Sylvia and I hit it off from the start

Sylvia and I had been getting closer for about two weeks. She was a friend of a friend, and we just hit if off. Every conversation we had seemed to linger longer and longer. We clearly liked each other and it seemed like we were naturally going in a certain direction. We weren’t rushing, just enjoying the process. She was about 5’2, built like a dancer, with straight strawberry blond hair, vibrant green eyes, and porcelain skin. A real sweetie.

So, it was finally the weekend, and I went to this lame party in one of the concert halls (just a big room). There was a jazz band, dark lighting, and a few people half dancing.

My roommate was there. We talked a bit, and then he dug his hand into his pocket and said, “Here’s your fifty cents.” I had given him a couple quarters the day before for laundry.

“Keep it,” I told him.

“I don’t want you’re damned money, take it,” he said, and dropped the quarters into my shirt pocket. “Buy yourself a condom.”

I laughed, and we decided to mingle. I finally spotted Sylvia with this dorky dude, who seemed to be talking her ear off. She didn’t seem into him, so I walked over and said “Hey.” She immediately brightened, squeezed my hand hello, and continued holding it, while the dork chattered on. She didn’t say anything, but nodded politely. I didn’t say a word.

She was making subtle movements until finally, her back was to me. She was still holding my hand, when she leaned back against me, moving her ass lightly against my crotch. This woke me right up. She wrapped my arm around her waist, and finally, finally, the dork took the hint and left. She turned around and said, “Man, that guy can talk.”

I grunted in agreement.

She said, “Is that your roommate?” and pointed across the room to my roommate.

“Yeah,” I said.

“So, your room’s empty?”

“Yeah!”

“Show me,” she said.

We were out of the party, out of the building, and at my dorm room in about two seconds. I led her inside, still holding hands, and without a word or turning on the light switch, kissed her, deeply.

I really liked this chick, and we were both enjoying the early stages of something new. We kissed for a long time, the tips of our tongues getting to know each other, our hands tracing each other’s backs and sides. Then, I led her to my single bed, laid her down on her back, and still clothed, kissed her again, long and gently. She was completely receptive, her long graceful fingers holding the back of my head close to her.

Slowly, slowly, I caressed her clothed chest, and then gently unbuttoned her shirt, kissing each newly exposed inch of skin. Her breasts were perfect on her slender frame, still hidden beneath a lacey A-cup bra. I unclasped the front clasp. The lighting was all from the street, though the blinds, and so dim that I could barely see her form, and I had to find my way by feel.

And then, I felt something weird. There was something hard on her exposed breast—something big—about the size of my thumb.

“Oh, man” I thought. This was a grotesque mole or birthmark, or something, and the spell was broken. She had some huge, nasty growth on her breast.

My mind was racing. I liked this girl, and wanted to be with her. I’d have to just get used to this thing. It was really minor, and I shouldn’t be so petty. I wasn’t going to be so shallow as to let this turn me off. But was it a scab? Would it bleed if I squeezed too hard? Was it some terrible disease?

I decided to bite the bullet and explore other areas, and so while my right hand gently rested on her unscarred perfect teacup breast, my left hand slipped off her silk panties, my nose just inches away from her sweet-smelling, soft-haired snatch, which my cheek brushed against.

But then, to my dismay, there was another hard area, right to the side, where her hip joined her crotch. She must have some awful condition. Burns, maybe? Scars of a tortured past?

And then, she changed position, and all was clear. The hard bits rolled off her—the laundry quarters I’d had in my shirt pocket. Her porcelain skin was perfect and smooth after all, and I laughed.

“What’s funny?” she asked.

“Nothing, I’m just happy to be with you,” I said, and kissed her.

We were together for three years.