Old vs/and young

I want company in a way I haven’t wanted it in a long time. Still, I cannot decide if I want that with someone older or younger.

There is a desire for an older lover, a man, over fifty, someone leaning towards old who will fuck me, who desires me for my youth. An older man who enjoys the softness of my body, how full my breasts feel in his hands. Someone who will buy me dinner, make conversation, be polite, all the while knowing that what he most desires is me spread out naked on the bed, ready to take him in. Someone who appreciates that anticipation is part of the eroticism of our meeting. I want him to be generous, to know that my gift to him is my time, my attention, and that he must cherish me for both. In return, I will allow him to feel younger, for a while, let him have my body, younger than his. I will be youthful, willing to be guided, ready to do as I am asked, to please him. I don’t need him to be holding on to his youth, desperately trying to remain relevant, but I want him to be sturdy, someone who could lay down on me and make me feel protected. He’ll talk while we fuck, tell me things he enjoys, allow me to burst out laughing, before becoming older, firmer. I won’t mind if he doesn’t orgasm at once, if he pulls out and jerks off over my body because he’s gotten older, more peculiar, he knows how he gets off, and that’s good. I’ll feel young and shiny when I’m with him, like I’m a new version of a toy he thought he’d never see again. I’ll enjoy my sparkle.

At the same time, the idea of someone younger entices me. I can’t tell you how young, it isn’t an age-thing, as such, I want him to look like an adult, but one in his early twenties, at most, not someone my age. I will know that unless he has a very specific kind of job, I’ll be paying for our hotel room, and dinner will be something chosen for price, not an exquisite meal with several courses. He might pay for me, but I will worry about his economic situation if he does. I’ll be maternal, but flirty, people observing us might wonder what our connection is, or maybe they will see. He is handsome, of course, I want him younger, taller, broad-shouldered and firm in all the places where I am soft. The kind where some people will wonder why he is talking to me, but others will looks at us and know, know the appeal of his youth and hotness, the appeal of my age and softness. He’ll fuck me, where the older man might make love even if we’re not in it, he won’t ignore my desires, but he’ll need to get his own out of the way first. He’ll be ready to go again, quickly, and I’ll be charmed at first and exhausted eventually. He’ll spend a lot of time ******* me, wanting to feel his fill of my big, soft body. I might not be like the girls he usually meets, but he appreciates that about me, knows that he is as much my delightfully dirty secret as I am his. He’ll like that I am older, I’ll indulge his youthful fancies, be a warm, embracing motherfigure, allow him to feel protected, cherished, and follow the way his mood shifts when I touch him just so and he’s ready to go again.

There are appealing aspects to both parts, no downsides to either within the bedroom, so it’s not a matter of finishing a pros and cons list, making a firm decision, choosing. In optimistic moments, I’ve found myself wishing for both. Two men, one older, one younger, ideally both bisexual, and me. I picture being fucked by youthful energy while surrounded by the calming presence of an older lover who holds me, of them taking turns, or spitroasting me while kissing each other. Of their conflicting views of my body coming together in the shared opinion that it’s hot and they’re lucky to have me. Imagine them making plans together about what they’ll do to me, with me. Being told to be ready to go, to be pantyless or braless or whatever else, being told to send pictures to one while fucked by the other.

There are so many choices to make, for this one I won’t decide, you can sway me in the direction of either, or give me both.