I remember fondly my first experience with genuinely older guys. I was in my early thirties, in a loveless and sexless marriage, and decided that I would at least have some sex in my life. Being openly bi, I began seeking out the places where men (very often married) would furtively seek out the sexual companionship of other men -- bookstores, mostly, at first. I was not exactly shy but I was terribly nervous at first -- my previous bisexual experiences had been in the context of MMF threesomes with my GF/fiancee and my (straight) college roommate who visited every other summer or so. She was cool with it, even devised a plan to get his cock into my mouth; so when, after we got married, she closed the iron door without warning on all our previous bi fun, I was surprised and disappointed. Apparently she thought it was just a bit of fun I wanted to try, not an expression of something fundamental to who I am.
Cruising in the labyrinth of movie booths in the adult bookstores, I found myself drawn to the somewhat older men, mostly in their forties and dressed for the office. They seemed more stable and trustworthy, and given my nervousness at this early stage of exploring my desire for man-sex, that went a long way.
Of course the bookstores were seamy places, and though I had many memorable experiences there, I soon found that the baths were a better place -- more relaxed, cleaner, with the possibility of talk and socialization before deciding whether to have sex -- so much better than the bookstores' vague semaphore signals of the nod or the raised eyebrow -- plus, the guys were naked! Plus, I was naked too -- nudity is a hard thing to come by in the Great Lakes states during the winter, so the baths, with their saunas and steam rooms, were a great way to strip off the layers of wool and cotton and relax.
One afternoon at the baths I was sitting in the video room, among a group of men, some with towels across their laps, some openly naked and erect, all casually pleasuring themselves while watching gay porn. Two guys, much older than me, and most likely partners, or at least regular fuck pals, came up and sat down on either side. I would guess they were in their sixties. They began caressing me and talking dirty about what a hot young guy I was. Being a bit submissive (and of course starved for affection -- the marriage had moved into the frosty stage), I found myself melting into arousal, despite the 30-year difference in age.
The dissonant note was resolved when I bent over and began to suck the 7-inch cock of the man to my left. I realized a couple of things in that moment: one, that a 65-year-old cock, as long as it's able to get hard, is qualitatively no different than a 25-year-old cock -- smooth, warm, and with that exciting "aliveness" that a throbbing cock has. The other thing I realized was that while the incidence of sex might diminish with age, sexuality and desire does not. It was somehow comforting to know that I'd be just as horny three decades down the road as I was that afternoon with two rampant cocks clamoring for my oral attention.
My two partners finished by standing in front of me as I sat on the low riser, alternately fucking their sizeable cocks into my mouth (doing their best to get them both into my mouth at the same time) and stiffening my cock with their talk about what a hot young slut I was. Their orgasms erupted about the same time, spewing semen into my mouth and all over my face and chest. I came too, my hot seed splashing up onto my belly.
Something fell into place for me that afternoon. I sought out older men for sex exclusively. Their maturity, their emotional stability, their sexual confidence, their greater appreciation of the sex they were having all made it a no-brainer.
Of course I got divorced eventually, but you might be surprised to hear (after the rhapsody to homosexuality I just related) it was for another woman, the most perfect partner I could imagine: brilliant, talented, beautiful -- and sexually, a never-ending delight. Early on in our relationship, she told me that she liked the openness that my bisexuality represented. We've shared sex with another bi man, a great guy with a 9" cock that pleasured her to no end, and our own sex life is active, varied and feels just right.
I've also continued enjoying older men, now on a much more occasional basis; being happy at home has taken the obsessive urgency out of my need to suck cock and get fucked. At 54, I'm finding it a little harder to get to that multiple decade difference that gives me the ineffable thrill -- usually guys are about ten years older than me now. I had a sex pal for many years who was 20 years my senior, sporting a 9.5" cock -- took a little more time to hoist a full boner, but it was fun getting him there.
I also had some fun with our 9" bi friend, who, it turned out, shared my fetish for older men. We arranged a day-long threesome with a friend of mine in his mid-60s, during which we did every variation we could think of. One particular favorite tableau involved our older guy standing naked on the living room floor, fucking the eager mouth of Mr 9, while I sucked Mr 9's hefty tool (was hoping for the warm splash in my mouth of his spunk, but he usually took much longer to cum). We finished with our older guy sitting on the couch, me kneeling between his legs and sucking his balls while Mr 9 jacked our older friend's throbbing cock. When he began to cum, Mr 9 knew just what to do -- he aimed that luscious prick at my face and open mouth, and jacked it till I was beautifully facialed. It was an unbeatable pleasure to lick his spermy older cock clean.
So there you have it, a bit long perhaps, but the narrative of my interest in older men. I suppose there are some psychological issues that I haven't really explored -- "daddy" stuff, or whatever -- but it doesn't seem to me like I need to delve very deeply into it. It feels right, and I like to do it.