He was a short stocky man with a brushy brown mustache, stained like his fingers from his incessant smoking. Looking at his hands was 'bout enough to ...ake me give up my quirleys. He seemed nice enough, kinda laid back with a sharp wit. He didn't seem worried that I was taking his daughter up towards the hills.Roxie rode up from the corral on a large dark blue or black mare. I couldn't be sure of the color because it kept changing as the light reflected off it. We cantered west towards the North. I'm pretty sure he'd rather be fondling my ample breasts, but he knows that my breasts are off limits to his touch. Not that I wouldn't mind the fondling sometimes, but I want to be consistent with Mark. After all, he expects me to be his domme, and I want to be the domme of his dreams.I pulled a cigarette from the pack and put it in my mouth. I waited for Mark to pick up the lighter, lean forward, and light my cigarette. I felt his breath on the back of my neck as he lit my cigarette. It's. More

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