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The grotto is old, pretty, and also very creepy. It’s the entrance to a small cave, flooded with water from a spring inside, and guarded by weathered stone statues of the Virgin and some other saints, which stare at us with sightless eyes as we approach.
I don’t know as much about pagans and history as my brother Tyler does, but even based on my limited knowledge, the place has a super pagan vibe to me. The water swirling at the Virgin’s feet; the gnarled trees interrupted by upthrust crags of limestone and clumps of yellow-flowered woad.
Elijah takes his sunglasses off and tucks them into the collar of his shirt, squatting down to dip his fingertips in the water. His jeans pull tight around his thighs and ass as he does, and I vividly remember how it felt to crowd him against the
