There’s something definitely and undeniably sexy about an old man, especially a gentleman. Perhaps it’s his ironed shirt, his well-groomed hair, the smell of his cologne, the stubble on his face, his mastery of himself.
When he looks at you, looks into your eyes, you see lust burning within as he patiently but passionately admires your body and mind, as an accomplished artist might admire a painting. You can almost feel him slowly remove every inch of your clothing in his mind, kissing the soft skin beneath, as if enjoying a succulent and tasteful meal.
You realize that if this were a younger, more capricious, less experienced young man that he’d throw you to the ground and begin unromantically ripping off your clothes in an attempt to extinguish the fire in his loins with an orgasm.
But no– while the lust of that young man still burns as strongly within him, the outside is tempered, refined, experienced, worldly.
He makes no verbal passes except for compliments, telling you how beautiful you look, how much he missed you. He doesn’t touch except for perhaps fleetingly and delicately with his hand or perhaps you accidentally get too close and brush up against him, leaving the skin tingling and longing for more.
He doesn’t grab and fondle. He doesn’t push his face into yours for a sloppy kiss. He stares at you just enough to feel desire and not enough to feel uncomfortable.
You realize that these desires of his lie just below the surface but soon you realize that you desire him just as much. You desire him to kiss you, to grope you, to unleash his caged lust on your body.
You can’t help yourself but to reach out and touch him and when he responds and touches you back, it only makes you want him more. Your arms somehow make their way around his neck and you somehow press your breasts to his body.
You kiss and in that kiss you say, “I give my body to you. Take me. Do with me as you wish and desire.”
Yes, that’s what’s sexy about an older gentleman.