Johann's cart was parked in the middle of the square with a few merchants trying to sell bread and vegetables, others just sitting in the midday heat. Even his dog, Munch, was laid out under the wagon trying to find a breath of cool air in the heat and dust. He doubted the poor dog could find any relief short of a pond to wade in. If he wasn't so worried about making enough for the next few weeks' meals, he'd've gone looking for one himself.

A woman walked up the lane and he called out to her, "Ho there. I can see you are a woman of good taste and know the value of a coin. And you wish to provide the very best for your family. I have a pot here that is of the finest quality. Made by artisans in the Ruhr Valley, it was." He tapped on the bottom to get a hollow ring out of it and went on, "Can you hear that? That is the sound of the finest iron in all Germany, perhaps in all Christendom. This pot would last you and your family's needs, then your daughter's and granddaughter's family's lives. Come close and look at the craftsmanship that went into this fine piece of kitchenware."

At least she came close and he went on with the spiel until she raised her hand. "I have little coin, a mere two pfennigs to rub together."

"Madam, I am talking about an investment in the next generation with this pot. I tell you it should last for longer than you and I shall. We are but mortal, this pot is so much more than that."

"That is well and good but ..."

"Then perhaps something the merest bit smaller. Still serviceable, mind, just a more convenient size." Another, smaller pot came into view and he let out with the old lines and words, so familiar he no longer dreamed them in his head at night. But the woman moved on and Johann sat back in the warm noon sun. No one was about and he dozed off lightly in his chair. Traded a good iron pot for it years ago and, though the canvas was wearing thin, it was a still a fine and comfortable chair. He thought of finding a woman, as always, for an hour's entertainment then thought back to his first puppy love.

All of twelve summers and he was on a caravan, responsible for taking care of the stock and watching after the camp. It wasn't hard work, just long and boring. The wagons were hot in the daytime and cold at night, like the desert around them. All summer they would travel before reaching the spice and silk riches of fabled Cathay. A land full of heathens, he'd been told, but he's seen so many things already it was hard to think if anything that could surprise him.

For several days he and Jessica, the young girl his age riding with another merchant, had been trading looks whenever they could get away with it. And they'd whispered a meeting to each other, a bit of a sneak off into the nearby wadi to be protected from the wind, safe from prying eyes. They talked and kissed, hands wandering in curiosity, hers rubbing his small organ and his handling a soft, warm breast. They felt so right in his hand, firm and exciting. And the nipples had a unique taste that excited him to no end.

Another night and they met again, this time getting bolder and hands holding young flesh, his hard and ready to shoot, hers wet and firm with her quickening breath. He felt her stiffen under his careful fingers and let out a long moan, squeezing his organ until he feared she would tear it off but it felt so good he didn't dare move. Her eyes finally opened again and she kissed his lips, running her fingers up and down his hardness until he let loose with a thin stream of seed.

At least every other day they managed to find a little time for themselves, stealing a moment to kiss, a minute to grab and fondle, just a bit more to pull clothes off and go after the pleasures of the body. They both knew it was supposed to be a sin but such exquisite pleasures could no more be wrong in the eyes of the creator than a kitten at play.....(cont)