What’s it like fucking someone who’s so ugly old or unpleasant (or all three) that you really don’t fancy them at all? Or perhaps are somewhat repulsed by? Most of all, what does it FEEL like, mentally and physically?
I’ve been asked that several times just lately and, like so much to do with sex and sexuality, it’s a complex issue and not easy to explain. I think the best way is to go back to the beginning.
What you have to remember is that my pussy is like all the others. If you stick something in and wiggle it about I get wet, I start to enjoy it and eventually I cum. There’s all kinds of variations in there somewhere but that’s basically it.
When I was younger I had a boyfriend who was quite a bit older than me (3 years is a lot at that age) and was very rude and very adventurous. He was a keen student of Men Only and similar, and shaved my first Brazilian on my 16th birthday. He also introduced me to vibrators, as part of what seemed like a personal quest to find out if there was anything at all he could put inside me that WOULDN’T have the effect that he and I both enjoyed. Look, we were young and it was a voyage of exploration for both of us.
He and I both though that pussies and cocks were almost magical in the things they could do and we both had that sense of wonder and amazement which I hope everybody shares at that age and can still remember, at least in part.
So on our joint quest we put everything we could think of inside. Like a lot of other girls I’ve spoken to since, I found out at an early age that my hairbrush handle was not only a perfect fit but did the job admirably, in part thanks to the naughtiness of the whole thing.
I spent a few happy nights staying over at a friends’ apartment above Daddy’s shop. He was a greengrocer, and there was an endless supply of suitable vegetables for us to experiment with, and we did it sitting opposite so we could watch each other and we also did it for each other, which was when I first realised I quite liked girls and enjoyed eating pussy, but that’s another story.
I never mentioned these girlie interludes to my boyfriend at the time, but I did hint that carrots, bananas and leeks might all fit, and of course he tried them all out (with complete success) along with Mars bars and so on as well as all manner of household objects and, eventually, as I say, vibrators.
They sent him mad with delight, mostly because the buzzy feature increased the speed and magnitude of the effect they had on me by a factor of three or four. Then later on, when his purchases became more adventurous, the effects were even better – mostly because the vibes and dildos he bought looked just like cocks, and had a strong visual appeal to both of us.
I was able to see and admire the effect because he was constantly taking pictures and video, so I had the chance to observe myself playing with a wide assortment of toys and objects on a daily basis, and I must say I liked the look of me with a big cock going in and out – though I should point out that the boyfriend was himself exceptionally blessed in that department, and sometimes I preferred the vibes and rubber dongs because they didn’t hurt so much as a good hard shag when he was really going for it.
However… I think it was the realistic nature of some of his dildos that gave him his great idea, and one afternoon he showed up with his mate and told me that he’d promised him a go. ‘A go’, honestly, I ask you. The fact is, he was interested to see if another cock would have the desired effect, only it was a real one this time. He’d chosen carefully, a ginger-haired boy called Kenny I didn’t really like the look of at all.He was nice enough company, but not fanciable, especially not to a 16-year-old who thought wild blonde hair, blue eyes, short skirts and and high heels meant she was top-drawer material reserved for the jocks, the older boys and the really sophisticated lads who’d left school and got jobs.
This Kenny was one of those earnest lads who looked like a swot, and today is almost certainly an accountant in a small town somewhere. When my boyfriend guided his hand up my skirt, I was whispering that i didn’t want to, Kenny was trying not to look at where his hand was going and failing, and the bf was telling me it would be fine and I’d get to like it in a moment. At that moment the hand he was steering arrived on the strip of wet material between my legs, and I’m not sure who was more surprised – me or the two lads. I think we all LOOKED equally shocked to discover how excited I was, and as he manoeuvred Kenny’s fingers under the cotton and gently into me, I discovered how exciting it feels to have two fingers inside you, being guided by different minds.
Kenny got the hang of it very quickly and made me cum almost at once (it was the situation and the shock that made it happen so fast), and when he knew he was going to get his own way, the bf pulled my knickers off so Kenny could lick me, and make me cum again, and then finger-fuck me, and make me cum again. By now I’d stopped saying I didn’t want to and was jerking myself against him, fucking air, his hips, his leg, then air again in my desperation to get him in me. I wanted – needed – his cock in me. Not any old cock, especially not the bf’s cock – it had to be Kenny. I really WANTED him to fuck me, and when he did we both came pretty much immediately, so I sucked him until he was hard and could do it again.
It was fantastically exciting, having a man I didn’t especially like or care about make me cum with his fingers, tongue and cock, it was exciting having two men at once (you didn’t expect the bf not to join in, did you?) and it was fantastically exciting being watched having sex, more so when the bf was watching me with Kenny that the other way round.
I sort of thought that would be the end of the experiment with other guys, partly because the bf was surprised by how much I liked it and how easily I changed from no, no to yes, yes. So was I, but I wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t either, to be fair, but I didn’t think we’d be doing it again.
My 17th birthday present was a bottle of vodka, 2 litres of coke and a night in bed with my boyfriend and his best mate. I knew that he’d planned it, but he hadn’t told his mate, who was an innocent party really, though once I’d got his cock in my mouth he joined in properly, and they took it in turns with me all through the night.
After that he used to bring his mate round from time to time, we’d have a drink or two and then shag. Then he started bringing some of his other selected pals, then just anyone, and within 6 months I’d shagged just about every guy he knew, their mates, their brothers, their brothers’ mates, you name it. Mostly one at a time, occasionally in twos.
That was usually at a party, where he liked to show off by getting me to give him a hand-job and/or a blow-job, and finger-fuck me in front of all our friends and then invite one or two to ‘have a go’, as he always liked to describe it. He did this partly because he had a big cock and liked waving it around for people to admire, and partly because he liked to show them I was his to command, which is why he got me fucking his mates.
And also because he was still experimenting, still wondering if there was a limit to the number of things or people he could put in my pussy before I’d say it was enough. When he suggested at one party that I go upstairs, lie on a bed and make myself available to anyone he sent up, I decided that WAS enough, and we split up. I stuck to girls for a while after that.
But as you know if you’ve been reading my blogs, that couple of years with him really got me started, and I discovered two important things. One was that, being a girl, I can have as much sex as I like as often as I like. I can still shag almost any man who takes my fancy because men almost never say no, even now I’m 40. When I was 18 or 20 or so, NO-ONE said no to me. And the other was that I liked almost all sex, all the time, with almost anyone, and I’ve never really been one to say no, even today. If I was famous I’d be a sex addict. But I’m not famous, so I’m just another married woman who likes a lot of cock. Beyond nympho, a lad said to Roger once, which pleased him a lot.
I’ve managed to conceal it from most of my boyfriends, though one or two found out the hard way and one or two found out because they were hoping I would be, although not everyone is as comfortable with the fact as they were with the idea.
In my twenties I had a boyfriend who was always going on about bringing home some girl from the office to join us, and though I wasn’t totally averse to the idea, we’d only been going out 3 months and I hadn’t yet decided how much of myself he was allowed to know. So it never happened. Then I had one who I stopped with a few weekends, and who said his flatmate fancied me rotten, and had seen me in my undies and less so many times that it was almost as if we’d had sex already, so why didn’t we do a threesome just to see if you like it. I didn’t need to do it to know the answer. As soon as he suggested it my knickers were soaked, and as I looked at his flatmate, who was just kind of staring at the carpet with a wistful little smile, there was a river running through them and I couldn’t wait to get his cock in me. Mostly because it was wrong, partly because I wanted to be watched (I already knew what a turn-on that can be) and partly because I wanted to make the boyfriend really, really regret suggesting the idea.
So I shagged his mate, as enthusiastically as I knew how, and I made sure the bf couldn’t fail to observe how much I liked it. Which was a lot, truth be told, far more even than I was anticipating. Which, I expected, would put a stop to that. Except it went the other way, and for three months I had two boyfriends, and I went out with either or both, and had sex with either or both, which was pretty close to ideal until they decided they couldn’t put up with it and made me choose between them. I ditched them both, obviously.
When Rog and I met, we were quite soon talking about all of this, which he found very exciting. In particular he was very turned on to have a girlfriend who’d had more sexual partners than he had – at least double. That’s when he started counting, and he hasn’t stopped yet, though he’s very disappointed in me for not being able to give him an accurate count of men before i met him. He thinks I’m embarrassed, but I just can’t remember. It’s certainly over 50, and could easily be triple figures.
And after we met it didn’t take long for us to have the same conversation as I had with my first boyfriend, which is pretty much the one I guess you all have with your own wives and girlfriends – is there anything that fits in the pussy but which DOESN’T work. The answer is no in my case, or at least so far we haven’t found anything.
However, one night we were at a swinger club we used to go to quite often, but this was maybe only our second or third visit. I remember being in the car as we were driving down the motorway, fingering myself gently and saying to Roger that he better have a boxful of condoms handy because I was gagging for cock and really needed a lot of fucking tonight. They make you use condoms in the clubs and I was planning on multiple usage…
Anyway it didn’t work out like that, and there were no couples we both fancied enough to shag, which was more than a pity, it was a tragedy, because I was ready to kill for a strange cock. When you go on the dancefloor in this place, there’s a rule that anyone can touch you unless you specifically tell someone not to, so half a dozen hands had been in my knickers (mostly no idea who, because it’s dark and they usually come at you from behind) and what had been a simmering hot-pot between my legs had now turned into a bubbling volcano.
But the couples had all paired off by midnight and we were the only ones who hadn’t apart from a couple we’d spoken to an all of our visits (including this one) but never got on with. Rog didn’t fancy the wife (can’t blame him, she was okay but that’s all) and he positively HATED the guy. I didn’t really LIKE him – no, more than that, he was a loud, brash, outspoken and self-opinionated arse, always going on about himself, his prowess in the gym, and the strength of his other muscle. Worse, he had a string goatee beard and a bald head badly disfigured by a car crash or something, all scars and stitches round the back and on one side) and more tattoos than the Edinburgh Festival. His face wasn’t scarred but it wasn’t pretty either – like a bulldog chewing a wasp, Rog still says) but he worked out for an hour a day, and had a very big cock, which I’d seen him using on various women every time we’d been to the club and they all seemed to enjoy it. In fact earlier on I had sat watching him fucking someone who I could only see the ass of for about half an hour, in out, in out, non-stop, and it seemed like just the thing I needed.
So went and I danced with him (and let him put his fingers in me) while Rog leaned on the bar and hissed at his wife, which wasn’t very friendly, but that’s men for you.
But we left the club empty-handed, so to speak, got back to our hotel, and there in the bar sat round in a circle in comfy leather chairs were three couples from the club, two already paired up and Ugly Pete or Dave or whatever, with his frumpy wife.
We had a drink and I let Dave look up my skirt. He kept on looking, and looking away. The other two guys, who were pairing off with each other as couples were looking as well.
We had another drink, and I sat there for the next ten minutes with my knees as far apart as the chair permitted. Can’t remember what the conversation was about but my pussy was burning a hole in my knickers and the chair. I excused myself, and when I came back from the Ladies I sat back and opened my legs again and all seven of the people sitting in our circle realised I’d got my knickers in my handbag and were looking at my pussy. Which I knew from having just touched it was swollen open, wet and shiny, ready for cock.
Ugly Dave or whatever his name was almost fell off the edge of his chair he was leaning forward staring so much, and the other two guys were definitely reconsidering their earlier decision about pairing off. Dave invited us up for a drink in his room. I said yes so fast Rog never had the opportunity to politely decline, which I knew he was about to do because he made faces at me all the way to the lift.
Upstairs, we didn’t have a drink. I lay back on the bed with my legs wide apart and my pussy on show to Dave, Mrs Dave and Roger. Dave was still staring, like a man who’d never seen one before in his life, which was odd since I’d seen him plunging balls-deep in one not an hour earlier. The memory made me moan out loud, that was how much I needed fucking, and I could feel my pussy-lips flutter in anticipation.
Ugly Dave said something like wow, and then that looks good, and Rog invited him to take a closer look, lifting my skirt up as he spoke, and making it easy for Dave to get his head between my legs and start licking, which was nice, but so gentle and teasing that it was almost unpleasant. I needed a big hard cock, and I wanted it sticking right in, hard and fast. I would have said so but Dave said something about washing and went off to the bathroom.
Rog invited Mrs Dave to take over where hubby had left off, which she did, quite nicely, but again, nowhere near hard enough. She also told Rog she had her period, which is club-speak for no thank-you, and then hubby was back from the bathroom, just a towel round his waist, nice six-pack and pecs etc, but still ugly as a monkey. Mrs Dave got out of the way and left me spread out in front of him, skirt high, legs wide, pussy wet and really positively throbbing.
He knelt between my legs, his cock hard and huge under the towel, and dipped his face, tongue lapping gently but a bit more purposefully. When he slid a finger into me it was just too much teasing and not enough thickness, not enough cock!
I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up the bed. Never mind that, I said, ‘just fuck me‘. He sort of grunted and I kept on saying it while I dragged him into position, clutched the base of his shaft and pointed it to where it was needed. As soon as he felt the heat and wet on the end he sort of lunged at me and it went straight in, all the way to the bone and pinned me to the bed, fantastically hard and filling.
Then he fucked me, hard and fast, just like I’d seen him doing in the club, which was what I’d been waiting for all day and all night. I shouted and yelled and grabbed and bucked around under him, and afterwards Roger said his wife looked properly shocked. Is she always like this, she asked, and Rog said yes, big cocks usually have this effect on her, and she went quiet for a bit while I went on yelling ‘fuck me, come on, just fuck me’ at her husband, who seemed more than happy to oblige and tried to push me through the mattress with non-stop pounding strokes that drove his large, hard cock in and out of me until I started yelling and screaming and wriggling and had one of those orgasms that make it feel as if your pussy is so full of cock it will burst.
Once that was over we got down to some serious fucking. Rog says Mrs Ugly looked like she’d been hit over the head, and just sat there saying nothing while her hubby shagged me senseless for a second time, then sat back and let me suck him for five minutes, which was nice. Then he turned me over on my knees and did me doggy fashion, which drove me really crazy, three, four and five cumming quickly, one after the other (Rog likes to keep score) with me now shouting for Ugly whatever-his-name was to cum now, cum now, but he turned me over again and did a long, slow-ish missionary, his cock thickening and throbbing at the end, cumming in long bursts with me bouncing around underneath him trying to get him high up inside so I could feel it all hot and splashy, cumming for a sixth time in the process.
I could hear him shouting too, now, and apparently he’d been calling me his bitch and his whore and stuff for some time, saying I loved his cock and all sorts like that, and according to Rog, apparently believing that he was God’s gift and I’d chosen him because I wanted him, not just because there was no-one else left.
As my breathing slowed and I calmed down a bit, I accidentally got a close look at him, still slumped on top of me, and thought, oh no, what have I done. I’ve shagged the ugliest and nastiest bloke in the world – and I’ve still got his cock in me. I wriggled to try and get away from him, but his cock WAS a big one and it didn’t just flop out, but stayed inside. Mmmm he said as I wriggled my hips to try and get out from under, but I just wiggled my pussy around his cock and I felt it stirring in the warm goo we’d just made together. Mmm, he said again, you want some more of me, don’t you bitch, which was about as far from the truth as he’d been all night. But I could feel his cock growing inside me, and he began to slide it in and out, not far enough for me to get away (which he didn’t know I was trying to do) but enough length on the move inside me for it to have an effect.
Come on, I heard someone say, come on, come on, come on then, and suddenly he was rock hard again and the voice was going yes, oh yes, come on, just fuck me hard, come on and fuck me silly, I really need you to fuck me hard, I need this, oh yes oh yes, oh yes, and so on. I couldn’t believe I’d got my legs wrapped round him again, knees up behind my ears and fingernails digging into his bum, clawing him deeper, trying to get his cock all the way in, harder, faster and deeper, spreading my pussy wide in fast, squelching slaps that weren’t nearly drowned out enough by all my yelling.
Mrs Ugly had gone quite pale, according to Rog, and said nothing while she watched her husband’s arse pumping up and down between my thighs, his cock sliding in and out of my wet and slippery pussy at record-breaking speed, me yelling away as that glorious hard cock swept in and out, filling and spreading and inflaming all the nerve-endings, making me cum again and again, seven really quickly, then a bit of a wait and then eight, nine and ten close together as the sensations just became overwhelming, so powerful that though I never wanted it to stop, I wished it would stop and release the tension, eleven and I was getting more and more carried away, twelve, and then suddenly he pulled it out and stuck it under my nose and I opened my mouth, the end hot and slippery with my juice, spicy and sweet, and then it was hosing into me, thick and salty and bitter, and I swallowed as fast as it jetted in, taking more and more of his cock inside as it softened and became easy to swallow so I could suck him dry.
He reached behind and jammed two fingers into me, and started to go on about how he ate a special diet so his cum would taste nice and that’s why I liked to swallow it, and as I was lying there with is fingers in my pussy and his cock in his mouth I felt quite revolted by him, and almost spat him out, rolling away to go to the loo, which he didn’t try and stop. While I was away he told Rog that I love cock. Loves it, she does, your missus, really loves a good hard fuck, as if Rog hadn’t actually noticed, and when I came back Rog read my expression, and we made our excuses and got out as fast as we could, and it turned out that he’d been going on about how good he was and how many women he’d fucked and how they were all queuing up for him at the club, and even Mrs Ugly was starting to look a bit embarrassed, though she blotted her copybook right by the room door as we said goodbye, calling out he’s right though, she does love it, doesn’t she as we almost ran down the corridor.
Neither of us liked the man one little bit, but we had discovered that I can quite easily enjoy fucking someone I really don’t like at all, which was interesting and something we have done over and over again since then.
But once again I’ve started a simple enough blog entry and ended up over-complicating it, and never quite got round to describing the feelings and emotions, which I was going to do. But now you know the background, you’ll be interested when I do part 2…
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