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Forget Beauty, It's Overrated

Dowdy, prim, but it's what's inside a woman that counts

The worlds of love and porn are obsessed with beauty, or that modern catch-all adjective: hot. If you’re not good looking and sexy in a conventional way, you’re nothing. That is particularly unfair to women who are neither blessed with natural prettiness and shapeliness nor the bravado to seem attractive by force of personality.

Nothing gives me a greater thrill than sensing the sensuality beneath the plain façade of a woman who is resigned to being considered unattractive.

One Saturday afternoon when I had nothing to do, I decided to see if I could get myself such a specimen, so I spent the time wandering around department stores, looking for lone women who didn’t turn heads.

There was a nice fat woman looking at cutlery, legs like tree trunks and knock-kneed too. She had an unruly bush of orange hair yanked back by a big black band and her teeth were irregular. But she had a mighty pair of tits beneath her unflattering old tee shirt and I sensed that she could be wild in bed.

She was starting to look like my ideal woman and I was imagining the erotic thrill of undressing her in her untidy bedroom when a younger woman went up to her and dragged her off to another aisle. Out shopping with her daughter. Maybe I would bump into her another time.

Given my mission that day, the abundance of good looking females in pairs and couples and even on their own was seriously hindering my progress.

Then I had a brainwave: the optician who had tested my eyes a year or so earlier. Clean and tidy but skinny and with no dress sense, she looked like a long-term singleton who was happy these days with her cats and the TV.

She worked on her own in a tiny shop – no receptionist, even. And she was open on Saturday afternoons. I walked quickly round there, because time was marching on.

She was open and the shop was empty. She was reading a magazine but leapt to her feet when I walked in. Glasses, wrinkles, pale complexion, dowdy white blouse and knee-length green skirt.

“Mr, ah….” she ventured, recognizing me and desperately reaching for my name.

“Lemmon,” I said helpfully. “Ms Bryce.”

“Doreen, please,” she said. “And it’s… David, isn’t it?”

I told her my right eye was uncomfortable and I suspected there was a contact lens stuck in it somewhere.

“I was just about to close,” Doreen said, locking the door, “but I can have a quick look for you.”

We went through to the examination room and she sat me in a chair. I had been planning to take my woman out for a drink, but maybe we could cut to the chase, as they say.

I felt her breath on my cheek as she pulled my eyelid this way and that and told me to look up and down and sideways. She put a hand on my head to steady herself and I touched her waist, which she didn’t mind, so I rested my hand there and gave her a gentle squeeze. She smiled uneasily and stepped back, but I took her hand and kissed it.

It was an old-fashioned, courteous gesture which I thought would be well received, and indeed, she sort of fluttered her eyes and said, “Well…”

She had probably been on her own most of the day, as she was most days, and I hoped she might have passed the time with sexual fantasies. Maybe I could make one of them come true.

I kissed her hand again and then turned it over and kissed her wrist and the inside of her elbow, like some 1950s Italian gigolo.

She liked it.

I pulled her to me and down and put my hand behind her neck. She knew she was going to be kissed, and I made it a demure one, with just a flicker of my tongue at the end to leave her in no doubt as to what I was proposing.

Doreen moved some equipment aside and sat in my lap. We held each other tight and kissed long and deep. Then she got up and quickly pulled a curtain across the doorway so we couldn’t be seen from the street.

The atmosphere was electric and I was no longer playing the role of seducer. We were now in the throes of it, a fully fledged sexual encounter.

I slipped my hand up her skirt and tickled her pussy, then put it inside her blouse and stroked her stomach.

“Upstairs,” she whispered, and I followed her up to a storeroom where sat an old, dusty couch such as a doctor might use. The place had been a chiropractor’s before she had it.

Doreen briskly dusted the couch with a convenient tea towel and then sat on it. I stood between her legs and kissed her again while undoing the buttons of her blouse, then removing her bra.

Naked from the waist up, she stood while my hand roamed her back and found the zip of her skirt. As the cloth hit the floor I saw she was wearing hold-ups. She sat back down and carefully rolled them off while I removed my shirt.

We kissed again and her hands found my zip. She fumbled awkwardly with it and squeezed her hand inside before it was fully down, stroking my erection with her knuckles.

I took over, pulling my jeans down and off, followed by my underpants. I was now more exposed than she was, so I wrenched her plain white knickers down and knelt to take them over her feet.

She fell back onto her elbows as I buried my head between her legs and licked her surprised but delighted vagina.

“Turn around,” I told her, and she dropped her feet to the floor and turned. I bent her over and, still kneeling, licked between her buttocks.

Doreen gasped. "You’re licking my arse,” she said with a mixture of pleasure and shock.

“Yes, I’m licking your arse,” I said. “Do you like it?”

“I think so,” she said. “Yes, it’s lovely. Incredible.”

I licked this skinny, unloved woman’s arse until she came to a shuddering climax. Then I sat on the edge of the couch and she knelt to suck my cock.

“Do you know what I was thinking when you were examining my eyes last year?” I asked her playfully.

“I think I can guess,” she replied.

“Yes, you probably can,” I said. “I was thinking how nice it would be if you would suck my penis and let me lick your anus. Does that make me a bad person?”

“You didn’t want to fuck me?” she said with a smile.

“Oh yes”, I assured her. “Like I’m going to fuck you now. I’m going to fuck you from behind, like two hungry animals.”

And like a hungry animal I mounted her and plunged my penis into her charged, gushing cunt. We fucked eagerly, she pushing herself back to get me further inside and I banged her as if I’d been waiting years for this to happen.

I squeezed her tits and kissed her neck and licked the top of her spine and she ground her love box around my fevered erection.

Doreen began to wail as I banged the second orgasm out of her, and that sent me over the edge, so I pulled out of her and my spunk spurted into the crack where my tongue had been.

“You dirty, dirty man. You dirty fucker,” Doreen said happily.

And yes, we did go out together that evening and ended up at her house, with two cats which she locked in another room when she decided to turn the tables on me. As I sat on the sofa she pulled her knickers off and, dragging me onto my back, proceeded to sit on my face.

“I want you to lick my bottom like you did before,” she said, “but underneath, so I’m sitting on you. With your nose and tongue between my buttocks. You’ve started something now and you’ve got to carry it on until you’ve made me cum again.”

What could I say? It was a dream come true for me, finding a woman who not only liked me doing that but demanded that I do it again. I looked in awe at her neat little brown hole, which she had never thought of as an instrument of pleasure, and I smelled that unique, indescribable aroma and my tongue went lovingly to work on the sexed up alien that hovered over my face. And I licked her and licked her and she squirmed and writhed and screamed as a wonderful orgasm reminded her that she was indeed a woman and that at least one man in the world desired her, wanted to fuck her, wanted to do unspeakable things to her.

“I’m having my Mum over for lunch tomorrow,” she said later. “We do it every week. You should come. You can do disgusting things to me before she arrives. She thinks I’m a freak, a sexless celibate who has failed as a woman. And we can both sit there and think of me sitting on your face, while your sperm will be trickling out of me and making my knickers wet. And then when we’ve been pleasant and respectable and she’s gone off, thinking you’re such a nice guy, we can get dirty again and you can fuck the life out of me. Would you like that?”

In other circumstances I would have said no, not wanting to be introduced to the mother when I had no intention of becoming the daughter’s partner, but this was different.

Doreen and I had an incredible sexual bond and I was loving liberating her and having a bloody good time myself. So when her mother arrived the next day and I was talking politely to her I wasn’t entirely sure if the beautiful aroma was the roast beef or the smell of her daughter’s arse on my nose.



This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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