.. ! The lyrics of that sweet old country ballad from the 1930's came drifting back on Memory's Tide as I started to write this story ... hence the ti...le.June Richardson wrapped her arm protectively around her daughter's shoulders. They stood watching a lone rider riding away from the wagon train. A few minutes later, he was just a small speck on the distant purple horizon."Mommie, do you think he'll ever come back?" I don't know, Honey," her mother replied honestly."Will we ever see him. Fuck, couldn’t he tell from the winky face that she was being playful?>>... Nothing. Why couldn’t just reach out to her? Was he playing a game? Was he sick of her? Why?“Screw this, I need to go for a walk.” Kristen was really getting to like Florida weather. Maybe it was a little too warm to wear long pants, but that suited her fine. Short shorts and a tank top and bra was all she needed. Frankly, she really wanted to go without a bra. She had a couple times lately, but the feel of the cotton. My manhood ached.I took up position. This entailed me leaning over her and perching my elbows to either side of her, leaving daylight between our torsos and seeking togetherness only at our groins. It felt so unatural not to kiss or embrace or caress in any way, but rules were rules and I better respect them. She actually smelled good — the usual female body perfumes or what not. I kind of hated her for that: why would the bitch make herself so nice if she didn't want intimacy? I wondered how. Around arsikere, Sahana extended her legs little short of touching me. I knowingly kept my hand on the side in a way my little finger touching her legs. In every jerk of the train, I started to touch her legs. She realized this looked at me angrily and then looked at the old lady sleeping in the opposite berth. Suddenly the old lady turned her back towards us. Sahana pushed her legs on my hands. I started rubbing her legs and every jerk I would push my hand upwards. Suddenly Sahana got up very.