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On one such occasion, I caught a glimpse of a Jawa girl's breasts full on as the wind kicked up around her in a gust. I was dumbfounded that no one else seemed to noticed. Those sublime, round little mounds could have fit into my hand like they were made for it, and her naked, small, dark nipples were raised up and hard right in the center of each.I am not ashamed to admit it sent me into a frenzy of masturbation later that day. Most look down on them, but everyone trades with them. For my own sake, my attention was very obvious to the two sexy sand kittens standing next to an old power droid their father had for sale.There are many different paths that all lead to the same dead end, and it looms over us young folk like a constant terror the older we get.For my own sake, I'm twenty one and it's looking pretty grim. And today, as I sat in the shade of a large rock, my speeder rocking on it's anti-grav plates a little as I yanked at my cock, it just wasn't enough. They're seen pretty infrequently when it comes to that, and not at all when they don't wish to be, but they do make the rounds among the farms just when things seem to be their most boring. An innate sense of timing that's good for business since even the older folks will perk up at a chance for some change in the routine. I didn't care about any of that, though, once I hopped out of my speeder and saw the Jawa females.What I have socked away, and what extra work and money I struggle to find, doesn't seem like it will be enough. I know of two girls around my age and they're caught up in the same sorry scramble of moisture farming as I am. There's some old, grainy downloads that have made the rounds among us farm boys for decades. I couldn't even get excited enough to come close to cumming, but I was horny enough to stay hard, and eventually I played with my dick just for the sake of it feeling good. They're rare to be seen, among a people already rare to be seen, and to add one surprise on top of the other, there were several of them.My family isn't exactly impeding my efforts, but neither are they going out of their way to help, and sadly some of my money is called upon for repairs and to make up for losses in the crop as time goes on. A desperate race against being consigned to a generational go-nowhere. Like I usually spend my days, I would rather find some kind of distraction than think about my present state of affairs. That's almost as hard to do as saving enough money to break away on your own. When is there time and or opportunity to even see a girl, much less have her be your girlfriend? Brought back from the space port by someone ages ago, showing the same cheap women in the same cheap outfits, posing all trashy and the like. After a time I sighed, tucked it away so it would go down on it's own, and hit the power convertor. Was this particular Jawa family leader some kind of stud out among the dunes? Young Jawa females went around with a minimum of dress. Their robes were cut to show, and in my present state of frustrated arousal, from here they looked yummy. They seem to make nothing of the fact the girls are practically naked by their standards. What's left, of course, is the usual hooded and hidden upper features, with their graceful arms still being fully sleeved, but right below those perky little breasts, the fabric is cut away to show off their alluring stomachs and narrow waists, which leads your eyes down to those shapely rear ends and hips that are wrapped in what amounts to nothing but a rag of a skirt.Likewise, the young Jawa males were pouring over their Sandcrawler with rags and wrenches and oil cans during this stop, noticing nothing else..as for the young Jawa women? So do you see the full length of their legs, before they finish the look with a pair of what can only be called 'cute' desert boots. What's more, the girls seem to make light of the blowing winds shifting around them, careless of how it blows up a corner of their skirt now and then, or, what's even better, blowing up the bottom of their tops.Yes, they are cut that close, with the bottom of the breast barely covered, and one gust of strong wind can show you all you want to see.

They talked hurriedly back and forth, as my uncle, distracted, looked on peevishly. Lubricating oil, but we have none to spare.” I knew what the old clench-purse wanted, otherwise why would he tell me? We'll go and get it.” I answered casually, indicating the older daughter.

Still displaying my obvious erection, I took out my purse from the neck of my boot and jingled it in my hand. Those golden orbs widened in surprise, but then seemed to roll over into a darker, more mischievous shade of amber.

They nodded eagerly in excitement at me, barely able to contain themselves, and soon they were whispering together in that tilting, excited little chirp that passed for Jawa language.

I never asked, nor cared, if my friends experienced anything like that. I stopped in my tracks and stared at them, and suddenly the golden orbs of their hooded eyes blinked in surprised and turned into two little half moons of delight as they giggled in my direction.

To be more accurate, they giggled in the direction of my hard on.

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