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I pull harder at your belt, sucking at my lower lip, biting it, as I wrinkle my nose in consternation. You cease kneading my lace clad breasts and push away my struggling hands. “Let me do that for you.” Your voice is low and smoldering as you unfasten the object of my frustration. I sigh and sink to my knees, tongue darting out to wet my lips with anticipation, and then look up at you. Your beautiful eyes focus on mine, and it is easy see that right now, there is nowhere you'd rather be than standing here in my living room. I know mine are showing you the same thing. Lust and need. I unzip your jeans with a dexterity that was missing mere moments ago. Protruding, encased in its cotton, is all the evidence I need to know how much you are looking forward to this as well. Your pants settle to your hips as I snare my fingers on your briefs and tug, pulling them and the snug jeans down your legs. The hair on your thighs is bristly against my fingertips as I trace my fingers along them. They camped that night on the banks of the Arkansas River, south of Dodge City. The next morning they skirted Dodge City to the east side as they rode by Fort Dodge in the distance and headed north up to Hays.Tom and Cal rode into Hays late the next day and just made it to the bank before it closed at six o’clock that evening.They went straight to Sheriff Wade’s office from there to tell him about the killing of Joon Slaughter down in Texas and the other three that were involved in the robbery.Sheriff Wade was surprised, but glad to see the two former deputies.“Tom I never expected to see you ‘n Cal this soon, what happened?”They told the story of the man and Indian woman they ran upon down in the panhandle by the river. Then they told about Joon Slaughter walking up after they all thought he was dead.“I reckon we never identified the man that was brought in from out in the brush thicket and took to the undertaker.“That must have been the guard that jumped the train during the.
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