Released from under the straw Stetson, his black hair covered the collar of his duster, the dark curls clean and soft as the locks of a kept woman. Ad...pting a relaxed pose, he raised a leg up and over the neck of the gelding to better show the silver spurs and the little used soles of his boot. With the clean fingernails and light skin, working men might call him a ‘Dandy’ but the depth of his eyes stopped that careless remark before it cleared their throats. Now, without a hint of the danger. Uske kamar par mujhe malham lagane main kuch paresani aa rahi thi to maine usse paint utarne ko kaha to usne mana kar diya. maine kaha Sharmao mat bhai maine tumko nanga tak dekha hai chote main aur hum donoin hasne lage, phir wo pent utarne ko raji ho gaya aur pent utar diya pent utarte he wo kewal french kut chaddi main tha aur uske penis ka utha hua hissa saf dikhne laga mere ek bar najar uspar chali gayi wo us waqt mere taraf dekhne laga hum donoin thoda sa muskuraye aur phir wo ulta let. Ishiver, the room is cool, my nipples ache, my skin is hot.Last time I looked in the mirror a man, awkward in a skirt looked back.I am beyond awkward and gangling now - I am made of curves, not angles,a dream of woman I can't take my eyes away from. Hair falls like silk,arms hang loose, every breath lifts my breasts, the lace tops of eachstocking are pressed intimately together thanks to those sleek thighs.Perhaps this me is a little shorter, a little more slender across theshoulders. I have to. He greeted me and said ” yes mam, what can I do for you?”. I casually asked ” do you stitch female blouse, and I want I by tomorrow itself?’ He said sure I will stitch and asked for the cloth.He showed me some cloth he had and I selected a red colored one for stitching. He took me inside one room for measurements. I was excited about the fact they he will have to see and touch me for taking measurement. Ho closed the door behind and took one notebook and tape.After noting down my name he asked.