Over the course of a week, five women share their searing fair sex diaries – be prepared to forget everything you thought you knew about midlife marriages or singles around 70 …
Under the blankets
& # 39; The enemy of middle-aged hot sex is exhaustion & # 39;
From the 48-year-old mother of four
Man has been away for three months. This means a lot of self-stimulation and sexting. I'm not as good at it as he is. Be terribly prudish about the descriptive words for male parts (and female parts). But if you are apart for a long time, you will get over it to keep the intimacy alive. Also send nude photos & # 39; s. On the one hand, it is like a generously proportioned 48-year-old woman, liberating to know that your husband sees you as irresistibly sexy. On the other hand, what if I accidentally send it to the WhatsApp group of the parent / teacher? Try a few poses in bed, one works pretty well. I'm working to use the word "knocking." You may need a cup of tea first.
Man sends a nude while I'm in a meeting. Don't forget to disable notifications on the home screen. We make our own sex tapes when we are apart. It's actually fun to do after a few big gins and a short discussion about suitable camera angles, but it's not the same as the real thing. He'll be home tonight. Once this would have fallen into bed for a passionate reunion. Now it means waiting until the children (seven to 17 years) are in bed, the dishwasher is being loaded and the dogs are being taken out. The enemy of hot middle-aged sex is exhaustion. Six hours later our reunion sex is beautiful, crazy and explosive. Second round also great, although somewhat postponed when my discussion about school dinner versus packed lunch earlier drained his excitement. Must keep family manager out of the bedroom.
Tonight it's all about me. Long wonderful massage and endless pleasure. I'm going to sleep content.
We argue about leaving dirty dishes in the sink. Everyday domesticity is the second enemy of hot middle-aged sex. Top tip for all men everywhere who want more sex: instead of nagging about the state of the house, clean it up.
I thought that when I was 40, I didn't feel like having sex anymore. Wrong! This period of my life is one of glorious sensuality. I love my body and my husband too. I am confident enough to be willful about every swing. Let the haters hate because I get all orgasms.
Morning sex is my favorite; unfortunately almost impossible if you have children who get up at 5 am and two dogs that bark at a leaf that blows past the door, let alone the crack of a bedspring. We try, leaving due to toast requirements. Man now grumpy.
I love long family days; it seems rare that everyone is home in one go. Spend the day in the garden, the toddlers' pool and a large dinner. I am worn out by the time the children are in bed. We fell into each other's arms to sleep, but it became sleepy, lazy sex – close by and gentle and full of love. As long as there is love and passion, I have discovered that age is not an obstacle to a great, fulfilling and exciting sex life.
SEX LOS: 5½
"We had three; I went to the bathroom and cried & # 39;
By the 30-something in one open relationship
Wake up from the weekend; on Saturday I am addicted to a bartender. We went back to his and had dirty sex. I ended up with burns on my knees and back. He was really hot. My friend Ben didn't ask where I had been when I got home on Sunday at 6 AM, which annoyed me. We have had an open relationship for one year (and were previously monogamous for three years). He has always been more concerned with non-monogamy than me. If he stays away, I want to know everything: who he has been with, when, how often. In comparison, he doesn't ask and it makes me feel that he doesn't care. I slept, but hardly spoke to him all day and went to bed in a huff on Sunday evening.
If he takes a shower this morning, I check his phone. He does not know that I am spying on him and I feel bad about that. But I can only do this non-monogamy thing if I know it doesn't hide anything from me. I just read the messages from other women and am relieved that they are usually boring. He sees no one.
The only one that worries me is a message from a week ago. It is an unsaved number and simply says: & # 39; I had fun last night & # 39; with a wink. I feel good about the fact that he did not answer, but that the emoji – the nudge-nudge insinuation that undoubtedly hides a wild experience – plays in my mind all day.
Ben and I have sex in the morning. It is early – I have to sit at my desk at 8 am – but we are both really into it. I feel like we sometimes use sex to reassure each other. He is really attentive and I wonder if the fact that I was staying this weekend played into his mind. We now have all positions down so that we both get an orgasm quickly. I like that we are so aligned, but since we are together afterwards, I realize that he must have seen the carpet on my back. I look around a bit guilty, but he seems happy enough.
The day is blurred with meetings. Ben says he has a surprise for me, but I finish late. When I finally get home, he cooks for us and books us a trip to Paris. He does this every now and then and I love his spontaneity. The evening is great, but I'm too tired for sex.
The bartender is sending me a message. & # 39; How are you? I can't stop thinking about you & # 39; followed by a wink. I answer with a wink but nothing else. I have not decided if I want to see him again. Ben and I have limits – we can sleep with other people but cannot bring them to our apartment. We can go on a date, but we must be clear with the other people that we have a primary relationship with someone else. When Ben first drove the idea, I was quite offended. I broke up with him, but after a few weeks I realized that the idea that he was having sex with other people didn't bother me so much – it didn't mean that I loved him less – and that I also wanted some freedom. Neither of us wants children, so why did we cling to monogamy?
We met again and even tried to have a threesome with another woman (I would find myself "heteroflexible" because I am particularly attracted to men but have had sexual experiences with women). It was a disaster. I hated seeing him with someone else; it is one thing to know that it is happening and something else to watch. At one point I went to the bathroom and cried, covering my face with a towel to muffle the noise. I pressed my face against the cool tile wall so that I didn't look so red and smudged, but by the time I got back to the bedroom the woman had disappeared. Ben said he didn't like it either. We didn't really talk about it afterwards, so I don't know if he took time for it because he knew I was uncomfortable.
I could see the bartender again, but at the moment I don't think I have the time to devote myself to data. I decide to let him simmer in case I feel like having some nice sex after a night out.
I leave on time, but Ben is nowhere in sight. He works in a creative industry, so his hours are irregular. I have previously sent a message saying that I would be home tonight, but he has not been online all afternoon. I am annoyed that we cannot take advantage of a rare weeknight together.
I wonder if he is with another woman. I drink half a bottle of white wine in front of the TV and the thought becomes like a chip in my mind. I think back to that winking emoji of the woman without a name. I report to him again asking if he will be home tonight. I see that he has been online and has not taken the trouble to reply to my earlier message – I am suddenly furious. He finally comes home around 3 o'clock.
Ben is non-committal about where he was last night and I remind him that he promised he would always be honest with me. "I went to a friend," he replies. I ask if they have had sex and he says yes. The splinter from last night is now a thorn; I am furious that he has dragged me into this dark relationship swamp and longed for the days when everything was simpler.
I calm down in the shower. Jealousy can be a very real part of non-monogamy – it's a normal emotion. The art is to talk about it. I tell Ben that I would have liked it if he had spent the evening with me, considering how little we have seen each other since my workload increased. He apologizes and agrees that he had had a better evening with me. He says he didn't see my message until it was really late.
Ben tries to have sex with me, but I tell him to go. The rest of the day I see a bit, but by the time I leave work I am already over. I come home and am happy to see him on the couch in his trackies.
We do individual sports things on a Saturday. I love to run, Ben plays team sports and then we meet at home for lunch. Today we shower together and make love inside. I am convinced that he was away on Thursday. He tells me about her: she is a woman he used to work with and they met each other a few weeks ago. The sex between us is good and we feel in harmony again. Ben is leaving for a week tonight. I decide tomorrow is a good day to see the bartender.
Ben left yesterday and I spent the evening sending messages to the bartender. I'm getting ready to go to his bar tonight: I'm putting on new underwear – black and lace and completely impractical. I feel dizzy; a part of me wants to share this little excitement with Ben – we share so much, why not this? But I know it's not really appropriate.
At the bar I flirt outrageously while the bartender closes. I forgot how handsome he is and can't wait to go back to his flat. He kisses me while we wait for the taxi – and then in the back we see as teenagers. We tear each other apart practically by the time we are in bed. The sex is wild again, but I don't orgasm. We chat for a while after which it is almost 1 o'clock and I decide to go home. He wants me to stay, but I want my own bed.
We had three
"At this rate we may never make love again"
Against the 30-year-old lesbian new mother
I have always assumed that our gay male friends are constantly having sex, since men – I hear – are generally hotter than Love Islanders after a pint of rosé. So I was surprised to discover at a dinner party that my wife and I, tonight, after a few bottles of wine, presented that Adam and Steve are as deprived of passionate love as we are. And we have an one-year-old baby as an excuse. They claim that after a decade together they prefer a good night's sleep over a steamy sesh. Try to remember what a good night's sleep is. Our son wakes up between 4.30 a.m. and 5 a.m. It is no wonder that we are both conching at 10 p.m.
We simply manage to have sex once a month. I think we are so deep in our role as mothers that we have difficulty entering into intimate relationships. I have "The Wheels on The Bus" in my head, not Barry White. Fortunately, neither of us practice each other or feel bad due to the lack of & # 39; action & # 39 ;. But maybe that's part of the problem. My straight friends say that it is often their husbands who encourage them to have sex again after they have a baby because they really want it. My wife and I do not feel either. We may never make love again at this rate, but we would still be perfectly happy.
My wife bought me a vibrator from the chic sex shop Coco de Mer in the hope that it would breathe new life into our love life. I will lose the charger within 24 hours – it must be neatly stored in the electric drawer, a jumble of wires. So literally nothing is turned on tonight.
We haven't had a night out in six months. We have no family in the area and our friends have shown little interest in childcare. My wife and I both work part-time, so we break up childcare – none of us can make us leave him with a stranger. But tonight my sister came for lunch and when she heard it was our wedding anniversary (we both forgot it until this morning), she offered to stay so we could go to a restaurant. It felt so good to reconnect, just the two of us. We were too tired and full to have sex afterwards, but we shared a passionate kiss on the doorstep that made me tingle in a way I hadn't had for a long time.
That kiss opened the locks: almost as soon as our son was asleep at 7 pm, we hugged ourselves in the kitchen – and before I knew it, we wriggled around naked among the Ocado bags that we had not yet stored away. We stopped for a moment to find the baby monitor, but immediately came up again. I remembered how much I actually enjoy sex with my wife. Why don't we do this more often?
New season of being discovered Big Little Lies on Sky. That means that every chance to go to bed early to make love is just as dead as that guy in season one.
My son shuffles around on our bedroom floor when I notice that he is holding a thread and is about to put a plug in his mouth. My "no" quickly changes to "yessss" when I realize that this is the charger for my vibrator. My wife is free tonight, so I'm looking forward to what & # 39; i-time & # 39 ;. But the baby is not sleeping and I hang over his bed and sing "The Wheels on the Bus" until the woman returns at midnight. She lets him sleep immediately and is, I think, a bit drunk, so the night ends with an orgasm.
SEX LOOSE: 2
& # 39; Am I too picky? Would a toyboy succeed? & # 39;
Experiment with X-rated FaceTime calls by the single septuagenarian
At 5 o'clock in the morning I wake up roughly by a FaceTime call from my antipodean one-time lover. "What are you wearing?" He asks. "Nothing," I answer. "I'm in bed!" Can I have a look? He continues. & # 39; Do you mind? I am an old lady nowadays. & # 39; But he perseveres and I get up and look my worst. He says he's excited. But I am not. I'm going to my spin lesson. Pre-class, the conversation is all about sex. & # 39; Are you missing? & # 39; Ask my 50-year-old gym buddy. & # 39; Occasionally, & # 39; I say. "The problem is finding someone my age." You can always have me, "a middle-aged bank printer offers, adding," I haven't had sex in ten years. 'No thanks! I'm not that desperate. Later I am up at work at my office. Another of my old admirers is calling. & # 39; Do you still love me? & # 39; He asks. "I have never loved you at all," I say to this married man who is hoping a bit to the side. "You can always pretend," he replies. He wants to come by and bring a bottle of wine. "OK," I say, but he never shows up. Phew.
An email from a twice-separated colleague with whom I am working on a project. He comes to my town and wonders what a "spot of supper" is. "OK," I reply, knowing that he is going on a long journey, I offer him a bed for the night. We go out to dinner and he stays in my guest room. I tell him that I don't want to combine business with pleasure and add, "In this case I don't know what is what." He says he cannot understand why a woman is ever attracted to a man and I tend to agree. He leaves after breakfast.
Another admirer email asks if I want to go to Las Vegas with him. "I don't think I can save time," I say, and he suggests staying in a hotel near me for a "cheeky" long weekend. How to say no without upset him? He is a decent enough man, but we have nothing in common. I disturb. That evening I meet friends in the pub. They try to match me without success.
My Aussie friend is calling again. Age cannot wither him, but the chances of ever meeting again are small. Telephone sex is closest to the real thing. He calls again a few hours later. He has watched porn and it has excited him, he says. Sorry, but I have to finish some work.
A friend (with occasional benefits) comes for lunch and yes, this time … But it's just for the old days, really. I am still alone, without a permanent partner or lover – 99 percent of the time, however, I don't mind, given the choices available.
A friend of my ex tells me that he is "my ideal man". He has a nice house, a sports car, is tall, handsome and funny. And available. Unfortunately there is no spark. However, take a ride in his car.
I'm back from the gym and wondering: am I just too picky? What about lowering the age category – would a 50-year-old toyboy succeed? Later I am at a barbecue, but none of the 50-year-olds also look so tasty. Well, well – maybe one day my Prince Charles equivalent will show up.
SEX SEX: 1
"I'm not looking for a relationship, but a bed warmer would be nice"
By the 20-something singleton
Most of my last week's fatigue of dating has been swept clean by a weekend of relaxation … and sex. On Saturday I made an appointment with a man I met in a bar. He took my number but I don't expect to see him again. Being a woman in her twenties who goes out exclusively with men means keeping expectations at a low point – most of the crop is pretty hopeless until their emotional maturity starts around 30. I'm not looking for a relationship right now, but a normal bed warmer would be nice. I sweep uselessly about apps such as Tinder and Hinge during the day, but haven't made any agreements yet; I have an unofficial rule not to make potentially messy (read: drinking) plans from Monday to Wednesday. In addition, some bars are open until late.
D sends me an SMS. I met him through Hinge a few weeks ago and we've had two great stars ever since. He is a unicorn among men: he seems to really respect women and actually continues to plan to meet. He is sick, he says, but wants to get drinks this week. We decide on Friday and I feel a fit of sadness that I am so shocked by the courtesy that he offers me. Dating is an empty cesspool.
I wake up with an SMS from L, a phoppic type that I went to date two weeks ago after talking to Hinge. The mix of rum and his Brideshead Viewed again-like beauty meant that we slept together that night and I saw him shortly two days later when he came to pick up some of the pieces he had left with mine. He said he texted and he has … 14 days later. & # 39; When will we have lunch? & # 39; He asks. & # 39; Never & # 39 ;, I answer. I learned not to give an inch if a man looks like he is willing to take a mile. Constant contact is not necessary, especially if I am only looking for an informal partner, but I can see red flags. So many men are afraid that if you show the least respect, you will hope for a marriage. Irritating and an obstacle that is hard to circumvent as a 21st century feminist.
All my dating apps are dead. I am not interested in a single man there. I start a half-hearted conversation with someone who confesses that he has visited me on the internet. He has listened to a podcast that I did; flattering but strangely intrusive. The conversation starts quickly. I have a 48-hour app chat rule – if you haven't set a future date for a drink within two days, let him know. Nobody needs an extra pen pal.
Friday night, honey! D and I go to a rooftop bar for a drink and then spill into a sweaty club to dance. He is a good kisser and when I look at him, I get that attraction. But still no sex: he has an early train and I am somewhat relieved (while furious at the same time) that my sexual magnetism is not powerful enough to pull him back to my bed. I know he loves me: I felt the evidence when he brought me in for a kiss. We break up and he asks me to see me again. I won't hold my breath.
My apps are asleep on the weekend – I want to prove that I am still capable of good old analog connections. Go for a "quiet drink" with friends – end up in a pub that is a notorious pickup spot. It makes up for its reputation and I trot with a beautiful architect. My house is around the corner. You know the rest.
The architect leaves after a morning of pleasant conversation, but nothing earthquake, so I'm glad I call it a night. I'm saturated … for now. D texts but I ignore it. The cycle starts again tomorrow.
SEX SEX: 1
. (TagsToTranslate) Dailymail (t) house (t) you