“Just let me pump your cock for a minute, and then I won’t ask any more questions”.“Check and see if anyone is near the barn, before we do it ...is”“All clear”.Against my better judgement, I dropped my jeans took out my cock and started pumping.“Let me do it. I’m the one who is horny”.She walked over close to me and grabbed my cock and began pumping it with more enthusiasm than I had expected. I wanted to check her story about wet panties, so I reached down and put my hand under her skirt and. I almost feel I need these luggage racks to support my weakening legs. Something less than a sexual predator I am sure I do not have an erection, despite the provocative massage that her rear-end is unavoidably bequeathing me as a result of the swaying carriage. The sensation however of having her that up-close and personal is something I will remember. In all honesty I would be happy for it to never end. I just pray she lives at the end of the line or at the very least way past my station.. She nestles in, finding the most comfortable position. She relaxes, relishing the feel of his body under hers. He lays a reassuring hand on her shoulder. With his other hand he gently caresses her upturned bottom.Her weekly spanking is her real life: not her job, nor her family, nor her friends. It is only on Sunday afternoons that she truly comes alive. This where she belongs. She now is where she wants to be, where she needs to be. Over his lap she will receive the one thing from life she. Just before dawn, Tuk saw a lone butte ahead, and he challenged the little nomads to race the sun to its shade. His challenge stirred their flagging energy, and they trotted off toward the promised goal. Tuk came last, watching his charges carefully to make certain they all arrived safely.They arrived just after the sun came free of the horizon, and collapsed into the shade as the day started to heat. One night done, two more to go, and uncertainty as to what happened then. Tuk started to set.