She looked to be all of seven years old. She wore a worn blue gingham dress with tattered little Red Ball Jets tennis shoes. Her eyes were a sun washe... blue, and her hair was that rare yellow/white. Like cornsilk. It was from her hair that she got her nickname. Cornsilk. Not many of the people from the sleepy South Georgia town of Wellsville knew her nickname, or much else about her. She lived on an ol' ramshackle farm on the outskirts of the county of Macon. It was a blazin' hot August in 1962. My knees wobbled.We ducked behind the solid counter and his hand pulled my face to his,smothering me in a kiss that curled my toes. My hands, as if driven byanother force, wrapped under his shoulders and pulled him closer,crushing my still-growing chest to his, and the friction across mynipples put me so close to the edge. My nails dug into his shoulderblades and my head whipped back."You want it rough?" he growled, grabbing the front of my shirt andexposing one of my breasts, its new barbell. She had a beauty that harkened back to era of innocence. MaryBeth, however, was no fragile woman. If she felt she had been wrong, she could swear like a sailor. MaryBeth was always spot on with her work, seeming to have intuition about things. (The ex got many awards at her work, so it was a draw on that point -- I just couldn’t be interested in a woman for whom a job was just a job). Having now been divorced and without a woman for months, and with MaryBeth, the lovely beauty that she was,. ”I kissed her hard and latched onto her butt cheeks. She pressed her substantial titties into me forcefully.“C’mon Eddie. Take me home, now.”I took her home. We didn’t say much in the car. She kept giving me sexy looks. I had trouble concentrating on the road.When we reached my apartment, she quickly sized up the place and dragged me to the bedroom. I must admit, the sex with Ginny was pretty awesome. She was quite vocal in her appreciation and her tits bounced around in the most fascinating.
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