Ali's Art Ch. 01

I was still fascinated by her erotic drawings and asked if she had many more.

She nodded, "Yeah, a few."

"All women?" I asked.

"Draw what you know, I guess," she laughed. "I don't really get to meet many men, as you can imagine."

"But you could, like, make something up?"

"I can only draw from life. And I have drawn male nudes, we do them all the time in classes, but if they ever so much as get even a tiny boner they're sacked. So it's women only. Though I know there's a bigger market for male drawings."

"There is?"

"Oh yeah, the gay and straight market is huge. And I could get more money too. But I'm happy with what I've got. Unless..." she stopped and looked away.

I drank my coffee for a while, then said, "Last night you said you wanted to draw me. Did you mean like that?"

"I think I was a bit over-excited, you being here and everything. And of course, when I saw your butt..."

"So you didn't mean it," I said.

"Well... if you'd let me, I would like to. But would you be comfortable with that? You know, taking everything off and posing for me?"

I shrugged, "I don't know... but I'll try it if you want."

"You sure?" She looked at me over the top of her mug.

"How would we...?" I spread my arms.

"You could undress in the bathroom and then come out here. Wear a towel if you want. I'll tell you where I want you to go. But Tom, only if you're really sure about this. I don't want to pressure you."

I shrugged again, "Let's say it's rent for my stay here, yeah?" I got up and went through to the bathroom before I could change my mind. I pulled my tee shirt off, peeled down my jeans and then after a brief hesitation slid down my shorts. I looked down and sighed thankfully that I wasn't too hard. I had been worried I might embarrass myself, but though I wasn't completely flaccid I thought could get away with it being more or less normal. I hoped.

I wrapped one of the big white towels around my waist and went out.

Ali had moved the tripod and camera closer to the sofa, and piled all of the loose cushions up at one end.

She looked at me and smiled, "I only got a glimpse yesterday, but I wasn't wrong. You're seriously hunky, Tom, d'you know that? I don't ever remember you having muscles like this before."

"I guess it's all the landscaping work," I said. "I used to be pretty skinny, but I've bulked up this last half year."

"You sure have," Ali said, "And it's good bulk. You see guys with pumped muscles and they look awful. You've got muscle but just the right amount, and you're lean. And you have fantastic legs - that's unusual in a man."

I shrugged, embarrassed at the compliment. "What shall I do then?" I asked.

"Okay," Ali spoke in a matter of fact tone, and I wondered if she was trying to make this seem normal for me. "Take off the towel and sit against the cushions."

I tugged at the towel and let it drop, noticed that Ali's eyes dropped and then came quickly back up. I sat on the sofa and wriggled back, "Like this?"

"A bit lower. I want your one leg stretched out in front of you... yeah, like that. Now, the other one along the sofa so your legs are apart... a bit more, yeah, like that." She studied me, her eyes cooler now, scanning from my face down to my feet and back up.

"Put your right arm along the back of the sofa... yeah, great... And the other arm... put that down along your thigh... no, palm flat, over a bit... a bit more... good."

She stood for a moment studying me, then knelt and adjusted the camera. When she stood again she had a remote in her hand and clicked off two shots.

"Just in case I mess anything up, I always like a record. We can get the pose back again too if you need a break at any time."

"How long will this take?" I asked.

"Only about an hour, usually. I'll improve it afterwards, but the first sitting won't be too long. Now, just relax."

I tried to do as she said, but couldn't help wondering what she had meant by 'the first sitting.'

Ali took her sketch pad and folded down onto the floor, pulling her legs into a perfect lotus. She looked up, drew a faint line, looked up again.

For ten minutes she became more and more immersed in her drawing, her eyes constantly darting up to me and then back down.

It was at about fifteen minutes that I felt disaster begin to loom.

I had been drifting, thinking about how good it would be to come here to college and see more of Ali. Then I thought about really seeing more of Ali, and stopped looking at the wall and looked at her instead. She was completely unaware of my gaze. She was still sitting with her legs crossed, her long thighs wide and encased in blue jeans. She had on a denim shirt with pop studs instead of buttons. The top four were open and I had a view of her cleavage and a narrow white bra strap where the neckline had pulled aside.

That was when I became aware of a fullness in my cock and the sensation of it lengthening along my thigh.

Ali continued drawing for a while, then when next she looked up I saw her pencil stop and she just stared at my cock as it expanded along my thigh. My uncircumcised glans was starting to slowly emerge as the foreskin drew back.

I watched Ali watching me, still not drawing, then I glanced down to see my cock twitch. I involuntarily moved slightly and it slid along my thigh, rising up so that it stood away from my leg.

"Sorry," I said.

Ali glanced up at me, and her color was high. "No, it's okay."

"You'll have to sack me," I said and gave an embarrassed laugh. "You said that's what happens if the model gets excited."

She laughed gently, then said "Tom, can I draw you like that?" And then, "Does it get any bigger?"

I looked down. "Oh yeah, it does."

"Wow," she said. "I've never seen a hard dick before. It's..." she gazed, searching for words. "It's beautiful."

I was aware I was becoming extremely erect, and my cock swung up and raised itself to lie flat along my stomach, the mushroom head extending above my navel. I was almost fully hard now, and it felt different.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I'd better get dressed," and I started to sit up.

"No," Ali held her hand up, "Don't you dare. I want to draw you, just like that." She stopped suddenly and looked up at my face. "Is that alright Tom? Can I draw you like this?"

"I don't know, Al, it feels a bit... weird, you know?"

"Tom, there is nothing wrong or weird about feeling sexy. Nothing at all."

"But like this, in front of my cousin?"

"I don't mind, Tom, I really don't. Not if you're okay with it."

I wasn't sure what to say. I was not altogether alright with displaying myself in this state, but it was incredibly arousing to be this hard in front of Ali, the girl I had fantasized about so often.

Ali looked down at me again. She tore off the drawing she had been working on and began to sketch rapidly.

"How long will it stay hard, Tom?"

"I don't know," I said. "Might be a couple of minutes, might be an hour. Depends."

"Depends?" she said.

"Yeah... on how excited I am."

"And are you excited?" she said, still drawing.

"Yeah, I guess I am. Sorry Ali, but it still feels wrong to be as hard as this in front of you..."

"It's my fault," Ali said. "I shouldn't have allowed Maggie to kiss me like that in front of you last night. I knew it might make you feel like this, but I kind of wanted to anyway. It's me needs to apologize."

"Maybe it was that," I said, hoping she would believe me and not think it was her doing this.

Ali laughed as she continued to draw. "I hear it's supposed to be one of the archetypal male fantasies, watching two girls fucking?"

I nodded. "I've heard that too," I said, then, "Al, when did you first know you were gay?" I was a question I had wanted to ask since she had told me she was, but there had never been an opportunity before.

She looked up at me, looked down at my cock. "When did you first know you were straight?"

"That's not the same, is it?"

"Of course it is. Maybe a better question would be: When did you first know you liked girls? I think it's pretty obvious you do like girls, yeah?" She smiled and nodded at my erection.

"When I was... about twelve, I guess. When you start looking at them as something not annoying any more, start looking at them as something else..."

Ali nodded, still sketching, working fast. "Same for me too. Except in my case it wasn't boys but the other girls."

"Isn't that difficult?" I asked. "I mean, you share the showers together, you spend more time around them, wasn't that difficult?"

"Incredibly. And also because it's accepted behaviour. You wouldn't believe how hard I tried to hide my feelings. You remember all those letters I used to send you?"

I nodded.

"They were to girls I thought I was in love with."

"What did they do when they got them?" I asked.

Ali laughed. "I never sent a one. Not a fucking one. It was all just unrequited love - or unrequited lust."

"So when did you..."

"When did I what?" She looked up at me, a smile playing on her lips.

"You know what I mean," I said.

"Not till I came here," she said. "The atmosphere was different, New York was different. I didn't feel a freak anymore, and I went a bit wild."

"Yeah? Like how?"

Ali laughed. "You'd like that, if I told you all about losing my cherry, wouldn't you? I think I've worked you up enough as it is. I'll save that for when I'm very drunk, if at all."

Ali finished her first sketch and tore it off, started on another.

"Tom... would you, uh, would you mind holding it?"

"What?"

"Would you put your hand around it, like you're masturbating? I want to draw you like that. Is that okay?"

I felt half mesmerized now, and closed my hand around the middle of my cock. Almost two inches extended above and below my fist. Ali sketched, then twisted and picked up the camera, took a couple of quick shots.

"Rub it up and down a bit, I want to see what that looks like."

I started to stroke myself slowly from base to head. The camera snicked as Ali captured me.

I looked down and saw a large bead of clear fluid form in the vertical slit at the center of my cock, grow and drip down, leaving a small pool on my stomach and a trail back to the head of my cock.

Ali gasped. "God, Tom, did you cum just then?"

Despite my arousal I laughed. "No, Al, that wasn't cumming."

"Oh. I thought, you know..."

I realized she had never seen a man ejaculate, and wouldn't know what it looked like.

"It's a different color when I cum," I said, "It's white, and there's a lot more of it, and it spurts out a lot further than that."

"Oh," Ali said softly.

I decided I might as well give go on. I pretended it was for Ali's benefit, to give her a lesson in male emissions, but really it was because it aroused me to talk to her like this.

"That was what's called pre-cum. It's clear, and it forms constantly once I start to get excited. It will keep pushing out like that until I really do cum."

Ali nodded, still watching, and I realized I was still rubbing myself and stopped. "Uh, is that enough?" I said.

She started and looked up at me. I could see that her neck and chest had colored. "You can carry on if you want. It's okay with me if you do."

"I shouldn't be doing this," I said, starting to sit up. "It's not right, Al."

"Tom, I'm sorry. It's my fault. Getting you all worked up. I really am sorry... but you need to cum, don't you?"

I shook my head, "I'm okay, Al, honestly."

"You can go in the bathroom and, you know, do it there if you want. I'm okay with that if you need to."

I smiled. "That would be really weird, Al. I couldn't do that, not knowing you'd be out here knowing what I was doing."

"Oh," she said, "I didn't think..."

"S'okay."

"If you want to cum then, you can do it where you are... And if you'd let me, I'd like to watch. I've never seen a man cum. I could take some pictures, do some sketches..." she trailed off, perhaps realizing she was talking too much.

"I think that might feel even weirder," I said, but as I spoke I had gripped my shaft again and started the long stoke up and down.

"I told you, Tom, nothing is wrong. If it feels good, and no-one minds, then nothing is wrong. Would you like to cum in front of me?" she added in a small voice.

My stroking continued, and I looked down at her watching me. "Do you really want me to?" I whispered.

She nodded. That was all it took.

I continued stroking and leaned back, allowing the ache to grow all along the center of my cock and down through my balls.

Ali sat back on her heels and raised the camera, shooting more pictures.

More fluid beaded from me and I lifted a finger and spread it over the engorged head, heard the shutter go click-click-click.

I continued to rub for maybe three more minutes. I could feel the pressure growing at the root of my cock, and performed this trick I had always had and tugged a muscle somewhere inside, and the pressure peaked and then faded, leaving just a wonderful warmth spreading outward from my balls.

"It's talking so long, Tom," Ali said. "Is it always like this for men?"

I laughed softly. "No. I think most men would have cum by now. But I've got this something I can do. I could rub myself like this for thirty minutes and not cum."

"God Tom, that's really..." she shook her head, her wild russet curls flying around her face, "Impressive?" she finished. After a moment she said, "But I want to see you cum Tom. Think about something sexy. Think about what Maggie was doing to me last night if you want. That's supposed to turn men on, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I said.

"D'you want me to tell you about it, what she did to me?"

I shook my head. I did, I did so much, but it felt like an invasion of privacy. Instead I quickened my stroke, wondered about letting myself go, but something was holding me back; the situation, Ali's closeness and her observation of the act. Another three minutes passed and then Ali put the camera down beside her and pulled her shirt so all the studs popped. The shirt fell open, revealing her perfect breasts cupped inside a semi-transparent lace bra. I could clearly see the large dark aureole and at their center her pink nipples pushing up against the material.

"Does that help?" she said softly.

I gazed in awe. Her skin was milky white and smooth. The rising swell of her breasts pushed up against the material, resting heavily inside the cups. Faint blue shadows ran beneath her skin where veins lay.

Ali took her left hand and cupped it beneath her right breast, stroked it slowly up along the curve and then slid her fingers down inside the material and over her nipple.

That'll do it, I thought, and allowed the pressure in my balls to rise.

"Now?" Ali asked softly.

I nodded and grunted. "Now..."

I had a moment of panic at the thought of what was about to happen and tried to pull down again, but it was too late and I threw my head back as the first spasm erupted along the inside of my cock and a hot rope of semen jetted hard from the head. It arced up, high above me, and splashed down across my shoulder, most of it hitting the back of the sofa.

I was only partly aware of the constant snick-snick-snick as Ali kept her finger hard down on the camera shutter.

A second spasm shot along my length and I squirted a long jet across my chest and stomach. My hand rubbed frantically and I pushed my hips up off the sofa as a third jet emerged and followed the others.

I could feel the pressure easing now, and slowed my stroke, looked down as a final smaller spurt followed the others and covered the back of my hand.

The camera continued snicking, and then Ali released her finger.

"Fucking hell!" she said. "Tom, that was incredible. Was that as powerful for you as it looked?"

I nodded weakly, coming down from the high now, "It was."

I was starting to feel guilty too, aware of what had just happened. Cursing myself. If this screwed up my friendship with Ali I would regret it for the rest of my life.

I felt the cooling semen start to trail down my side and said quickly, "Ali, the towel, I'm going to drip on your sofa."

Ali started from her daze and tossed me the towel. I laid it flat over me and started to pat myself clean.

"I think I might take a shower," I said.

"Good idea," Ali said. I couldn't work out what the emotion in her voice was, and feared I'd ruined everything.

I got up and walked to the bathroom. As I reached the door I heard the snick as Ali took more shots. I glanced back.

"Sorry," she smiled, "Your ass just looked so fucking sexy as you walked over there I couldn't help myself."

"But you don't like men's asses," I said.

"A thing of beauty can always be admired, Tom. And that ass is certainly a thing of beauty."

"Fuck off," I laughed.

"Hungry?" Ali asked, and I realized I was starving

I nodded.

"I'll order in. Chinese okay?"

"Chinese sounds good," I said, and closed the bathroom door behind me.

I washed my hair and soaped myself all over, studying Ali's things on the shelves in the shower. Girl shampoo and conditioner (I tried both), a coarse piece of pumice stone, a large real sponge, two pink ladyshave razors.

I stayed under the water for a quarter hour, letting water run down over my body, hoping it might wash away some of the feelings rolling around inside me. Guilt, excitement, fear, back to guilt. It was mostly guilt, I guess.

Finally I stepped out and towelled dry. I opened the mirrored cabinet to find my shaving gear, deciding to waste some more time, and looked in at the perfume, lipsticks, packs of tampons, a range of odd looking little steel implements that must have had some feminine purpose I couldn't fathom.

I heard a knock at the door and muffled conversation as the food arrived.

Finally, I couldn't put it off any longer, so I pulled my jeans and tee shirt back on and stepped barefoot back into the tiny living room.

If Ali shared any of my confusion she didn't show it. She was sitting at the small desk, the Mac booted up, eating Chinese from a box with chopsticks.

"Tuck in," she said, "I'm just loading the photos." She patted the air beside her. "Pull up a seat and come see."

I dragged a kitchen chair over and sat across it, leaning on the back.

One by one the photographs appeared on the screen as small thumbnails. They filled the screen and then scrolled down. There looked to be about a hundred or more and I could see that the majority had caught me in my moment of ecstasy. I couldn't see any detail yet, but just the tiny images scrolling up made my stomach flutter. What the hell had I been thinking?

Finally they were all loaded, and Ali skipped the image I had taken of her and double clicked on the first one of me. It showed me at the start, penis flaccid and lying down inside my thigh.

I turned and went across to where Ali had placed the pages she had drawn, picked them up and went back to the chair. I compared the picture with what she had drawn.

"Yours is much better," I said, showing it to her.

She glanced at it, back at the monitor. "Of course," she said, no trace of boasting or pride in her voice. "I said that to you this morning. A drawing is always so much more than a photograph. A drawing captures the real image, the soul of a person."

She pulled open a drawer in the desk and pulled out a sheet of thin tracing paper.

"I use them like this," she said, laying the paper over the monitor and rapidly sketching around the outline which shone through. "Then I transfer this to an art pad and fill in the detail."

She dropped the tracing sheet and scrolled across and I saw the shot I had taken of her, put my hand on top of hers and said, "Let me see that one."

She double clicked and her photograph appeared. I studied it. She looked stunning, naturally beautiful. I thought I had captured her pretty well, but Ali said, "I never think that's how I look," and moved on.