"Well as long as the fall didn't mess that poor critter up too bad," he chuckled.The trophy wall in his oversized living room was a source of pride fo... Sheriff Warner. The log cabin walls were filled with mounted animals of every size and shape. It was impossible to miss when visitors walked through the front door. A massive chandelier made of elk antlers hung over three leather couches, giving the room the appearance of an expensive hunting lodge.Neither the house nor the Hummer were. The Master never spoke of it, and she’d never seen him there, so it became as much her sanctuary as her room was. It was a place of peace and wonder, a small world entirely hers. The sky was crystalline blue and the wind from the south, bringing new warmth of the changing season. By midday when she ate a simple meal, it was warm enough to consider bathing in the stream. The water was cool but not frigid: prolonged immersion a delightful treat after a long winter quickly sponging bits exposed. The boy, who I figured was just arrived in the big city from some small hick town, visibly shuddered. "I never been so turned on in my whole life," he said in a country accent. I reached down to his crotch and cupped the hard-on that was forming, then unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock through the opening. My own cock had gotten stiff by now, and I held both of our penises in the palm of one hand, moving the hand in a jerking motion. The boy was so turned on he began kissing me again, and. “Maybe. I don’t know; these artistic types, women tend to fall for them – you know, pale, scrawny, malnourished and tragic waifs with big soulful eyes and so much angst and torment to express in their ‘art’…” He made air quotes around the word ‘art’. I laughed. “I don’t think he’s one of those. He’s a professional photographer, and pretty successful, I gather.” “Yeah – and your wife says he’s good looking, and he makes her laugh, and she’s so comfortable around him that she strips. Nude, Dave..