We had been “doing it” for almost three years now. She was more than ready to help me celebrate. The five-foot-six redhead knocked on the door. When I answered she just said, “Nice.” I supposed my being naked with a hard-on might have had something to do with that. She came in and I nearly dragged her to the bedroom. I clawed at her clothes until those that weren’t in shreds on the floor were in tatters on her body. Christine shirked out of those and climbed on top of me. I was fumbling at my night stand for a condom, and she brought my hands back to the bed. “You won’t need a condom just yet.” I wondered what Christine had in mind. She wasn’t trying to get pregnant, was she? “There are a few things I want to experiment with, starting now.” Christine wrapped her right hand around my dick and began slowly rubbing her hand up and down. Her left hand was lightly tracing circles on my chest, stopping to tease and twist my nipples every few seconds. “Such as what?” I asked. I wasn’t. I attempted a brief sketch on paper with a Biro, but although I could capture the scene, I couldn't show the atmosphere of neglect, the smells, the taste, the gritty feel of the dust on my skin, and so, when I got home I wrote this short descriptive piece.It's not perfect by any means, and it's not a story as such. It has no real beginning, middle or end. It is purely a memory amongst many memories, a snapshot in time, an imperfect watercolour landscape for the person who taught me that painting in watercolours is about building layer upon layer of thin washes, each completely nondescript, dull and boring on their own, but in combination with each other, creating something special.For Ric and Renee, and for Noel, may God love you and watch over you.The track from the station, once smooth and well tended by loving hands, now stood overgrown with grass and pitted with potholes from the recent rain.Bumping over the displaced stones, the raised centre line scraped along the bottom of the.
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