Several years ago, before I was married, I had a nice experience with a friend of mine, a girl I worked with. Her name was Gabby, and she was a black girl of about twenty. She had a pair of the biggest and softest brown eyes this side of heaven, and was just plump enough to be alluring; huge tits, a big, squirmy bottom, full legs. She looked like she was made of light tan velvet.
I was living alone at the time in a small three-room apartment. One Friday evening there was a knock at the door, and when I opened it there was Gabby smiling at me. “They’re decorating my apartment, Cathy,” she said in her soft low voice. “That darned paint makes me sick. Would I be imposing if I asked to spend the night here?”
“Why, of course not, Gabby. You’re just as welcome as the flowers in May,” I smiled. “Come on in.”
We watched some TV together, then made ready for bed. I showered, and then the black girl took her turn in the shower. I had never seen a black person nude before, and when she came into the bedroom naked a little thrill ran through me. She was still moist from her bath, I saw. I wanted to stare at her, but I could not.
(…)
Read the rest of My Friend Gabby (920 words)
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