I’m 38 and my partner is 61 — here’s what age gap sex is really like

Alice GiddingsPublished May 3, 2024, 5:00am|Updated May 3, 2024, 10:48am

My partner and I get judged for having a 23 year age gap (Picture: Getty)

Welcome to How I Do It, the series in which we give you a seven-day sneak peek into the sex life of a stranger.

This week we hear from Alexa*, a 38-year-old writer who is in an age-gap relationship with her partner, Will*, who is 23 years her senior.

Alexa is bisexual and met 61-year-old Will when they worked together at a bar.

‘We started flirting after work one night, then I asked him out for drinks the next night, and we ended up sleeping together,’ she says.

‘For him it was definitely all about sex to begin with – he’d just ended a long relationship – but I fell for him pretty quickly. We were on and off for a few years but finally, ‘officially’ getting together in 2014. I moved in with him in 2019.

‘I’m pinch-myself happy to be with him – I love him and I can’t imagine my life without him.’

Alexa and Will have sex twice a week on average, but she wishes it could be slightly more passionate. ‘I’m so attracted to Will but I think we take each other for granted sometimes,’ she adds.

Alexa says the pair have definitely received some judgement for their romance.

‘The age difference, or rather people’s reactions to it, caused us some problems when we first got together,’ she says.

‘I’ve had quite a few relationships with older men; he’s had quite a few relationships with younger women: guess which one of us gets judged for it? If you guessed ‘the woman’, you’d be right.

While Alexa’s family had been fine with the age gap from the start of their relationship – despite him being the same age as her parents – Will’s friends and colleagues were more concerned.

‘There’s not really any issues now that we’ve been together for so long though,’ Alexa explains.

Without further ado, here’s how Alexa and Will got on this week…

The following sex diary is, as you might imagine, not safe for work.

Monday

Will leaves this morning: he’s away with work for a couple of days. I hate it.

It’s only a few days a week, and not every week, but that’s still a lot of nights spent sleeping alone, after eating alone and finishing work alone with no-one there to ask me how my day was.

You’d think we’d make the most of our time together by constantly jumping each other’s bones, but you can’t always be in the mood on schedule, especially since the travelling back and forth means he’s pretty tired by the end of each week.

Quite often when he’s here I’ll decide not to initiate sex for what seems like a good reason at the time – I’m tired, or full from dinner, or feeling unattractive – but then I’m struck with a wave of must-have-him-NOW horniness as soon as he leaves and it’s too late to do anything about it.

That’s what happens this afternoon: I’m sitting at my desk trying to do some work but feeling more and more distracted by thoughts of sex, and end up going for a ‘freelancer’s lie down’ with my vibrator for half an hour.

Between all the temptations of working from home – snacks, naps and wanks – it’s amazing I get any work done at all.

Tuesday

A usual Tuesday – wake up alone, work alone all day at my desk, take breaks to dramatically lip-sync to All By Myself in the mirror – then in the evening I’m out for dinner with a friend, Max.

He tells me he and his girlfriend have started sharing videos of themselves having sex online.

They’re both into exhibitionism and have been trying to find ways to explore it anonymously, so it doesn’t affect either of their careers. There are apps and websites and clubs – it’s a whole other world to me.

I’ve had sex in semi-public places before, with Will and with one or two other people, but it’s the thrill of getting caught that turns me on, not the thought of actually being watched.

It’s embarrassing enough that Will has to see my sex face, never mind anyone else.

Wednesday

Unusually, Will is back and we’re off for a midweek night’s stay in a little cottage, with dinner provided at a restaurant nearby (he got vouchers for his birthday).

It’s exciting to be packing for a little getaway on a weekday! The drive over is nice enough, and I’m tempted to offer him a little road-head, but as usual I’m too scared that we’ll end up crashing.

Imagine your Nan finding out that’s how you died.

There’s a long gap between check-in and dinner, so I light a fire in the wood-stove and join Will on the bed.

I guess everyone loves hotel sex – you’ve paid for the bed, you might as well get full use out of it – but he seems to find it a particular turn-on.

I’ve brought a small vibrator with me and he watches me play with it for a while; then we 69 and I use it on his balls while giving him head; then we have a long, slow f**k with lots of breaks.

Afterwards we cuddle and drink cognac, which is just the kind of sophisticated post-shag vibe you get with older men.

Thursday

We both wake up a little lazy and hungover, and I run my fingertips over Will’s body while he contemplates getting out of bed.

When he does get up he only makes it as far as the bedroom door before turning back to draw my attention to his hard-on. I happily start giving him a blowjob – I love it because you get such an ecstatic response for so little effort.

Then he pushes me onto my back, pulls my underwear down and goes at me standing up. Fast, fun sex – a great way to start the day.

As I’m getting dressed I say ‘We should do this more often,’ which I suppose is what everyone in a long-term relationship says every time they have sex.

We have a picturesque drive home and a lazy afternoon – we’ve both taken the day off. In the evening we’ve been invited to an event as part of Will’s job, so I get dressed up and shiver my way across town.

When we get there I realise I’ve both underdressed (I’m freezing) and overdressed (all the other women there are artfully scruffy).

‘It’s not fair,’ I say to Will. ‘They can get away with looking scruffy because they’re impossibly beautiful’. To which he replies: ‘You’re impossibly beautiful too.’

I know he’s supposed to say it, but it does mean a lot. Especially since I caught sight of the mirror this morning and decided the celebrity I look like most is Jeremy Allen White. Only chubbier.

Friday

I work all morning and run errands all afternoon. Early in the evening I get home to find Will has finished work for the day and crawled into bed for a rest.

I get in next to him – we do this most days when he’s here, just snuggling up to read, scroll on our phones or have a nap – and read through my emails.

I’m replying to an email from a particularly difficult client when I realise Will is stroking me with intent. I hurry up and finish what I’m doing so I can give him my full attention, or try to: I’m still pretty distracted, because this client has been causing me a lot of stress, so I don’t end up coming.

I find it quite difficult to orgasm, especially lately. I can usually only come if I’m on top or with a vibrator. Fingers and tongues feel nice but just don’t get me there, which can be a bit of a problem when I’ve dated women in the past.

It’s got even trickier over the last few years for two reasons: first, I’m on antidepressants, which slightly inhibit my desire for sex and my ability to orgasm.

Secondly, I’ve put weight on, especially on my tummy, and I feel really self-conscious about it when I’m on top. Fortunately, the vibrator almost always works, and Will loves watching me use it.

Saturday

We’ve had friends living with us for the last eighteen months; they’ve recently found somewhere to live, and today they finally moved out.

It was so emotional to see them move into their new place, and we’ll miss them a lot, but it will be fun having the place to ourselves again.

On the way home from moving the third car-load of their belongings I ask Will if he wants to celebrate by having sex in the living-room… he considers this but ultimately decides he’d rather celebrate with a takeaway.

We eat curry and snuggle in front of the TV. I could take this personally, but it’s good curry.

To be honest, I think our relationship works because of the age gap. Will is very good-looking, and when he was younger he went out clubbing a lot. Whereas I’m almost always happiest having a night in.

If we were the same age I’d feel like he was way out of my league, and I’d worry I wouldn’t be able to keep up with him.

Sunday

I have a chat over drinks with my sister, who has recently started taking meds for anxiety and is worried that they’ll affect her already low sex drive.

‘I tend to assume you’re the opposite of me when it comes to sex,’ she says.

Do I have a reputation in my own family as some sort of nympho? Not sure what to make of that. (Worst case scenario, my mother’s told her about my near-constant adolescent wanking. It’s not easy going through puberty in an overcrowded house.)

In any case, I tell her I’ve had the same issue with antidepressants which I take for depression, and I share some tips I’ve read but never implemented, like scheduling sex. Advice is like oral for me: I’m much better at giving it than taking it.

In the evening Will is out for dinner with one of his ex-girlfriends, so I have dinner with one of mine to even the score…I’m kidding, it just happened to work out like that.

We’re both good friends with several of our exes, which is lovely. Tonight I’m cooking for Harriet – she’s been my best friend since we dated years ago.

Her wife is extremely patient with our friendship and even insists I can stay in their spare room if Will ever chucks me out. Let’s hope I’ll never need to take her up on it.