I am a 30-year-old breeder female and have a boyfriend/lover who is 50. We met on the Internet about four months ago and in person about six weeks ago. I have always been attracted to older men because they are more caring and respectful toward the needs of the woman, as I also found to be the case this time.
He says he gets great satisfaction getting me off, which he is quite capable of doing. Since I am a female ejaculator, it is quite obvious when he does get me off. But he stays hard for hours and hours! I have tried various ways of getting him off, including stimulating his prostate. Nothing works. He says that he has always been this way. I can live with this problem: I am very adaptable, but sometimes a quickie is fun.
Do you have any suggestions on how I can get him off quicker? (I never thought I would say that!) Most of the time I can handle the lengthy lovemaking, but sometimes it gets painful, and I hate leaving him frustrated. I feel selfish if I have to call a halt before he comes, even if he does say it's OK.
--Satisfied but Sore
You've already tried playing with his prostate, and besides a costly home defibrillator, there aren't any other suggestions in my copy of the AARP's unhelpful brochure "Getting Grampa Off." So, sad to say, I have no additional suggestions for you on getting your aged boyfriend off more quickly. But maybe you could suggest to grampa that, on those occasions when time is of the essence, he get himself off.
By age 20 most men have perfected two basic masturbation techniques: there's slow and steady, employed when you have all the time in the world (parents are away, you've got the VCR to yourself, and two more porn tapes to watch); and then there's rapid-fire, for when you need to get it over with ASAP (mom's banging on the bathroom door, you've got to get back to class, etc). Surely grampa is familiar with both techniques and can, when he needs to, get himself off quickly. No man takes forever when he's using his own hand.
Furthermore, when you're with someone who takes forever, male or female, it's not unreasonable to ask your partner, "Why don't you finish yourself off?" Of course, be polite and upbeat when you ask, and offer to help. If you'd rather he came inside you, he can plug away at you for a reasonable amount of time, withdraw, masturbate past the point of no return, then jam it back in. Often, sexually active adults labor under the misconception that in order for orgasms to "count" you can't touch yourself. Not so.
The letter from the 55-year-old man with no love partners sounds very much like my own case. I'm 52, and from early in my 20s I knew that I was not the ladies' choice. I spent a lot of time in my 30s and 40s masturbating and bemoaning my fate, until at some point I discovered prostitutes. However, there are a lot of problems with prostitutes--especially the bargain-basement types I could afford--so after a pretty extensive pay sex life, I stopped going to prostitutes.
Instead I've decided to opt for real celibacy and kick my masturbation habit. Guys like you, Dan, encourage masturbation, but it seems obvious to me that a daily habit is an addiction, and addictions are not good. After many unsuccessful tries at quitting, I have now gone 57 days squirt-free. Do sex columnists have a prejudice against celibacy, as opposed to other kinky perversions?
I advised RC, the lonely 55-year-old who had looked for love for 20 years without success, to give up, pack it in, and face up to the fact that he would always be alone. In other words, I advised him to embrace celibacy, even if I didn't use the word. Personally I have nothing against celibacy and think that for some folks it's a perfectly valid, workable, healthy choice.
Even so, I wouldn't advise him or anyone to give up masturbation, since it's a good idea to flush the pipes even if no one's using the plumbing. And while someone can masturbate compulsively (or not masturbate compulsively, as is the case with you, JO), it isn't possible for someone to be "addicted" to masturbation.
What's the news?
First, there's this from a press release that hit my desk: "In the first few minutes of 1999, as New Year's Eve revelers were still celebrating, two beer bottles were hurled through the front window of Lambda Rising Bookstore in Norfolk, Virginia. One of the bottles broke the gay and lesbian bookstore's neon sign, causing a spark that ignited a display of rainbow teddy bears in the window....'We suspect antigay attitudes were behind the beer bottle attack,' said Deacon Maccubbin, co-owner of the [store]."
Two issues: First, Deacon shouldn't assume straights are responsible--I've been tempted to set fire to rainbow teddy bear displays myself. Second, even if straights motivated by anti-teddy-bear animus threw those beer bottles, anyone who sets fire to a display of rainbow teddy bears is doing gay people a favor. We're the only group of adults in our society to whom rainbow-striped products and brightly colored plush toys are aggressively marketed. I don't know what's more distressing: that rainbows and teddy bears are marketed to us, or that enough gay people purchase them to ensure the marketing continues. Maybe straights would take gay people more seriously if our apartments and bedrooms didn't look like 11-year-old girls lived in them.
Also in the news, this from a recent issue of the Sun-Sentinel in South Florida: "Tori Cameron, eight weeks old, has skin so fragile that the slightest bump can cause it to blister and fall off. But Tori has a good chance of living a normal life because doctors are replacing her own skin with bioengineered skin made from foreskins removed in circumcisions."
Oh. My. God. While I'm thrilled there's a treatment for Tori, I worry that she may grow up to resent her parents terribly. Mom and dad not only allowed Tori's full name to be used in the story, there's even a picture of a doctor grafting foreskin to her cherubic little leg! Barring a Y2K-triggered apocalypse, Tori will grow up in a wired world, and Tori's future classmates will have access to the Web. What are the odds that one of Tori's classmates will enter her name into a search engine someday and find this story? Too high to risk it, mom and dad! What's Tori's life going to be like once all her classmates learn that she's covered head to toe in foreskin? Do you have any idea what kind of teen-suicide-inducing nickname your daughter will wind up with? It'll be Wisconsin, for cheese products, or Tipsy, in a perverse nod to the Teletubbies. She'll suffer for your lapse in judgment, and she'll grow to hate you! Bad call, Mr. and Mrs. Cameron!
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