I hate rubbers

I hate rubbers.

When I was a teenager, I would occasionally visit my neighborhood gas station where, for a quarter, I could buy a rubber. Unlubricated; I guess you were supposed to supply your own Vaseline. Taking my treasure to a private place, I would unzip and then unroll it onto my not-yet-grown manhood. The tightness actually felt kind of good to me, and assured me that I wasn't so small that I would get lost in it. Then I would masturbate, filling the end of the rubber with hot semen, and toss it unceremoniously in the woods somewhere.

Being familiar with the application of rubbers, and the various reasons for their existance, I nevertheless lost my virginity rubberless, and proceded to poke Sharon a couple of dozen more times without the benefit of latex protection. She was pregnant, as previously noted, so I didn't have that to worry about, but it's a wonder I didn't come down with the clap - given her well-known promiscuity. But I didn't.

As some philosopher once said, " A hard dick has no conscience." Or self control, either.

When Sharon moved away, following the birth of her child and my introduction to the wonders of breast milk, she in essence gave me to her cousin, Dee. Being married and the mother of all the children she desired, Dee had taken the precaution of having her tubes tied. Which, considering all the times I ejaculated into her birth canal, probably was a good idea. Again, no rubbers needed.

At some point in my sexual development, I actually began to date girls who weren't interested in getting knocked up, so a box of rubbers - lubricated Trojans this time - in the trunk of my car became standard equipment. It was then that I learned how much I hated them. After diddling Sharon, Dee, and a couple of other older women rubber free, I felt like a caged bird. I also realized that rubbers seemed to be made for mini-men. They were so tight I could barely get them on, and when unrolled, didn't extend all the way back. Far enough to pull my hairs out by the handfull, but not all the way. Now, I have to admit that enjoy women tinkering with my manhood for any reason, even installing a rubber, but that is the only part of the process with any pleasurable overtones whatsoever, and that usually turned to a four-handed operation, what with trying to get it started and all.