Gentlemen prefer blondes. I was no gentleman.
I had spent years pursuing the ultimate blonde goddess. Long flowing blond hair. Straight. Curly. But long haired cascading beyond the shoulders. Flowing locks. I was a slave to this vision. My head was on a pivot and if a blond went buy, like a magnet I would follow the blond tresses. I was brunette blind. Oh dear when I think of the women, even the ones bold enough to make obvious overtures, whose attentions I shunned due to hair pigmentation, au natural or not, it gives me the shivers.
So when this dark eyed, short cropped, black haired beauty knelt between my thighs, and slowly began to unbuckle, unzip, and de-pants me my eyes were transfixed upon her. I had watched her as she stood before me. She started with the buttons on her blouse as her brown eyes held me in their spell. I practically started drooling when the buttons were low enough and the blouse parted enough to show cleavage of heavenly design and proportions. Shimmering brown skin bursting above a snow white bra revealed through the parted curtain of snow white blouse. It was a rhapsody in white and bulging breast flesh. I had slowly bulging flesh of my own as my eyes feasted on this brunette beauty.