Ali's Art Ch. 01

I tried to negotiate some of the chicken out of a carton with the chopsticks and failed dismally.

"There's a fork in the kitchen, Tom," Ali said.

I got up and found one, came back.

Ali had reached the point where my erection had started. She was pausing on each shot, studying it for a moment and deleting any that did not come up to her standard. She reached the more explicit section, and then the ones where I had cum.

There were about fifty of these, captured every one-fifteenth of a second. Some were blurred and these went to the trash can. Some showed nothing other than my arched back and grimaced face.

"Le petit mort," Ali whispered.

"What?"

"It's French, for what it feels like when you cum. The little death."

I looked at my twisted face. "Yeah," I said.

At the end of her culling there were a dozen clear shots of me in various stages of ejaculation. She had caught my first full expulsion and a white arc ran from the top of my cock up, over and down to the back of the sofa.

In another she had caught just the first millisecond as it emerged from the head of my cock, twisting as though forced out under great pressure.

The last one showed me slumped back, trails of semen shining on my neck, chest and stomach.

"I want to draw these, Tom. Would you mind?"

"Why?"

"I want to. And there's another reason, but I'll tell you that some other time. Can I?"

I shrugged. It was too late now, anyway, the deed was done. "I guess."

She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks. I think I'll grab a shower as well then. Leave the food and I'll tidy up when I come out." She got up and walked the few paces across the small room, closing the bathroom door behind her.

I sighed and fumbled some more chicken and noodles into my mouth, then shuffled closer to the keyboard and scrolled back to the picture of Ali. I pulled out another sheet of the thin paper and placed it over the monitor, talking a lot longer to trace the outline than Ali had.

Finally I found my sketch pad and transferred the image to it, leaving a very fine line where the pencil had transferred. I turned the chair so I could work at the desk, pulled out a 4b pencil and started to fill in the outline, then the detail of her face. I was so immersed in my work I didn't hear the bathroom door open and only noticed when Ali sat beside me and leaned across to see what I was doing.

I was suddenly acutely aware of her unconfined breast pressing against my arm. She had not dressed again after showering, and now wore only her thin satin robe.

"That's good, Tom." She held her hand out, "Can I?"

I handed the pad to her.

She held it on her lap, studying it for minutes, then said, "Can I?" again and put her hand flat.

I gave her the pencil.

"This is really good, but you need to add more shade. Light and shade, that's what makes the difference. Here," she twisted to hold my drawing up to the monitor and my gaze was drawn to her long smooth legs as the robe lifted and displayed her thighs.

"Look, there's shade here and here you've missed." She took a softer pencil and drew a heavy line then spread it with her finger, a quick sure motion, adding definition to the cheekbone. "I've always been told my cheeks are a good feature. Now you can see them."

I leaned across and looked. She had instantly made the drawing ten times better.

She handed the pad back to me. "Now you do that."

I looked at the screen, at my drawing, and then tried to repeat what she had done, this time along the side of her nose. When I had finished I could see immediately it was better, but nowhere near as good as Ali's addition.

She laughed at my muttering. "That's why you're coming here, Tom, so you can learn all these techniques. But this," she tapped the page, "this is better than anything I had ever done before I came here."

I think I almost blushed. "Thanks, Al."

She got up and tidied the empty food cartons away, opened a bottle of wine and brought me a glass across, also brought a joint and lit it, held it out to me with a raised eyebrow.

"Ali, I'm sorry... about before," I said, taking the joint.

"What about before?"

"I feel really bad now for doing that in front of you. I wouldn't want you to think..." I trailed off.

Ali put her hand on the back of mine. "Tom. I asked you to do that. You have absolutely nothing, nothing at all to feel bad about. The only thing you did was give me the pleasure of watching you. Everyone does what you did."

"But I got carried away," I said.

"Good. I wanted to watch you get carried away, because I've never seen that, and I was curious, and I feel I'm closer to you than ever, and if you couldn't show me that then who could?" She smiled at me and I felt my heart skip a beat.

"Are you sure, Al?"

"Of course. And if you ever pose for me again, and get excited, I'm going to expect a repeat performance."

I blew out my cheeks and shook my head. "Wow..."

"Now," she said, and got up. She walked to the sofa and I saw her hands move around to her front and suddenly the satin robe dropped from her shoulders and pooled around her feet. She took another step, the perfect round cheeks of her butt flexing and relaxing. Her long smooth legs were pale and clean.

She looked back at me. "Would you like to draw me now?"

I swallowed hard and found I couldn't say anything.

She turned side on to me and for the first time I saw the magnificence of her naked breasts. They were full beneath, curving up from her flat stomach to sharp peaks tipped by her nipples then tapering away above. She turned again this time to face me and my gaze drifted down over the flat sweep of her slim stomach, the long vertical defile of her navel, the flare of her hips, to the junction of her thighs where a cleanly shaved pussy nestled.

"Wow," I said. "Do all lesbians shave down there?" And then realized what I had said.

"All lesbians?" she said, frowning, and then burst out laughing, causing her breasts to jiggle, her nipples tracing circles in the air. "Maggie told me she gave you an eyeful last night."

"Well..." I said. "It's just... Maggie shaves and now I see you do, I just wondered..."

"Do all dykes shave?" she said, smiling. "No, not all of us. But I do and, as you observed, so does Maggie."

"Does it... is it... why?"

She laughed again. "Because it's nice. It makes me feel sexy, and it makes me more sensitive. Okay? Are you going to gape all night then or are you going to draw me?"

I stood up and grabbed my sketchbook. "How do you want to..."

"You direct me," she said. "I am the model, you are the artist. You must view me as a piece of work, a tool of the trade. Think of what you want to draw, and place me as you want." She stood waiting, feet slightly apart, back straight, hands resting on her thighs.

I took a deep breath and walked over to her, staring, walked around, taking in every inch of her wonderful body. If I was going to be able to draw anything I needed to turn off the feelings raging through me and try to view Ali as an object. But I had no idea how to do that.

I went for a chair and placed it in front of her. "Sit on that," I said. She did.

"Lean forward a little, hand on your knee, yes, like that." I studied her for a moment as she watched me, smiling. "Straighten you back. Now lean forward a little more, as though you're looking at something over here. Yes, that's it."

She held the position, glanced my way. I nodded.

I took the other chair and sat two yards away, studying her figure displayed in front of me, and began to sketch. I had to work slowly, and the results were not impressive, but Ali was patient. I saw her ease her weight from cheek to cheek a couple of times, but by then I was in the zone and transferring what sat in front of me to the page.

Finally I straightened up and eased by aching back.

"Can I see?" Ali asked, getting up and rubbing her ass hard with her hands, getting circulation back. Her breasts bounced up and down and I was suddenly very aware of her as a woman again. She stepped across and took my sketchpad, stood in front of me as she studied it and I in turn gazed at her beautiful naked pussy just a foot in front of me.

After a minute Ali stepped back and dropped back on to the sofa, still studying the sketch. I picked up her robe and dropped it across her lap, covering her pussy from my sight. It made it a little easier, but those fucking tits were still there.

"Well..?" I asked.

"Good," she said. "Really very good. You have promise, Tom." She handed the sketchpad back and leaned against the cushions. "Fire up that joint, Tom, I'm still stiff from posing." She stretched her legs out far in front of her and put her hands above her head, the movement dislodging her robe, and it slid off her lap and pooled onto the floor.

I got up and brought the joint back, lit it, took a pull and handed it to her.

"Thanks." She dragged hard and I saw her shoulders instantly relax. "That's better." She took two more long draws and passed it back.

"Shall I get your robe, Al?"

She looked down, as though only now realizing she was still naked, then grinned, "Fuck it," she said, "this feels good. Are you okay with this, Tom? I'm not disturbing you sitting like this, am I?"

"Oh no, not at all, it's fine Al, not disturbing me at all."

She laughed and stretched again. "Okay then - I am disturbing you, but do you really want me to cover up? Because I thought I'd finish up with a treat for you," she said.

"Oh yeah?"

"You let me watch you masturbate. How about I do the same for you?"

My mouth dropped open. "Al?"

She laughed. "Your face, Tom! God. I guess that's yes then, is it?"

I tried to draw in a breath, shook my head, and then just nodded.

"Mmm, good," she said and took the joint back from me. "I'm feeling all warm and horny, and I'd only have to do it on my own in my bedroom, and as you did it in front of me, I want to do it in front of you too." She drew three more big hits on the joint and put it out. "Sit over there, on the beanbag. I don't want you too close."

I looked around and saw the old blue beanbag against the wall by the desk. I got up and walked over, sank down into it.

Ali pointed her toes and pushed her legs out across the carpet. She lifted one hand to her breast and looked down at it as she ran her fingertip around her nipple. It crinkled and began to grow. She nipped it between finger and thumb and rolled it and it grew bigger. She put her hand below her breasts and massaged their heavy mass.

Her other hand began to slide down her stomach, hesitating below her navel and then continuing. She cupped her naked sex in her palm and let out a long sigh. I could see her eyelids lower and a smile form on her lips.

She opened her palm and placed two fingers, one either side of her full lips and stroked herself from thigh to clitoris, added a third finger and repeated the action with it running along the central slit between her thighs. She applied pressure and her middle finger parted her lips and I saw that as she stroked herself it became damp with her juices.

Her other hand stroked her breast, pulled at a nipple, strayed to her stomach and ran across her skin, back to her breasts and her neck.

She lifted the hand from her pussy and raised it to her mouth, pushed the three fingers deep into her mouth, coating them with saliva, then transferred it back down, sliding further inside herself. Even from across the room I could smell her sex.

Her nipples were now rock hard and stood a full inch out from the soft pink areole. I could see her large clitoris pushing through the lips of her labia and standing erect to where her fingers spread the increasing juice from inside her all over it. She started to work herself seriously, inserting two fingers inside, her thumb rubbing her clitoris.

Color had risen to her chest and neck and her breathing was become faster and shallower.

"Ali," I said, "Tell me what it feels like."

"Oh Tom, it feels wonderful. There's a warmth, a fire that's sitting just here," and she placed the flat of one hand between her navel and her pussy. "And when I do this," and she pushed her hips upwards and slid her fingers deep inside," it grows and spreads, and then..." she stopped, breathing hard, "then it feel heavy inside me, heavy and it tickles and hurts but doesn't hurt and I feel like I'm going to pee but I know I'm not and..." She opened her eyes suddenly and stared across the room at me. "And Tom, talking to you, telling you, makes it all feel so much more intense," she whispered, awe in her voice.

"Are you close, Ali?"

"Close," she murmured, "Oh, so close..."

Her fingers began to work in a fast rhythm. "Feels good," she said, "Feel close... feels... uhn... feels... oh fuck!" She cried out loudly and pushed all three fingers inside herself, bucking her hips to meet them. The muscles in her lean stomach tightened and she curled up onto herself, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She clutched her hand against her sex and her hips vibrated as they drove up and down in small movements and she continued to pump her fingers in between the soaking walls of her pussy.

Slowly she began to uncurl, keeping her hand over herself then opening her eyes, staring directly into mine and deliberately opening her fingers to display the wet inner folds of her labia to me. She was still breathing quickly, and I sat mesmerized, watching as she recovered from the passion that had consumed her, saw her relax and draw her hand up, tracing slowly over her stomach which trembled at the touch, tracing the weight of her breasts and then cupping them.

"Whoo," I said.

"Fucking whoo indeed," Ali said. "I haven't come like that in a long, long time. Thanks Tom."

"You did all the work." I laughed.

"I think you know that's not true, Tom. I got so horny watching what you did, that made the difference."

I shook my head, "This isn't a bit weird, is it, Al?"

She laughed. "Oh yeah, it's a bit weird. But that's what makes it fun, Tom! Ohhh," she wriggled her whole body rapidly. "That felt so damn good!"

She sat up and grabbed her robe from the floor, stood up and pulled it on, closed it over her stunning body and tied the cord.

"More dope," she said, and walked across to the kitchen.

"You sure?" I said.

She nodded. "I feel so relaxed now, so good, I want to just space out with you for a while. Chill out. I've only got you till the morning, Tom. God, I'm going to miss you when you've gone."

"I'll be back," I said, in my crappy Terminator accent.

Ali came back and we smoked the joint and talked about things from years back, things from years in the future we wanted to do. It was after midnight when she got up, brushed her teeth, kissed me lightly on the lips and said "Goodnight Tom".

I washed and undressed then lay on the sofa thinking.

I was beginning to drift when Ali's door opened and I looked up to see her standing in the soft light spilling from her bedside lamp.

"Tom?"

"Yes Al?"

"If you want, you know, if you'll be more comfortable, you can sleep in here with me..."

I stared at her. "Thanks, Al... but I'm okay here."

"Okay then," she said, and I heard the smile in her voice. "'Night then."

"'Night."

The door closed.

What had I just turned down, I wondered? And why? It was a long, long hour until I managed to sleep.

Morning light hit my eyes suddenly as Ali pulled open the drapes and sun flooded the room. She moved around the kitchen dressed in her short robe, making toast, cooking eggs.

I sat up and pulled the duvet around me, looked for my jeans and then wondered why, after yesterday, I was feeling shy. I steeled myself and got up in just my shorts.

"Morning toy boy," Ali said, laughing. "Sleep well?"

"Eventually."

"Yeah, me too," she said wistfully, putting plates down on the table, filling two mugs with coffee. "Come and eat."

I went over and sat across the small table from her, touched her bare feet with my toes and jerked them back, "Sorry."

"No need," she said, and deliberately placed the warm soles of her feet over the top of mine. I remembered she used to do that when we were kids and I had taken great comfort in it back then.

I started eating my eggs, buttered some toast and crunched into it.

"Thanks, Tom," Ali said.

"What for?"

"Last night. Turning me down."

I looked at her. "It wasn't easy," I said.

She nodded. "I know. And that's why I'm thanking you. I don't know what came over me. I'm not even into men, but if you had come to my bed I think I'd have let you fuck me."

I nodded.

"And I would have wanted you to. In a way, I still do. But it would change everything."

I nodded again.

"I like my life, Tom. I don't want it to change. And you being my friend is a big part of that. Bigger this morning than it was two days ago. I think you knew all of that and you were stronger than me. So thanks." Her voice caught in her throat and she got up quickly and came around to my chair, pulled me tight in against her warm breasts, cradling my head, then she lifted my face and kissed me softly on the lips.

"We'll always be best friends, Al," I said, and found my voice catching too.

Ali's eyes were damp. "I know," she said, and smiled.

We finished our breakfast, and too soon it was time for me to catch my bus home. Ali walked me back to the bus station, hugged me tightly again, kissed me once more on the mouth and then stepped away, wiping at her eyes. "Cold, huh?" she said.

"Cold," I said.

"See you next year," she said.

"Hopefully," I said.

She shook her head. "No. See you next year."

The bus carried me away, back past the piled snow, back to the freeway and the long, long drive south.