Older Women with very hairy pussy 01
My name is Jessica. I am 30 and live in Manchester in the UK. I'm a lesbian, and my all-time favourite women to date are those at least 15 years older than me with very hairy pussy and hair elsewhere is a bonus. I don't care what the rest of them are like -- fat, thin, plain, pretty, spotty, smooth, big bum or small bum -- they have to have a bush worth the name! This, my first of a few stories, is how I developed my taste for rug-munching hair-pie.
I went to a Catholic 6th Form college. Fortunately my tutor there turned out To be very understanding when I told her about my sexual preferences the day after my 18th birthday. She did not judge me and told me that who I fancied sexually was entirely up to me. I guessed this view would not have been popular with the college hierarchy, but I never told them.
So by the time I left college I felt a lot better about myself, even if I still had not lost my virginity. As soon as I was 18 I got well in to watching porn. All of it was mature well-hirsute women with younger women over 18. I got so wet watching I had to sometimes wear a pad when I went out otherwise I would have got through a lot of knickers.
I had applied to go to Oxford to read history., I got 4 A* at A-level so got in. the results came out on a Thursday, and I spent the whole of that following weekend pissed out of my skull.
It was lunchtime on the following Monday when I finally crawled out of my pit and was sobering up over a cup of strong coffee when my mobile buzzed. I didn't recognise the number. I clicked on the text and read:
"Jessica it's Mrs. Jenkins. I heard you got your grades. Brilliant news. Can I take you out for a meal to celebrate??"
I had no idea where she got my number from, but I I didn't care. I texted back yes, and we arranged to go out that Wednesday night. There was no problem us meeting as I was over 18 and had finished at college.
I got to the pizza place first. I had dressed to impress. A t-shirt that hugged my larger than average tits, and shorts that also showed off my bigger than average arse to effect. They showed my legs which had more hair on them than the celeb magazines said was acceptable. As that was none at all I was hairy. And if the readers of those magazines would have found my legs troublesome, they would have been aghast at what was between my legs. My pubic bush had never seen a razor, and my arm pits were only trimmed. Not only did I like hair I liked being hairy.
Mrs. J turned up right on time. When she saw me, her face broke in to that lovely warm smile which had always made me smile and also brought a little tingle to a certain place. As I took her in when she sat down my little place did more than tingle. She was definitely built for comfort and not for speed. There were spare tyres clear around her waist and her arse was even bigger than mine. Her tits looked solid but huge and made up a bit by extra padding fat wise. She also had a t-shirt on and when she raised her arms there was abundant hair present. I smiled inwardly knowing that if anything happened I would not be disappointed. Until that thought I had not reckoned on sexual matters, but as I had the thought I realised it was something I would look forward to if it happened. It would be my first time, and I felt losing my virginity to the woman who I first disclosed my sexuality to was definitely a nice thing. That was the most important thing to me. She had always been lovely to me and that meant a lot sexually as much as anything else. I realised then for the first time what I was going to learn through-out my sex life -- sex was a hundred times better including your orgasms if you liked the person you were fucking as a person first and foremost. Then their body just did not matter. The only time a body mattered was for me a quick I need a fuck.
We fell very easily in to conversation. We talked a bit about my A-levels, and then on to lots of other things. It turns out we had similar taste in music, books and films. She was also interested in the same period of history as me and had read the same books so we got in to lively discussions about our interpretations.
We talked so much that the food and wine was well gone before we had got on to more personal things:
"We neither have to get up early tomorrow", Mrs J. -- who now insisted I called her Angharad -- said as casually as she could: "So why don't we go and carry on talking at my place?"
Her eyes told a story. They held much more than a offer of more conversation, at least that's what I half hoped and half suspected. Although I had had no sexual partners by then, I was quite good at reading people and body language:
"I'd love to", I said smiling as warmly as I could. As I got up I brushed her hand with mine. Her smile grew just a bit wider at that.
We got a taxi to her house, which turned out to be a semi-detached in a posh part of town. When we had settled in her living room with more wine I asked her about herself. She had been married but no children. Her husband had left her five years ago saying she was too fat and unattractive and he wanted to find some one else. He had married his 25-year old secretary. The house had been part of the settlement as had half of his bank account which as he was a rich solicitor had been a fair amount.
"Was no children through choice?" I suddenly said the alcohol making me bolder:
"No. He was infertile, but never accepted it. He always blamed me."
As she spoke her face dropped and her eyes filled up. I was over to her on the couch in a flash wrapping my arms around her as the tears started. It was lovely to repay the support she had shown me.
Eventually the tears ended:
"Sorry", she sniffed " I should be over it by now."
" Bollocks" I said firmly: "I'd be surprised if something like that ever stopped hurting."
We were silent then for a while me still holding her enjoying her soft curves. When she moved to wrap her arms round me it felt natural. As it did when infinitely slowly, or that is how it felt, Angharad's hand came up to my face and slowly turned it to face her. Her head came up from my shoulder and our lips met. The kiss was infinitely soft and gentle. If this was what kissing a woman was like, I was hooked for life. Emotionally and physically I was smitten. A very warm glow and very wet pussy.
We parted for air and looked hard in to each other's eyes:
"Are you sure?" Angharad asked quietly.
For answer I kissed her, but this time with passion to burn. I slid my wet lips all over her as open as I could before plunging my tongue in to her mouth. To be fair after a second's shock she met me with equal randiness. We were breathing hard when we parted this time:
"I have wanted to do that ever since you told me you were gay?", Angharad panted before nibbling my left ear lobe.
I groaned never having felt anything like that. I swear I almost came:
"I so want you to be my first fuck!" I gasped. My left hand found her right tit and squeezed. It was her turn to gasp:
"It will be my honour and privilege." She grinned hugely: "thank you".
We were in her bedroom in seconds. We snogged again standing by the bed then Angharad pulled away with a worried look on her face:
