When we met, she was a sixteen-years-old, five foot three, 125 pounds virgin with auburn hair, sky-blue eyes, and the best ass in the contiguous state... of the old Confederacy. I was a seventeen-years-old big goofy-ass redneck with two previous, and decidedly awkward, sexual experiences under my personalized leather belt. We met on a blind date and quickly fell in love, and then in lust; lots of lust, hours of making out, fingering and handjobs at the beginning. Then, one winter's Saturday. Thedream was starting to unravel the way dreams do. Moreand more things just weren't making sense. I couldn'teven tell if what he was saying made any senseanymore. It was all nonsense and I was starting torealize that it was a dream and would probably bewaking up soon."No point wanting that either. Not when you got whatyou really wanted. I bet it's great." And that's thelast coherent thing I remember him saying before Iheard the racket that could only be the guy two doorsdown in the dorm. More

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