Grab a cloak first.

Riva slipped away from the castle corridors before her lunch plans, pulling a deep hooded cloak over her shoulders to conceal her identity. She moved through the streets toward the city square, where a spy was scheduled to hang. The crowd had already gathered thick around the gallows to watch, pressing bodies close together under the midday sun.

She found a spot not too far from the front edge of the mass of people, eyes fixed on the prisoner being led up the steps. From this distance the spy’s face remained difficult to see, so she strained to catch any familiar features that might confirm his identity. If he was one of the Rogue Baron's men, such information would be valuable.

The press of bodies grew tighter as more spectators pushed forward. Directly behind her stood a tall, broad-shouldered peasant farmer, his frame solid and unyielding. As the crowd shifted, his hips settled firmly against her ass. Riva felt her body tense as through the layers of her cloak and gown she felt the unmistakable shape of a massive cock, thick and heavy, pressing directly between her cheeks.

Her earlier arousal from the guards still lingered, her pussy already slick and sensitive. The sudden contact made her breath catch. She tried to focus on the gallows, on the spy’s features, but the half-rigid length behind her demanded attention. The farmer seemed unaware, his gaze locked on the execution as he shouted curses and insults over the heads of the crowd.