Q I’m a bit out of your usual demographic, age-wise (I’m 70), but I am still an avid reader. (This is true, not a Penthouse letter.) My cousin and I have flirted and joked about getting it on together for about 50 years or more. Now she’s divorced and having the time of her life. The other day, she told me what she’d really like is to have a “lesbian experience” with me watching and then joining. I’m so crazed with lust that I’m having a hard time thinking straight. This is a kinky dream come true! I love oral sex, and with two pussies to eat, etc, the whole thing sounds just great! What I don’t know is how to contact someone to do this. I don’t want someone who’s got a disease or someone with a boyfriend just waiting to break in and rob everyone. How do I make contact with someone and then arrange such a thing? How would I ensure that my concerns are dealt with? Is using an escort service any guarantee of any degree of safety? I would love some good advice. Got any for me? If you answer, you can call me . . . —Old But Alive
A “Good for you, OBA, for acknowledging that you’d love a lust-crazed encounter with your cousin and a third,” said Joan Price, author of Naked at Our Age: Talking Out Loud About Senior Sex. “I hope you’re indulging that lust with plenty of hot talk, make-out sessions, and role playing as you figure out how to make your fantasy a reality.”
I was going to let Price field this one solo, as she’s the expert on senior sex. But I’m going to break in to note that while cousin-on/in-cousin action strikes many people as very deeply squicky, there’s nothing illegal or dangerous about cousins—even first cousins—doing it. Indeed, first-cousin marriage is legal in 25 states (and legally recognized by all 50 states), and it’s legal everywhere in Canada. And we’re not talking about marriage. We’re talking about scorching-hot seventysomething-on-seventysomething action between two people who share a grandparent. (In the “both descending from” sense of the word “share,” not any other sense of the word.)
OK, OBA, back to Price’s advice . . .
“Start hanging out at lesbian bars and other social venues,” said Price. “Don’t go in aiming to pick someone up right off the bat—you don’t want to come across as predatory and creepy. Instead, go on a date with your cousin, dance, chat up women who are friendly. You could make great connections if you’re open and take your time.”
I gotta break in again. Loath as I am to contradict Price—who is my guest—don’t hang out in lesbian bars, OBA. About the only thing lesbians hate more than opposite-sex couples prowling for “thirds” in their bars are sharp fingernails digging for clams in their pants. And while at first you might be treated like a cute older couple who wandered away from their assisted-living community and somehow wound up in their bar—or like a pair of cute PFLAG grandparents—as soon as the other patrons realize that you’re just another opposite-sex couple who feel entitled to lesbian space, attention, and pussy, you’ll be out the door on your asses. For the love of all things holey, OBA, stay the hell out of lesbian bars.
OK, OBA, back to Price’s advice for you . . .
“Another way to go, as you suggested, is to hire someone,” said Price. “The advantage of a paid escort is that you can choose the woman and spell out exactly what fantasy you want her to provide. She’ll be experienced, creative, and totally focused on your pleasure.”
Breaking in again: Yes, yes, yes! Hire someone! You’re 70 years old, OBA, and you’ve been waiting 50 years to get in your cousin’s bloomers. Young couples complain about how hard it is to find a willing third—they’re called “unicorns” for a reason—and forgive me for being ageist, but time is not on your side. Hire someone immediately—and hire someone older, and someone who has been in the field for a while (look for reviews online), as they’re less likely to rip you off or play you.
“As for getting a disease,” concluded Price, “you will use safer-sex practices with either a paid escort or a new friend—that’s a given! Don’t even consider otherwise.”
Breaking in one last time: use condoms, Gramps, even if there’s no risk of pregnancy, as condoms decrease your risk for contracting—or passing along—many STIs. (People always talk about sex workers as if they’re the source of all STIs. But where do sex workers get STIs? From their clients.) But there’s no way to eliminate the risk. You have to decide if the possible risk of contracting an STI is worth the certain reward of a three-way with your cousin. And I think we both know the answer to that question.
Joan Price blogs about sex and aging at NakedAtOurAge.com. Follow her on Twitter @JoanPrice.
Q My husband and I have been happy swingers for four years. Our issue? I’m pregnant. My husband had a vasectomy two years ago, and neither of us has wavered in our desire to remain child free. We know the “father” is the male of a couple we play with regularly. We used protection, of course, but we know these things are never foolproof. We consider ourselves good friends with this couple, but we are not in any sort of “poly” relationship with them. Our question is this: Do we need to tell the couple about what happened and our decision to terminate the pregnancy? We wouldn’t ask them to help pay for the procedure, and their feelings on the matter wouldn’t change our course of action. We’re just unsure about the “swinger etiquette” in this situation. —No Acronym Here
A No method of birth control is foolproof—not even a vasectomy. Just like condoms and IUDs and the pill, vasectomies have failure rates. Now, the failure rate for vasectomies, according to the Centers for Disease Control, clocks in at 0.01 percent, which is far, far lower than the failure rate for, say, condoms (3 percent failure rate with “perfect use,” 15 percent with “typical use”). But there are numerous documented cases of men who’ve had vasectomies impregnating their female partners. There are no documented cases two years after a successful vasectomy . . . but what if your husband’s vasectomy wasn’t successful?
So it’s possible that your husband fertilized that egg, NAH. You can cling to that small possibility and opt not to inform the other couple about your pregnancy and your decision to terminate. But I would urge you to tell them. One in three North American women have had an abortion, NAH, but millions of men don’t know that they have benefited from access to safe and legal abortion services because their female partners quietly terminated pregnancies without informing them.
On the off chance that your play buddy is one of those guys who either is against abortion or hasn’t given the issue much thought—because he’s never needed one—you should let him know that your freedom to choose has directly benefited him and his family. You should also let him know that there’s a small chance your husband impregnated you. Either way, you’re terminating this pregnancy.
Dear Readers: There was a little miscommunication during the production of this week’s column—and the fault is entirely mine. Joan Price thought OBA was a woman. Price didn’t think she was advising an opposite-sex couple to go to a lesbian bar, but a female couple. I knew that OBA was a man because I saw OBA’s email address and his name. I don’t pass along names and email addresses when I share reader’s questions with guest experts so Price didn’t have that information in front of her. I should’ve made it clear to Price that OBA was a man—at the very least I should’ve checked in with Price after reading her response. My apologies to Price!
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