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OK, for those who just saw the title and erroneously thought I'd be reviewing a new jitney service to Fire Island, a bit of etymology to set you straight:

Succubus (n., fem.); see also Incubus (n., masc.) SUCK' yoo bus. Mythical creature, thought to lie with men in their sleep (chiefly monks) in order to steal their seed.

It's interesting to note that the concept of these creatures came about as a means of explaining wet dreams. In more modern usage and fictionalized interpretations, the succubus is a monster who is ages old, transforms herself into something young and beautiful, seduces men and takes from them their semen, sometimes their blood (a la a vampire) and usually as a means of sustaining her own life, often at the expense of her victims' lives. The young and vital men were, in quite literal terms, the "life's blood" of the succubus' survival.

Her male counterpart is the incubus; historically, he is a notorious womanizer which makes this entirely too heterosexual for my purposes here, so I'm sticking with the feminine term. Plus I get a fucking kick out of saying "suck" over and over even if it's only as the first syllable of a bigger word.

So, I've now clarified that, in bringing up the term, "Succubus", I am not referring to three blissful hours of traveling tea room action in Labor Day weekend traffic on the Long Island Expressway. I am, in the more mythological vein, invoking images of an older predator seeking nubile male flesh and fluids for sustenance. And the word Succubus (There! I said "suck" again!) saved me from having to title this article: WHY DO OLDER MEN LOVE YOUNGER BOYS?

We've already answered it with my use of the terminology. In brief, whether you had a bad week, found a new gray hair (God forbid it be "down there") or just need to be reminded of your relative youth and viability as a sexual competitor in the death race that can be the gay sex scene in New York, it's as simply put as this: suck a young cock, fuck a young ass, live another day.

Younger men make us feel alive.

As for the part about the succubus' magical transformation from decrepit crone into a creature of great beauty: I live in the gym. Honestly, if I ever show up on a milk carton, chances are the Missing Persons Bureau need look no further than New York Sports Club. I've probably just fallen asleep on a yoga mat after 100 push-ups, and I'm dreaming of the stud I just eye-fucked on the shoulder press, or of finding a sale on fiber supplements. But no matter how hard I work it, the laws of time and gravity take their evil toll on a guy. Hell, I'm at the stage of my sexual career where I go to certain bars and clubs just for the really shitty lighting. Walk into a place like Evolve, with its carefully spaced and even more carefully dimmed and diffused lights and voila! Whether you're 37 or 57, everyone is once again 27.

Mama didn't raise no fool.

But, to lay next to a guy who really is free of those facial lines that were etched by 20 years of after-hours parties and sun-worshipping weekends, whose ass points in the same compass direction whether he's doing jumping jacks or hand stands, and whose livelihood has not caught up to and clobbered his libido - well that's just breathtaking. And when that toned and taut piece of ass that hasn't yet had to be returned to the factory for restringing finds you just as attractive in return, out come the fangs of the succubus. And it's time to feast.

I could name names here, but I won't. Fuck it, you know me better than that, by now. Of course I will. The "innocent" I'd be protecting are in that very vital, naked way, anything but.

Like Dean. There's something about Dean that after three years, which started when he was just barely legal, has been an on-again/off-again, burdensome blessing. I look at this kid without pants on and I hear choirs of angels. Angels wearing leather. Angels all shooting little darts at my dick and goading "fuck him, Daddy. Fuck him HARD." The same way a smell or sound can bring back truly visceral sense memories, I just look at this boy and my resolve completely caves. I can HAVE that. It's a treat and a gift and a constant temptation even when I'm committed to someone else.

My friends tease me about my love for younger men. "Is this one old enough to vote at least, Cas?"

"Ha ha ha, YES, you fucking pricks. Of course he's old enough to vote. I just have to buy his liquor for him.”" And it was only ONCE at Six Flags that my date didn't reach the clown's hand on the sign, not being "this big" enough to ride; though to his credit, a rainbow Sno-Cone and a Tweety and Sylvester balloon tied around his little wrist, and he stopped crying soon enough. My little man.

Kenny had me playing "just the tip" in a doorway on Christopher Street about 15 minutes after meeting him. Six months later we were living together. He was part Asian, part panther, all sex kitten. And when this tiny, toned, and tatted little twink would nail me with a look over his shoulder as I slipped inside him and said "fuck me like you're mad at it, Daddy," I was just powerless to do anything but oblige his every command.

I'd like to say that Christian came straight out of the box, being as painfully young (but still thoroughly, statutorily legal) as he was, but he was neither straight nor freshly opened when we first met and got it on. But he was youthful. He was taut. He was innocent. And he was wicked and willing to try absolutely anything. "What's on TV?" he'd ask.

"It doesn't matter. Let's fuck."

"OK, who's on top first?"

You don't get that kind of willingness to please coupled with that kind of flexibility and stamina anywhere else but in the ad hoc puppy that is your youngest of lovers. I cherish this kid to this day as a dear friend. It turns out that whatever I overlooked in favor of his incredibly muscular legs and broad upper body resided deep in an equally beautiful heart. But I'll never forget the hours spent staring at his boy pussy because I'd literally never seen anything that exquisite.

And there are the more casual encounters... the boys from online, or the boys whom you meet in the vestiges of the "back room" scene which is relegated these days largely to unmonitored men's rooms, or the boys whose eyes you just happen to catch staring at you across a Starbucks just begging for a nibble of your petite vanilla scone and then of your penis. Each one makes your heart flutter.

I think of Lipe, the Brazilian wonder boy, and how all he wants is to be my oral alarm clock, waking me in the morning with a blowjob. Seriously, all this guy has to do is say the word "cock" and, knowing he's talking about mine, this dutiful cock stops what it's doing and points with religious fervor in the direction of the promised land that is Lipe's hungry mouth. And what do I have to do to earn such devoted service? Wrap my big muscular arms around his small frame and make him feel like the Star Quarterback Senior is going to ask the cute little Freshman to prom.

So I guess all those sets of all those reps at the gym at which you'll no doubt find me someday, deceased, my face frozen in an exhausted, thankful smile, have truly paid off. To not be seen as predatory - as the succubus - but to have a young guy look to me as the "tender bodyguard" he fantasized about as a kid, or as the social and sexual rock offering a bit of stability in his otherwise not-yet-organized world - well that's payback for the years spent living and accumulating a few brains and a few more gray hairs. And even if the guy has some unresolved oedipal complex or issues that beg exploration in another more lengthy future article, the payoff for the slightly more seasoned man such as myself is this: being able to smell and feel and taste the flesh of my own past youth. Not so far gone as to be forgotten, thank you very much; but far enough in the past to be something I truly enjoy revisiting in the exciting, bounce-a-quarter-off-his-ass form of a sweet young stud under me in bed.

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troynyc I hear you loud and clear.
Blackpearl Hey Cas!! Thank you for your comment to my Penis Envy! I tried to find the link for you but methinks the user pulled it! Yikes! What's a dirty girl and boy to do? I would love to have my own Brazilian wonder boy alarm clock to wake me up with my pussy in his mouth! So much in common we seem to have *wink*.

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