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It was back in 2000 that I first met her. She wasn't the prettiest, but she knew how to carry herself, and her attitude and the way she talked and....everything about her, that made her attractive. Her skin tone was more than wheatish and less than black, that perfect balance. Her breasts. Back in college they were larger than my face. They 36Ds back then. They were in double figures when I last saw her, thanks to 3 pregnancies. But that waist was always slim. Her ass. Big, shapely, jiggly and OH MY GOD so spankable. Perfect curve from the waist to her ass. Her skin, so smooth, so perfect, so silky and soft to touch.
We never were ‘together' for the world to see, but we were together in our little secret ways since the first time it happened between us in 2001, on a new year's party. She is no more between us, and that makes me sad....and emotional. And I am missing her, so I am writing about her. It is just so hard to accept she is not here anymore.
It started in college. We were in an all boys' school with a section allocated to A levels, which is a UK education system, implemented wherever they ruled in old days. The A levels section was co-education. And she was one of the 22 girls who braved being in an all boys' school with a 70 odd strength of boys in that batch. As I mentioned, she was not a head turner in terms of facial beauty, but was a head turner for all other reasons. Her breasts became the talk of the 2,000 strong student body. Boys lined up and made excuses to be around the basketball court to watch her play basketball. Dirty lines and artwork appeared on the boys' bathroom and urinal walls, drawing figures of her and the things they wanted to do to her. Back then we didn't have the fancy smartphones of this time and neither did we have such fast computers or internet. So talking and chatting and interacting was limited to the college. Moreover, living in Pakistan, a strict country in those times in the sense pre-marital sex was a taboo and oh so frowned upon, even interaction with the opposite gender openly was frowned upon. Now it is a different story. Everything is normal. Pre-marital sex is normal. Interaction and hanging out and Netflix and chill is normal. The country has changed in the past 25 years, but I remember, the sneaking out, the secret ways of communication, the feeling of ‘illicitness' of it all, all of that had its own charm, although I prefer the current times more.
Anyhow, she was the talk of the town (school) in those days. Boys boasted of catching a glimpse of her cleavage and made other, lee fortunate guys feel bad that they hadn't yet seen her cleavage or her tits. The colour of her bra in the summer days was a hot topic. Even our sports teacher talked about how he would like to fuck her under the old oak tree in the school. And she wasn't one to shy away. She knew they talked. She knew they looked. She knew she got the 2,000 boys hard for her. And she loved it and joked about it.
As fate would have it, she was in all my classes as we studied the same subjects. We had Nokia cell phones back then and SMSs which cost us. So going on for social media handles and phone numbers wasn't much of an option. So we exchanged looks, and the occasional hello. Time passed, we started talking. We got to be friends thanks to the other boys in the group who became friends with girls who were friends with her and that is how it all started. And that is how we exchanged numbers, and that too under the excuse that she would help me in studying Accounts as it was new for me, having opted for pure science subjects till I reached A levels.
Time went by and nothing happened, except the rare rumor I heard that she liked me. I didn't believe that. I wasn't a catch. I was just an average guy and an introvert of the highest order....an introvert or just shy, I don't know to this day. But all I knew back then was that I am not a catch and how can she like me. So nothing happened. We just exchanged a few texts every other month revolving around studies and in hindsight (which she also told and clarified to me recently) her texts of inviting me to her place for ‘studying' were in fact the closest hints she could drop me, and I didn't pick up any of those.
Then something happened. It was in late 2001, that we were standing, after playing some basketball and table tennis, outside the canteen and I had my back leaning against the front counter of it, looking towards the court. We were talking and fooling around when, I don't know what happened, and she came to me, got really close and grabbed my by my collar and hissed at me. It was playful banter, but her face was inches
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