You try to look away, but you can't. It won't let you. Your eyes are drawn towards that strange, almost pulsating core, glittering and shining with every colour of the rainbow - and then some. It speaks to you, beckoning your focus inwards, guiding it like a soft mother's touch in towards the shining core that, you know, will hold your will locked within it as surely as if you yourself were trapped in a cell. But you can't look away.
Not even as your shirt is lifted over your head, momentarily obscuring it from your line of sight. You just see that shimmering core right through the fabric.
Not even when you're pushed back on the small couch chair so that your pants can be removed, revealing your already erect length.
Not even when your underwear is removed, revealing you in your fullness to her.
You don't even look away as it slips like a rainbow about in the air before you, pointing your eyes at whatever it wants you to see like a laser-sight in the blackness of night, the crystal oval capturing your every thought. You don't look away as it drops downwards to rub itself against your length, sliding effortlessly up and down your shaft as if it's trying to get closer to you through it. You don't look away even another hand, one without a perfect crystal form in its fingertips, begins to slide up and down your length. You just keep staring at the crystal.