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A couple of tinker wagons clanged and banged as they took their turn in crossing the bridge. These were traveling merchants selling their wares of pots and pans, in a planned circuit of villages, eager to enter our prosperous village. I noticed the two drivers did not use my improved harness yet. Often you could tell who was a local now just by casually looking at their animal harnesses. I felt pride in the improved design and I was naturally curious about the rate of adoption. My nose told me it was time to move on. Unbeknownst to me when we stopped near the creek, there was a refuse pile with a couple of pigs rooting around in the garbage. The smells were unpleasant when the wind kicked up, and I suspected that the sergeant already had known about the stink pile since he lived here.I kicked the horse into a gentle walk and our party entered the village. It wasn't a surprise that people swiveled their heads as I rode by them. Most of the visitors and market goers walked to market, so. He kisses me, our lips sliding against each other, his tongue between them into my mouth.His arms are round me too, his hands stroking my back. I feel them going back under my t-shirt, caressing my skin. One slips round the front and cups my breast inside my shirt, fondling and squeezing gently. A little moan escapes involuntarily as he flicks my perky nipple. It does feel good.I let my hands slip down his back to cradle his bum. I squeeze his cheeks, then slide a hand between his legs from behind. I can feel the round bulge of his scrotum, then the curve of his prick, already semi-hard. I let my hand slide along the length, feeling the smooth firm shape.Suddenly I hear voices, soft laughter, shockingly close. A young couple about our age come strolling round a bush, chatting. We’re not doing anything too naughty, but I still jump and feel guilty, letting go of his prick. I catch their eye, try to look away, and hear them giggle as they continue past.Justin barely pauses in his.
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