Looks Don’t Matter

I learnt a long time ago not to judge if a woman was sexy, just by her looks. Some women who look hot show their cleavage in order to get admiring looks from men, never intending to go any further. Others who don't really know how to make the most of themselves turn out to be really great in bed.

I'd been married for twenty years before I fucked someone other than my wife. I was only getting sex once or twice a month and only when she said we could do it. Given the infrequency of its use, I probably was so surprised when my cock went into her pussy that the fuck didn't last very long. My wife would have been bored with the same fucking and anyway had plenty of other interests besides sex. I was away from home working and staying at a hotel over a weekend when it was offered. I thought "why not?" I can still remember the moment when I pumped my load into the woman -- we were doing it bare-back.

That was a one night stand. Several others had followed, always when I was away for a couple of weeks working . Then I discovered internet dating. I was too old for Tinder. Let's face it, any good looks I had in my youth were now gone, although I wouldn't call myself ugly. I exchanged messages with some women my age and eventually one invited me to her place even though she knew I was married. She sent me her photo. Not to be rude, she wasn't good looking. I very nearly didn't accept but thought that the photo was like a passport-photo and that it cast her in an unflattering light. She lived in the next town. I was able to organise a few hours off from work and I drove over to see her. After all, I could always make some excuse and leave.

The photo didn't lie.

We sat and had a cup of instant coffee that tasted terrible. We ran out of conversation before I'd finished drinking it. Nervous and shy, she had a laugh like a corn-crake. I wondered how I could make an excuse and leave, but as it had taken over an hour's driving to get there, instead suggested that we went to bed. She agreed immediately and obviously had been expecting me to turn her down.

Her bedroom was very neat and tidy in contrast to the rest of the house. She told me to close the curtains and while I was doing that, quickly undressed down to her bra and panties then hurriedly got into the bed and pulled the sheets up to her shoulders so all I could see were her bra-straps.

I stripped with her watching me. As I pulled my pants down, her eyes fastened on my cock. It lengthened, went stiff and erect under her gaze. I slipped into the bed beside her and ran my hands over her bra and breasts. Her tits were a good size -- not small but not large and floppy either. I kissed her, pushing my tongue into her open mouth. She gave a moan of pleasure as I squeezed her nipple inside her bra. I stopped the kiss.

"Why don't we take your bra off?" I asked.

She sat up and unhooked her bra and I helped her pull it off. Then she quickly snuggled down in the bed onto her back. I kissed and sucked on one of her nipples while rolling the other between my fingers. Both her nipples were enlarged and hard. I ran my hand down her body, down the outside of her thigh, then back up between her legs which she opened for me. I rubbed her crotch feeling her panties go damp as I stroked her. After a minute or two stroking her getting her excited, I told her that I was going to pull her panties down. She let me pull the bed-clothes away. She arched her back so that I could pull her panties down and off, leaving her naked. By now, she knew that she was going to be fucked, that I wanted to give it to her.

My fingers found her clit, stroked it and slid inside her pussy. She was very wet and ready for my cock. I mounted her and slid my hard cock into her. Both of us gave a moan of pleasure as I started to fuck her. I would have liked to have made it last, but her warm, soft pussy demanded that I soon go from the slow, long strokes to the fast, hard thrusts. I came, shooting my hot cum deep into her.

When I had calmed down and gone limp, I pulled out and she lay on my arm. I even said I was sorry for doing it so quickly, but she said that she liked it and would I do it to her again as soon as I got hard enough. With the tension of first meeting gone, we were able to talk about our lives and what we would like for sex. Her hand started to stroke and pull at my limp cock.

"Did I mind her playing with it?"

"No of course not, I liked what she was doing to me."

After about 20 minutes from when I had spurted, my cock started to respond. Soon it grew stiff enough to enter her. I mounted her again and although it was still rubbery, managed to slide my cock into her waiting pussy. Then I began fucking her with strong strokes, feeling my cock go properly hard. This time, I had more control over myself. I thrust in and out of her bringing her towards a climax. As I felt myself getting to the point of no return, I pulled out, counted to 10 to calm down, then thrust it back into her. I gave her two orgasms while I was still in control. Then the third time, she had her arms and legs wrapped around me and I wasn't able to pull out in time before the two of us came, her pussy almost sucking the cum out of my cock and draining me dry.

We agreed to meet again, once or twice a month when it was convenient for both of us.

I can only describe the sex as sweet.

Neither of us made demands on the other. We knew that outside of the bed, we were very different. She had had a hard life, not enjoying the marriage to her ex who abused her until she had finally left. Only now with me was she enjoying sex. I know that I appreciated her willingness to give herself to me; once we were in bed together we were equals. We didn't do anything for sex other than fuck. She'd sucked me a couple of times to get me hard, but we both enjoyed, simple, straight missionary style and I always managed to give her two or three climaxes and orgasms. Once, when I was fucking her for the second time of the visit, I'd looked at her face and into her eyes. There was a soft sheen of sweat over her skin; all the worry lines in her face had softened and I glimpsed what she must have looked like when she was young, before life had ground her down.

The relationship petered out after 18 months or so and I lost touch. The nature of my job had changed so that I found it harder to get away to see her. After a gap of more than a month not seeing her, I had gone abroad for work for another month, so that we hadn't met for 10 weeks. She had found another man off the internet by then. I hoped that he was a more permanent relationship than me, that he treated her right, and that she was happy at last.

But, somehow, I couldn't be certain.