We got talking, realized we both hated the party, and agreed to go for a walk in what by then had to be the wee hours. We were in a big deserted park, grass, bushes, streetlights, when he turned to me and I thought, "He's going to kiss me and I'm going to throw up. I was so awkward. I had no idea how to do the things my feelings were prompting me to do. I knew I wanted to top him, but didn't know that word or how exactly to get there. He was so patient and gentle and understanding. This is not a story of a teenage kid being preyed on. I took the lead; he guided. He never pushed anything.
He helped introduce me to myself. He lived halfway down the East Coast, but he kept in regular touch with calls and long affectionate letters, checking in on me, listening to me, reassuring me that whatever I felt was okay. Not everyone felt that way. This was almost 40 years ago. When I got comfortable enough to tell my parents I thought I was gay, they had me committed to a mental hospital.
That's another story, and not a very nice one. I was there till I was 21 and could legally insist on being released. Shock treatments, megadoses of Thorazine. I don't know why I didn't go truly nuts. I think a big part of it was the memory of that kindness and that closeness, and the rightness of it, for me. I lost a lot during those years locked up.
The campsite rule | Savage Love | Halifax, Nova Scotia | THE COAST
I lost track of that wonderful guy who'd been just what I needed when nobody else understood. I never had a chance to thank him, so I'd like to do that now, and maybe imagine he's reading this and remembering too. When I was 20, I was involved with a man in his mids. He left me better off by making me feel smart, sexy, self-confident, and by never letting me believe that I needed him.
Being together was always a choice, never a necessity. This was after a string of teenage and earlys boys who were possessive, manipulative, and needy as I'm sure I was. My advice to OLD: And don't do anything to distance her from her peers. Ultimately, my older man didn't introduce me to any sex act or practice that wasn't already in my repertoire, but 15 years later, I still look back on it as some of the best sex of my life.
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He showed me that sex doesn't need to be part of an emotional stranglehold. He showed me that sex is fun and that safe sex is hot. He showed me how to care about someone without being obsessive. And when it was time, he let me go.
When I was a young, curious, somewhat well-informed teenager, I met and got involved with a man 10 years my senior. I was smart enough to know about Planned Parenthood and be on the pill before I became sexually active. This man had a bisexual female roommate.
I became great friends with them both and, predictably, all three of us had sex together. They were both careful, understanding people, particularly the woman, and I recall fondly dates that began with the three of us cruising around Seattle, talking and laughing, and ending with all of us cuddled up after lovemaking. After a few months, I moved away to work for the summer.
They taught me technique, patience, how to give and receive, both in bed and out. I'm still glad I found them at such a formative point in my life. I am a year-old lesbian woman. I was recently in a relationship with a year-old very experienced lesbian woman. We ended the relationship for various reasons, mainly bad timing. She was incredibly careful to leave me better, emotionally and sexually.
Having been out for a couple years prior to meeting her, I had multiple sexual encounters with more experienced lesbian women, young and old. Rather than being respectful of my "performance anxiety" and lack of experience, these women took it upon themselves to make me into a challenge they needed to conquer. They didn't give me time to become comfortable or explore. There was no equality or partnership with these earlier woman, and I was left confused and numb equating all of my gay sexual experiences with my earlier straight encounters feeling as if I had no place or orientation.
What this older woman gave me was priceless. She gave me time, space, guidance, trust, and respect.
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Instead of viewing my inexperience as comedic, or enticing, she viewed it consciously, taking note the responsibility she had to me. I walked away with a newfound confidence, and a new beautiful view of sex. When I was 20, I fell in love with a man twice my age. He was handsome, strong, well put together. Sexually, he used the campsite rule to perfection. I was a virgin when we met and he let everything be on my terms. He let me explore my sexuality without ever pushing me.
I came out of that relationship more sexually confident and happy with my body.
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Unfortunately, he messed up the emotional side. He told me he loved me, but kept me a secret from his friends, explaining that he had a "public life" and a "private life. I was heartbroken and it took me a good three years to get over him. I think that one of the most important things an older partner can do in a relationship is make sure that both parties are on the same page with where the relationship is going, because I was so swept up and in love that I was completely blindsided and bewildered when our relationship came to a close.
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A few years ago, I met a beautiful and brilliant bipolar ex-stripper 18 years my senior in rehab. I was 22, she was After having several forbidden, thrilling sexual encounters on campus, we both agreed the wisest thing to do was move in together and fuck the days away. It was my first long-term sexual relationship, whereas she'd had dozens of partners in her time. We parted a year later—I was afraid she'd stab me in my sleep—but she left me with a lifelong confidence in my ability to please a woman.
In particular, she discovered a position that takes advantage of my, um, curvature, that I have since used to spectacular effect on women my own age. It cost me psychologically, but I've never regretted taking that chance. When I was 20 I met a man from London who was 33 years old and in my city on an extended business trip. We ended up spending about a month getting busy regularly in the back seat of a car Because he followed the campsite rules: He didn't screw with my mind, there were no false promises of a long-distance relationship, he was kind and mature, sexy as all hell, and he taught me how to suck a dick so well that every man that has followed him should thank him profusely.
The campsite rule works people—obey it! I lost my virginity to a man who was 12 years older than me.
He was married, in an open relationship with his wife, and I was a recovering Catholic. His wife came to me first and told me her husband liked me.
I was weirded out, but I knew both of them through mutual friends and I saw them fairly often at parties. It was made clear to me that I had a standing invite but there was no pressure, and nothing more was said about it. I thought about it for about three weeks. I wanted to lose my virginity—I was at college, and it made me feel like a child to not know what everyone around me already knew. I made my decision clear after checking again with his wife that it was absolutely, definitely okay.
Once he knew about my inexperience, he was fantastically gentle with me. I can honestly say I couldn't have picked a better guy to be my first. I was so uptight about sex, about looking stupid, about my own body.