swapped yet (I thought it was a bit odd I was getting such a groping yet no attempts to kiss were made), but it looked on the cards. All the while she purred in my ear "Your friends are arseholes, by the way. Chancers! They'll try it on with anybody!"

Hah. Someone else has noticed.

"You're not like that"

Obviously. *smugs*

"You're better than that. You're a good person."

I felt a little bit taller.

"You're really nice"

Yes, I know.

"My husband was dead jealous when he saw a picture of you."

Yes, and so he should...... excuse me?

"He wanted to see a picture of you cos I kept mentioning you, he went mad when he saw how nice looking you were".

Er.... that's..... um..... nice, I suppose.....

"I feel a bit sick...."

Oh for fucks sake.

She was at the falling down drunk stage, and I knew if I left her in radar range of my friends she'd wake up with a sore head, no knickers and a lot of explaiing to do. I walked her to another pub at closing time, had to pick her off the floor a few times but was rewarded with all the compliments I could handle. I didn't kiss her, though I think she wanted me to, because I'm either A: a fool or B: a decent person. Got her into a taxi and sent her home to her family.

I've since met her daughter, who is about the same age difference from me, but the other way, and a bit of a stunner, but doesn't share her mum's affinity for me unfortunately. I've also met her husband. Nice man.

He would definitely beat me in a fight, as well. Definitely.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 17:42, 3 replies)

Bit of a pea-roast, but one from the archive.

I was a late starter with the lay-dees, hadn’t even snogged a girl before the age of 19, partly due to the fact that I have always looked younger than I am (well, until fairly recently). Anyway, at the tender age of 21 I was enjoying a well-earned and extended holiday on the paradise island of Naxos. I was there with some mates and we were all living on the beach. I had constructed a bamboo and palm leaf lean-to which was all the shelter I needed. It was a nude beach and I had an unrivalled, all-over tan. Each night, after a hard day’s sunning and swimming, we’d eat souvlakis before moving between the various ‘nightclubs’ just off the beach, which were really just bars playing music and selling very cheap drinks.

A couple of times, I’d spotted a gorgeous girl sitting demurely on her own, smoking cigarettes and getting up to dance whenever a Bowie track came on. This was 1984 and ‘Let’s Dance’ was a big hit. I’d been to see him live twice on that ‘Serious Moonlight’ tour and had a baggy tour t-shirt to prove it. Anyway, my mates could see I was keen on the girl, so they told me to put my tongue back in my mouth and go and chat to her. I was shy, but a couple of double ouzos helped, and off I went.

She smiled shyly as I lumbered up and asked if I could sit down opposite her. It didn’t take long to discover she was French and spoke no English. ‘Pas de probleme’ I thought, I’d got a B for ‘O’ level French just five years before and hadn’t spoken a word since, but how hard could it be? Anyway, up close she was even nicer than from afar. I judged she was probably 18, dark, wavy hair, parted on the right fell to her chin framing her charming face. She had deep blue eyes, full lips, stunning norks. All in all, she was beautifully proportioned: the Girl-of-my-Dreams.

Schoolboy French has it’s limitations and the conversation was flowing like golden syrup, but I could feel myself falling for this mademoiselle big-time. I’d asked her if she liked Bowie: “Oui” Where she lived: “Paris”. I couldn’t think what else to say and she wasn’t giving me much help. Then I asked the inevitable question “Quel age as tu?”

“Quatorze” came her reply. Remember the drink, the poor French, the anticipation, the hormones. It took me some time to realize what she had said, and what it meant.

It turned out that the woman known to us as ‘the crazy French woman’, who wore hundreds of bangles, a tight waist-coat, a leather mini-skirt and danced all night every night, was her Mum. She was also there with her little brother, who was ten. Anyway, as luck would have it, we fell spectacularly and painfully in love that night and then went back to my little lean-to on the beach, where, without removing our clothing, we achieved some measure of ecstasy. Late that night, she returned to her room, promising to meet me at a certain restaurant the following day for lunch.

So, in plenty of time the next day, I went to the rendez-vous and waited. She didn’t show. I’m sure you all know that feeling, the gut-wrenching ache of the seriously in love when you think, maybe, after all, it was one-way. Maybe I mis-read the signs, what a twat I am. Then I thought, ‘Shit, what if she told her Mum, and she’s been grounded, or the Mum has gone for the cops?’ and then, guess who turned up?

No. Her Mum.

Shit. But no…it turns out girl-of-my-dreams was ill, very ill but sent Maman to find me, to let me know. I went back with her to their apartment and spent the day mopping her fevered brow and holding a glass of water to her parched lips. I met the little brother, got to know the Maman a little, spent most of the time kissing and cuddling.

A few days later, they left Naxos and I was left bereft and alone. I managed to ease my aching balls after being seduced by an English slapper, but nothing could ease my aching heart. On the ferry back to Pireaus, I had an inconsequential one night stand with a wonderfully sexy german girl. We shared a sleeping bag on a packed open deck and parted friends in the morning. Still nothing could erase the memory of g-o-m-d.

I had virtually run out of money by this time and if it hadn’t been for the kindness of strangers, I’d have eaten nothing on the long train journey north from Brindisi to Paris. I decided to visit g-o-m-d and borrow enough money from Maman to get me back to Blighty. All went pretty well, though a meeting with her Father was a little tense. Luckily though I won him over with my charm.

The summer over, autumn blew in, blew out again and Christmas came. We’d been exchanging letters, and planning to meet up again. It was freezing cold when she came to stay in my little shared flat in North London…with her Mum. G-o-m-d shared my little single bed while Maman slept on the floor of my room. We still hadn’t disrobed and with Maman as chaperone we didn’t really feel like getting up to anything, but I couldn’t help making a right mess of my underpants as we snuggled to keep warm in that confined space.

After a few days, she went back to Paris. I was working as a barman in a City luncheon club, getting stoned most day. Gradually we wrote less, I’m not sure exactly what happened, I managed her to visit very briefly in February. I met some of her school friends, which made her seem younger than before, the magic was fading. On the ferry over, I’d bought her a bottle of Opium - I’d easily been able to pick it out as her perfume; still today, whenever I pass someone in the street wearing that scent…

I went off travelling again, spent about six months in France, mainly in Nice, learnt the language really well and kind of moved on, though g-o-m-d was always in my thoughts and I carried a passport sized photo of her everywhere. In Jan ‘85 I went back home. Got a series of temp jobs, fell in love with a girl on the tube, got on with life, had a fling with an older woman (see ‘Stalked’), got over g-o-m-d. Then in June, I met the current Mrs Grimsdale (see: ‘Will you go out with me?’) and there the story ends. ‘Thank fuck’ I hear you say.


* * *


But no, there’s a post-script. Summer of 1987, recently married, baby daughter just born, and what arrives in the post at my folks’ house? A letter from g-o-m-d. ‘What did it say?’ I hear you ask, well, it said:

‘Che, I still love you, I am sorry that I was so immature. I am 18 now and I’d really like to see you again, I know I can make you happy now.’

What’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life? I wrote back saying ‘Thanks. But sorry, no thanks.’

She’ll be 38 now.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 17:39, 4 replies)