My name is Scarlett. Scarlett Bagwell. I am a young woman, now nevertheless 32 years old, and I am married to a very accommodating, kind, caring and successful man. We live in Springfield, Alabama, a small town of about 60,000 people.
Maximilian is already damn good looking. He's a Southern gentleman to the core. Nice, polite, charming and attentive. Maximilian is actually exactly what a woman should imagine her dream man to be. Well, almost at least. Except for one literally small and really small problem, his genital equipment. His penis is far below the average of white men and measures just barely 10 cm. I am with 1.65 m quite small and slim. Nevertheless, I have very feminine curves. I wear cup size 85 D. My hair I wear short and usually dyed platinum blond.
Until that evening, I was actually quite happy with my husband's outfit and with our sex life. I just didn't know any better. A little over a year ago, I had a date with a friend Carrol to an art opening in Old Town Springfield. But Carrol is a mother of two and once again stood me up at short notice. But I didn't blame her, that's the way it is when you have children.
I still wanted to enjoy the planned, free evening. So I strolled alone through the large hall at Montgomery Square and looked very interested in the paintings of the young artist. There hung really beautiful, large-format pictures from the most diverse areas of life exhibited. Architecture, landscapes and people. Not least, of course, eroticism. I strolled through the hall until I came to a very captivating picture. I stopped. It was a picture that showed a slender white woman completely naked, embraced by several, strong black arms. Her breasts and pubic area were almost completely covered by her hands. Only small beginnings remained to be seen to stimulate the imagination of the viewer. The image was very erotic, very haunting. It spoke to me formally directly.