I usually date really good-looking women. I don't necessarily choose women for their looks, but I've been lucky. On one particular occasion however, I was so captivated by a woman's beauty that I just had to meet her. I was at a local ball park with some friends, and several young ladies stopped to watch our practice. We exchanged pleasant conversation during the breaks. One of these women was so incredibly gorgeous that she literally took my breath away. I could not stop looking at her. Even when I was on the field, I seemed to be constantly aware of where she was and what she was doing. She had a very friendly personality, and could talk about anything. She seemed very unaware of the effect she had on the guys around her, and she was completely at ease joking with the guys (not inappropriately). She was open and honest. I asked her out for the next Saturday, and we went horseback riding. We had a wonderful time. We went back to my place, and decided to order out for dinner. On the way home, I noticed an awful smell in the car. She noticed it too, but was quite discrete about it. I checked the bottom of my shoes, assuming I had stepped in something at the stables, but the problem lay elsewhere. I glanced at her shoes, but again, saw nothing. Anyway, when we left the car, we left the odor, so I was relieved, but still had that little nagging concern, like, "What if that is me?" We were making out on the sofa, and got into some heavy petting while waiting for the food to arrive. She was a great kisser. I was thrilled when she let me take her panties off. She tossed them on the floor. I went to the door when the food arrived, and brought it back to the living room, where we already had a bottle of wine on the coffee table. The smell was back. Then I noticed her panties, on the floor, inside out, crotch up. It looked like someone had crushed an Almond Joy candy bar in the crotch of her panties. I tried to kick them away discretely, but they got hung up on the toe of my shoe. I flicked them off, a little too hard, and they landed in the same position, closer to me than before. She was oblivious. I tried to eat and to focus on the good time we were having, but my eyes kept drifting back to those panties on the floor. I kept wondering, "What in hell did she eat? Couldn't she feel that?" I couldn't get in the mood to take things further that day. I took her home, kissed her good night, and resolved to forget about it and get it off of my mind. When I got back home and went into the bathroom, she had thrown the panties in my bathroom trash can. A souvenir? Maybe I am shallow, but I can't see her or an Almond Joy without feeling a little queasy.
— Adam, 24