jocefler

I remembered how she’d looked when we first started dating. How she’d been way too skinny for me… practically emaciated, even for a girl. I remember thinking that she was perfect for me in nearly every other way, a prime example of petite perfection that would have turned the heads of every straight, hotblooded man, likely even plenty of straight, hotblooded women too, if even one of her many drunken recollections of her college “experimentations” ended holding up as true. But, as far as my personal tastes went, she was… okay, she was lacking… a bit. She was just too skinny… My girlfriend, when we had met at least, had had no curves to speak of. Her rail-thin physique was practically appalling to me, in spite of how pretty she was. She had beautiful almond-brown eyes and shiny, striking auburn hair, but her flat chest, super-slim waist and nonexistent ass were far from enticing for me. With such a perfect, pretty face and a beautiful smile, it had only taken one date before I’d been