Older women
- Thread starter conoflex
- Start date
I will sort of concur with EdEc above. It depends on the woman. Some continue to get wet easily and some don't just like some men continue to get erections easily and some need help. With some it's like the ten minutes of cunt licking with others it could be using a vibrator, and with some it could be a resort to artificial lube. I will have to admit that there were only two women in my life (other than my wife) that could be considered "older" to the degree you seem to imply. One was 56 and the other was 60. There were several in the 50-53 range which had no problem at all. The 56 year old was no problem with fingering and pussy eating. The 60 year old needed pussy eating and vibrator and some serious dirty talk, but still sometimes needed KY.
At this point in my live, the only woman I've ever been with older than 60 is my wife who is like me in her early 70's. She was fine till about 5-6 years ago but now relies on artificial lube. Sometimes we just rely on mutual oral. She gives good blowjobs and I love, as I always have, eating pussy and have no problem doing it for as long as it takes. Age creates some hurdles but shouldn't keep you out of the race.
At this point in my live, the only woman I've ever been with older than 60 is my wife who is like me in her early 70's. She was fine till about 5-6 years ago but now relies on artificial lube. Sometimes we just rely on mutual oral. She gives good blowjobs and I love, as I always have, eating pussy and have no problem doing it for as long as it takes. Age creates some hurdles but shouldn't keep you out of the race.
L
Lotusflower2010
Guest
an older woman
As an older woman, 60, I will honestly say that the sex I experience now is ten times better than the sex I had in my 20s and 30s.
Dependent on my attraction to the man I'm with, I may get wet from his first passionate kiss or there may be times when I need vigorous fingering and oral to get me warmed up.
Sexuality is not a one size fits all. While some older women may lose their drive, there are still many of us that will never lose their lust for life.
As an older woman, 60, I will honestly say that the sex I experience now is ten times better than the sex I had in my 20s and 30s.
Dependent on my attraction to the man I'm with, I may get wet from his first passionate kiss or there may be times when I need vigorous fingering and oral to get me warmed up.
Sexuality is not a one size fits all. While some older women may lose their drive, there are still many of us that will never lose their lust for life.
Acktion
GrumpyOldDude
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2011
- Posts
- 4,429
Well, I'm not a gynecologist (although I sometimes play one between the sheets for giggles)...
And I am, demonstrably, not a female of our species. (And, in fact, am widely acknowledged as having no feminine side to get in touch with!)
However, I was blessed with a wonderful woman in my life from the time she was thirty-six until the day she died, mere days before she would have turned sixty-one. And from my experiences with her, the question you ask is not really so simple as all that. Diet, exercise, hormone balances, illness, injury... all can play a major part.
In our case, Love had her left knee all but blown off by a shotgun blast. Rather than doing the smart thing and amputating, they "fixed" it (for some values of the term).
"What the fuck does this have to do with her kitty drooling, you old fart?!"
I'm getting there. Just bear with me.
Her leg.... or as she referred to it, her "no knee"... was a mass of skin grafts as well as metal rods and plates and vein grafts. And, they left a sponge in her hamstring.
We fought against a recurring staph infection in the skin, a bone infection (osteomyelitis, the precursor to bone cancer), and (of course) the pain and discomfort of the damage and the altered gait and etcetera.
Additionally, there were other health complications. A history of heart disease. Hypoglycemia. Obviously, the injured limb wreaked havoc on most exercise regimens, causing them to have to be adapted. And the pain, as well as infection flare-ups, would cause even those adapted regimens to be... ah... perhaps skimpier than she would have preferred, left to her choices. She had an allergy to MSG and other "flavor enhancers" as well as more than few drugs.
When we get to the vagina itself, the health problems continued. By the time I'd met her, she'd had two children, lost three, and had a tubal ligation. We don't know just how large a role that played in what followed, but she did have rather severe issues with ovarian cysts and ruptured ovarian cysts. (Not to mention a couple of ectopic pregnancies.) We suffered through perimenopause and menopause (and I'm a convert to the theory of spontaneous combustion! [However, I am also well indoctrinated that "real women don't have hot flashes, they have power surges." {Even if I would wake up in a fucking sauna under the bedcovers.}]) together. Eventually, she had to have a full hysterectomy. And we did try hormone therapies a bit before she just stopped.
Wow. That sounds like a lot, all written out like that. Like, "it's a fucking miracle you ever got to fuck at all, man!"
Fortunately, she was over on the "nymphomaniac" side of the spectrum. Which suited me well as I am over on the "satyrnalia" side of the spectrum myself.
Now, this is all pertinent to the conversation at hand, although it may not seem like it.
From thirty-six until... well, actually, we weren't able to have sex at all for the last few years of her life. Not because of vaginal dryness... or rather not just because of vaginal dryness... but, because her altered gait for so much of her life caused her vertebrae to wear a hole in her spinal cord and leak out her spinal fluid. She was not only housebound, but virtually bedridden, only rising to use the bathroom, shower, and fix her coffee (which she swore I never did learn to make right) and there were only three places on her body I could touch that weren't either numb or caused excruciating pain (and not the good kind); the crown of her head, her right cheek, and between her shoulder blades. (Although I think that last was just so I would scratch that spot, she just didn't admit it hurt.)
Now, being that I was, in fact, a diagnosed sex addict (and yes, I'm well aware they removed that designation from the DSMV-... uh... V, I believe), not only find absolutely nothing aesthetically (or otherwise) satisfying about the male anatomy but have an aversion to it for reasons that I will not go into in open forum more than I have elsewhere, I had been a much more than indifferent student of the feminine anatomy. And my long drawn conclusion, which nothing has dissuaded me from for all these decades, is that the vagina is a tender flower that must be coaxed into blossoming and giving up its sweet nectar. As a direct result, I spent my fair share... (actually, more than my fair share now that I think on it considering I'm not Gene Simmons or Magic Johnson)... between a pair of pretty thighs using my hands, lips, tongue, and (occasionally) teeth to coax a precious flower into bloom, I became something of a connoisseur of the nectar found within.
Now, I'm not saying that I could be a walking diagnostic tool, mind you. However, I did spend rather a lot of time slaking my thirst on my delicate bride's delicious fountain. And I came to know that nectar well. The taste. The textures and consistencies. The smells.
And, often, I would know before she did, when she was getting sick. And with what. (Don't get me started on what Cipro did!) When her diet was out of whack. Or her hormones.
And not all of it... very little, actually... began with what was going on with her precious jewel. Very little of it was tied to her desire for sex (which was almost the equal of mine, with very rare exceptions). Even after the full hysterectomy and going off the hormone therapies, prior to her back fucking everything up, depending on how well everything else was working, her sweet nectar would flow like milk and honey. (Given, of course, the proper stimulation.)
In short (if it's not already too fucking late for me to say that with a straight face), as Love would have said was she sitting here today to say it, "it's not the mileage, honey. It's the state of the roads they are traveled."
And I am, demonstrably, not a female of our species. (And, in fact, am widely acknowledged as having no feminine side to get in touch with!)
However, I was blessed with a wonderful woman in my life from the time she was thirty-six until the day she died, mere days before she would have turned sixty-one. And from my experiences with her, the question you ask is not really so simple as all that. Diet, exercise, hormone balances, illness, injury... all can play a major part.
In our case, Love had her left knee all but blown off by a shotgun blast. Rather than doing the smart thing and amputating, they "fixed" it (for some values of the term).
"What the fuck does this have to do with her kitty drooling, you old fart?!"
I'm getting there. Just bear with me.
Her leg.... or as she referred to it, her "no knee"... was a mass of skin grafts as well as metal rods and plates and vein grafts. And, they left a sponge in her hamstring.
We fought against a recurring staph infection in the skin, a bone infection (osteomyelitis, the precursor to bone cancer), and (of course) the pain and discomfort of the damage and the altered gait and etcetera.
Additionally, there were other health complications. A history of heart disease. Hypoglycemia. Obviously, the injured limb wreaked havoc on most exercise regimens, causing them to have to be adapted. And the pain, as well as infection flare-ups, would cause even those adapted regimens to be... ah... perhaps skimpier than she would have preferred, left to her choices. She had an allergy to MSG and other "flavor enhancers" as well as more than few drugs.
When we get to the vagina itself, the health problems continued. By the time I'd met her, she'd had two children, lost three, and had a tubal ligation. We don't know just how large a role that played in what followed, but she did have rather severe issues with ovarian cysts and ruptured ovarian cysts. (Not to mention a couple of ectopic pregnancies.) We suffered through perimenopause and menopause (and I'm a convert to the theory of spontaneous combustion! [However, I am also well indoctrinated that "real women don't have hot flashes, they have power surges." {Even if I would wake up in a fucking sauna under the bedcovers.}]) together. Eventually, she had to have a full hysterectomy. And we did try hormone therapies a bit before she just stopped.
Wow. That sounds like a lot, all written out like that. Like, "it's a fucking miracle you ever got to fuck at all, man!"
Fortunately, she was over on the "nymphomaniac" side of the spectrum. Which suited me well as I am over on the "satyrnalia" side of the spectrum myself.
Now, this is all pertinent to the conversation at hand, although it may not seem like it.
From thirty-six until... well, actually, we weren't able to have sex at all for the last few years of her life. Not because of vaginal dryness... or rather not just because of vaginal dryness... but, because her altered gait for so much of her life caused her vertebrae to wear a hole in her spinal cord and leak out her spinal fluid. She was not only housebound, but virtually bedridden, only rising to use the bathroom, shower, and fix her coffee (which she swore I never did learn to make right) and there were only three places on her body I could touch that weren't either numb or caused excruciating pain (and not the good kind); the crown of her head, her right cheek, and between her shoulder blades. (Although I think that last was just so I would scratch that spot, she just didn't admit it hurt.)
Now, being that I was, in fact, a diagnosed sex addict (and yes, I'm well aware they removed that designation from the DSMV-... uh... V, I believe), not only find absolutely nothing aesthetically (or otherwise) satisfying about the male anatomy but have an aversion to it for reasons that I will not go into in open forum more than I have elsewhere, I had been a much more than indifferent student of the feminine anatomy. And my long drawn conclusion, which nothing has dissuaded me from for all these decades, is that the vagina is a tender flower that must be coaxed into blossoming and giving up its sweet nectar. As a direct result, I spent my fair share... (actually, more than my fair share now that I think on it considering I'm not Gene Simmons or Magic Johnson)... between a pair of pretty thighs using my hands, lips, tongue, and (occasionally) teeth to coax a precious flower into bloom, I became something of a connoisseur of the nectar found within.
Now, I'm not saying that I could be a walking diagnostic tool, mind you. However, I did spend rather a lot of time slaking my thirst on my delicate bride's delicious fountain. And I came to know that nectar well. The taste. The textures and consistencies. The smells.
And, often, I would know before she did, when she was getting sick. And with what. (Don't get me started on what Cipro did!) When her diet was out of whack. Or her hormones.
And not all of it... very little, actually... began with what was going on with her precious jewel. Very little of it was tied to her desire for sex (which was almost the equal of mine, with very rare exceptions). Even after the full hysterectomy and going off the hormone therapies, prior to her back fucking everything up, depending on how well everything else was working, her sweet nectar would flow like milk and honey. (Given, of course, the proper stimulation.)
In short (if it's not already too fucking late for me to say that with a straight face), as Love would have said was she sitting here today to say it, "it's not the mileage, honey. It's the state of the roads they are traveled."
AloneTooLong
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2018
- Posts
- 343
I am older than those who have responded and made mention of their age. And, yes, no real need for lube here.
AriesAngyl
Princess
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2019
- Posts
- 17
I have noticed a difference as i have gotten older...but that being said i do get wet and i still love sex
geronimo_appleby
always on the move
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2004
- Posts
- 90,768
in summary: yes.
MidnightRyder007
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Aug 10, 2019
- Posts
- 2,178
Have been with a few ladies in the mid 50's. The wetness is rare and very well liked
Darlene44d
Virgin
- Joined
- Jul 9, 2016
- Posts
- 22
I sure get wet, more so now when 60 than ever, i had a few dryer periods during menopause but all good now.
In fact panties are we already
In fact panties are we already
Judging from some of the comments, I'd say that the ability of women to get wet and for men to get hard as they age depends a lot on their overall health as well as what's said and done as part of their sexual encounters to arouse them. I like things now that I didn't necessarily think I would back when I was in my 20's and even 30's. I would assume that the same is true with women. I've known older women who have said that as younger women, they did not especially like really dirty talk but developed a taste for it. The same is true with some light BDSM like spanking or handcuffs and blindfolds. What may have seemed "over the top" to people when they were 40 years younger now is the very thing that gets their engine running. People change. It's important to understand that.
