I realized even then I was saving it to wear for you again.”We kissed and hands roamed. I felt his reaction to the kisses and smiled. “You sir are...overdressed.”I slid his pullover shirt off, finally getting a chance to run my hands through his chest hair. It felt as good as I imagined. I was pleased he knew how to open a front clasp bra and soon it was lying on the ground as he caressed my breasts paying close atention to my nipples. I moaned a little before yanking on his belt and dropping his. But 'Oz' was nothing if not a good 'bullshit artist.' In no time he'd made up a tale about stealing it from a Russian. 'Oz' was so convincing that they never questioned him again.At night they slept off the road, anywhere that offered some shelter. They'd light a fire to keep warm, set a guard, then drift off to sleep telling stories. This was 'Oz's' element. The language may be different, the stories not quite the same, but it all reminded him of the drover camps of his boyhood. There, he'd. More

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