copyright 2015, CHRISTIAN ARTIST —————–

A summer’s walk always begins with enthusiasm, although stepping over rocks, cactus, stumps and through tall grass and around piñon and juniper trees, quickly tuns it into a chore. Crystal told me about an old two story adobe home, which was abandoned quickly about fifty years ago, which was only old to her. We were both artists, I don’t seem to have any friends that aren’t, and we were constantly looking at colors in the landscape, and I studied her shapes, which she shyly enjoyed. After an hours walk, and seeds and stickers all over our pant legs, we saw the home. We imagined it more romantically, yellow skies, a slight breeze and blue-green trees. Of course, we both wanted to see the insides of the two story house. Crystal said it was originally an old grain grinding mill, but became a residence in the early nineteen hundreds. The locks on the doors were all rusted and were easily opened. After checking for spiders and bugs, we entered the dim dusty interior. Life magazines were scattered on the floor, some that I had even seen when younger. We took quick looks in all the lower rooms, but we both wanted to go upstairs. The steps on the stairs were wooden, of course, and were in bad condition. When we stepped on the first steps we heard rustling notices underneath; so sped up our climbing. The upper rooms were bedrooms and were in pretty good shape except for dust. The master bedroom, the largest, had a full length mirror on one wall across from the large bed. We both laughed at the scenario, which naturally came to mind. There was also a large tin crafted cross on the opposite wall. I went to one of the windows trying to see the view through a crack in the protecting boards. I was getting a glimpse when I felt Crystal pull on the back of my shirt. I turned and she said, “what do men and women do in an abandoned house, in the bedroom?” She slowly began to lift up her sweatshirt over her head exposing her belly button, abdomen and ribs, getting caught on her breasts. Then with a sudden yank, off came the shirt and her breasts jiggled around for a couple of seconds. “Now you,” she said. I was over twice her age and felt uncomfortable about what she had in mind. She looked at the mirror and pulled my sweatshirt off over my head. Then still watching the mirror, she moved in close to me until her nipples touched my chest, then rubbed them up and down, side to side, until they were hard and erect. I loved her side view, so slender, sensuous and sexy. She reached down and felt my erection, then undid my belt, unzipped my jeans and pulled my pants and underwear down to my hiking boots. She stayed down there and untied my boots and pulled them off as my penis was at the height of her head. She reached up and put some of her long straight hair over my penis and then slowly pulled it off, quite an arousing sensation. Raising her head she let her lips rub across the end of my penis and then stood up. She once again watched in the mirror as she removed her jeans, panties and shoes and socks. She was enjoying watching as a voyure. Was she interested in me or just the imaginary video movie she was creating in the mirror? Sure enough, it was the imaginary movie. She just wanted to see how sexual positions appeared from a distance, probably for later memories or to stimulate actual sex play. My erection was disappointed and faded, but she saw in the mirror my loss of interest and would come over and re-stimulate me, for her next scene. She wanted to see how sex looked on the bed, on a chair, standing, sitting and in wrestling positions. I would have felt “used” but she was beautiful. After an hour she was exhausted and began putting her clothes back on. We were both quiet walking back to the jeep, both rerunning the movies in our head.

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