I felt like I had known him all my life. I became familiar with all his physical attributes and his presence in the air every time he came to visit at night.You should know I live in a place where it is almost always warm, but typically hot. Hot and humid or hot and dry. His presence would only raise the temperature, even more, making me moist over my whole body. My simple cotton sleeping tunic would become soaked even before he might arrive. Sometimes the scent of Madre de Noche Jasmine would drift into the room.It would start with me feeling all hot inside and starting to get the needy urge to touch myself. He would just look at me and stay in the dark. I could feel my nipples getting hard. I would reach for my breasts with my left hand and softly caress them in a circular motion. My right hand would seek the wetness between my legs. I would touch the opening of my pussy lips with my long fingers, bring my nectar to my clit, and rub them around and around the erect nipples. Doing. Well maybe we still would.I wasn't much into knowing about women. Hell, no one would consider me much anyway. I was nineteen, lean as a whip, and trouble had been my companion all of my life. I hadn't had my hair chopped off for years and my face had never seen a razor. I was about as scrabble looking, no good, out of work cowpoke, as you ever did see. My clothes were patched and my shoes were turned over.I had one piggin string for her hands and I took one off the old man's own hoss to tie up his hands. When I got close to the woman, I could see she wasn't more'n a girl. She had dark hair like me and her skin was a creamy tan from being out in the open. She did have women's equipment though, and she must have had a bath this morning. Getting beyond the horse smell that was there from riding in, I could smell lavender flowers.I knew how awkward it would be to walk with your hands behind you over the rough going, so she got hers tied in front. The old man got his'n tied behind. We had.
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