The pants flared out to full wide legs thatmoved freely, almost, but not quite, like a long skirt when I moved. Theywere ornamented in front with fou... buttons in a material that matched thebodice - a thick, stretch knit with a sort of floral pattern. The bodice wasfinished at the top with a modest scooped neckline, well above the tops ofmy breasts but below the collarbones. Just the right sort of neckline todisplay a chunky necklace or even a choker.But the thing that hit me the most about. I was at that stage in life where I could be tagged as a “pervert”. I found girls on orkut and talked to them just to find a girlfriend from another state. She went to a different school but joined a college that was 2 hours away from my place . We met once in a month and we go to movies . Her college was in a village and the theatres were almost empty on weekdays. We gradually started getting physical from making out to me trying to put my hand inside her top. I would constantly touch her. He became aware she had stopped moving, the nylon over the toe, he looked up, her eyes met his, she had realised where his gaze lay, he coloured up, expectant of harsh words, but to his surprise nothing came, she just eyed him silently, sitting like a statue, waiting, though he was loath to drop his eyes back to her hidden sex. She waited perhaps 10 long seconds, then as if she realised he had not the bravado to look more. The moment over, she continued with dressing no words having been. “So let me get this straight. You want me more nowthan you did a few minutes ago.” I nodded again. Sheraised her eyebrows and asked, “Does this happen for anywoman who you see smoking?” Colby leaned forward, agleam of interest and curiosity in her eyes. “No… not at all. They have to do it right, and… and.…it’s real complicated to explain. The short versionis that I like women with long cigarettes, or cigaretteholders, or cigarettes that are.