My Worst F*ck

The Picture magazine runs a page dedicated to My (whatever) F*ck. I've had a few of these published, easy and fun to write.

WC Feelz Wayne Collins October 1999

Her beauty was, as the saying goes, only skin deep. My worst root was as ugly as Satan himself underneath.

We met at a rock concert where she was standing around, pissed and alone -two things I considered a good sign in those days.

We eventually made it to bed after dating for about six months. No matter what I tried she remained totally impassive during sex.

Kissing, cuddling, sweet talk, licking, romantic evenings, gifts, smut movies -nothing worked. I've had more response from partners of the inflatable kind.

During the course of our 3 year relationship, she only moved twice while having sex. Not normally a drinker, she swallowed over half a bottle of whiskey and actually relaxed enough to enjoy herself the first time I felt her really move.

Yeah, she went right off. It was also the only time she ever went down on me. I tried to tell her how great she'd been when she sobered up but she wouldn't have a bar of it, denied everything and called me a sick prick.

The other time she moved was the last time we ever did it.

Through out  the course of this frustrating relationship, we never had sex with the lights on or during the day. After begging for weeks, she finally agreed that it might actually be fun to see what was going on down there and we organised a lunch time meeting.

After half an hour of foreplay, I mounted her in the only allowable position, missionary. Two strokes later her best friend walked in and saw everything.

I was so horny, I couldn't help myself and asked her friend to join us. My girl moved, all right -she moved out. Good riddance.

home

yarn index

next yarn