The desperate forties

Living alone is great until you feel horny. Who exactly are you meant to lure home at that point?

That’s why I have decided to take a new approach to finally find my soul mate. To end the sexual drought that has me convinced me I might forget where everything goes if I don’t have sex very soon.

The leaflet on the table held a clue. Late night, singles, over 40 only.

Of course I prefer a younger playmate in my bed because as far as I am concerned being with the young keeps me young.

I never once thought of myself as a pervert, even if Mrs Simmons at number 37 keeps calling me one. What does she know anyhow? Dried up old fart that she has become. It is nothing but pure jealousy that motivates her constant name calling.

I push thoughts of her to one side and focus on the night ahead.

I tell myself it is worth attending because older women are grateful and easier to please than younger ones. They don’t need an all night sex session in the bedroom. A couple of hours will usually suffice, which is great for me at my age.

Most older women also know more than their younger counterparts and need less instructions about what to do, how to do it and for how long to keep it going for, almost intuitively. Despite that, it is difficult to beat the feel of young, firm flesh under your hands and tongue.

The only problem with dating young is that but none of the girls I meet are the marrying kind, and I am resolving to do something different now in an attempt to get married.

I look at myself in the full length mirror.

‘I am ready for a night of loving ladies so watch out,’ I smile and then turn to leave.


As I remove my trousers and place them over my chair I think about my hit and miss night.

Plenty of drinks bought and loads of ladies to talk to but no one to bring home.

According to one woman, the bitch, the desperate forties are really not that desperate.

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