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Page 22.
Chapter 9. The Story of I (An Introspection)
 This is the story of not one woman, but a class I will call I. There were over 100 women in the course of my five years as a Spring. Maybe it's fair to say that, during that time, I started as an April and ended as a Summer, while the younger of my older women were Mays and Junes, and the older ones mostly Julys. As the title of my book suggests, this is the story of a wonderful period in a young man's life, when he is himself the younger man in a young woman's life. There are several ways to describe this, and it is important that we understand each because of its nuances.
Item: As a young man, I was privileged to enjoy the mystery and adventure of the older woman in my life. Every young man should enjoy this great delight at least once, and I humbly and gratefully offer that I was able to have it many times. Often the older woman is the best sexual partner a young man will have in his life. The union is impermanent, and carries with it the cachet of danger that it may end at any moment as one or the other partner moves on. It imparts a heavy wine of melancholy that lingers under the surface of all that we do and say, even in our most intimate and passionate moments, for the hard hand of morbidity is ever a chill inch away in these delirious but dead-end couplings. Usually, it is the younger man who wanders off suddenly like an irresponsible and sometimes unfeeling comet into another orbit, leaving the star of his previous joy mourning and hurt. She is still young and will get over it. e years of my education while I was as lost and adrift as a ship without sails. Or she says, enough of this toy, and sends him spinning, but he too will get over it.
Item: Every woman as, or should have, at least one younger man in her life. I have no experience to offer beyond my 27th year, when I settled down and stayed totally true to the woman I married for life. Getting back to the points made above, while a woman of any age may, if she keeps herself well, find a younger man, I can never again (except in memory) re-experience my time as her younger man any more than I can ever become young and lost and irresponsible and handsome again, with the wild wind blowing in my loose dark hair. It is a lost world. Which brings me to the next point. For many women, just as with men, having a good-looking young stud at her side is a trophy that she can show off to her friends and to the world. This book isn't about that.
Item: Every young woman as, or should have, at least one younger man in her life. Notice I say every young woman. Through her twenties and earliest thirties, a woman who thinks young and stays fit and sleeps well, maintains her sense of humor, and does not take things too seriously or excessively feel sorry will remain a truly young woman. Even if she has had children and is divorced from an unhappy marriage, she can still think young. As with my time as a young man, with this older young woman in my life, this is a period that a young woman should treasure and make the most of. If she happens to be single (or thinking about it, though I avoided dabbling in seducing married or committed women), she should choose carefully a younger man who will be kind to her, who is intelligent and a good conversationalist with a pleasant personality, who never hurts her physically or with his words, and who shares fantastic sex with her. The young man should be clean and honest, although he may fib in matters that make her happy to hear, because the whole relationship is a fleeting fantasy anyway.
There is too much to say, that cannot fit within the narrow margins of this book, as Fermat said of his Last Theorem, but suffice it to say: There is a kind of paradise lost (if by introspection we ignore that warts and bumps that time makes us forget about our imperfect relationships) that exists briefly between an attractive young woman and the handsome younger man in her life. Finally, there is this to say: it is not about the younger man providing the ravishing sex, nor is it about the forbidden pleasure of intercourse with the older woman who brings added spice and passion. Rather, the fact is that it is a volatile mixture—the young woman in her own strength and beauty, and her younger man in his strength and untamed wildness, that couples into an alchemy of sublime sensuality—the true Persian Carpet on which the impassioned couple sail past the moon and the stars.
One could almost elevate such relationship to the level of a gender preference, since it is so unique and powerful in its own right: the young woman, and her younger man. Perhaps it is best characterized as a rite of passage for each, like the chrysalis to butterfly, since it is a transitional age without reprise.
There is an I of whom I shall not speak. Call her Inot, rather than I' or I-prime, for she is the one to whom you do not return. She brings a pack of baggage with her. She is ashamed of her desires, and denigrates you while she hates herself. Avoid her.
The I worth writing of, without devoting a chapter to her, may be tall or short, thin or wide. She may have a shorter torso that allows her to touch herself more easily below, or longer legs to pleasure her younger man in extra ways—like slow-dancing while @ing. In the latter case, three outcomes are possible. Either both partners collapse in unison, as orgasms ripple through her and lightning screams from his thunderbolt; or, second case, she comes first and sinks down, rubbing himself, and taking him with her to finish pleasuring her; or, third case, she lags a bit but patiently waits while he grips her thighs in his hands and whacks away inside of her until he grits his teeth, shouts, and firehoses his hot sperm all through her shaken pussy. I may be blonde or brunette or redhead, or even have her first streak of gray at an early age (easily masked with rinse). She may be Asian or German, Black or Latina, Hawaiian or Amazonian, but she brings her passion and interest to the capture of her younger man. If she is wise, she will be careful not to fall to deeply or hard in love, because it is a fleeting paradise.
Each I has her own unique little lessons and secrets to impart. Maybe it is her own little way of rubbing herself as she grows aroused. Maybe she shares with him the secrets of what she does to arouse herself, so that he will be all the more aroused and awed at the mystery she gives him.
Maybe it is a certain object with which she likes to penetrate herself when she is alone, and which she now wishes him to use on her so that she will have both hands free to pleasure herself, or him, or both of them.
Maybe she likes to @ on the floor, or be licked while she rubs her clit, or prefers to spend time sucking your head while you put your fingers in her vagina.
Maybe she most happily comes when she has your cock in her mouth, and you hold her thighs in an iron grip and dip your tongue into her oyster or her asshole. Every time a young woman mates with her younger man, it is an exchange of new information and pleasures.
For him it is a welcome port in a storm, for most often he is adrift and lost, and cannot see beyond the next corner.
For her it is often a time of freedom from obligations. Maybe she does not want to become a prisoner of love just now. Maybe she is exhausted from an abusive relationship or marriage, and wants to enjoy playing for a while. Maybe the younger man's careless and carefree lifestyle infects her like a fever and makes her lose her mind for a while. Maybe she never really felt free and young until she started learning from her younger man.
Then there are the risks. I have already mentioned the peril of the young woman investing too much of her heart and soul in her younger man. There are perils for him, as well. Maybe she is selfish and uses him as a bridge between more serious men in her life (that's Inot again—but think, some women are on the cusp between I and Inot, neither fish nor fowl but some measure of both).
Whatever the opportunities and risks, there is passion here to be remembered for life, and that makes these relationships cosmic in their importance.
Maybe she is a one-night stand, by mutual decision. She needs someone just that once, to remind her how pretty she is, and how passionate. Or maybe she just needs some relief during a lonely spell, or someone to masturbate with, one night or once a week or (@-buddy style) occasionally. Maybe she needs someone as a little therapy in place of a week in the Caribbean or a night of too many margaritas. Maybe she hasn't been laid in a while, and just wants a reminder of what it's like to have a oyster full without all the bullshit and obligations. Maybe he feels similarly, though often the younger man knows or cares little about obligations—they slide off his back like rainwater off a blue jay's wings.
There is also the gorgeous Filipina nurse who was a movie star in her own country but fell into political disfavor and decided it was more expedient to become a nurse in the USA. That was where I met her. She was gorgeous, and I enjoyed taking her out because men (and women) stared after us. She only liked the missionary position. I is all the missionary position nights and quickies and okay dates that don't need a chapter to regale you in endless detail, but every I is a heroine of this book and deserves her place in this chapter. What I has in common with every other young woman in this book is that she offers her younger man the sophistication and maturity that his own younger women cannot possess—but will one day, perhaps, when they in turn meet their younger man. In the end (no pun intended), I am privileged to say: "She taught me well." I must add that I can still sense her kind, slightly mocking, sometimes sarcastic astonishment at my naïveté in so many matters. She was patient, she was amused, and we enjoyed each other very much.
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