I’ve known for a while now that I have a soft spot for younger men. There’s something about the energy, the curiosity, the way they look at you like you’re something to be figured out… it draws me in every time.
Recently, I had a bit of car trouble during a trip, and I arranged for someone to come help me out. He was younger, a little rough around the edges, but undeniably attractive in that effortless way — the kind you don’t go looking for, but can’t ignore when it’s right in front of you.
We ended up stuck overnight and had to share a room. Nothing technically happened… but the atmosphere? Thick with tension. Every glance lingered a little too long, every moment felt just a bit too close. I could tell he was aware of me — the way I carried myself, the way I spoke — and I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy that.
I couldn’t quite tell how far he would’ve gone if I’d given the signal… but I know I had the power to find out.
And honestly? I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.
I know I like control. I know I like being wanted.
And that night reminded me exactly how much.