Sheryl was very pretty to look at. I came home early one day, and she and her husband Tim were visiting my 18-year-old girlfriend April. To be honest, I was a little confused because April hadn't told me she knew anyone in the neighborhood. Something seemed out of place here; they acted like they had known each other for a while.

Later I found out they had bumped into each other on the street and had been getting together for a few weeks. The three of them would go off and smoke pot. That's why April had kept it secret. She knew I didn't like drugs and that I would toss her out instantly if I found out.

Sheryl was a brunette, with full hair that came almost to her shoulders and went well with her pale complexion. Her skin was white and soft, but it wasn't thin like some light-skinned women I had seen. Her eyes were brown and very expressive. Her build was slight, and at first I didn't even look at her as a woman since she was so small and slight. I favored women like April - bigger, Teutonic-looking women with round hips and big tits!

In case you're curious, I am a big guy and ten minutes in the sun gives me a great tan. This story took place in Jacksonville, Florida, where I was stationed with Uncle Sam's Navy. It was strange seeing someone that light-skinned there.

One day she was over talking to April, wearing a light sundress that was fashionably short. I took note that, although she was small, her legs were to die for - perfectly proportioned to her frame. Many petite women seem to have short-looking legs. She was short, but her frame was small and everything was in its place and to scale. She was just lovely to look at. As she moved about talking with April, my eyes were like tracking radars fixed on her lovely limbs.

The more I looked, the more I liked. There was not an ounce of fat on this gal. Then, as she was getting ready to leave, I stood up and she leaned over the arm of the couch to get her little bag. I got a good long look down the top of that dress. I could see all the way to her panties and it was heaven to behold. She looked like a nymph. Not only was she not wearing a bra, she had no use for one. She was very small on top, but her waist was even smaller, which made her very curvy. She had the most wonderful shape, and her small tits added a mysterious femininity to her.

She looked up, saw me ogling her, and broke into a knowing smile.

"Like what you see, sailor?" she teased.

"I think you are very beautiful," I told her.

"You are nuts. I have no tits!"

"Well, I think you are very feminine-looking."

She looked at me strangely as she left.

After that, she enjoyed teasing me when she was over. Short dresses, skirts and short-shorts with halter tops were her preferred clothes, so anytime she was over I was given a little show. I would be looking at her, and she would grant me a visual of her tits or her panties to keep me interested. She loved to be looked at and she loved the attention.

I often caught hell from April since she thought I shouldn't be looking at other women. Women purposely pick out clothes so that they will get our attention, then they give you hell when you look at one of them out of turn. If you don't want to be looked at - ever. You should wear a long sack dress.

As things would have it, April and I broke up several months later. Mostly it was the age difference (I was 26, she was 18), but we never really had anything in common besides the sex, which had not been all that good. So there I was with an empty house all to myself, and no woman to share it with.

Sheryl and her husband would come over sometimes. I would throw some burgers or steaks on the grill, and we would have a brew or two. I think they came over more for the food than the company. It was 1975 and with the Vietnam war a recent memory, war-mongering types like me were not considered part of polite society to many younger people (he was 20, she was 19).

Specifically, my military affiliation bugged Sheryl's husband. But I didn't let his negative remarks bother me. I had joined up because I believed in a free America. My Dad and his brothers had all fought in WWII. I had been raised thinking about the military as a civil duty.

Sheryl later told me Tim often spent their rent or food money on booze and other things. This is when I learned about their pot parties with April. April had been hanging out with them so she could smoke with them. She evidently was not as straight as she had led me to believe. Sheryl told me Tim was the dope-head in the family and that she was not really that into it.

Tim's lazy lifestyle was such that they often stopped at friends or relatives when they got hungry. He had become a scrounge and a bum, and it was dragging her down.

One Sunday they were over for a cookout lunch and to watch some afternoon football on TV. It seems they had been having an ongoing argument for days. He was getting drunk; the more he drank, the meaner he got. At one point I told him to chill out since he was getting too loud.

Ten minutes later she said something a little snide about him lying about looking for work yesterday or the day before, and he was back at her again. He reached over and slapped her. She slapped him back as hard as she could. He grabbed her by her hair and started dragging her to the door, saying he was taking her home where he would settle this once and for all. The three of us ended up outside in the carport.

I was somewhat conflicted. I had no idea how to handle something like this. Having people fighting and cursing at each other at my house was out of my realm of experience. I had been looking forward to a nice meal and watching a little football, not this shit.

I loudly told him he wasn't taking her anywhere in his frame of mind. Of course he turned on me at that point and started saying mean things to me, accusing me of things I had not done. (I had thought them, but I hadn't done them.) He continued dragging her by her hair, and she was screaming and crying. I grabbed his hand and crushed his fingers until he let go of her hair. He was an average size man and not very strong. By now the neighbors were outside to see what the fuss was about and asked if I needed help. I apologized for the noise and said it was all over. I hissed at him to settle down before someone called the cops on him.

Tim tried to grab her again, slapping and scratching at her; but I stayed between them, trying to talk this madman down. This I had experience with - drunks that got stupid and violent. Some folks just should not drink.

Then he made a mistake. He somehow got around me and slugged her. That was it for me. I had been trying to stay out of this, but this asshole had been stupid enough to ruin my day and now he was slugging a little woman. It was too much for me!

I brought my right fist around in a roundhouse and caught him on his left jaw. I could see I had staggered him. He, of course, started saying how it hadn't hurt him, and he slugged at me. Dumb move. I ducked his swing and reached down inside myself, giving him a blow to the solar plexus that sent him about ten feet back. He crumpled on the carport floor like a sack of rice.

I was on him like stink on shit, giving him several body blows and smacking his face with my open palms. I was angry, but not nuts. I knew how to fight and not leave marks. I also wanted this over and done with. I had seen enough bad drunks in my day to know that if I let him up he would just go at it again. I told him if I ever heard of him hurting a woman again I would hunt him down and beat him until he begged to be dead.

What happened next was shocking. All of a sudden Sheryl was on my back slapping and yelling at me to leave him alone. Next thing I knew, she was on the ground, telling him it was all her fault and helping him up and through the yard gate. They walked down the street towards their place. I was in shock. He beat the crap out of her, but she loved him and I was the bad guy? I had saved her butt and she was mad at me?

I didn't see them together again after that. After a few days I figured I wouldn't see either of them again, but a few weeks later Sheryl dropped by to tell me they had split up and she had filed for divorce. She had a black eye, so he must have hit her again. I was really angry and reminded her of my promise to hunt him down if that happened again.

"Please don't go after him," she asked. "It's over and we both accept that. You know, there were lots of times, as things got worse and worse at home, that I egged him on until he lashed out at me. I think it was half my fault."

"I remember you saying that on the day he hit you here. I don't think anything..."

She interrupted me, saying, "That's what I mean. I was so angry at his dead-beat attitude, that I just kept jabbing at him until he exploded. I don't think I have ever thanked you for stopping him that day. I am afraid that he might have really hurt me badly that time if you hadn't."

She kissed me on the cheek as she started to leave, then put her hand on my neck and trailed her fingers down to my shoulder as she backed away.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to behave until the divorce is final," she said with a flirty twinkle in her eye. Then she winked at me and was gone. Once again I marveled at how lovely this girl-woman looked. She had really gotten under my skin.

A few months later Sheryl called and asked if she could stop by some time.

"Why not now?" I asked.

"I don't have a car," she said.

"Tell me where you are and I will pick you up and we can grab something to eat."

'Great! I'm at the 7-11 on Mayport Road, near the base."

I jumped in my Datsun and headed east on Atlantic, arriving in ten minutes. She jumped into the car and I was instantly reminded how much I had lusted after this little woman. She was in shorts and wearing a light colored blouse without any visible signs of support... anywhere. She was never one for underwear when it was hot out. I was instantly in lust all over again. (She once told me that she felt bras were for women that had tits, and since she didn't have any of the one, she didn't have any of the other either.)