MINISTER OF CREATIVITY, copywrite 2014 ————-

The morning prayers began for Andrea, the artist, at the Church down the dirt road. She wore a black robe and her white moccasins and that’s all. When she knelt at the altar she would open her robe for God to see all of her, hiding nothing, her goodness and her sins. She would ask God for strength, creativity and direction for the day. She gave to God her memories of the past when her family abused her emotionally and sexually and asked what she needed to do that day to heal her anguish. She knew she would need to paint a picture for the emotional release and do something sexual for that need. She prayed she would meet someone that day for help. Most everyone that knew her avoided her because of her needs.

I met her after I took this picture. She turned and looked at me; so I asked her if it was alright and she nodded. She then told me about her daily ritual and if I would help her. I couldn’t imagine it was much; so agreed. She asked if I would kneel with her at the altar. I said I wasn’t Catholic, but went along. I was basically just following her lead and watched her. When she opened her black robe I saw her beautiful slender naked body. Her soft breasts hung sensuously, her nipples were erect, her visable ribs led down to her sunken abdomen and shaven pubic, framed by her muscular thighs tightened by the position she was in. She looked to see if I was seeing her and then closed her eyes in prayer. When I heard her ask for someone to help her that day, I knew it would be me.

“Would you come to my home?” She asked. She retied her robe and we left the Church. She was quiet, but glanced at me occasionally to see my expression and mood. I tried to be supportive, but had no idea what was coming. When we entered her home I saw the paintings laying against the tables, chairs and walls. There was a large canvas on her easel with some expressive red and blue paint smears. She offered me some water, but I declined; so she pushed off her moccasins with her feet and took off her robe. She walked towards the easel through sunlight and shadows from the windows, highlighting her curves with the sun and dark silhouette. There was a tall, almost waist high glass bottle with a a long thin neck in front of her easel. She gracefully strattled it and began a slow up and down movement as the neck penetrated her. She turned around and faced me as she continued the movements with her mouth partially open and eyes mostly closed, breathing in a rhythm. I had no idea what to do and began to turn to leave, but she said, “stay and watch me, please,” so I did. She began caressing her breasts and nipples and then slid her hands along her sides, culminating at her stomach. She said, “I need to feel embarrassment and humiliation as I did as a child and the sexual stimulation.” When she saw that I felt sympathy and understanding she asked how I knew. I told her my stories over the next hour. She said she would help me. While naked she took my hand and led to the edge of the bed. She tenderly removed all my clothes, shirt, shorts, sandals and underwear and held my erect penis and testicles in her hand. Then we knelt down next to the bed and she asked God for ways that she could help me. She had heard my stories; so she knew what to do now.

These stories will be completed on my other web site.


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