Another story......
Not quite as inspiring as the last one.

             I can remember the first time I saw them. I was seven or eight years old. My younger brother was still a baby. We lived in Daly City, a suburb of San Francisco, in quiet neighborhood that had a pretty large, for the time, minority population. This may be surprising since it was 1967 but it was SF and SF has always been pretty liberal. Well, I digress, we lived across the street from my elementary school, George Washington Elementary, to which I was late every day. My best friend was Billy Garcia. Billy was a couple of years younger than me and lived only 2 houses down the block. Billy had a younger sister Gina, 2 years old and like me a newborn sibling. Billy’s mom was  housewife like my mom and they were also friends.
    I can remember this day so clearly. I was at home and it was just after lunchtime. My mom told me to go to Mrs. Garcia’s house and borrow a nipple. Back then the rubber nipples for baby bottles seemed to age quickly. If you made a small cross-shaped slit with a knife or razor blade in the nipple for milk flow, the flow would be OK for a while but soon the hole would grow too large allowing too much milk through and the nipple would have to be thrown out. Now my mom was (and still is) pretty tough and when she said to do something, you jumped up and did it. I said OK and  was out the door in a flash. In only a moment I was at the Garcia’s door. I was quite shy when I was younger so, looking back, I probably knocked much too quietly. I waited a minute and the door slowly opened. It was Gina, looking rather sleepy. "Hi Gina. Where’s your Mom?" I said. Gina didn’t say anything but recognizing me she opened the door wider and walked back to the couch. I stepped in and looked around. I couldn’t see anyone. Had I been more observant, I would have noticed Mr. Garcia’s work van out front. He worked for Red Star laundry and occasionally brought the big panel van he drove, with the big red star on the side, home.
    I poked my head into the kitchen and not seeing Mrs. Garcia I headed toward the back. "She must be home if Gina is home" I thought. I was a bit unsure but as I said my mom is pretty strict so I knew I’d better hurry. I passed the bathroom on the right and the door to the basement on the left before getting close to the 2 bedrooms in the rear. Few memories of my childhood are as clear as the next few minutes. The door to the master bedroom was open. As I slowly approached, I could see more and more of the room. The first thing I saw was the big headboard of the Garcia’s bed against the far wall of the room. Then I could see Mr. Garcia. I stopped. What was he doing home in the middle of the day? He was sitting up in bed, his back against the headboard, shirtless with the blankets up to his waist. He was a big man with broad shoulders, dark curly hair and a big handlebar moustache. His hands were clasped behind his head and he was smiling , looking forward. I wasn’t used to speaking to him and he hadn’t seen me yet. Where was Mrs. Garcia? I leaned forward a bit and saw her. Mrs. Garcia was standing at the foot of the bed, looking in the mirror above her dresser. She was brushing her long auburn hair. She was an attractive woman, perhaps 28 years old and had always been very nice to me. Now looking at her she was positively radiant. I stared for a moment. I cannot describe her smile except to say it was beautiful. That’s when I noticed something was wrong, very wrong. Yes, she was smiling and brushing her hair but she was also naked above the waist.
    I can still see her, smiling, arms up breasts swollen and sticking straight out. She had very smooth, fair skin. So fair that I could see one tiny green vein on the side of her right breast. The nipples were small and rosy pink. I was mesmerized and frozen in my tracks, but only for a moment. "Trouble!" my brain screamed. Run was all I could think to do, so I turned and ran as fast as I could. Out the door, down the stairs, up the hill and up my stairs I ran. I reached for my doorknob and froze. On the other side of my front door my mom waited. If I went in now without the object of my quest, I would have to explain why and, no doubt, would get a whipping. I had no choice but to go back. Walking back, I tried to figure out what I would say. "How could I even look at her?" I wondered. I started to knock but before I could the door opened. It was Mrs. Garcia. She was smiling down at me as kind as I had ever seen. I tried to talk but nothing came out. One hand was holding her robe closed. I couldn't talk and couldn’t look at her so I just stood there and looked down at my feet. I probably would have stood there for hours, but her other hand came into my field of vision. She was holding out a nipple. I took it, careful not to snatch it, murmured a thank you and ran home. I ran through the door and there was my mom waiting for me, telephone in hand. I handed her the nipple and without slowing ran to my room to wait for the whipping I knew was coming. After an hour or so I really began to be afraid. If nothing had happened by now, then this was a "wait ‘til your father gets home" situation and that was much worse.  A sense of impending doom is all I felt. Slowly during dinner I began to realize that no more was going to be said about what had happened. No one looked at me any different than any other day but I know I felt different from that day forward. I think I know why I've never been attracted to skinny women...... Perhaps I've been searching for a certain someone.
 

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