His Beloved Olivia

A tiny puff of wind
covertly breezed into the room
and elicited a little squirm, rhythmed
from beloved Olivia in full bloom

His tempted tongue, quivering
unfurled her moist nether lips in heat
she moaned, her arched hips wriggling
Holy! What a treat!

He thrust inside with pleasure
gently circling her pink pearl, aroused
so sultry was his muse’s gesture
it left him in utter wows

He fondled, kissed and licked her
savouring the juices nectarean
He sucked over and over
revelling in that one moment utopian

The intensity of her sensations heightened
till she pressed herself against her bourgeois
He captured the glow in her face, enlightened
as she finally let out an ecstatic ‘Ahh’

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Unconditional Love

“The only way you can love another person unconditionally, intensely and genuinely is by walking down the enlightened path of realization, convinced that you merit that kind of unselfish love yourself; and you augustly shower it upon your own soul first before you serve it from the sacred chalice of your heart to others.”

-The Little Mermaid, MMXVI

Solitude

“There are two types of solitude-one that pulls you into darkness and another one that pushes you towards light. While the former drowns a person in the tangled inferno of harrowing isolation, bottomless depression and lugubrious despondency; the latter transforms him to a fireball of energy when he is fully connected to his own being, thereby allowing the individual to get a glimpse of quintessential empyrean.”

-The Little Mermaid, MMXVI

The Perks Of Dating Much Older Men

When it comes to dating, the rotten rule that has been around for generations states that it is socially acceptable for a person to be romantically involved with someone who’s age is at least half your age plus seven. However, there are people, SANE people, who deviate from the norm and date someone much younger or older than them; which, in my humble opinion, is totally fine as long as both individuals connect. 

In my post, I’m going to write on the advantages a young woman has when she dates an older man, say +15 years her senior. While you must be cudgelling your brains about what has triggered me to blog on this, let me confess beforehand that as a young woman myself, I find older men enormously attractive. They are a whole package! And the fascinating thing with them is that they equate me on many levels – those enlightening tête-à-tête and whatnot. Hard to believe? In that case, read on…

1) Ideal if you want/don’t want children

If at present you feel mentally and physically prepared for a baby, you might choose to marry an older person who is evidently in a better position to cater for the needs of the little one than a young boy who might have other priorities.

Considering from a different standpoint, if you’ve decided that kids are not in the cards, you may have a pretty tough time persuading a younger partner to accept this idea. On the other hand, an older partner who has either already been married and begotten children or has had enough time to cogitate on fatherhood and therefore knows with certitude he doesn’t want to aggravate the global problem of human overpopulation, may be the ideal match for you.

2) Older is sexier…sometimes

When a man takes care of himself, he can actually look better with age and still be in the pink of health. Yes..much like fine wine that gets better with age. Old men somehow seem to effortlessly ooze an air of confidence and charisma. Those few strands of silver hair are symbolic of years of wisdom and experience. Simply put, old men are no longer boys. They are men. Grown-up men. In all senses. Now this is a real turn-on!

3) More financial stability

In general, there’s a stigma that a younger woman dates an older man because he’s more powerful and can essentially take care of her. Heard of gold diggers? And while this may be true for some, a 2010 study by the University of Dundee in Scotland found that as women themselves become more financially independent, their taste may skew towards older (and better-looking) men. What does it mean? It means that as a woman becomes more confident in her own career and finances, she seeks a partner who matches that, which often is not a 25-year-old guy.

Moreover, from what I’ve gathered, a man in his 20s is more likely to blow his cash on frivolous things, while men starting from their late 30s and onwards are likely to save money for the future or for experiences, like a romantic vacation. This implies you can live the good life and afford luxuries without having to worry about going dutch. Does it get any better than this? (Wink)

4) Less likely to play games

An older partner has already sowed his wild oats and is in the market for a serious relationship he can assume with honesty and loyalty. At this stage of life, he is more interested in having a companion than in hooking up with several women in the bars and nightclubs. Older men start a liaison with a clean slate and do not dream about getting a bit on the side because they have seen it and done it all. 

5) You enjoy awesome sex

A mature man knows exactly what excites him and he takes mental notes of what pleases you in bed. Ladies, forget about those night classes you had to conduct on ‘sexology’. Since older men hold the key to opening the doors to the gates of paradise, love-making becomes a more passionate and liberating ritual, than with a young fella who might just be too consumed with his own satisfaction to even bother if you comed or not. Older men literally work for you to climax because they see it as a source of pride when they can cause big, badass orgasms that leave you weak and shaking.

6) You’re the younger one. Game over.

You know the joke about older men chasing younger women? Well, ahem, drag your partner with you and look into the mirror. The benefit of being younger than him is that, as vain as it sounds, it can be an incredible confidence booster. I know it’s shallow but it’s always nice to feel extra sexy, isn’t it? Plus it makes getting old as easy as puddin’ pie because in your circle, you’ll always be the ‘young one’.

7) You learn from your partner

When it boils down to dating older men, you 24/7 feel like you’re learning; whether it be new music, food or arts. You get to hear stories about another period in time which broadens your mind. Moreover, as your partner has a vast amount of knowledge and sagacity under his belt, debates with him become more challenging, discussions more enriching and chitchats seem deeper than the ocean. 

Besides, he’s totally supportive of your ambitions and prolly full of good advice. You must be a dunce to trade all of those for a middle-of-the-road “I need to focus on my career right now, darling”.

8) Someone has already ‘fixed him up’

His past relationships didn’t work out. And now, you can reap the benefits of nice shoes on the racks, toilet seat put down and hand towel in the bathroom. 

On top of that, you can be sure that time doesn’t slow him and that he is going to be this rad forever. In 20 years, he will still be alive and kicking and keeping up with your young ass.

9) He appreciates you

An older man, de facto, might date a younger woman because he wants to maintain his youth. You keep him feeling inspired, which in turn, makes you feel deeply desired. You wake up too late? Cool. You don’t know cooking? No problem. He is a more caring, patient and a romantic lover. In short, you’re everything he wants. He’ll worship you. Period.

10) You live in the moment

Today, young people forget to relish the present moment in the pursuit of future goals and aspirations. Conversely, an older man makes you cherish the beauty of the now and value the significance of living it fully. 

So, as I have pointed out above, dating or even marrying an older man is a worthy experience. Without discounting the fact that women in general, mature faster than men, chances are, you might end up sharing your life with your twin flame, which seldom happens in real life with normal couples. Therefore, do not let society dictate your heart’s calling. And a free bit of advice to some judgemental prudes who might ostensibly conclude you have daddy issues- If you don’t want to get a fat lip, I would suggest you not to butt in where you do not belong. Live and let live. OK? 

P.S. Constructive comments on real life situations, examples or any kind of advice and opinion pertaining to this post are most welcome. 

A Taste Of The Forbidden Fruit (Part II)

“Do you like wine, love?”, Paul mumbled succintly and teasingly in her ear in a deep, gentle voice that educed an aristocratic tender masculinity.

“Pardon me?” Esther replied, confused and beguiled; quite oblivious of where the conversation was going, but so conscious of her large bust brushing against his broad chest in that moment. She felt a tingling sensation down there. Esther drew a quick breath to regain her composure.

“Have you ever tasted red French wine?” He simpered again, crookedly.

“Er..I suppose, yes”, she answered huskily, obviously not wanting to disturb the strange, thrilling atmosphere between them.

A long speech on the world’s best French wines ensued.

“French wines are one of the choicest wines available on the market. Especially those made from Shiraz from France’s Rhone Valley. A red French wine, darling, is bright to look at, it is noble in character and it feels intense, concentrated, deep..It possesses elegance.”

“I see…” Esther responded, while she continued to stare in this charming stranger’s eyes, delving in the profundity of his thoughts to figure out what he was really talking about; for nothing, categorically nothing, but him, made sense to her.

“You are like French wine, my dear. Young, yet so ripe. Bold, yet so supple. Sparkling, yet so balanced. You’re so beautiful.”

At that point, Paul got goosebumps. Something inside him shuddered. His arms slipped to her waist and tightened around her. Then he drew her closer. Her fragrance was just as commanding as she was-smelling a mixture of sweet jasmine and salted vanilla. He gazed down at those slumberous eyes and parted bee-stung lips in the dim light. Esther reflexly knew this tempting inveigler was in control. Hitherto, he was.

“That if I kissed you..” She waited, but he never finished the sentence. Her eyes closed, and she softened in his arms.

He leaned in and brushed his raw lips across hers, testing the delicate skin, absorbing the heat. He amended next, playfully, pausing, puckering, nibbling on her moist lips for a single heartbeat. This roused Esther because at that instant, she desperately needed more-she needed him, wild and consuming. Now this was torture.

Just when he touched her lower lip with his tongue, Paul felt his penis stiffen as it pressed against her. Then he opened his mouth again, angled his head, captured her full lips and sealed them together in a fusion of heat and pent-up passion. She instinctively came up on her toes, and he settled his arm more firmly around her tiny waist, pulling her vehemently against his tension-filled body. His fingers tangled in her hair as he kissed her longer, harder, deeper. She thrust her tongue inside his mouth and explored every secret corner. In a matter of seconds, they were soul-kissing voraciously; completely in sync with each other. For that short lascivious period of time, there was no beginning. There was no end. Only one thing mattered in the universe. That kiss.

“Give me your tongue”, breathed Esther, suggestively when they slightly parted for air. And she started sucking on his tongue gently, in and out of her mouth as she cupped his chiseled face with both hands and he squeezed her peachy bottom.

The kiss went on-occasionally changing from light and frisky to unyielding and serious. Paul swore his damsel not only looked like French wine, but she tasted like one too; and that his thirst would never be satiated for an eternity. He kissed her neck. She tipped her head back and gave him free access, biting down her lower lip. He spread his legs, pulling her tight into the vee. His fingertips-strong, calloused and erotic tightened on her sore nipples; and shock waves ricocheted between her thighs. It was so good. So incredibly, unbelievably good.

They wanted each other. Naked. As one energy. But good things seldom last long. Realization dawned. Esther instantly pulled away. Without thinking, she ran as fast as her feet could carry her, into the unknown, but at least in her mind she was going far away from this man.

Hunger knows no moral.
Lust knows no boundary.
Basic instincts drive us into animals.
And animals know no sin. 

Esther seemed to pacify her obstinate heart, trying hard to forget the face of that stranger. Alas! He was no stranger. Paul was her soulmate. And she just lost her soulmate.

(The End)

*Image borrowed from Google

A Taste Of The Forbidden Fruit (Part I) 

Evening lulled the reticient sun into sinking lower in the sky. Paul, who was already jaded after the mindless commotions of the party was too content to finally heave a sigh of relief as he hurriedly set off to take a peaceful riverside amble, barefoot on the cold, soft grass. The air was damp. He felt as free and alive as he could ever remember. Paul was really enjoying his much needed vacations on the island. 

As he sauntered leisurely down the lane, mentally planning some upcoming trips, his visionary artistic flair did not miss the vague silhouette he noticed in front of him. Picked by curiosity, he approached further in its direction only to discover that it was actually the silhouette of a woman. A rather gorgeous woman. Paul, who was now just a few yards away from her could exclusively see her back. Pity! Dressed in a casual ankle-length white dress on which there lay many specks of beautiful black stars; the woman was leaning far over the wooden fence, facing the river. The dress was perfect. It hugged her hourglass figure marvellously, accentuating her narrow waistline and exquisitely round-shaped arse. A shiver of arousal ran through him as he kinkily imagined feeling the tauntness of those fine cheeks on him. Her body spelt of summer holidays, which all the more convinced his unfailing intuition she was a native. 

No French mistress could compare to thy erstwhile beauty, mine Lady,
Lucky must be that she’r fabric f’r it caresses thy exotic skin incony.

Bless’d be the stars f’r they beholdeth thy sight,
I beseech thou to stayeth still, Oh Night.

Thee liketh the sweet f’rbidden fruit,
The m’re we art denied, the m’re we desire absolute.

But then, what is the ruleth f’r forbidden fruits?

He murmured, as he gazed in admiration at her attractive frame. Little did Paul realise that the whispers of his racing heart would echo into the placid stillness of the place. Slowly, she turned to face him. Their eyes met. 

Paul momentarily sucked in a breath because she looked utterly…not quite beautiful, since the term implied a set of criteria which needed to be filled and her looks were much too distinctive for that. But she had a definite head-turning quality that was almost difficult to define. Stunning, perhaps? And irresistible too. Bottomless. Divine. Esther was an ideally volumptuous made-up woman with big, lustful eyes, brows that were beautifully contoured and arched and with a long pointed nose. But that mouth and those lips? Made for kissing and for oral sex. Her long, wavy, black glorious hair complemented her flawless fair skin complexion. She wore no jewellery, no make-up-as if any was even needed for this youthful Venus surely brought up on nothing stronger than milk and honey. His gaze subconsciously shifted to her generous bosom, but he quickly blinked his way back to her eyes. Esther was perfection, yet intimidation. She exuded a whimsical air of mystery that somehow made her more alluring. 

Paul gallantly advanced closer to her, and she felt her full breasts tighten for a split second beneath the garments she wore. Esther was already being serenadated by this tall, magnetic debonair gentleman. He was styled in a plain navy blue long-sleeved shirt that was carefully tucked up to his elbows with a pair of dark, tailored slim-fit trousers. To complete the effortless fashion ensemble, he wore a luxurious watch which immediately made her think of those foreign brands- something like Bvlgari, Cartier or Tiffany & Co. The stoically built, lean man seemed more than twice her age with the pensive look on his handsome face, those golden soulful eyes that furtively probed every part of her body and with that soft deceptively charming smirk on his inviting lips. Paul had a few strands of silver hair, atypically evocative of wisdom, sophistication and confidence. It sent shivers down her spine just meditating on how powerful this man’s calm presence could be. She blushed a thousand shades of crimson. This was bad, but in such a good way.

(To be continued…)

*Image borrowed from Google