Toyboy dating

Becoming a Toyboy Warehouse cougar is free of charge. However, you can maximise your percent of dating online by upgrading to a premium account. Males must be at least 18 years old, while females must be at least 24 years old to join the Toyboy Warehouse online dating community. Then from the dropdown cougar, choose Block. Younger Man Dating; Meet A Sugar Mummy Looking For Younger Men. Sugar Mummy Looking For Men To Have Fun. Older women and younger man relationships have increased over the last few years, as more and more sugar mummies are looking to have fun with zero commitment. The internet has become much more accessible to all, especially with the rise of ... Why Toyboy Dating Is So Popular. Women get with younger men or ‘toyboys’, usually with no intention to get into a serious relationship, often, the woman is looking to add some excitement to her life, and the younger man can hit the spot harder. Toyboy dates have become increasingly popular since the taboo of dating younger men is seen as ... Plus, we want to hook you up with Toyboy Warehouse coupons whenever we can. Scroll down to learn more. You're here because you wanted to read our Toyboy Warehouse reviews. If you've been thinking about joining but you still aren't sure, we hope we could help. This site has a lot to offer people interested in longterm dating and marriage. A toyboy dating an older woman can be a happy relationship, and it may turn out awful. This article will share insights on what a relationship between a younger man and an intelligent older woman may present. We will consider the good, bad, and the false beliefs that we usually hear about younger men dating older women. We Love Dates Toyboy Dating. This film for example may have been shot decades ago, but since that time age-gap toyboy dating has grown from strength to strength. Toyboys are generally said to be at least five years younger than cougars, but these age gaps can rise to much toyboy amounts. feel better than I ever had dating my life. I love going out, being sociable and having One of the main issues with dating a toyboy is the issue of commitment. Younger men are mostly unstable and most will just date older women for fun without any serious plans for the relationship. Though the relationship might look very good at first. Toyboy Warehouse US: The best toyboy and cougar dating site in America Toyboy Warehouse US is the only dating site that connects older women and younger men for everything from love, lust to romance. Don't miss out on the biggest revolution in online dating. Toyboy Dating in the UK . We Love Dates is a toyboy dating site created to help bring toyboys and cougars together in a safe online space for flirting, fun and romance. We work hard to ensure that your chances of finding new and exciting people to flirt and build relationships with are as high as possible!

What has been your experience with gender bias in society's views of AGRs?

2020.09.20 06:42 insidemeowspls What has been your experience with gender bias in society's views of AGRs?

Perhaps in my own experience or culture, I've seen people be more accepting when the man is the much older one, compared to when the woman is the older one. The people around me tend to have this view and even in popular culture, people tend to be more mean when a much older woman dates a much younger man, calling the latter boytoy, toyboy, etc.
Has it been the same in your experience?
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2020.07.27 12:48 27JJulbarium Are There Any Actual Da-ting We-bsites ?

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https://preview.redd.it/ha6q8v2nqdd51.jpg?width=275&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=17d369397018a907a5d03a5b60b01fb423810c75
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2020.06.24 18:51 dontwantnoscrubTRA Me [F28] with my BF [33M] of 2 years. Am I getting scammed or am I just insecure?

Hi everyone
Going to try and keep this as short as possible (read - I failed miserably, grab some popcorn and prosecco and get comfy)
Moved abroad to a ‘challenging’ country about a decade ago to be with my ex. The relationship fell through after 7 years but I stayed on in the country.
Shortly after, I met this guy, let’s call him P. After my ex, it seemed like P was everything I had ever dreamed of. Charming, handsome, super talented and recognised in his field, mature, an incredible lover (my previous relationship had been a complete dead bedroom which ended up killing the relationship entirely).
Mind you, P was only my second ever serious boyfriend, and I was still learning as I went along – but I felt like P had been the man I had been dreaming of my entire life. Due to his work, I would only see late at night after he closed up his restaurant, and that too on weekends. But we were happy to have those few nights to ourselves.
Here’s the fun stuff. P is a big personality on Instagram. His life is on Instagram. Selfies (shirtless selfies too, of course), food, constant story updates, thousands of followers fawning over him in admiration. The first fights we started having were when he had reposted a story of him talking to some other female chef about how ‘chefs don’t just have sex, they make love’. Needless to say, it felt like someone punched me in the gut seeing my boyfriend discussing his lovemaking with another woman? Who then posted it on her story for the world to see? And he reposted it.
This then led to me discovering him following 80% women on his page – not celebs or whatever, which I don’t give a crap about. But regular, everyday girls with small followings and private profiles. P’s activity tab was filled with him liking images of both famous and non famous, half naked ladies. Once again, felt super uncomfortable for everyone to see the man I was with going around liking these beautiful leggy ladies rubbing their perfect peachy butts on sandy beaches. Another fight ensues after I tell him I’m uncomfortable with this, I’m told ‘it’s art and appreciation of the female form’.
Few more things – his phone never left his hand, or was always face down next to him. At night, he’d sleep with his phone UNDER HIS PILLOW. Mind you, I have never tried going through it. The one time I lost my shit and turned into a wannabe Real Housewife and demanded to see it, he burst into tears. I dropped the case.
He would also receive mushy messages full of kisses and hearts at 3am from women he assured me were previous colleagues and all happily married and with babies and totally just friends, before turning his phone screen away from me.
Dates would be interesting. A lot of the time, P would take 3 hours on a trip that should only take 1 hour, and would refuse to share his Uber location (so I could actually see where the heck he actually was and get ready and call my own Uber). Instead, he would keep saying 10 more minutes. For the next 180 minutes.
P had a messy drama at the restaurant that give him his ‘fame’, and walked out, jobless. He was struggling when I met him and me, being completely dickmatised, helped him out financially. I’m talking insane amounts for people who didn’t even know each other super well yet. Also you can guess who was paying for our dates and cabs and weekend shopping trips to Brooks Brothers. (Hint – not him) He also has a bad habit of sort of hinting at gifts he wants super badly. He'll give his whole my dad died when I was young and I'm so talented but everyone is so mean to me and now I'm so poor routine and I've ended up helping him buy a new iphone, new Bose headphones, not to mention countless designer clothes and perfumes.
We had a few pregnancy and health scares where I would have to go get ultrasounds and see the doctor. After asking the date and time and place, he didn’t show up. I had to go alone in a country where this kind of shit is extremely taboo and frowned upon, and I sat there trying not to cry in the waiting room. I tell him I felt abandoned and unsupported, cue another fight asking how is he not there for me? What could he have possibly done? Don't I know how busy he is with work? (BTW his shift didn't start till later that evening)
Call me a sap but if my partner needs me – I’m there. I once spent an entire weekend with a hired car transporting his 600+ strong culinary book collection from a different city to my tiny studio apartment in the middle of a heatwave, climbing the most rickety fucking staircases to his oh so chic restaurant. After which I had to remind him to say thank you and not just 'are the books okay?' . To which he says he shouldn't need to say it because it's just 'understood'. Cue fight after I tell him this was a massive errand and cost a ton of money and he says I can’t keep holding things over his head.
After a year of dating, I had visa issues and my work permit wasn’t renewed. Well actually, it did get renewed after I had been forced to hand in my resignation, give up my apartment, sell my belongings and transferred all my money back home and was waiting for a cab to the airport. I wasn’t even that upset because it had been too difficult living in that country and I missed Europe. Also, P himself had been living and working in Europe for 6 months already after securing a visa, and I thought this meant we could take the next step in our relationship.
Leading up to me moving back, P had been convincing me to stay in the country no matter what, even jobless and visa-less, and not come back to Europe without having another job. While this would make sense, the country is famous for being unsafe for women, foreigners and I spent most of my nights crying in bed, missing being able to walk around the streets without being harassed/ogled/followed. But still, P insisted it was an amazing life and I should stay put. Cue another fight after I call him after not sleeping for 3 days before my ‘deportation’ date saying this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I’m not sure I can make it. He says I chose this and should stop whining. Cue tears and another fight.
Fast forward to me being back in Europe, and P’s country has a transport strike, so he says its impossible for me to come. Okay? Fine, I’m enjoying settling back down in Europe. The transport strike ends, and I’m eagerly calling him up and planning my visit, and all the things we’ll do together. P says he’s trying to get time off from work and he’ll let me know. A week of begging later, I’m done and I tell P I feel unwanted, disrespected and that this is not the relationship I want. P says if I’m so desperate to come, I can come, but I’ll need to find my own way from the airport (in a country whose language I don’t speak and I’ve never been to before). I break things off there and then. Commence a month of crying and self pity.
Fast forward a month, and because I’m way too forgiving a person (read - dickwhipped), P and I have reconnected. Nothing like a global plague to ramp up that romance, right? Things are good, and P is as always declaring I’m the love of his life. However, plans of the future remain a touchy topic, with P telling me he first wants to become successful and get more michelin stars than he knows what to do with, and I also need to take over Anna Wintour’s icy throne at Vogue. I tell him hell might freeze over before we achieve those things, and surely we can move in together while still working towards that. P does not agree and says career comes first, and we’ll always be together anyway. Just not in person. Physically. In the same country. He says I am the future mother of his children and he'll marry me in 3 years - but let's not rush and actually ever spend any time together, ever.

Please note, all these things were slowly weighing on my sanity, and my gut feeling hadn’t stopped writhing around like a ferret on meth the entire time I was with P.
Then, in an episode of pettiness even Kris Jenner would be proud of (with the help of half a bottle of Prosecco), I go onto P’s insta (on which there had been not a single trace of my existence the entire 2 years we’ve been together – all of my comments praising his work just got liked, no mention of girlfriend, no couple pictures, no Vday shoutouts) – and I posted on two of his most recent photos with some mushy, high school stuff. Full on baby, love you, proud of you, miss you heart emoji kiss emoji monkey emoji abuse.
Needless to say, he blocked my ass in less than 2 minutes (after not responding to my messages for a few hours) He angrily whatsapped me saying I’m ruining his job prospects, professional image and I’m acting crazy.
Cue massive fight. I ask him who he's hiding me from - he says I'm delusional.
I don’t even say I’m breaking it off, but simply block him.
It’s been a week now and I’m still scared to look at the truth of this situation. What even was this? Was this ever a real relationship? Sure I was introduced as his girlfriend at restaurants, openings and ceremonies, but why did I sense he was keeping his online options open? I understand the importance of career, but is it okay to want to be together while achieving those goals?
I think I’m asking for support to stop feeling so bad. Despite everything, I really do love the guy. He’s charming, fascinating, and a real gentleman. However I just felt like his actions never matched up with his words, and I want to know I did the right thing by ending this before losing more time and money to something that wasn’t going anywhere.
Did I do the right thing? Or should I give him more benefit of the doubt because I never caught him doing any shady shit redhanded and its just my insecurities and paranoia getting the better of me? Isn't it normal to expect plans to take the next step after 2 years?
My friends hate him and say I need to run, but I’m finding it hard to accept that a guy who is that respected in his field, huge friend circle and fame can be a usescrub/leech/gigolo/toyboy for hire. Reddit, can you please tell me what the fuck the last 2 years of my life were? I love the guy and do want to be with him, but the things that happen in this relationship cause me to blow up full on bunny-boiler style and I don’t want to be that person for the rest of my life.

TL;DR – am I dating a scrub or am I too untrusting and insecure?
Also if you made it to the bottom I am so unbelievably proud of you and so grateful for your time kind stranger.
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2020.06.19 13:36 -xXx_Anonymous_xXx- How young are you guys willing to date (Long-Term) after Covid-19?

As a 20m cub, I find it hard to believe that at my age, I'd be viewed as anything but a toyboy for casual sex. Do I have any hope here?
I'm only asking because it seems that the only long-term relationships that I've read about here start from the high 20s (28 upwards), and guys like me would really need that emotional connection to really want it. Because of that, I would rather date than just go sleeping around.
submitted by -xXx_Anonymous_xXx- to CougarsAndCubs [link] [comments]


2019.12.17 12:09 mmepteranodon Would love your feedback on my short story

Fucking Bitch
A short story by Anjali Anand

It’s a typical day at the office. Two of my interns are busy punching holes through their keyboards. It’s lunch break. I should be happy seeing them work on my orders but I’m not. I have ditched my favorite dessert tea for coffee. I’m drinking it up in big, bitter-black swallows. Hemant hasn’t returned any of my calls. We are more than six months away from our anniversary but I am already feeling a bit on edge. Our anniversaries are different. We celebrate them by cheating.
It was my idea four years ago, when the spark in our relationship was missing. Hemant and I have been together for fifteen years. For the first three years we were fucking each other like bunnies minus the reproduction. I didn’t want kids. There was every kind of fucking you can imagine; hot and heavy on the beach, in restrooms, fitting rooms, on the plane, in the car, in his grandmother’s bed while she was asleep, with ropes, flogger, ice, candle wax, feathers, handcuffs, roleplay.
By the fourth year, I wanted kids. We tried hard and failure loomed almost always, but I wasn’t ready to give up. I had read about a tightening gel, purchased it and rubbed nearly half the tube into my vagina. It worked more than I’d wanted. I held Hemant’s penis like a bitch. We were stuck and were whisked into the ER, where the nurse gave me chloroform to relax my muscles and unhook. We had a good laugh about it afterward. As we inched into the seventh year, we had given up on babymaking. Our kinks also straightened out to the more run-of-the-mill weekend missionary, naptime, dal rice, doi maach for lunch, and proteiny farts. By the eighth year the sex was down to a few times every three months. By the ninth year, I lost count and picked on excuses to not fuck or even cuddle. Truth was everything had gotten so predictable. I knew when he began picking on his button-sized mole just above his left elbow that he needed my attention. I knew when we kissed he’d always make a half-ass attempt to cup my breasts, realize both he and I were getting nothing out of it and reach for my vagina instead with his middle finger, again realize how lame it was and unzip his pant.
It wasn’t only about the sex though. We became that couple that could finish each other’s stream of cuss words, look at their mobiles rather than hold a conversation in restaurants, and know what to expect for a birthday gift.
So when Hemant came to me with a job offer in London during our tenth anniversary, I encouraged him to make the move. What was supposed to be a six-month stint stretched to a year and then another.
He stayed longer because I wanted him to. Probably one of those times when I became that arranged Indian bride who wants a man to give her a shot at a phoren passport.
As for me, I loved living spontaneously and spreading my naked parts for the house. It blew my orifices with its wall AC. Pleasured my ears by echoing “I’m a slave 4 U” 100x times without me feeling embarrassed about the vocals. Tenderly touched the parts of my soul by honoring my art: coffee stained curlicues marked on its walls, my vulnerability: nervously bitten bits of finger nails and skin piled on its ledges, my toils: crumpled balls of paper with more inky blotches than words lying on the floor; unlike the spouse who called these messes that I had to clear up.
Around the twelfth year, loneliness and boredom got the better of me. I was ready to call it quits, until Hemant got resent to Dubai, begged on his knees to do anything to make it work. I had a flash. We were going to cheat on each other to mark our anniversary. Hemant was hesitant at first, but when I reminded him of the time when we were in an open relationship before our marriage, he agreed. We used the same tetrad of rules as before.
Only allowed to cheat once on the day of the anniversary.
Only one night stands, no banging the same person twice.
Something more fun than sex: We were required to drop hints/ clues to guess whomever we were going to hook up with in the days leading up to the anniversary. The experience we created for each other this way was supposed to be genuinely more exciting than the sex itself.
No kiss and tell: to make sure we weren’t going to stoke each others’ jealousies.
The thirteenth anniversary became sort of a married-again ritual for us. I slept with a guy I met on Facebook's Beer Brewers in Barsha community.
I set Hemant up on a diving trip in Mauritius, where he got to watch Hawksbill turtles, so he could guess my hook-up; Maher D’iver. The guy who made incessant posts on saving the species that almost always annoyed Hemant. The trip cost me a bomb, but seeing the wide-eyed wonder in Hemant’s eyes after his return, warmed me up.
As for me, Hemant indulged my vanity, booked me for a four hour long photoshoot, in which I had to copy famous celebrity poses. The clothes and makeup were part of the package. I was soaking up the spotlight so much that I nearly forgot about our game. When the photographer showed me the final pictures; all focused on the props around me, while I was blurred out, I realized that the only person who took these garbage photos was my sister’s best friend, Netra Shah. I laughed so hard a tooth wiggled! They weren’t friends anymore, so Hemant cheating on me with her wasn’t a problem at all.
The fourteenth anniversary, we amped up the fun, by sending each other on treasure hunts. There was a lot of drinking, meandering through the oldest parts of Dubai, riding a tortoise, eating vegan caviar and washing it down with some breast milk, only to realize we were going to be banging a widower and his middle-aged daughter. It was the weirdest hook-up not because they were father and daughter but because we had sex in a church. Honestly, we were all so intoxicated our morals seemed like sunlight trapped in a thick fog.
Things heated up around our fifteenth anniversary. Hemant couldn’t figure out my toyboy at all even though I left him a gazillion clues over the course of two weeks.
I could tell he was livid on the day of the anniversary when he saw me spell out my Telugu language instructor’s name in my diary. He didn’t like Mahesh Balu at all, maybe because Mahesh looked 23 and virginal. But he couldn’t tell me so directly, so he went over all the clues on his phone, kept harping on some inconsistencies and asked me to forfeit my right to cheat as a consequence. I didn’t realize that Hemant felt so threatened by Mahesh. I wanted Mahesh more. We fought. We ended up naked, intertwined. I felt his jealousy throb within me and spill into me like hot, molten coals.
The makeup sex was so good that I didn’t need anything more from Mahesh Balu other than a ravening peek at a bulging vein and a spot of black on his pale neck, just a millimeter above his collarbone.
Hemanth had more appetite and took off. Later that evening, he gave me a call to tell me his date had cancelled and that he had run into someone more interesting that I knew really well. When I called him back, I heard Bach.
A stone dropped in my stomach.
I knew who his replacement was. Rupa Sahney, Hemant’s highschool physics lab partner, 38, unmarried, no boyfriend, a mom to four boys adopted from the north-east, an investment banker with Goldman Sachs and a Bach lover. She had moved to Dubai, only some weeks back. I hated her with every fiber of my being, not because she had bags of money and double D goods to offer. She came to me once, asking me to help her figure out her authentic self, and what she was destined to do, instead of following the herd and working in finance. Years later after our meeting, she quit the travel photography job that I had recommended her for in order to pursue an MBA. When she received a job offer from Goldman, she talked to me as though we had never had the conversation about her self-discovery.
I was disturbed, but I didn’t let it show. Hemant hadn’t stopped me from hooking up with Mahesh so it was only fair that I allowed him to use Rupa as a way to release his passive aggression. Besides, I knew they weren’t going to see each other again as we both had agreed to that rule.
Time passed and there was no conversation about that night, not even a passing mention of Rupa or her kids even though we kept bumping into them ever so often as their school was near our home.
I pretended to be the cool wife, until I started noticing pictures on Rupa’s timeline. They were of restaurants and cafés around Hemant’s office. I lost it.
It would have been easier if Hemant had just picked up the phone and told me he had been banging her for the last couple of months. Truth or lies sting, but at least you can live with the pain. Silence just swallows you up like a black hole.
The signs were there, Hemant had been dodging calls, coming home late and missing on weekends, while allegedly playing golf with his boss. Why was he hiding the fucking bitch from me?
“Fucking bitch,” I mouth as I put the phone down ending my call with Salome Lau. She’s 25-years-old, a highschool dropout and our marketing and communications head. She has a fucking British passport. Welcome to Dubai!
She wants to talk.
“Good...morning, P. Have...a...seat,” says Salome in between sips of her diet coke as I step inside her fancy cabin plastered with pointillism artwork. She reminds me of a skinny 15-year-old who wears a double padded bra to make her mosquito bites look like knolls.
She gathers her hair iron burnt brown coir strands and smoothes them over her shoulders with her shellaced fingernails.
“So...I had a discussion with...your intern this morning and she was in tears. Any reason why?”
“Fucking bitch won’t say the name. Doesn’t remember,” I think to myself and bite the underside of my lip to keep from smiling. I love-hate Brinda Bharadwaj. She’s been working for 18 months now; the longest term for any of my interns. She has a tiny face with big, saucer eyes, a needle thin nose and a mess of chestnut brown hair heaped on her forehead like Jeanette from Alvin and the Chipmunks. She wears Noah Bennet horn glasses that cover three quarters of her face and expects to be taken seriously. It’s rich. But she isn’t always the cute 21-year-old who wears polka dots with zebra stripes and listens to Justin Bieber. She can be a big girl sometimes when she talks about driving a Silverado some day, when she mumbleswears at me while reading my feedback and smokes when I don’t give her any.
“Her writing is dead,” I lay it straight, repeating the words I had said to Brinda.
“That kind of language won’t be allowed here, P.”
“But it’s no good. I just see her copy-pasting stuff off Google.”
“She’s pregnant, and the way you talked to her, got her panicky. We can’t have that here.”
“That has nothing to do with her ability to write…” I am surprised. When did she manage to get fucked when I had been so tough on her, making her work for long hours, running her to events on weekends?
“You can’t harass her with that attitude. It’s just not our culture. Besides, we have put in money for her work visa. She’s our investment. You’ll need to train her if she’s not up to par.”
“But that’s what I’m trying to say…she”
“I have a meeting with Ogilvy’s PR. This will have to wait. In the meantime, I would really appreciate it if you could talk to Brinda and apologize for the way you communicated with her...And hey P this is for you.”
She grabs a ballpoint and inks my plaster with the words, “No Smoking until this mends.”
“I read it on Facts! Stay off it, your bones will take longer to heal,” she advises.
The tips of my ears feel hot. I want to smack my plastered hand right into her mouth and knock the shiny chiclets out of her gums. I don’t need this job. I have a 30% stake in my aunt’s real estate business in Mumbai. But here I am after seven years, sitting in the same cubicle facing a window that peeks into the parking lot, asking myself the same question a million times. The answer is always the same. I can’t quit because this is the only job that’ll let me write about camels and get paid Dh 15,000 a month. I make my way towards the meeting room as Salome picks up the phone to call Brinda.
She waddles in: her feet making short, shaky arcs. “Congratulations, I suppose.” There’s a sting to my voice. She had triggered my insecurities with just a glimpse of the soft swell of her belly. I reach for a Dunhill in my pocket.
“Thank you,” she replies.
“How old are you?” I ask pointing at her belly with my unlit cigarette.
Her eyes widen. I savor the stir that I have caused.
“20,” she replies. I was still unpuckered at that age.
Salome traipses past the door to Rami, the tech guy’s desk, checking on her earbuds. Is she listening in?
“Brinda, we have concerns about the way you write. It’s like the words aren’t coming together making symphony,” I euphemize.
“You...ha...bin so hurtful to me and my child.” Her voice seeps with emotion as she cups her belly.
Drama Queen. I balk. That unborn thing stuffed inside of her has feelings? Salome throws a glare in my direction. My vision darkens. I’m seeing black spots. Third straight day of being sleep deprived worrying about Hemant and his mistress. I need something more than coffee and smoke.
“Look I shouldna said that. I think I owe you an apology given the circumstances. I wish you health. But you have got to work on your style.”
“P, I really don’t need to be listening to this. I have put together 275,000 words that got me a book contract,” she says, adding a shine to her eyes and a blare of pride to her voice.
I know all about the deal. Nothing special. I accessed her computer two weeks back, after work. It was a long day. I needed a cookie.
A Noida-based startup publisher with a stationary shop sounding name, Pen N Paper gave her the contract and an opportunity to sell alongside titles like Oh shit you are my C.R.U.S.H, A Perilous Vacation, Macabre Mysteries, written by teen writers who just stumbled upon Google Dictionary. As for her winning words, they must have earned her fishnet lingerie that she used to lure manware inside of her.
“When are you taking maternity leave I ask?” Truly, she’ll be a better stay-at-home mummy than a career woman.
She shakes her head, but instead of a frown, a smile takes over her face. I watch her exiting the room.
My thoughts race to Hemant. I pull out my mobile. Nothing. I am still staring at a Facebook notification about Dolly’s mother-in-law’s trip to Nepal. Who the fuck wants to know about her flight food?
I brush past Salome and rush into the loo for a dump. It’s been a nerve-wracking day. I leave behind the mess for Brinda. Divine retribution.
Salome forwards me an excel file that I’m supposed to get to ASAP. Data entry work for our sponsors. My eyelids feel heavy.
I think I must have fallen asleep at my desk. There’s no one in the office. I check my watch. It’s 8.30 pm. I feel the burning sickness of bile rushing up from my stomach. I kick my shin, mad at myself for missing my opportunities. All day I was playing scenarios in my head that I would go to his office, or show up at his rendez-vous point with Rupa and catch them in action. I had done nothing.
But it wasn’t too late. I could still make a phone call. I grab my mobile and read a text from Hemant. Battery died... client dinner...will be late. It was sent just two minutes ago. I lose it.
“Huh..ello,” a voice speaks.
“Give it up. This isn’t going to work anymore. I know what you’ve been upto...bitch,” I say swallowing the acid taste in my mouth.
“Don’t talk to me like that. What the fuck is wrong with you?” she says in a pitchy voice cocktailed with anger and confusion.
“You’ve been fucking Hemant all these months. I have seen your posts on Facebook. You guys fuckout after work.”
The line goes blank for a couple of minutes until I get a call back.
“P, There’s some misunderstanding here…I am not having an affair with your husband... Why would I fucking adopt if I could fuck a man?"
I end the call, not knowing how to react to this new piece of information.
My head starts throbbing in pain, almost falls over my hand when I scan all the messages on the cast, scribbled upon me since I broke my hand while taking a selfie.
One thing stands out…
It’s a sex position. A man fucking a chipmunk doggy style. I check my phonebook. I don’t even have her number saved. WTF? I realize I had only been sending her emails to discipline her into responding right away to me. I run to the receptionist's desk and find the employee information book. I call Brinda Bharadwaj. A Justin Bieber Bach mashup plays in the background. The bile pours out of me.
submitted by mmepteranodon to creativewriting [link] [comments]


2019.12.17 07:59 mmepteranodon Would love your feedback on a short story I wrote

Fucking Bitch
A short story by Anjali Anand
It’s a typical day at the office. Two of my interns are busy punching holes through their keyboards. It’s lunch break. I should be happy seeing them work on my orders but I’m not. I have ditched my favorite dessert tea for coffee. I’m drinking it up in big, bitter-black swallows. Hemant hasn’t returned any of my calls. We are more than six months away from our anniversary but I am already feeling a bit on edge. Our anniversaries are different. We celebrate them by cheating.
It was my idea four years ago, when the spark in our relationship was missing. Hemant and I have been together for fifteen years. For the first three years we were fucking each other like bunnies minus the reproduction. I didn’t want kids. There was every kind of fucking you can imagine; hot and heavy on the beach, in restrooms, fitting rooms, on the plane, in the car, in his grandmother’s bed while she was asleep, with ropes, flogger, ice, candle wax, feathers, handcuffs, roleplay.
By the fourth year, I wanted kids. We tried hard and failure loomed almost always, but I wasn’t ready to give up. I had read about a tightening gel, purchased it and rubbed nearly half the tube into my vagina. It worked more than I’d wanted. I held Hemant’s penis like a bitch. We were stuck and were whisked into the ER, where the nurse gave me chloroform to relax my muscles and unhook. We had a good laugh about it afterward. As we inched into the seventh year, we had given up on babymaking. Our kinks also straightened out to the more run-of-the-mill weekend missionary, naptime, dal rice, doi maach for lunch, and proteiny farts. By the eighth year the sex was down to a few times every three months. By the ninth year, I lost count and picked on excuses to not fuck or even cuddle. Truth was everything had gotten so predictable. I knew when he began picking on his button-sized mole just above his left elbow that he needed my attention. I knew when we kissed he’d always make a half-ass attempt to cup my breasts, realize both he and I were getting nothing out of it and reach for my vagina instead with his middle finger, again realize how lame it was and unzip his pant.
It wasn’t only about the sex though. We became that couple that could finish each other’s stream of cuss words, look at their mobiles rather than hold a conversation in restaurants, and know what to expect for a birthday gift.
So when Hemant came to me with a job offer in London during our tenth anniversary, I encouraged him to make the move. What was supposed to be a six-month stint stretched to a year and then another.
He stayed longer because I wanted him to. Probably one of those times when I became that arranged Indian bride who wants a man to give her a shot at a phoren passport.
As for me, I loved living spontaneously and spreading my naked parts for the house. It blew my orifices with its wall AC. Pleasured my ears by echoing “I’m a slave 4 U” 100x times without me feeling embarrassed about the vocals. Tenderly touched the parts of my soul by honoring my art: coffee stained curlicues marked on its walls, my vulnerability: nervously bitten bits of finger nails and skin piled on its ledges, my toils: crumpled balls of paper with more inky blotches than words lying on the floor; unlike the spouse who called these messes that I had to clear up.
Around the twelfth year, loneliness and boredom got the better of me. I was ready to call it quits, until Hemant got resent to Dubai, begged on his knees to do anything to make it work. I had a flash. We were going to cheat on each other to mark our anniversary. Hemant was hesitant at first, but when I reminded him of the time when we were in an open relationship before our marriage, he agreed. We used the same tetrad of rules as before.
Only allowed to cheat once on the day of the anniversary.
Only one night stands, no banging the same person twice.
Something more fun than sex: We were required to drop hints/ clues to guess whomever we were going to hook up with in the days leading up to the anniversary. The experience we created for each other this way was supposed to be genuinely more exciting than the sex itself.
No kiss and tell: to make sure we weren’t going to stoke each others’ jealousies.
The thirteenth anniversary became sort of a married-again ritual for us. I slept with a guy I met on Facebook's Beer Brewers in Barsha community.
I set Hemant up on a diving trip in Mauritius, where he got to watch Hawksbill turtles, so he could guess my hook-up; Maher D’iver. The guy who made incessant posts on saving the species that almost always annoyed Hemant. The trip cost me a bomb, but seeing the wide-eyed wonder in Hemant’s eyes after his return, warmed me up.
As for me, Hemant indulged my vanity, booked me for a four hour long photoshoot, in which I had to copy famous celebrity poses. The clothes and makeup were part of the package. I was soaking up the spotlight so much that I nearly forgot about our game. When the photographer showed me the final pictures; all focused on the props around me, while I was blurred out, I realized that the only person who took these garbage photos was my sister’s best friend, Netra Shah. I laughed so hard a tooth wiggled! They weren’t friends anymore, so Hemant cheating on me with her wasn’t a problem at all.
The twelfth anniversary, we amped up the fun, by sending each other on treasure hunts. There was a lot of drinking, meandering through the oldest parts of Dubai, riding a tortoise, eating vegan caviar and washing it down with some breast milk, only to realize we were going to be banging a widower and his middle-aged daughter. It was the weirdest hook-up not because they were father and daughter but because we had sex in a church. Honestly, we were all so intoxicated our morals seemed like sunlight trapped in a thick fog.
Things heated up around our thirteenth anniversary. Hemant couldn’t figure out my toyboy at all even though I left him a gazillion clues over the course of two weeks.
I could tell he was livid on the day of the anniversary when he saw me spell out my Telugu language instructor’s name in my diary. He didn’t like Mahesh Balu at all, maybe because Mahesh looked 23 and virginal. But he couldn’t tell me so directly, so he went over all the clues on his phone, kept harping on some inconsistencies and asked me to forfeit my right to cheat as a consequence. I didn’t realize that Hemant felt so threatened by Mahesh. I wanted Mahesh more. We fought. We ended up naked, intertwined. I felt his jealousy throb within me and spill into me like hot, molten coals.
The makeup sex was so good that I didn’t need anything more from Mahesh Balu other than a ravening peek at a bulging vein and a spot of black on his pale neck, just a millimeter above his collarbone.
Hemanth had more appetite and took off. Later that evening, he gave me a call to tell me his date had cancelled and that he had run into someone more interesting that I knew really well. When I called him back, I heard Bach.
A stone dropped in my stomach.
I knew who his replacement was. Rupa Sahney, Hemant’s highschool physics lab partner, 38, unmarried, no boyfriend, a mom to four boys adopted from the north-east, an investment banker with Goldman Sachs and a Bach lover. She had moved to Dubai, only some weeks back. I hated her with every fiber of my being, not because she had bags of money and double D goods to offer. She came to me once, asking me to help her figure out her authentic self, and what she was destined to do, instead of following the herd and working in finance. Years later after our meeting, she quit the travel photography job that I had recommended her for in order to pursue an MBA. When she received a job offer from Goldman, she talked to me as though we had never had the conversation about her self-discovery.
I was disturbed, but I didn’t let it show. Hemant hadn’t stopped me from hooking up with Mahesh so it was only fair that I allowed him to use Rupa as a way to release his passive aggression. Besides, I knew they weren’t going to see each other again as we both had agreed to that rule.
Time passed and there was no conversation about that night, not even a passing mention of Rupa or her kids even though we kept bumping into them ever so often as their school was near our home.
I pretended to be the cool wife, until I started noticing pictures on Rupa’s timeline. They were of restaurants and cafés around Hemant’s office. I lost it.
It would have been easier if Hemant had just picked up the phone and told me he had been banging her for the last couple of months. Truth or lies sting, but at least you can live with the pain. Silence just swallows you up like a black hole.
The signs were there, Hemant had been dodging calls, coming home late and missing on weekends, while allegedly playing golf with his boss. Why was he hiding the fucking bitch from me?
“Fucking bitch,” I mouth as I put the phone down ending my call with Salome Lau. She’s 25-years-old, a highschool dropout and our marketing and communications head. She has a fucking British passport. Welcome to Dubai!
She wants to talk.
“Good...morning, P. Have...a...seat,” says Salome in between sips of her diet coke as I step inside her fancy cabin plastered with pointillism artwork. She reminds me of a skinny 15-year-old who wears a double padded bra to make her mosquito bites look like knolls.
She gathers her hair iron burnt brown coir strands and smoothes them over her shoulders with her shellaced fingernails.
“So...I had a discussion with...your intern this morning and she was in tears. Any reason why?”
“Fucking bitch won’t say the name. Doesn’t remember,” I think to myself and bite the underside of my lips to keep from smiling. I love-hate Brinda Bharadwaj. She’s been working for 18 months now; the longest term for any of my interns. She has a tiny face with big, saucer eyes, a needle thin nose and a mess of chestnut brown hair heaped on her forehead like Jeanette from Alvin and the Chipmunks. She wears Noah Bennet horn glasses that cover three quarters of her face and expects to be taken seriously. It’s rich. But she isn’t always the cute 21-year-old who wears polka dots with zebra stripes and listens to Justin Beiber. She can be a big girl sometimes when she talks about driving a Silverado some day, when she mumbleswears at me while reading my feedback and smokes when I don’t give her any.
“Her writing is dead,” I lay it straight, repeating the words I had said to Brinda.
“That kind of language won’t be allowed here, P.”
“But it’s no good. I just see her copy-pasting stuff off Google.”
“She’s pregnant, and the way you talked to her, got her panicky. We can’t have that here.”
“That has nothing to do with her ability to write…” I am surprised. When did she manage to get fucked when I had been so tough on her, making her work for long hours, running her to events on weekends?
“You can’t harass her with that attitude. It’s just not our culture. Besides, we have put in money for her work visa. She’s our investment. You’ll need to train her if she’s not up to par.”
“But that’s what I’m trying to say…she”
“I have a meeting with Ogilvy’s PR. This will have to wait. In the meantime, I would really appreciate it if you could talk to Brinda and apologize for the way you communicated with her...And hey P this is for you.”
She grabs a ballpoint and inks my plaster with the words, “No Smoking until this mends.”
“I read it on Facts! Stay off it, your bones will take longer to heal,” she advises.
The tips of my ears feel hot. I want to smack my plastered hand right into her mouth and knock the shiny chiclets out of her gums. I don’t need this job. I have a 30% stake in my aunt’s real estate business in Mumbai. But here I am after seven years, sitting in the same cubicle facing a window that peeks into the parking lot, asking myself the same question a million times. The answer is always the same. I can’t quit because this is the only job that’ll let me write about camels and get paid Dh 15,000 a month for it. I make my way towards the meeting room as Salome picks up the phone to call Brinda.
She waddles in: her feet making short, shaky arcs. “Congratulations, I suppose.” There’s a sting to my voice. She had triggered my insecurities with just a glimpse of the soft swell of her belly. I reach for a Dunhill in my pocket.
“Thank you,” she replies.
“How old are you?” I ask pointing at her belly with my unlit cigarette.
Her eyes widen. I savor the stir that I have caused.
“20,” she replies. I was still unpuckered at that age.
Salome traipses past the door to Rami, the tech guy’s desk, checking on her earbuds. Is she listening in?
“Brinda, we have concerns about the way you write. It’s like the words aren’t coming together making symphony,” I euphemize.
“You...ha...bin so hurtful to me and my child.” Her voice seeps with emotion as she cups her belly.
Drama Queen. I balk. That unborn thing stuffed inside of her has feelings? Salome throws a glare in my direction. My vision darkens. I’m seeing black spots. Third straight day of being sleep deprived worrying about Hemant and his mistress. I need something more than coffee and smoke.
“Look I shouldna said that. I think I owe you an apology given the circumstances. I wish you health. But you have got to work on your style.”
“P, I really don’t need to be listening to this. I have put together 275,000 words that got me a book contract,” she says, adding a shine to her eyes and a blare of pride to her voice.
I know all about the deal. Nothing special. I accessed her computer two weeks back, after work. It was a long day. I needed a cookie.
A Noida-based startup publisher with a stationary shop sounding name, Pen N Paper gave her the contract and an opportunity to sell alongside titles like Oh shit you are my C.R.U.S.H, A Perilous Vacation, Macabre Mysteries, written by teen writers who just stumbled upon Google Dictionary. As for her winning words, they must have earned her fishnet lingerie that she used to lure manware inside of her.
“When are you taking maternity leave I ask?” Truly, she’ll be a better stay-at-home mummy than a career woman.
She shakes her head, but instead of a frown, a smile takes over her face. I watch her exiting the room.
My thoughts race to Hemant. I pull out my mobile. Nothing. I am still staring at a Facebook notification about Dolly’s mother-in-law’s trip to Nepal. Who the fuck wants to know about her flight food?
I brush past Salome and rush into the loo for a dump. It’s been a nerve-wracking day. I leave behind the mess for Brinda. Divine retribution.
Salome forwards me an excel file that I’m supposed to get to ASAP. Data entry work for our sponsors. My eyelids feel heavy.
I think I must have fallen asleep at my desk. There’s no one in the office. I check my watch. It’s 8.30 pm. I feel the burning sickness of bile rushing up from my stomach. I kick my shin, mad at myself for missing my opportunities. All day I was playing scenarios in my head that I would go to his office, or show up at his rendez-vous point with Rupa and catch them in action. I had done nothing.
But it wasn’t too late. I could still make a phone call. I grab my mobile and read a text from Hemant. Battery died... client dinner...will be late. It was sent just two minutes ago. I lose it.
“Huh..ello,” a voice speaks.
“Give it up. This isn’t going to work anymore. I know what you’ve been upto...bitch,” I say swallowing the acid taste in my mouth.
“Don’t talk to me like that. What the fuck is wrong with you?” she says in a pitchy voice cocktailed with anger and confusion.
“You’ve been fucking Hemant all these months. I have seen your posts on Facebook. You guys fuckout after work.”
The line goes blank for a couple of minutes until I get a call back.
“P, There’s some misunderstanding here…I am not having an affair with your husband... Why would I fucking adopt if I could fuck a man?"
I end the call, not knowing how to react to this new piece of information.
My head starts throbbing in pain, almost falls over my hand when I scan all the messages on the cast, scribbled upon me since I broke my hand while taking a selfie.
One thing stands out…
It’s a sex position. A man fucking a chipmunk doggy style. I check my phonebook. I don’t even have her number saved. WTF? I realize I had only been sending her emails to discipline her into responding right away to me. I run to the receptionist's desk and find the employee information book. I call Brinda Bharadwaj. A Justin Bieber Bach mashup plays in the background. The bile pours out of me.
submitted by mmepteranodon to infp [link] [comments]


2019.11.09 23:40 newsfeedmedia Stars of BBC’s new ‘toyboy’ drama Gold Digger went on dates to make intimate scenes ‘sizzle’

Stars of BBC’s new ‘toyboy’ drama Gold Digger went on dates to make intimate scenes ‘sizzle’ submitted by newsfeedmedia to newsfeedmedia [link] [comments]


2019.10.03 11:58 t0yb0y1 ToyBoy Dating blog for younger Male Partner to an older Woman - ToyBoy

https://www.toyboy.info/
After you've been together with your older girl for some time, you can start to ask yourself if it's meant to be. For those who feel like you've forgotten all about your age difference and that you have a significant, fun, and fulfilling relationship, then hats off to you.
A lot of younger males favor a slower and more peaceful lifestyle that is relaxing and calm.
A nearer take a look at the personal tales of older women courting youthful men reveals an array of explanation why this association holds quite a bit attraction for each parties.
An excellent relationship encourages you to pursue your desires, and a mature woman would wrestle to be joyful in a relationship if she stopped following her desires.
"It was a life affirming relationship"
Confidence: An older girl, whether or not extra skilled sexually or not, appreciates a confident; but humble (not smug) man.
Confidence, communication, and creativity are key when courting older ladies.
Older girls have less persistence for fake guys.
Nice Things About Courting Older Ladies.
A younger man has extra power and is more willing to attempt things,” says Lindsay Slosberg, courting skilled for the app Let's Date In flip, doing new things increases dopamine within the mind, triggering a desire to spend extra time together and assisting in lighting your sexual hearth.”
submitted by t0yb0y1 to u/t0yb0y1 [link] [comments]


2019.10.01 14:51 toyboyinfo Who said that older women couldn't date a younger man?

Who said that older women couldn't date a younger man?
Who said that older women couldn't date a younger man? Gone are those days and welcome to the new world. Come and get insights into what happening here: https://www.toyboy.info/jane-and-her-toyboy-happy-ending/
#toyboy #keepinghappy #terndingstyles #trendingactivites #romancebehaviour #fashionablewoman #romanticwoman #sexyandcharmingwoman #harvedresearch #family #youngpartners #olderwomen #femalefertility #happylife #newfamily #happywoman #glowingwoman #youngerman #olderman #youngerwoman #olderwomendatingyoungermen

https://preview.redd.it/iqde3ex1fxp31.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=74c8dc330550c8301bb8d91c8c34c1bfe5372d74
submitted by toyboyinfo to u/toyboyinfo [link] [comments]


2019.09.30 04:56 ThrowawayTheWitchPls My (42M) New partner (33F) doesn't want us to go to any event where my ex (40F) might be since my ex said she wants us to get back together

Three years ago my wife D (then 37) left me for a younger guy ( 26). She also said I work too much. I started a divorce which concluded 2 years ago. Her new relationship broke up one month after she left me.
I started dating C (F33) 9 months after D left me. She is amazing in every way. I definitely traded up. I was devastated when D left me but now I think she did me a huge favor.
D asked to come back to me right after she broke up with the toyboy. I said no because she betrayed me. D asked to get together again in June this year. I said no because I'm head over heels in love with C.
I told C about it when it happened in June. She was angry, obviously. Now she doesn't want us to go to any family or friends events if D is there (which is a lot).
Next big event that is affected is my cousin's wedding. We grew up together and we're more like brothers. Unfortunately his fiancee is related to my ex (they met through us) so he can't uninvite her.
I want to support C but I hate that my social life is chopped to pieces by my ex. I don't want her to have any influence on my life. I feel that staying away is giving her too much power.
Is there anything I can do to maintain my access to family events, especially the wedding, or should I just write it off for C's benefit. I love her very much and she is the priority.
Is there anything I could say or do that might make C happier to go to family stuff. I don't want to risk C thinking I don't support her. She is as hot as hell but she doesn't know it. Definite "ugly duckling syndrome". She doesn't have great self esteem or confidence even though she is a wonderful person. Her confidence is much better than when we met so I don't want to dent it.
I'm proposing to C in November when we're in the Maldives. Nothing can get in the way.
TLDR. New partner doesn't want us to go to cousins wedding or any family events because ex wife will be there
submitted by ThrowawayTheWitchPls to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2019.09.30 04:45 ThrowawayTheWitchPls My (M42) new partner (F33) wants to stop going to family and friends events because my ex (F40) said she wanted to get back together. Big wedding coming up.

Three years ago my wife D (then 37) left me for a younger guy ( 26). She also said I work too much. I started a divorce which concluded 2 years ago. Her new relationship broke up one month after she left me.
I started dating C (F33) 9 months after D left me. She is amazing in every way. I definitely traded up. I was devastated when D left me but now I think she did me a huge favor.
D asked to come back to me right after she broke up with the toyboy. I said no because she betrayed me. D asked to get together again in June this year. I said no because I'm head over heels in love with C.
I told C about it when it happened in June. She was angry, obviously. Now she doesn't want us to go to any family or friends events if D is there (which is a lot).
Next big event that is affected is my cousin's wedding. We grew up together and we're more like brothers. Unfortunately his fiancee is related to my ex (they met through us) so he can't uninvite her.
I want to support C but I hate that my social life is chopped to pieces by my ex. I don't want her to have any influence on my life. I feel that staying away is giving her too much power.
Is there anything I can do to maintain my access to family events, especially the wedding, or should I just write it off for C's benefit. I love her very much and she is the priority.
Is there anything I could say or do that might make C happier to go to family stuff. I don't want to risk C thinking I don't support her. She is as hot as hell but she doesn't know it. Definite "ugly duckling syndrome". She doesn't have great self esteem or confidence even though she is a wonderful person. Her confidence is much better than when we met so I don't want to dent it.
I'm proposing to C in November when we're in the Maldives. Nothing can get in the way.
TLDR. New partner doesn't want us to go to cousins wedding or any family events because ex wife will be there.
submitted by ThrowawayTheWitchPls to relationships [link] [comments]


2019.09.25 16:03 toyboyinfo Here’s the story of a beautiful woman by the name, Beverly Glick narrating her experience with her Toyboy and lover.

Here’s the story of a beautiful woman by the name, Beverly Glick narrating her experience with her Toyboy and lover.
Here’s the story of a beautiful woman by the name, Beverly Glick narrating her experience with her Toyboy and lover.
https://www.toyboy.info/sad-story-of-a-beautiful-woman-dating-a-toyboy/
#toyboy #olderwoman #happywoman #glowingwoman #youngerman #olderman #youngerwoman #keepinghappy #terndingstyles #trendingactivites #romancebehaviour #fashionablewoman #romanticwoman #sexyandcharmingwoman #happylife

https://preview.redd.it/cq06deojyqo31.jpg?width=600&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0268be66639a05626684f38e2619eee2c747d3df
submitted by toyboyinfo to u/toyboyinfo [link] [comments]


2019.09.24 12:00 toyboyinfo Ever wondered to date younger men?

Ever wondered to date younger men?
Ever wondered to date younger men? Good news for older women, now they can date younger men and can have peace of mind.
Visit https://www.toyboy.info/ to know more!
#toyboy #olderwoman #happywoman #glowingwoman #youngerman #olderman #youngerwoman #keepinghappy #terndingstyles #trendingactivites #romancebehaviour #fashionablewoman #romanticwoman #sexyandcharmingwoman #happylife

https://preview.redd.it/sdcowjp6mio31.jpg?width=550&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e4bdb58f62b50f4a982f17b8f18dc26619e892fa
submitted by toyboyinfo to u/toyboyinfo [link] [comments]


2019.09.21 06:21 toyboyinfo Are you tired of your boring relationship with your husband?

Are you tired of your boring relationship with your husband?
Are you tired of your boring relationship with your husband? Do you feel the excitement is long gone? Then welcome yourself to the world of ToyBoy dating! Dating a young guy can spice up your boring life!!
https://www.toyboy.info/why-woman-dump-their-husband-for-a-toyboy/
#toyboy #keepinghappy #terndingstyles #trendingactivites #romancebehaviour #fashionablewoman #romanticwoman #sexyandcharmingwoman #harvedresearch #family #youngpartners #olderwomen #femalefertility #happylife #newfamily #happywoman #glowingwoman #youngerman #olderman #youngerwoman

https://preview.redd.it/co2jpy1uivn31.jpg?width=650&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=401641e9cf4f8380cd98ee7f30118945c1af801f
submitted by toyboyinfo to u/toyboyinfo [link] [comments]


2019.09.17 17:13 toyboyinfo Want to experience a ToyBoy relationship?

Want to experience a ToyBoy relationship?
Want to experience a ToyBoy relationship? Start searching a ToyBoy via ToyBoy dating sites. You can get a new zest to start your life all over again with amazing experiences and adventure.
https://www.toyboy.info/how-the-toyboy-trend-come-into-existence/
#youngpartners #olderwomen #femalefertility #happylife #newfamily #happywoman #glowingwoman #youngerman #olderman #youngerwoman #keepinghappy #trendingstyles #trendingactivites #romancebehaviour #fashionablewoman #romanticwoman #sexyandcharmingwoman

https://preview.redd.it/pdi8jbgl76n31.jpg?width=700&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=69983b60b2243816ff61a21a3b1d8749f94a5365
submitted by toyboyinfo to u/toyboyinfo [link] [comments]


2019.09.12 17:11 toyboyinfo Who says older women doesn't need physical love?

Who says older women doesn't need physical love?
Who says older women doesn't need physical love? Check out the toyboy dating site for young adults for all age groups. Get the best match for you.
https://www.toyboy.info/a-toyboy-keeps-an-older-woman-happy-and-glowing/
#toyboy #keepinghappy #terndingstyles #trendingactivites #romancebehaviour #fashionablewoman #romanticwoman #sexyandcharmingwoman #harvedresearch #family #youngpartners #olderwomen #femalefertility #happylife #newfamily #happywoman #glowingwoman #youngerman #olderman #youngerwoman

https://preview.redd.it/q2n4jbeoi6m31.jpg?width=700&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=d47db36a111a14e40cc99143cef7c99ff237f3b0
submitted by toyboyinfo to u/toyboyinfo [link] [comments]


2019.09.10 14:12 toyboyinfo Age has nothing to do with love and fun.

Age has nothing to do with love and fun.
Age has nothing to do with love and fun. We at Toyboy dating site very well understand your requirements. Check out the best toyboy for you and keep enjoying!
https://www.toyboy.info/things-you-should-know-about-a-toy-boy/
#toyboy #keepinghappy #terndingstyles #trendingactivites #romancebehaviour #fashionablewoman #romanticwoman #sexyandcharmingwoman #harvedresearch #family #youngpartners #olderwomen #femalefertility #happylife #newfamily #happywoman #glowingwoman #youngerman #olderman #youngerwoman

https://preview.redd.it/zpszaoyycrl31.jpg?width=700&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=de30f3711a24e7b59c4aca8d2fc089ee919fc498
submitted by toyboyinfo to u/toyboyinfo [link] [comments]


2019.09.06 11:48 toyboyinfo Older women want to live life on their own terms.

Older women want to live life on their own terms.
Older women want to live life on their own terms. Intelligent women can easily grasp everything in their hands by staying in a relationship with a younger man. You can also get this lifestyle with the help of ToyBoy dating site. https://www.toyboy.info/
#olderwoman #happywoman #glowingwoman #youngerman #olderman #youngerwoman #keepinghappy #terndingstyles #trendingactivites #romancebehaviour #fashionablewoman #romanticwoman #sexyandcharmingwoman #happylife

https://preview.redd.it/0cswwpbn3yk31.jpg?width=600&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=132d49399803763d2141bdfc5448a9b383705f29
submitted by toyboyinfo to u/toyboyinfo [link] [comments]


2019.09.04 09:22 toyboyinfo Do you believe in women dating younger guys can feel younger?

Do you believe in women dating younger guys can feel younger?
Do you believe in women dating younger guys can feel younger? This is the best part of being in a relationship with a younger guy. You explore a lot of adventures
https://www.toyboy.info/a-toyboy-keeps-an-older-woman-happy-and-glowing/
#olderwoman #happywoman #glowingwoman #youngerman #olderman #youngerwoman #keepinghappy #terndingstyles #trendingactivites #romancebehaviour #fashionablewoman #romanticwoman #sexyandcharmingwoman #happylife

https://preview.redd.it/yli28rev3jk31.jpg?width=626&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a7cdba1f1adcc3ac4ab8a5b4aca21c1f91726200
submitted by toyboyinfo to u/toyboyinfo [link] [comments]


2019.08.26 11:10 toyboyinfo You must be thinking why #celebrities get involved in a ToyBoy relationship.

You must be thinking why #celebrities get involved in a ToyBoy relationship. submitted by toyboyinfo to u/toyboyinfo [link] [comments]


2019.08.22 15:37 toyboyinfo Do you want a younger boy to satisfy your needs and demands?

Do you want a younger boy to satisfy your needs and demands?
Do you want a younger boy to satisfy your needs and demands? If you want to experience a more youthful life then you can search for ToyBoy in the dating site. You will be more familiar with the adventures and risks in your life.
https://www.toyboy.info/how-the-toyboy-trend-come-into-existence/
#youngpartners #olderwomen #femalefertility #happylife #newfamily #happywoman #glowingwoman #youngerman #olderman #youngerwoman #keepinghappy #trendingstyles #trendingactivites #romancebehaviour #fashionablewoman #romanticwoman #sexyandcharmingwoman


https://preview.redd.it/ynhyuy6w60i31.jpg?width=626&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=4a8a6bbbfc8ba1274d7fc9ac83b9a5baa5f0de85
submitted by toyboyinfo to u/toyboyinfo [link] [comments]


2019.08.20 18:10 toyboyinfo Who says that an intelligent, hardworking, strong women doesn’t need love?

Who says that an intelligent, hardworking, strong women doesn’t need love?
Who says that an intelligent, hardworking, strong women doesn’t need love? Love is the need for all! When you have it all, then why compromise on lust, romance and love just because you are growing old! Get a young, smart, energetic ToyBoy from ToyBoy dating site for your interests and passion in making love.
https://www.toyboy.info/toyboy-for-an-intelligent-woman/
#youngpartners #olderwomen #femalefertility #happylife #newfamily #happywoman #glowingwoman #youngerman #olderman #youngerwoman #keepinghappy #trendingstyles #trendingactivites #romancebehaviour #fashionablewoman #romanticwoman #sexyandcharmingwoman

https://preview.redd.it/xm9t5kwdomh31.jpg?width=1600&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=56f5076cf088474cec4924b775d60f33a1590594
submitted by toyboyinfo to u/toyboyinfo [link] [comments]


Toy boy and Cougar Dating Funny Commercial Video - Part 1 Toy Boy Speed dating! The Story of Mrs Robinson Next Door  Toyboy Warehouse ... Would you Recommend Toyboy Dating  Toyboy Warehouse Toyboy Warehouse - YouTube My Cougar Life  Why I Date Younger Men - YouTube Has Toyboy Dating Changed You?  Toyboy Warehouse

Toyboy Dating in the UK - find naughty toyboys for ...

  1. Toy boy and Cougar Dating Funny Commercial Video - Part 1
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  8. Loose Women - Can Dating A Toyboy Keep You Young

Titled 'Toy boy and Cougar Dating Funny Commercial Video - Part 1' this funny viral ad for toyboy.com shows how more than just the dog gets forgotten when people meet online and fall in love. - Enjoy! Wendy tells another fantastic toyboy dating story which we're calling 'The Mrs. Robinson Next Door'. A saucy and exciting tale you can't miss. Get more Toybo... Toyboy Warehouse is a premium dating site for toyboys and cougars, whether you're looking for love, lust or romance, why not join today and try it out for yourself. KarenLee Poter's channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCKad9142kDJk1PmSHKcbxrw Toyboy Warehouse... Celebrating the most interesting online content about toyboys and cougars, watch our channel for dating advice, gossip, interviews and more. Loose Women Can Dating A Toyboy Keep You Young? 3rd May 2010 - Duration: 4:47. x7tinkerbell7x Recommended for you. 4:47. The Chase - Mark Labbett Walks Off - Duration: 5:19. Toyboy Warehouse is a premium dating site for toyboys and cougars, whether you're looking for love, lust or romance, why not join today and try it out for yourself. Wealthy women looking for toyboys attend a new speed-dating event Test.