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We stop to eat dinner a few minutes later at the next oasis. The jeep is parked right up next to the lifegiving water. The headlights remain on, and Brian hangs a lantern by the rollover bar. This gives him lots of light to see me by, but I really don't care anymore especially after what I just experienced.

I have just walked back out of the water. Before we ate, both of us decided it better if we first washed ourselves off and cooled ourselves down. I walked into the water almost as soon as he brought the jeep to a stop.

Pleasant to my delight, I discovered the pond at this oasis was both larger and deeper than the first. The water came up to my neck in the middle of the lake, which gave me the idea of unsnapping the rear hook and lowering my top. After all, there was no way he could see anything under the water. I did it to feel more comfortable and to better wash myself. I never expected what else it did.

"Not as cold as the first spring," I attempted to make idle conversation as Brian walked in after me. Being taller, the rose only came up to the middle of his chest, giving me an excellent view of his chest and bulging biceps. I couldn't help but think about what he would have seen had I been just as tall.

"Water feel good," Brian attempted to switch languages and speak to me in a type of broken Longtonese.

"Me think so too," I agreed in more proper Longtonese, although I must admit that even I do not speak it very well. "Try lower all under," I suggested.

He was close enough for me to see a look of intense concentration on his face. For a moment I thought he was looking at my boobs, but then I realized he was only trying to translate my phrase.

"I said you should try to lower yourself all the way under the water," I repeated the same in English. "Dunk your head under. It feels good."

He did so, and then I did the same, but careful not to bounce up too high.

We continued our little conversation, talking about little bits and pieces of information without really talking about anything at all. The main purpose of our talk was to practice the Longtonese language, not to communicate any worthwhile information. I remain amazed at how well Brian speaks it after only 5 days of lessons.

As we talked, an unexpected sense of eroticism came over me. It occasionally dissipated, but then I kept remembering again my near nudity under the water. We stood only a few feet apart. I occasionally thought he might be able to see my naked boobs through some weird reflection of light off the water, but then I always came back to my senses. He in fact saw nothing at all. I think that is why he conversed more openly with me. He was less intimidated when I was better covered.

His bulge made it worse. I no longer saw it because it was under water. In fact, I hadn't seen it for a long time. I observed it dissipate while still driving in the jeep. By the time we got to the oasis, I noticed it no more. Our brief conversation in the jeep must have erased whatever dirty little fantasy he carried in his mind.

But I couldn't help but think about how long it remained hard. He remained at a hard-on for nearly the entire drive. He was hard almost the entire time since our last stop, and that was almost two hours ago. 'Impressive,' I kept thinking to myself, and then considered what a waste it was for his hard cock to remain unused for so long.

This gave me a thought. It was a naughty, very erotic thought. I wanted to slap myself for considering it. But I couldn't help it! As we continued practicing simple Longton phrases in the water, I raised my hands up to my chest.

"What eat for tonight?" I questioned what we were planning to have for dinner as I felt over my own nipples.

"Bread...lettuce...carrots," He hesitantly attempted to list the menu in Longtonese as I pinched my nipples. It tingled and even hurt a little, but it also gave me a sense of erotic voyeurism. 'If he only knew what was going on just under the surface,' I couldn't help but think to myself.

"Anything for dessert," I asked as I next moved my hands down and supported my boobs from below.

"Cookies."

But what kind?"

"Oatmeal to simulate the grains on this planet," He said in English as I heaved the heavy mass of my tits up into the air.

'I bet he would really like to see these,' I naughtily thought to myself as I carefully sunk lower to keep my tits under the waterline. They never in my life felt so heavy.

"Now in Longtonese!"

He has forgotten the names of the three most common cereals cultivated by the Longtons, so I tell him.

We talked for several minutes more, and the whole time I continued to play with my tits under the water. I squeezed them, pushed them together to give myself cleavage, rubbed across my nipples, and then squeezed them once more. I did this as I continued on a normal conversation with a man who stood only a few feet in front of me. It was a wonderful experience.

Briefly, I wondered if Brian was doing the same. I pictured him taking hold of himself, feeling himself, massaging up and down his own length as we continued our pleasant little conversation. But then I shook my head. It was a ridiculous thought. His hands remained mostly floating on the surface where I could see them. And with the water being so cold, I doubt if he could have done anything at all. As the cold hardens my nipples, I realized it also shriveled his cock. Still, it was interesting to consider.

"Think lunch be now," He told me in Longtonese that it was time we got something to eat. "Keep schedule must."

He was right. I came back to reality. We had a job to do and needed to stay on schedule.

I followed him out of the water, discretely putting my top back on as we left the relative protection of the dark water and entered the light of the jeep again. We walked back to the jeep and now eat a light dinner.

***

As I sit on the back bumper of the jeep with a cookie in one hand and a cup of water in the other, I find myself wanting to give him another hard-on. My vertical suit is no longer enough to do so, even in the substantial light of the lantern. I see he has become accustomed to my sizeable tits. It is then when I think about the toga.

I shiver at the thought. The toga is the third and most revealing of my Longton outfits. It is far more revealing than the bikini or the vertical swimsuit.

It is called a toga for obvious reasons. It looks suspiciously like to the toga worn by the ancient Greeks and at uncounted numbers of college fraternity parties. One part wraps around the woman's waist. The other swings up and over her right shoulder. The only problem is that there isn't enough clothing to cover everything of importance. Specifically, the piece that goes over the woman's shoulder is too small. It is only wide enough to cover a single breast. My other boob will be left completely exposed.

"I'm thinking about changing cloths again," I tell Brian. "Into the toga."

He almost falls off the back bumper. I smile, almost giggle; pleased at his reaction.

"I'm thinking I might has well get accustomed to it," I try not to show my elation. "I don't want to, but I figure the sooner the better."

It takes several minutes for him to gather himself enough to answer. "It's up to you," He finally says.

"I think I will," I conclude, seeing the bulge again start to form beneath his shorts. It forms amazingly fast, and it does so long before he even has a chance to see me. The mere suggestion gets him hard.

"Yes, I think I will," I conclude for certain now. I finish eating the oatmeal cookie for dessert and then reach into my backpack and pull out the toga.

"Don't look!" I warn him as I walk away, and then think about how ridiculous my statement sounds after considering the clothing I am about to put on or lack there-of.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I say to myself as soon as I am far enough away to know he cannot hear. I was afraid to wear a bikini a few hours before. Now I am about to leave a breast uncovered. 'And it is such a substantial breast,' I think to myself as I look down upon it. My tits have never felt so big before. The toga covers my left boob far better than the bikini or vertical swimsuit, but I do not wear a single stitch of clothing on the other.

***

"You still want to drive?" He asks from the passenger seat as I approach.

I see he has packed up everything. Even the lantern is turned off and packed away. It has taken me several minutes to change clothing, but not so much just to change. Most of it was spent gathering enough confidence to join him.

"Sure," I accept.

I know he has seen me. I notice him take a quick glance up from the passenger's seat to look at my bare boob. But very politely and probably with great control, he does not draw attention to it.

I sit down next to him, right up close to him, our hips touching. Much to my trepidation, I realize it is my closest boob that remains bare to him. I wish the strap of the toga covered the opposite side of my chest.

"I want you to know," He speaks shyly, looking away. "I really admire you, I mean at what you are doing. I know how difficult this must be for you, and I think it's really great the way you are willing to put yourself through all of this in order to help these people you never met."

"Thanks," I appreciate the compliment. It is a very nice thing to say.

I notice him take another glance at my bare tit. This time, I see him look. He even pauses for a long moment when he looks, as though he is trying to freeze the image on his mind.

"Thanks for not being a jerk about it," I return the compliment. "If it was with anyone else, I don't think I could do this."

"I'm not doing anything special," He counters. "You're the one who has the hard job."

"True," I have to agree.

He glances at me again. This time he does not look down at my tit. He smiles at my face. And then I smile back at him.

"Why don't you look?" I offer. "If you want, just go ahead and take a look. You're going to eventually see me anyway."

I'm not sure what I am doing, but I feel as though I have to do it. Someone has to break the ice.

Brian accepts, but only for a second. The expression on his face makes him look even more embarrassed than I am.

"Really, it's all right," I prompt him. "I'm sure you've been to strip joints and seen it all, especially with you being a Marine and all. I've heard stories about you guys."

"What kind of stories?" He accepts and turns to face me again. This time it is more than just a glance. He looks hard, almost stares right at my bare boob. He looks directly at my naked, exposed, and what feels like a very large boob; and he keeps on looking. I ignore his question.

I wonder what he is thinking. 'Is he imagining what my boob feels like?' I wonder. 'Is he pretending to squeeze it? Or is he just trying to freeze the image in his mind?' I wish I had the ability to read his mind.

"Like it?" I try to break his stare after what seems like ten minutes but what is probably closer to only one or two. I start to feel uncomfortable.

"Better than any strip joint I've been to!" He tells me with a big smile. "It's hard to believe you're the same person from back at the lab. You look magnificent!"

"Thanks, I guess," I meekly accept this rather embarrassing compliment. "Would you like to see a little more?"

"More?" He looks at me strangely.

"Yea, more!" I'm not sure what I am doing, but I do it anyway. I do it on a whim, without thinking. I take hold of the strap of cloth going over my opposite shoulder. "I mean, what the hell? You can already see half!"

"Wow!" He exclaims the moment the strap comes down. I sit next to him topless.

His reaction surprises me, but it is not unexpected.

"What I mean is, you really look beautiful," Brian tries to take a step back. "Sorry about that, but I didn't mean to come across quite so strong." He looks away.

"I understand," I console. "You were just being honest I suppose."

I know what he really meant, of course. What he really meant to say was that I have a big set of jugs. He probably wants to say something about how unusually firm or what strangely big nipples I have too. He doesn't have to say it; I can see it in his eyes.

"You going to drive like that?" He breaks the silence.

"What the hell!" I remember that I sit in the driver's seat. "I suppose we might as well get going again."

"Might as well," He agrees.

***

Every bump of the jeep jiggles my tits as we speed our way across the desert. The cool night tingles my nipples as it blows in my face.

What am I doing? I yell at myself. Am I crazy?

I've never done anything like this before. I usually get embarrassed at just a low cut blouse, and here I am topless. It feels so dirty, so wrong; but at the same time it feels so right.

The jeep distracts me when we first set out. I haven't driven a motor vehicle in over 3 years. The gas pedal does not feel like I remember it. The sand and tall dunes constantly fight my attempts to keep us headed on a straight path. Brian gives me a few pointers. I momentarily forget about my exposure.

But it soon returns. Driving becomes second nature. My naked chest overwhelms me.

"I think it's cooled down," I say because I have to say something.

"But still hot," Brian glances in my direction.

I think about his crotch but fight the temptation. My own boobs are enough for now. 'One thing at a time!'

"I can't wait until morning," I start again. "Sitting back up in the lab, I used to often try to imagine how hot it really got down here. I'm finally going to find out."

"You might not want to know," He answers after a pause. "The heat will kill you if you get caught in the open."

I know he looks at me. I notice his glances. He takes quick, fleeting glances every few seconds. He tries to be discrete about it, but he fails miserably.

"What if we break down?" I ask.

"Unlikely," He answers. "This jeep was double and triple checked before we left. Even if we do break down, we have enough provisions and survival gear until they send a rescue party."

I know all of this already. The military briefed us before we left. The only reason I ask is to make conversation.

We continue to converse; first about the jeep and then about our upcoming encounter with the Longtons. I want to talk more, but I find it difficult with Brian. He acts shy and even bashful, which I find curious. I couldn't keep him quiet the last couple of days. He always wanted to talk about things other than work, and then he would suggest continuing the conversation over dinner or back in his room. But now I see a complete turnaround, and I know what it is. It comes from my big boobs. My nudity makes him shy.

"Sorry if I blabber," I decide to be honest. "It's just that I feel really uncomfortable, and I'm one of those people who talks when she gets uncomfortable."

"Me too," He admits to my astonishment. "This feels weird."

He glances down, and I make the mistake of glancing down with him. I see his bulge again.

"Oh my!" I mistakenly say out loud.

I think I know why he doesn't want to talk. It must be difficult for a guy to casually talk to a girl with a raging hard-on. I wonder if it comes from his imagination, like maybe he is imagining himself fucking my brains out. 'Is it only my tits?' I can't help but question. 'Or has he progressed yet to my pussy?' I wonder about his fantasy and then can't help but have my own.

Taking another glance, I wonder how thick it is. Then I wonder how long it must be. My left hand holds the steering wheel. My right hand rests upon my right leg. It would be an easy matter to reach over and take a look.

To my astonishment, I let my hand move to the right, closer to him. I don't try to do it. It just happens. My hand slides over and I allow my fingers to touch his thigh ever so slightly. His bare skin sends a thrill through my entire body.

He fails to respond. I wonder if he has even felt my touch. I figure the only thing Brian can feel is his own raging hard-on.

But then he surprises me. He moves his leg closer. He presses his leg against my own, opening both legs in both direction. My pulse doubles and a hot wave of sexual energy travels through me. It is as though he offers himself to me.

I don't know what to do! I am not sure what he wants! 'Is this an invitation?' I question. 'Or was the movement of his leg just a normal, casual movement?' It certainly doesn't look normal or casual. He spreads his legs so far apart the loincloth drops down between them and his right knee sticks out the side of the jeep. He resembles a male whore who offers himself to play. I find it difficult to pay attention to the jeep.

I wish Brian would just tell me what he wants. Better yet, I wish he would demonstrate it. I would love him to reach over and grab my tits. I would enjoy it even more if he decided to take his fingers and start to tease my nipples.

My fingers remain pinched between our legs several seconds more. I pull my hand up to brush my long hair out of my face, and when I rest it back down again I find myself touching his leg. I can't believe what I have just done. My fingers rest only a few inches below his balls and the erect cock above them.

I feel strange. I feel erotic. I think I could even be wet. I am not accustomed to being in this position; behind the driver's seat, in control. I often fantasized about taking control of a sexual encounter the daydream about the bedroom encounter comes to mind but in real life I behave like a tremendous pacifist. I don't know what to do.

His bulge remains. I think it is even bigger now. The loincloth, when it drops between his legs, serves to amplify its size. I am shocked to find myself trying to figure out his length. 'A minimum of 7,' I think to myself. '7 inches, minimum length, maybe even a fraction of an inch longer!' I find it hard to make an honest estimate in my heightened state of arousal.

I can't stand it any more.

"Do you mind?" I decide to question him. I take a glance down at his waist as I say it, indicating my intent. His eyes follow, and then he smiles.

"Do you mind if I take a look?" I decide to be more blunt.

My foot lifts off the accelerator. I slow the jeep down to a crawl.

"It's up to you," He serves the choice back to me.

My decision is obvious. I look at my own fingers, hardly believing they are mine, as they take hold of the flap of his shorts and begin to peal it back. Brian says nothing. He fails to answer my question with words, but his inaction tells me all I need to know.

"Very nice," I tease him before I can see anything. The darkness makes it difficult to see. I know how men like to be complimented on their merchandise. All men are impressed by their own cocks. Given Brian's personality, I figure he thinks his is the greatest of all.

I think I see an outline, and then I think I see even more. Yes, I definitely see it now. I have enough uncovered to see the general outline of his erect member. I raise the flap of fabric above his waist and take a look.

"Yes, very nice," I make sure to continue complimenting.

It fails to fulfill my wild fantasies, but it is not small either. It is difficult to tell for certain, but Brian looks to be at least a little longer than average. His length does not attract me so much as his bulk. Brian has a wide girth.

Looking closer, I also notice he is uncircumcised, a little fact that I relish. I've always felt it a sin to circumcise a male prick. Men should be left as long as possible to give as much pleasure as possible.

Looking closer still, I think I might even be able to see wetness. I see pre-cum at the tip. 'Of course he has precum!' I realize. 'He's been hard for almost the last two hours!'

I notice the jeep slow to a complete stop. It is I who bring it to a stop, although I'm not quite aware of doing so. In a wild feat of ecstasy, I decide to take advantage of the situation.

"Get out," I tell him sharply.

"What!" He looks back to me in surprise.

"Get out and take it off," I clarify. "Take it all off. I think if I have to wear this toga, then you have to take it off. Put your shorts in back. As long as I have to bare a breast, I want you to show me all of you."

He hesitates and stares back at me with a shocked look on his face. For a moment, I think I have gone too far. I don't know what he will do, but then he rises.

I watch as he gets up, unties the thin string that goes around his waist, and then removes his shorts completely. He places them in the back of the jeep and then gets back in. Now naked, he sits down beside me.

"Is this better?" He asks.

"Much," I answer simply.

We start off again. This is a dream come true. A naked man sits beside me. Better yet, he is a naked man with a hard erection poking up at attention. "That's better," I tell him again. "That's much better."

As he glances over at my exposed right tit, I glance down at his engorged erection. I no longer need to imagine it. I know exactly his size and what it looks like.

My fantasy continues. In my mind, Brian again stands beside me at my bed. I find myself stripping and stroking him again, except this time I add an element that I have never considered before. As I stroke him, I tell him not to cum. I order him to remain hard and allow me to stroke him for as long as I want. I say I do not want him to cum and to get soft, for I want to continue to play with his member.

In my fantasy, predictably, he obeys me and remains hard. I see by the expression on his face that he desperately wants to eject, but I keep telling him that he cannot. "Not yet," I fantasize myself ordering him. "Not yet! Not until I finish playing."

I stroke on him some more, and then I stroke on him even more. In my fantasy, Brian is like my ultimate sex slave. His organ is mine. I own his erection. Only I can give him permission and tell him when it is time to spurt, but I refuse to do so. I keep pumping on his organ and watching his anguish. It is as though I sexually torture him.

Of course, I know my fantasy can never come true. It must remain just a fantasy. Men cannot master their cocks no more than a woman can master an orgasm. If I should start pumping on Brian right now, I think he will cum almost immediately. He has already remained hard for so long. In fact, it is impressive how long he has kept up his erection. I do not know for sure, but I think he must have already been hard for a combined total of nearly three hours this night. Deep inside, he must be ready to burst.

Yet he does nothing about it. He does not touch himself. He does not touch me. Despite the incredible desire that must be burning inside him, his hands remain firmly planted on the handrails of the jeep.

I want him to do something. My tit swells out from my chest from only a few inches away. My nipple clearly shoots forward from the very tip. And from between my legs, although I know he cannot see, my pussy radiates heat and wetness. I want him to fuck me.

I shake my head and come back to reality. This is too much. I must stop my fantasies, but they are difficult to stop as long as Brian remains sitting beside me. I see his stiff prick; his hard, wet, and very erect prick. The lights from the dashboard do not provide much illumination for his prick, but it is enough to see the head sparkle. I can tell he pre-cums.

Brian repositions his arms to take hold of the rollover bar above his head. He lifts his hands above his head, allowing me an even more open view of his stiff prick and his naked body. It is as though he is putting himself on display for me. I feel like I am at a strip club where the men not only strip down to nothing but also entertain the female audience by making themselves hard.

Then I consider yet another erotic aspect of his nudity. It hits me from out of the blue, although I know what triggers it. The way Brian holds his head above his head makes it appear as though he is bound. A hot wave of excitement comes over me as I think about tying him myself.

The fantasy turns to a direction never traveled before. Usually, I end my fantasies with a long fuck and an eventual orgasm. This usually happens as I stroke in and out of myself with a dildo.

But now I consider a more erotic suggestion. I wonder what it would be like to change positions. Instead of fucking me, I wonder what it would be like to fuck a man. I imagine myself encircling a rope around Brian's wrists and tying him up to some convenient tree.

Suddenly, the big cock before me no longer belongs to him. He no longer owns it. I feel as though it is mine. Although it still projects out from his body, I have the weird and incredibly erotic sensation that he only holds it in storage for me. I think Brian's cock is really mine. I purchased it. Just as the men in this Longton society own their women, so I own my man. Or more specifically, I own Brian's cock. And as its owner, I can do with it as I please.

This is a new high for me. I've never considered these things before. More than just being a passive recipient, I wonder what it would be like if the male agreed to be my sex toy; my slave. Or more precisely, I wonder what it would be like if Brian agreed to be my sex slave.

I have to stop. Shaking my head, I come back to reality.