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Her full name was Glenda, but nobody called her that. She had always been a tomboy, and we had grown up together, exploring the woods, playing sports, and getting into trouble. It never really occurred to me to think of her as a girl, even after both of us hit puberty; she always just felt like one of the guys. She was attractive enough I guess, when I really thought about it, but she didn't show much interest in guys or girls in high school - only in playing sports, and in winning, which she was very good at.Today, however, she was dressed in a tight tank top that showed off her small, bra-less tits, and tiny shorts that drew my gaze to the flared thighs that puberty had given her, tomboy or not. During our daily basketball game, I noticed that she was guarding me a lot more closely than usual, even wrapping me up a few times, pressing her body tightly against mine, which was clearly a foul, and she knew it.I'm a bit taller than Glen is, and I have about 50 pounds on her, but I still. It was a wonderful moment. The smells, all the sensations, the sounds, the tastes, and the sight of her writhing underneath me gave me a feeling of having broke through the barrier. I felt like a man now. I had found my woman, I had brought her closer to me, and now I had satisfied her beyond her imaginations. And I haven’t even begun to begin. She stopped writhing, and I noticed that she had fallen asleep. I lay next to her, and took in everything she offered to me. She was absolutely gorgeous. I might as well have died and made love to an angel of god. I felt immeasurably lucky. Here was this goddess and she chose me, a lonely humble man with simple desires. As I was soaking up her beauty and wonder, the angel opened her eyes. She looked at me and smiled. She stared into me, studying my soul. She was probably thinking the same thing I had her. Then she started to tear up. Then tears started to fall. I was puzzled, shocked to say the least. “What’s wrong?” I asked her, searching.
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