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I looked upwards and saw a girl of about 20 years age stood grabbing the pole and for the crowding friction her kemiz raised upwards and she was grabbing the pole by her whole body. That is her whole body was grasped with the pole. She was grabbing the lower with her legs and thighs, as a result her pussy which was at the same level smashed with my hand and the warmth I was feeling.A bad intention played into my evil brain. Nobody could see my hand or this portion for darkness. The only one small bulb lit near the driver. So I move my fingers slightly. For this my fingers smashed with her soft pussy. The girl realized something happened at her pussy. She searched with her hand and got my hand grabbing the iron pole. She tried to remove my hand from the pole but I tightly held the pole.The crowd of passengers smashed her with the pole from her behind and she hardly could keep balance. So she had to return her hand for grabbing the pole to keep balance. After few minutes I again rubbed. The watcher tensed, ready to move quickly at need. Then the quarry appeared where the road parted the trees, perhaps twenty paces from the spying figure. The horse was dark, the rider darker still. Only his face showed white, and the little light which filtered through the overcast sky made his dark eyes glitter. The watcher made a face at the arrogant nonchalance with which the rider braved the treacherous road, then flexed knees, ready to move fast. The rider was a little weary, but with determination held himself upright in the saddle. Suddenly there was a movement in the trees a few yards ahead and to the left. No more than a flitting shadow it seemed. He pulled up, the mare tossing her head at the sudden reining in. His hand flew to his rapier, and as he found the grip, a figure stepped into the road, a pistol aimed at his chest. ‘Leave the weapon!’ The command was peremptory, assured. The speaker’s voice had a rich vibrancy, though there was something about it seemed not quite.
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