Sex museum Part 1

Kari stands in front of the museum, senses the tingling expectation that rises in her as she travels to places that contain treasures of art and culture. Today she took the afternoon off for a visit to the Glyptothek. She was here once, as a young girl. From their first visit, only a few memories remain: the feeling of agitation and the impressive sight of the great, sleeping satyr. The rest of the tour sounds like a dream – blurred and unreal.
A few years have now passed, the image of the stone man has not let them go, so she decided to go back to the experience of that time. Perhaps she can now discover what fascinated her.
A short interior in front of the large museum door, leaving the sounds of the city behind, come to rest.
If it is still as it was then, it would have to be seen to the left of the entrance. Before the visitor pays for himself and prepares himself internally, the view inevitably falls on the main attraction of the collection. Kari restrains herself, does not look, first handles the formalities, breathes through and makes herself ready to let the first sight appear.

‘Oh, no, really like that,’ she thinks disappointed. The satyr is still placed in the middle of the second exhibition room, a round dome room. The sculpture is shot in such a way that the viewer takes all the curiosity and the Satyr any intimate sphere. As if you had accidentally opened a door behind which a very private scene took place. The half-seated man of white marble, with his legs spread wide, appears so open and naked, that every sensitive person must feel embarrassed at first.
Kari can feel her discomfort as she crosses the first hall with quick steps and lowered eyes and saves herself from this terribly compromising perspective. She stands against the wall, from the satyr’s point of view on the right side, so that his raised leg can hide his genital area and breathe.

“You will not be able to change it, so take it as it is, and use the time to look at it,” she says, concentrating her concentration on the survival-sized man. From this perspective, she would have liked to see him first, so that she could have accustomed herself to his nakedness and the tension curve of this figure would not have been at first bewitched.
She frees herself from the wall, rubs her hands together. An expression of their thoughts. The stone has made her curious. How does he feel? She would like to ride along the well-defined muscle parts of the arm, perhaps even briefly, ashamed to lay her flat hand on the man’s tight stomach. The greatest temptation, however, would be to stroke his neck, which he shows quite openly. In the realm of the animals to which he is to be reckoned as a forest spirit with his horse’s bosom, this gesture is understood as submission. Too big and strong is he – actually he does not need to submit to anybody physically.
‘That’s what a person would do if he felt safe,’ she thinks. Whether forest ghosts of antiquity are to be assessed differently? Especially since they are told that they were lusty beings who were open to all pleasures.
With a few steps she steps to the left side of the satyr and is at the level of his face. Why did they call him the great sleeping Satyr? Yes, he’s big – but sleeping? His brow is slightly wrinkled, and the eye part does not look as if he had fallen into his dreams. He’d rather hang his thoughts with his eyes closed. Kari finds a more probable, but not quite satisfactory explanation
The attitude of his right leg, which he places on his bed, does not indicate any sleepiness, just as the right arm, with which he supports his head, which is laid on his side.
‘He is beautiful,’ she muses, ‘muscular, well-proportioned, and a single call. Yes, that is exactly what he exudes, that would explain his facial expression and attitude. ‘
“I show myself to you, quite unsealed and you can look at me,” he seems to want to say.
He presents all his virtues without shame to his observer, and even gives her the opportunity to appreciate his beauty. Who does not know that it diminishes the enjoyment of the observer when the person watching looks back. The Satyr knows about his beauty and enjoys the feeling of being looked at. With closed eyes he can feel the eyes like a lightly pearling tingling on the skin.
“Just as my gaze sweeps from the elbow down the upper arm into the open armpit … Kari loses the thread of her thought and enjoys the time of contemplation.

Many people have passed by, unnoticed by them. Now that she has grasped his face in peace, it seems to fit her from the front. Through his open legs she sees his sex.
‘Too bad,’ she thinks, ‘some parts of the sculpture were damaged.’
The left arm, loosely loosely over the back of his camp, the left foot and part of his penis.
“This gives me a clear view of the testicle, which does not hang as far down as he would in a relaxed state,” she notes. “He has easily contracted. Excited by the looks he exposed? Inspired by his own thoughts? ‘
The fact that the penis can not be seen in perfection allows her to imagine that the rod of the satyr does not hang down limply over its slightly contracted testes, but is just about to fill itself and to a splendid size .
“Is that what makes the man so hard on the camp? Does he want to get a grip on his starting erection, which is triggered solely by looking at his body? ‘
She walks a few steps closer, stands between his wide legs, and is trying to put her hands on his knees, slowly pulling his thighs upwards with his flat hand, and to look at the deeper inhalation that accompanies this lustful touch Would trigger him.
Obviously, the sculpture has often been taken on the knees, which reveals the mirror-smooth, darker surfaces, but as it would like, it would certainly not be allowed in this museum.

A glance at the clock tells her that she has only a few minutes to use the toilet before the museum closes. She is disappointed at the fact that the time has passed as if in flight, at the same time she feels the relief of the bladder.
“Tomorrow I’ll just come back,” she tries to cheer up. “Still, it will not be the same,” she laments inwardly. “Now I was just so close, had the impression of coming closer to the mystery of this fascinatingly handsome man.”
The door to the damentoilet opens, a voice asks in a wide, Bavarian dialect: “Is there anyone? We close now! “And lets the door fall again. Kari grins over the vocal play of the dialect. Without planning or making a conscious decision, she remains seated. She does not move, thinks nothing, only hears the sound of the noise, and after a few minutes she becomes aware of the position in which she is. Still, perhaps she could react to prevent a confinement, but does she want that? No, this is a chance she will never be able to offer again. She will be able to be undisturbed in the museum this night.
The anxious thought that her an alarm system could spoil this adventure, she successfully fights down and waits a good half an hour.
It is dark, Kari gropes to the exit of the toilet, listens, carefully opens the door, pauses again to check the silence, and gropes along the wall to the railing leading up the stairs.
The satyr is under a dome with milk glass discs that dive into a pale light shining from above and the sculptures drumherum disappear in the shade. Kari is almost breathless when entering the hall.
So, just so, he should be portrayed. As if he were lying in a forest on a clearing on which the moonlight shines down. In this way he does not look as unnaturally prostituted as he is this afternoon. Now it is the most self-evident thing to face here and now in this position. “

She feels a little more intimate with him than at the beginning of her observation.
“There I am again,” she whispers, leaning against the wall at the entrance of the room. Still, she is not quite sure about her business and has to devote herself to not thinking how forbidden it is what she is doing here and what consequences it might have. She slowly approaches Satyr from the right side. She does not want to frighten him and to tackle his irritating nakedness too directly. Now that she knows she is alone, she approaches him until she feels she can feel through her dress. She is still a bit afraid of her, which she probably could have explained with a possible alarm system, but that would not have been the truth.