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Over the weekend I had sex with a teenager. He’d just turned 19 (last week), so be assured everything was legal and non-pedophilic.

Overall it was fun night. I’d have to give him an A+ for stamina (he was ready for round two in ten minutes flat). Yes, I feel like grading him, because he is a teenager and I feel that teenagers attend school/university so deserve to be graded. An A for body, and an A for creativity. I’m only giving him a C for caring about my orgasm though; think the idea of pleasing the girl might come with maturity, or maybe he was a slight dick who just wanted head without any reciprocating (luckily, I’m the kind of girl who cares about her own orgasms, so I’m never left without).

I should have mentioned earlier, I’m currently traveling the world on some sort of journey of self-discovery which is how I met The Kid. I was in a small shop in a town, I’ve heard referred to as hippy-heaven, in a far away exotic country. I was looking at pashminas (a massive weakness of mine), he was looking at carpets; although I suspect looking at carpets was more of an excuse to be in the shop and start a conversation with me (I was appropriately flattered). After asking me where my accent was from, I found out he was an American who was traveling the world for 13 months. He was confident, interesting, easy to talk to, and not bad looking. So, I asked him if he wanted to join me for dinner; he said yes, and we exchanged phone numbers.

He was all charm, he managed to wrangle a candle-lit dinner with a lakeside view at two hours notice. I considered myself a very lucky girl. Then the bombshell hit, as he casually mentioned that he was 19. I was slightly horrified that I was having a candle-lit dinner with a 19 year old. So I quickly asked him how old he thought I was. He shrugged and said he thought we were about the same age, maybe I was 20, but not older than that (curse my petite stature and baby-face). So I informed him that I was 23, and only two months off 24. I could of ended the date there. But honestly I was enjoying the attention. He was confident, interesting, easy to talk to, and not bad looking. So, after dinner I let him take me out for a drink (or several).

Naturally after drinks he offered to take me back to my hotel. Like I said, he was confident, interesting, easy to talk to, and not bad looking (even more so after a few drinks). So, I’m sure you can all see where this is going.

He was just shy of five years younger than me. When I think about it, reasonably, I’ve been with guys up to 7 years older than me, so does age really matter? Sure his chest was oddly hairless, and when we talked about high school he was referring to something that happened 9 months ago and I was talking about something that happened over 5 years ago. Then I started to wonder why I was so worried about having a one-night stand with a kid 5 years younger than me. If he’d been a man five years older than me, it would have seemed perfectly natural. Traditionally, men are “supposed to be” taller, stronger, older, more intelligent, and earn more money. I’d quickly scoff at the idea of a man deserving more money, or at a woman who wanted to marry a man for his income, and rant endlessly about the glass ceiling. I’ve long given-up on the idea of a man being more intelligent than I am, and worry more about the quality of conversation we are able to hold, and how much fun we have together (which usually leads to finding someone with equal intelligence). There is almost no hope that I’ll find a guy I’m bigger and stronger than (being 4’11 and weighing less 50kg), but I wouldn’t care if someone else dated a guy smaller and weaker than herself. So why am I so worried about having sex with a kid? Also, why would I judge a girl for dating someone five years younger than herself? Perhaps I need to reevaluate a few things.

Was I cradle snatching (some sort of cougar in training) or is having sex with a teenager just another one of those things that all adventurous women do?

-Lillian

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