"A twenty something college babe for sure," I thought to myself. She had long curly brown hair that hung to the middle of her back. Her breasts were, ...ithout doubt, a D-cup, and she wasn't wearing a bra; something, I'm sure, was out of the ordinary. They were so firm. She had just enough buttons undone on her blouse to make me keep looking. The rest of her body was equally stunning: firm stomach, round ass, shapely thighs, and those calf muscles—tight knots of pure joy accentuated by her high. Yeah, I was a racist in those days. Well, what Hussein had done changed how I looked at the Arab world, and how I looked at my fellow human beings. I returned to the United States of America a changed man, like I said before, but I was a shell of my former self. Before I went to war, I was a six-foot-three, 250-pound, light-skinned Black man with emerald eyes, curly hair and honey-colored skin. When I returned, I was a battle-scarred and extremely bitter man. Losing friends will do that to you.. More

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