That was all but a myth, and had never happened to anyone, but right then and there I didn't need a face.What I needed was a chance to be alone with one of them for a few minutes.I took in the lithe sexiness on display in front of me, and my arousal increased.
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. Too late meaning that time slips by before you know it, and then one day you wake up to the fact you're not going anywhere. Inherit the dusty, parched plots of land that stretch away as far as the eye can see? On this planet, at least around here, most of the young people are eager to get away before it's too late.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.Well, if a Tusken female's body matched her face, then didn't that apply here in the reverse?It didn't take much imagination on my part what that meant for Jawa girls.I shifted again to show them my obvious bulge, and let my eyes roam over them freely, up and down and around those sexy frames. But even as I formulated a plan in my mind, I again questioned my attraction to them.The girls ate it up, of course, and suddenly were making a show of meticulously cleaning the old droid, finding reasons to bend over at the waist, pose, slide and shift around seductively, and generally just exaggerating what they already knew what was on display. They were giving me little peeks of under boob and the like, and giggling as they gave the back of their skirts little flips in the air. Looking was one thing, but would I, could I, actually want, or do more? After all, some peoples revulsion of Jawas were that they didn't trust them, stemming from how you could never see their faces.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.