Older women are typically more skilled.


Don’t you love people watching? It’s my favorite spectator sport. While the MLB was having, arguably, its most exciting game in history, my fellow imbibers and I discussed mating strategies.

The prime subject was a fifty-ish woman with the usual (blond, bubble lips, boob-a-mungus). Her strategy, however, was a curious one. While sipping her vodka, she opened her suitcase-sized satchel and deployed her lure: a lollipop. Perhaps, when scientists come up with a way to create Maker’s Mark suckers, I’ll indulge. Hers was some reddish flavor, which matched her shiny lips. A female friend from the junior squad made the first comment.

“Do older women just love to give head or what?”

“Wow! Quite a sweeping generalization. Where did that come from?”

“Tell me you haven’t noticed Barbie-Plus-Twenty mouth-fucking her candy over there.”

“Yes, I may have, now that you mentioned it.”

“Right. So, answer my question.”

“First, let me respond by saying, ‘I sure hope so.’ Second, I think your question is best rephrased as ‘Why do most older women love to give head?'”

“Fine. Why?”

This is one of those questions where my brutal honesty gets me into hot water–alone. After consulting my cougar manual, I provided the following reasons why one would have exceptional oral desires and skills:

  1. She wants to give her man exceptional pleasure. (Well, duh.)
  2. She realizes (Oh boy, how do I keep this one PG-13?) her engine oil is down a pint, as it would be on any classic machine, and she is providing additional lubrication to allow the piston to move freely without causing friction damage–affectionately referred to as “pink-socking.” (Calling you a pig would be an insult to pigs.)
  3. She has had lots more practice, young Asshopper. (What?)
  4. Her exceptional skills will distract from the bloody wreck below the neck. (That’s mean-spirited.)
  5. She finally admits that her quickest route to O-town requires the man to go down. Therefore, she is giving him a not-so-subtle hint that reciprocation will be required if he ever wants to receive another sheet-clenching, back-arching, ab-cramping, mental-sparks-a-flying BJ. (I’m assuming you’ve had one?)

Whatever her reason was, spinning a lollipop between her plumped lips looked odd. I’m not sure I would have enjoyed it anymore if she were Rihanna. Similarly, it doesn’t give me vicarious turgidity when I see a woman eating a banana, Popsicle, or hot dog. Any stimulation that begins, ends with the inevitable bite. My penis is not food. I’d like to think of Willy more like a straw than a Rocket Pop.

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About the author

Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.