He said not to worry he would talk to his friend, I found later was named Terry, and make sure he doesn't say anything. I did feel better for a while ...ut still a bit nervous, I knew the boys would be drinking and afraid something might slip. I stayed mostly out of site but would go in the kitchen from time to time to make sure they had snacks around and just see how the conversations were going. About 11:00 Chris came to my bedroom door and knocked, I was just reading and came to see what he. The doorbell rang and it was Christine, asking to borrow an extension lead. She came in and she was her usual chatty self, I made coffee and she sat next to me on a kitchen stool. It was summer and Christine was wearing a short blue denim skirt and a yellow t shirt. I noticed her skirt had got even shorter sitting up on the high stool, her bare legs crossed. My wandering eyes must have been obvious, because she started giggling and said " your very naughty today Dave! Trying to look up my. But then I remembered that I was dead and decided, what the hell. So I walked through the wall into the men's bathroom and saw him standing at the urinal peeing. He had a nice cock and I ogled it for a while until I thought to myself: why not touch it? I reached a finger forward and it passed right through it. The guy flinched and nearly missed the urinal. Next, I thought I'd really like to lick it. So I bent forward and touched my tongue to his cock. It of course passed through as well but, it. As if never satisfied with what he drew or as if wanting to capture all of her changing facial expressions, he was fascinated with her face enough to paint her portrait over and over and over again. When looking at his portraits of her, recognizing every thought she had behind every portrait he painted, her portraits were literally her field of dreams, thoughts, whims, fantasies, and desires. How could he do that? How could he capture the essence of her in a moment of time with just a few.
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