Novel & Cerita Hairy Older Gay Men

I said suddenly. “Go ahead,” he replied, calmly serving food onto my plate. “Would you date an older woman?” I asked. “Like eight to ten years difference.” He paused, then smirked. Harry had this way of looking at people, slightly lowering his eyes, studying them like he could see past whatever they were trying to hide. It made me uneasy. Not in a bad way. But not entirely comfortable either. “I don’t really think age matters,” he said. “But if I’m being honest, most men care. They want someone younger. Someone easier to show off without question.”

I said with some swagger. Scott then teased “I saw that man bun - Did you guys discuss similar hair care product?” He said with a smirk. “Wait is this some Fabio type mother fucker? Are you for real?” Grady asked sharply. “What?! No! Not even a little!” I responded with a chuckle. Scott always being the voice of reason said “Well was he a nice guy? Or am I the only one without ‘hemp sex’ on my weekly bingo card?” “I don’t know, Grady - his nipples weren’t pierced but he had gauges… that’s kind of the same thing right?” I asked sarcastically. “Not even a little - girls with nipple piercings do the most wild and kinky shit without much convincing. Guys with gauges just wants to ride a fucking

His brows were furrowing now, “Harper. Those three are the most masculine men I have ever met. Besides you, of course. And guess what all those three have in common?” He said nothing. “So even if you were gay, I don’t think it would make you any less masculine. Ridiculous that we will be talking about this in Big 23, eh?” I added to lighten the mood knowing this was a sensitive subject for him due to his trauma. And when he laughed, I exhaled in relief, feeling more confident to continue. “But I don’t think you’re gay, or bisexual. You were still practically a teenager, and as a teenager the wind blowing with a little too much enthusiasm made my nipples hard and my pussy wet.”

"Only speak when you're asked, and let me handle the conversation." I nod, understanding the importance of his instruction. I remain silent, watching attentively as the group of men approaches us. Their aging features are evident, with protruding stomachs and bald heads, indicating they might be in their late fifties or sixties. Their presence exudes a certain air of authority and experience.

His hands showed no mercy, and neither did his lips. He took off his shirt, revealing that masculine, well-built torso. I can’t wait for the day I finally get numb to this feeling. The hot, intense rush that stiffened my dick every time I saw his body. I liked hairy men. They made me weak in the knees. And I hated that he had exactly that — dark hair trailing from his chest down to his waistband. He was well into his thirties, giving his muscles that certain mature tone only older men seemed to possess.

"Son? Are you crazy? Has anyone given birth to a chick?" "Has anyone also given birth to a gay man?" He looked at me. "Are you saying my Mom isn't human?!" "Are you also saying we're not human?!" "You really know something, don't you." "You really know something, don't you." I imitate him. "Wait, before we leave, let's bring one of my guitars. Uhm, that's the pink guitar, please give it to hubby." I said pointing at the hanging guitar. "Because you are tall," he said laughing. You love to fight, you are an animal, you are gay! I'm not short!

"Cherry, you really are a dirty grandma, aren't you? I've heard of Bad Santa, bad teacher, and even bad and dirty grandpa and I know three dirty moms but you are the first dirty old lady I've ever met." "Honey, do you think just because you get older, your sex drive dies? For some it does but most of us still have one. We just can't find a man willing to fuck us the way we need it. Those old men and their blue pills aren't as good as they used to be, no matter what that pill says. And younger virile men won't look our way."

A crystal chandelier casted a soft glow over the large cozy room, illuminating the faces of four men seated on circled armchairs. One of them was younger then the rest. The air was thick with the scent expensive cigars and aged scotch as the four men entertained themselves. Shortly, the fifth man walked in, being the oldest among them. He was eighty-one years old with wrinkled eyes and grey hair that spoke of his time and experience. The four men watched him with respect as he walked in and took a seat.

He lifted her torso, just enough so he could grab her two handfuls of her breasts and manipulate them in his palms. "Fuck yes, that is the way to do it," she panted. "Not to hard, but not too soft. Knowing, experienced, warm loving hands. Fuck me, older men are such good fucks for a girl like me." "On behalf of older men everywhere, you are very welcome and a great joy. We really should try to get you to a law firm social even if it doesn't work out with Phil. All the guys are 'older' and we could screen out the few sour apples for you."

I groaned, rolling my eyes. “I’m more shameless than my brother, if you really want to know,” he said, sliding an arm around my shoulders and leaning closer, his breath hot against my ear. “And I love older women. Younger girls… they don’t have the experience. They don’t know what to do.” He clicked his tongue. “The older ones know exactly what they want.” I pushed him back with a laugh, though I gave him a look. “And I love men older than me,” I said smoothly, meeting his eyes with a knowing smile. “The younger ones have no experience.”