May 23, 2016:

We were rolling on the floor when the boys in my bedroom complained, "He always gets the girl."

With her eyes she offered me her breasts. Here, look: take them, I give them to you. Confused, I think: Why isn't he? Because the bedroom door was open and the boys were watching. I was gallant that way.

Regrets, natch. I should have pulled her to her feet, led her to the kitchen, stood behind her with both hands up her shirt and her sweet ass pressing my hardon. For, like, an hour. Instead I let it go. Just one of many many many very bad decisions.

I broke up with her because she said, "You don't have any problems." I thought that was demented. In her yearbook photo she's remarkably hot. To my surprise she looks very much like another remarkably hot young high school blonde five ish years later whose breasts I did not decline and who I thought of for decades as the love of my life.

Funny how things go.





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