Dying rooster

It is impossible not to mourn the agonizing moments of such a beautiful cock. No, I am not talking about the man, but about his penis.

I´ve met him six years ago, when he was 52. He is an elegant, intelligent and fairly attractive man. Yes, he is married and I met him during a crisis of his marriage: he claimed that his wife had given up on sex but that he still felt he was a sexual individual, and after 20 years of marriage he was cheating on his wife for the first time. This creature is so formal and the do-right kind of guy that I might believe him, if only that was an issue for me.

He is hung, a good sized cock, thick, and I have fond memories of him ramming that beautiful wand of pleasure inside of me, so deep that he drew blood. The more erections he had, the more interested he was on oral sex and masturbation, and although I still call him my least lovable lover – for other reasons – he does have a lovely cock.

Then about a year and half ago he had a prostate surgery. And it went downhill. Down as in really down. His cock does not get hard as it used to, and I know he does use pills for erectile dysfunction. He is glad when he can perfom the full act once, twice is nearly impossible, or else, the second time is sort of pitiful.  He does not ejaculate anymore, although he does have orgasms.  I believe his frustration with his own performance has made him less interested in foreplay and in oral/masturbation. That is sad.

If I was his wife, girlfriend or a significant other, who had an expectation of exclusivity I´d think about our future prospects. What would become of our sexual life? The way it is between us, it is essentially his problem, not mine.  He is a nice person, though, and I oblige his invitations. Sex is not everything, even when it is the main reason why you relate to someone.

He has just turned 59, and is scared of turning 60. He says that age has something symbolic about it. It is a sort of demographic indicator of old age. He won´t a middle aged man anymore and enter old age. He looks good, is still extremely active and productive, but for his cock.

As we laid in bed this afternoon, I played with his cock thinking if biology would put a deadline to my sexual life too, if things would become more difficult with time and age, not in terms of looks, but in functionality. Will my pussy dry up and shrivel? Will intercourse become painful? Will my hormones change so much I will lose interest in sex?

Part of me wants menopause to come so I can get rid of menstruation for good, part of me fears it for its possible consequences. My menopause might be what his 60th birthday means to him: a milestone, a turning point, the one way ticket into old age.

I mourn his cock and I am wary about my pussy! Time is a wicked thing.

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