"He kissed her once lightly before helping her up the slant of the tree. Then he fetched his horse and she got on it again. She clutched him as the horse ambled back the way they had come. It was policy. The closer she hugged him, the less he would think; the more evident her dependency on his support, the harder it would be for him to imagine her riding back after shooting him. It was support. This perch was really quite unsatisfactory. It was also a comfort. He might be an enemy, but he was warm in her grasp.They got back to the first tree. He tipped his hat and rode off. She got back to the house. Her mother complained a little about her shirking her chores, but suspected only laziness. The next day, she had to do better. And she had planning to do after supper.When she was in her room alone, Bertha looked through her old clothes for one that she could afford to burn if it got blood on it. This was difficult. Dresses she would have passed on to a servant before the war were. The sequins and bangles emitted skitters of reflected stage lights. She could see that her man was hard, very hard. His erection was engorged, the knob large and discolored from the volume of blood pounding through his veins. She lowered her hips and dragged her silken panty covered cunt along the length of his cock. The man wrestled with the wrist cuffs, trying to break out and grab the bra-covered boobs dangling before his face. It was no use. He laid his head back and accepted the fact that Kathy’s timetable trumped his own. She teased him more, shaking her tits near his face. Kathy plucked at the thong snaps and drew it off. Now her moist pussy contacted her quarry’s cock and she tented his erection with her vulva lips. She used her strong core muscles, disciplined by years of dance practice, to slide along her man’s proud staff. The man tilted his head forward, straining to see the intimate contact that was sending twitches all around his groin. To Kathy, his crunched neck.
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