A few years ago when I was in my late forties I went temporarily insane with lust. My wife (of over 20 years) and I had a good sex life, but both of our bodies were starting to show their age, and my desires became fixated on beautiful younger women.
As an outlet for these desires — which literally kept me up at night — I decided to join one of those sugar baby/sugar daddy websites that connects financially stable older guys with finally needy young women. I eventually started talking online with a beautiful black haired women with a lean runners body and a playful smile who lived about an hour and a half from me.
The talk progressed to maybe meeting together for coffee, but what I really wanted was lose myself in her beautiful naked body (which her pictures gave tantalizing glimpses of). I set a date for the next week — after I would be finished with an important work project.
What was I thinking? I was being propelled by fantasies scripted in my own head. I felt like the universe owed me the hot sexual experiences with nubile young strangers that I hadn’t had since I was young and might not ever have again. I talked and rationalized myself right up to the brink of getting into the car and driving up to meet this pretty girl.
The thing that stopped me was fear — fear of my wife finding out and fear of destroying the marriage on which my whole life and family rests. As the lust gradually subsided, I began to see how foolish and pathetic I had been (and how much more foolish and pathetic I would have been had I gone through with it.)
I deleted my page on the sugar website and never contacted the girl again. In the years since, my libido has actually lessened a bit. I still have and enjoy sex with my wife, but we don’t do it as often as we used to.
And I confess that while having sex I often close my eyes and fantasize about beautiful, smart, lithe college girls who, in my fanstasies, I treat so much better than the asshole frat boys they probably have sex with. (I have 30 years’ experience in bed after all. I know where the clit is and how to make it happy. And I’m not a semi-literate bungling Broseff.)
But I have moved completely beyond trying to live out these fantasies in real life. That would have been a disaster. I have put this whole episode behind me now. But I have not and probably never will tell my wife about the time I almost met Mollie or Madison or Courtney (I forget her name) for coffee and (in my dreams at least), causal sex.
Ode To My Girlfriend