Sex museum Part 2

“To touch a naked man, it does not work!” The curiosity and particularity of the situation makes it easier for her to ignore such conventions, and finally give her her hand free to touch him carefully the first time. With the fingertips she runs lightly, as if she did not want to wake him, from his raised elbow toward the armpit, as she had already imagined.
She hesitates, bends a little closer to his face and whispers, “Tell me, if you feel uncomfortable, I’ll stop immediately.”
With his quiet consent in the back she dares to continue and gently explores his hairless armpit and the flank down to the bend where the thigh is angled. The channel, which leads directly to its bay, does not run along, although it would be quite organic.
She is not yet sure about her business. Carefully she approaches her face to his face.
As if to appease him, like a little child, she said softly, “I’m not doing anything to you, I just want to touch you a little,” and has to giggle at the nonsense she is about to give. Talking and giggling make it easier: She lowers her hand on the right cheek.
“In a forest spirit, you never know …”, but nothing happens, he remains motionless and still tolerates her touch with a slightly furrowed forehead. This makes her decidedly bolder and she leans a little further forward, so that her upper body comes into contact with the sculpture. Through the summer dress she feels the surprisingly soft cold and the firm hold, which allows her to move the fingers further. Gently she strokes his temples and forehead, his forehead betraying that he is not asleep, but he is extremely awake with what is happening around him. In order to reach the left side of the face, it is not enough to stand on toes and stretch. He is too big. For this she can finally at last explore the neck, which he shows her. That he tolerates to be stroked at the neck, makes her more courageous and lets her walk with her whole hand towards the chest and belly.
The small fold above the navel reveals to him that the muscles are easily tense so that he can hold the right leg in his position.
“You certainly do not sleep!” She notes quietly. “Whoever has created such an unsuitable title for you!” She puts her arm around his belly and her head on his chest, as if to comfort him because he had missed such an unsuitable title. An unexpectedly nice feeling to embrace this figure and feel the soft coolness on the skin. As she leans against him and shares her indignation with him, she strokes his back, continues down with her hand, where the stance of his horse’s bony is palpable.
“You are unusual, somehow a very special man,” she muses. She feels a little uncomfortable when she talks to him. Who is talking to a Steinmann, but it still gives her the feeling of coming closer together.
She detaches himself from him, walks around him, grabs his half-curly curly hair, and stands at his left side. For her, the outside world has been forgotten, and there is only this and this fabulous being, this half-god who, with his beauty, makes heart-pounding and makes her believe that she is in the forest, which must have been his home.

With her hip, she is leaning against the satyr and enjoys looking at his face at close range. She puts her hand tenderly on his forehead, strokes his cheek and lets her fingertips explore the edge of his lips.
“Sensual lips, people would say nowadays. For a man from today’s time a little too full, but they fit well with you. Do you really know they say you’re drunk and fall asleep after the dance? Yes, dancing with them is perhaps to be believed, but only because your lips are slightly open, does not it mean you have drunk too much, do not you? Have never seen a drunk sleep? Yes, he would breathe heavily through an open mouth, but the rest of the body would be just as uncontrolled. No, no, my dear, they have been very much mistaken by the art experts. Whether they lack imagination or the truth is too embarrassing to them? I would have understood this misinterpreted physical activity, but today, in our enlightened society …? “
She pauses and becomes aware of how loud she has become in the zeal of her monologue.
“Excuse me, I did not want to bore you,” she takes back, “you know best what the right version is.”
She turned back to look. “You have a nice mouth,” she whispers. It is no longer the anxiousness that moves her to the soft tones, but the tenderness that she feels for her opposite. “Who has kissed you already?” She is frightened, without thinking she has rattled with her remarks into his intimate sphere and can have gone too far with it. But no, fortunately no change is to be noticed. “At least you are not sensitive at this point, which must be part of your character when you are responsible for the dance, the wine and the festivals. A lot of women will be there for your entertainment. “
In her dealings with the stone man is now something self-evident.
“You know,” she tells him as she slides her fingers along his neck, “I never thought that you would feel so soft, even warmer – forgive me, it should not be criticism, but under marble I just imagined something else. “
Has she deceived, or is a small smile creeping over his face? Your heart rate is high. Is it possible that in the moonlight she is so blinded by her eyes and a movement pretends or is the sensual colossus really moving?
“Nonsense, there is no such thing,” she soothes herself and continues her journey with her hand, without letting his face out of his eyes. Surely it was only a question of perspective that made his face appear a little smiling. She leans back to her companion again and tries to find through her fingers the familiar feeling she had enjoyed a few minutes ago. The world around you forget and drift.
Kari remembers the afternoon when she was standing almost between the legs of the satyr and wishing to place her hands on his knees. Now that she had shown herself to him, she seemed entitled to approach him intimately.
“You can tell me if you do not want that, but honestly it seems like you want it,” she says. “I can not tell anyone that you are just randomly distracting your legs. You know exactly what beauty is in you and carry them with pleasure, “provokes him further.
Slowly, almost excitively slowly, she gives herself to the pleasure to sweep his thighs upwards. The closer she comes to the center, the more she lets her hands slide inward. “A joke,” she thinks, but there is no displeasure in the man’s face. Rather, she sees tension, a sort of effort, as if he had to control himself, to rest on his camp.

“I torture you, I know,” whispers Kari, who is now aware of her inner unrest. Her heart is pounding, she is inexplicably warm and she suddenly feels uncomfortably pushing her little bag on her shoulder. “Little moment big, I’ll be right back and go where I left off”.
She steps back, grabs her bag, throws the summer jacket, and notices that her sandals are also a hindrance. Satisfied, she looks down at herself, only the knielange wearer gently swings around her hips.

“Now it’s better,” she sighs, relieved, and comes to the patiently waiting. Barefoot, she can stand on a ledge of the forest spirit camp and comes closer to him.
“It’s there again,” she grins at him, “I hope you do not mind if I get a little closer.” With her hands she gropes his groin, enjoys the soft cowle on the way to his loin with a long Exhale. He can not keep an eye on his facial features to ensure that she does not miss a possible impulse. There is nothing to see.
“Too much fantasy …” she murmurs to herself. These were the words she had heard since her childhood when she came home from playing in the meadow or in the forest, and told her how she had talked with the plants, how well they listened, what animals they were fond of, and that There were still little beings with whom she was playing. No children, little people who met them regularly and who were their companions. For Kari there was no doubt that she had experienced it all, she only learned to keep it to herself for years. Obviously, their fellow men perceived the world differently than they did and did not want to be disturbed in it.