I always knew I was different, ever since my body started to "flower". I didn't grow much vertically, but more horizontally. By the time I was finishing my senior year in High School I was a Double D Cup with an ass so fat that you could balance a 4 course dinner on. Luckily for me, my waist stayed nice and tight.
In college, I garnered a lot of attention, especially from the more "urban" crowd. They called me vanilla coke on account of me being a white girl with all the goodies of a black girl in a nice coca cola shaped body. Despite what all those dirty jealous heffers would say about me, I was still a virgin throughout the whole time. I was too shy from my strict upbringing in my Irish Catholic family in my small town in Ohio.
Now out of college, with my Communications degree in tow, I was working as a secretary for a big-time entertainment lawyer down in Nashville. The pay was good and the perks were amazing, but something was... missing.
No matter how hard I tried, none of the men I went out with seemed to interest me. The few that got close enough to unhook my bra, I would stop them dead in their tracks almost immediately after. This did not endear me to the men in our office, they proceeded to call me the Blue Bronco. I assume it was because I left many of them with Blue Balls and no one could tame me.
I grew out of my shell and eventually became one of the guys, giving back as good as I got. At 30 I figured even without a man I had a pretty good life: an amazing apartment, well-off, respected professionally with a great group of friends. Then she stepped into my life and that all changed.
They called her Robin, she was from Northern Philly. Apparently, she comes from a long line of "Concrete Cowboys". Her pops and brothers ran a riding club and had a ranch on the outskirts of the city. She was also a promoter for her cousin Abby who was a client of my Boss.
It was an ordinary cocktail party at my Boss' downtown loft. I was dressed in a stunning little red number that already caressed my sumptuous curves.
Bobby, the accountant was bragging about this catfish the size of a gator, as he always claims, when she walked in. She was sharply decked out from head to toe in red and black. A black derby hat, with its rounded crown and upturned brim, sat jauntily on top of her well-kept dreadlocks. A long sleeve red dress shirt with the top 2 buttons undone revealing her small but muscular bosom with a gold chain that had interlocking female symbols resting nestled in between.
Her taught, thin but sculpted frame was finished off with a pair of black skinny jeans that hung off her slender hips and a pair of deep red Gator skin cowboy boots complete with spurs.
