by KT Morrison
Now she watched this amazing boy in her life lit with even, gray light that fell into her room warbled with sheets of rain beating on the glass behind her. Trim, fit, beautiful skin; his hips were narrow, his stomach lean, his ass perfect and round, pale against the summer tan he still held though was beginning to fade. He turned, and she saw him fully exposed.
The slightest look of apprehension tensed his features. Like he looked for her approval, worried about it. There was nothing to be ashamed of. She loved his penis. It was big, but unaroused it wasn’t so intimidating. Cole was a grower. That look in his eyes as he watched her expression as she took his bare body in, lit with bright undramatic gray, he exposed to her a tiny sliver of vulnerability. It swelled her heart in her chest and she felt fathomless warmth for her lover and best friend.
An unstoppable smile pulled her lips wide, and she felt suddenly embarrassed and hid her face behind her sketchbook, an uncontrollable giggle wriggling up through her and making her shake.
“Lost your nerve,” he said, “afraid you’ll never capture this male perfection?”
She sat up straighter, ran her hair back, pencil poised between two fingers of her right hand. She looked in his eyes and said, “You are absolutely beautiful.”
“Jesus, Maggie,” he said, flinching at her words. “I expected a joke, not something so ...”
“Honest?”
“Well, shit, how you want this beautiful body posed?”
“Be creative.”
“I should probably do some push-ups or something first, get a pump going ...”
“Just pick a pose, already.”
“It’s going to take a while, so I’ll sit.”
“That’s perfect.”
As he got a knee on the bed, she stopped him.
“Hold on.”
“What?”
“I’ve never seen your penis soft before.”
“That’s your fault.”
“Let me see it.”
“Up close?”
“Let me see it.” She leaned her elbows on her knees, chest pressing her sketchbook against her thighs and watched Cole walk closer on his knees. He smirked, looking down as she darted her eyes to his. She smiled sheepishly.
He said, “Go on and look. I don’t mind. It’s not going to be soft for long.”
“I can’t draw erections. Long story.”
“You get in trouble already? ... been drawing hard-ons, you little perv?”
Moving her eyes back to his fat hanging penis, she said, “Let’s try to keep this classy.”
“You might have picked the wrong model.”
“You’re the right model.”
He presented it to her boldly, his hands resting on his hip bones, that vulnerability gone and her confident Cole returned. She examined him. Completely flaccid, it hung lower than his scrotum, foreskin hiding the end of it, his balls large and oblong. They were bigger than Jay’s, bigger than Max’s. She dipped her head to the right, cocked it so she could peek into the foreskin but saw nothing, just the ruffled pink folds. She sat back straight again, and he said, “Okay?”
She nodded and gave him a funny smile, said, “I like it.”
He laughed, said, “Well, that’s good,” and let himself fall back on her bed, his rump bouncing until he sat at the footboard, his genitals slapping between his legs. He fluffed some pillows and put them behind his back, put an elbow up on the curved rail of the footboard, moved his shoulders around so he rested against it. “How’s that? Can I put my elbow up on here?”
“You can do whatever you want.”
“Does it show off my abs?”
“I can’t see your abs,” she laughed
He looked down and ran his other hand over his tight midsection, his chin down to his chest. He grunted, “No, you can’t—I should’ve dieted if I knew you were going to do this.”
“You’re so vain.”
“What? If my girl is going to capture me for posterity I want to be at my best.”
She worked the pencil over the paper without touching, just her fingertips exploring all the space, preparing herself for what she would do. She said, “I want to draw you how I know you.”
Cole’s eyes grew sultry while his mouth still smirked with confidence. His hand fell between his legs and held his penis, manipulated it.
“What are you doing?”
Cole said, “Making myself how you know me.”
She lowered her eyes, broke the spell cast by watching his penis in his own hand. “I’d like to start drawing, please.”
“Okay,” he said, his hand coming away and resting on the mattress now. She began to draw, her fingers bringing the pencil closer to the paper and lightly declaring positive and negative space. The space where Cole would exist and not exist on her paper. Her eyes moved steadily from subject to paper and back again.
His penis buckled. She stopped. Cole was expressionless, and she smirked. His penis extended slowly, lengthening, rising to tap along the inside of his tanned thigh. He held her gaze and shrugged, showing her his arousal was inevitable. That maddening smirk of his returned again, stormy light sparkled in his narrowed eyes.
It brought a strange dread that chilled her stomach. Memories of Jay rising up inside. That boy she fucked, or rather, let fuck her, because she was inexperienced. She’d had no feelings for Jay, only a carnal curiosity. She’d wanted that so bad, wanted to know what it would be like to sleep with him. And her Max allowed it. Now, with Cole in her life, loving her and supporting her just as Max did, those moments with Jay seemed so strange and dark. Jay seemed like a stranger now, and in a way she regretted sleeping with him. Their times together amounted to a one-night-stand, and while that experience was something she’d wanted, now having it, she regretted it.
And here, before her, came the same experience that had launched that affair. A figure model who just couldn’t keep his beautiful penis from growing under her gaze. It was a compliment. She’d drawn in groups before, had plenty of male models (none anywhere as exciting as Jay or Cole), and no one had grown aroused before. Sure there had been movement, a lurching to the left or right, testicles that sagged and climbed, but it wasn’t until she was one-on-one that her men let their genitals get away from them. They wanted her to see their arousal. They were proud of their arousal. It made her pulse race. Knowing that her eyes on their bodies were enough to spark a full erection made her powerful and feminine. The intimacy of this situation, pretty girl, handsome boy, provoked something inevitable. This was biological finality. Two apex predators. If Cole and Jay grew to hardness in her simple presence that meant she was one of them. Maggie Becker was in their league.
As she drew, Cole’s penis continued gaining hardness. Her hand continued making light shapes on the paper and her eyes watched what happened between his legs. His penis lengthened, bobbed along his leg, eventually began to pull away from that support to stand on its own, though it bowed heavily. Then it lurched, swung quickly to the side like a door on a hinge until it tapped against the opposite thigh. Cole’s belly heaved as he laughed. “Sorry,” he said.
It bobbed and rose, first heading right her way, that blind ruffled end poking straight at her, then arcing, curving its back like it was doing yoga. Then up and up again, and it ended up on his belly pointing to his chest.
“It was inevitable,” Cole said, still holding her gaze with that sultry stare she couldn’t wait to put down on paper. It was inevitable. Just with Jay, even more so with Cole. “Draw it hard.”
She huffed with a small laugh, eyes on her paper. “Draw it hard?”
“Yeah, draw me like this.”
She giggled, eyes averted. “What’ll I do with that?”
“Do it. That’s how I want people to see me anyway, Maggie. Hang it up here,” he said, nodding to the wall next to her bed with his chin. “God, Max would love that.”
The pencil traced around the page, getting a feel for the space. “He would, I think.”
“It�
��s not going to stop now, Maggie. I can’t get it to go down. Draw it like it is.”
“Okay,” she agreed quietly. “This one will be for me.”
“Fuck, that’s hot.”
She stopped again, regarded him. She sat on her dorm room bed, alone with her friend and lover, feeling so warm and happy and safe, sequestered with him, a storm lashing at the windows. Wearing a cozy sweatshirt, comfy sweatpants, no socks, there was a constant excitement when she felt her bare foot touch Cole. Now she extended her legs, lay them flat on the bed, her sketchbook across her thighs. She slumped, let her back come down her pillows. A foot extended, her left, reaching out and her toes and the pads touched the belly of Cole’s cock. He stayed in his pose, watching her and she tried not to burst out laughing. It was easy because while she wanted to, her whole insides had been twisted up tight and hard.
Cole was a grower indeed, his cock now hot and wide and hard, almost as far across as her foot. With her toes she angled his erection, so it went up on an angle. She scrunched her toes just the slightest, pulling back his foreskin. Then her foot came away.
“What are you doing?”
She said, “I’m angling it,” her eyes on his manhood, surmising it like a serious artist would. It ticked like a minute hand, one click with each heartbeat, until it pointed straight up once more, letting her know it was twelve o’clock. She moved it again with her toes, felt the springy tension in it, his intense hardness shortening her breath and clouding her mind. As her foot came away, it slid right back pointing north.
“It won’t angle,” she whispered.
“No,” he agreed.
She bit her lip and shimmied herself up to the pillows again and raised her knees. “I wanted to draw your belly button, but your penis is in the way.”
“You like my belly button?”
“It’s cute. It has a certain fuzzy charm.”
“I like your belly button.”
“Yours is cuter.”
“I beg to differ.”
She lowered her knees until the light shone on her page the way she liked and she stared at the pastel shapes that would become her lover.
She said, “Yeah, mine is pretty cute.”
Her eyes returned to him, found him staring back into hers with overwhelming confidence. One arm up, draped over her footboard behind him, chin tucked, sexy eyes lowered to her gaze, beautiful lean and tanned body presented to her, a frighteningly thick erection jutting up between his legs; her tummy fluttered, and she had to look away, eyes down to her drawing.
Cole said, “This is probably a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Tell me we’re not going to be fucking in half an hour.”
“We’re not going to be fucking in half an hour. I have self-control, Cole.”
“Whatever. There’s no reason we c—”
“Shh-sh,” she shushed him. “I can’t draw your mouth when it’s moving.”
He laughed. “Such a bitch,” he murmured, making her smile and run her tongue out at him while her hand sketched his beauty onto the toothy paper.
3
Grande
Saturday, October 21st
Max awoke with the sound of his name. When his eyes opened, he saw that the gallery lights were on. The talk was over, or at least on a break, and the attendees were standing, some talking, some filing up the aisle to exit out the main doors. Dr. Yingxu Peng-Sheng gathered papers at the podium.
Max darted his chin forward and looked around. Ken stood over him, hand on his chest, tapping him, saying, “Max, what are you doing here?”
He had trouble waking, trouble moving his mouth, a heavy torpor weighing on him, sleep trying to claw him back to its world. He had slumped in his seat and he dug his elbows in the armrests and lifted himself higher.
“Ken,” he said, “Hey, Ken. I came here to see you.”
At Ken’s elbow the other student he’d sat with loitered, hands in pocket, blankly surmising Max. The two of them stood in the aisle, Ken bent over with a hand resting on Max’s shoulder now.
“Came to see me?”
“Yeah, I was in San Diego, and I saw your Instagram.”
Ken stood and turned to his friend, said, “This is Max. He’s marrying my sister.” Then to Max, “Max, this is Brian. He’s at Stanford with me, in the program.”
Max stood up and rubbed his cheeks, tucked in his shirt. After they shook hands, Max said to Ken, “Well, I thought since I was here, I could come and talk to you ...”
Ken’s face was expressionless but his brow lowered. “What about?”
Max could tell that he already knew what it was about. There was something between them that needed to be discussed. Up to this point it was safe to assume that Ken hadn’t wanted it to be discussed. Max said, “I don’t know,” and held Ken’s gaze.
Ken said, “Brian and I are on our way to lunch.”
Max said, “Sorry, maybe I could just get you a coffee. Ten minutes.”
Ken turned to his friend Brian, they looked at each other strangely, a conversation passing in their eyes, then without speaking a word to Brian, Ken said to Max, “Okay. Ten minutes. But we have to eat, Brian and I, and we want to go to the CRISPR talk at one o’clock.”
Max said, “Ten minutes.”
“So I hear you and Max were very busy last night.”
Max must have been bragging on their car ride this morning. They indeed had an epic evening of debauchery. “We were busy all night long.”
“Aw, you and my little buddy?”
“It was nice,” she said. Her hand worked with energy, white pastel putting the finishing touches on a drawing of Cole. The white put the highlights on, gave his body a slippery electric charge. Much like what she felt when she drew him.
This was the fastest she’d ever drawn. Her heart beating frenziedly in accompaniment as she grew excited to finish her work, wanting to see the final product, wanting to commit to paper the incredible sight that she recorded with her eyes. The only sound in the room had been the pastels on the paper. In her ears however had been the most pressing drumbeat. A swoosh-swoosh of her furious little heart. Cole was so incredibly handsome, and it tingled her fingertips to press pencil point to paper and bring what she saw to life in her own realistic but somehow lurid, sweaty style.
She exhaled quietly, wishing her heart rate down, excitement quivering her arms. She was done, and this drawing was special. The way she saw him was captured.
“Okay,” she said, her effort to whisper while so overridden with a strange lust, squeezing her throat and making her utterance inaudible.
“Did you say okay?”
She nodded, feeling her cheeks blush.
“I can move?”
She nodded again.
Cole exhaled now, brought his arm from the footboard, and stretched his back, favoring his stiff shoulder. “Can I see?”
“Yeah,” she said, throwing her white pastel into a tin and closing the lid. She chewed her bottom lip in strange anticipation. Moved her drawing tools aside and got to her knees, the sketchpad clutched to her chest.
“Show me,” he said with odd seriousness, looking in her eyes.
“I will,” she said, walking to him on the mattress, seeing him open an arm up, inviting her to lay with him. He was naked and sexy, his arousal throbbing and prominent. She lay with him. Put herself against his side, let him fold his arm around her shoulder and cradle her.
Slowly, she revealed her drawing to him, letting the pad curl away from her. Her eyes on his, knowing already what was there and wanting only to see his reaction. His head shook, chin darted to his chest, he was taken aback. She knew. It was a good one.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, just as inaudible as she had been. He moved a hand to cover his mouth.
She smirked, then bit her smile, swallowed it up in nervousness. Cole’s eyes grew wet, and they glistened in the storm’s light.
“Holy shit, Maggie. You are so incredible.”
T
he drawing was disgusting, lurid. Something that would have to be hidden, never shown to another person. She showed Cole how she saw him. Dominant sex personified. Jay had been made oily and atavistic. Cole was just as sleazy, just as lubricious, but she’d captured something else there; the love of friendship, his kindness, his knowledge of her, his ability to dominate her and not frighten her, his enormous capacity as a true friend. Her own eyes began to tear. She pulled the drawing close again.
“Wow, Maggie,” he said, and he held her, clutched her to his chest and lay his chin on her head and she closed her eyes and felt his warm loving body. “There’s nothing you can’t do, is there?” he whispered.
She sat up as he lay the pad on his thighs. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t wait to see all the things you accomplish.”
She huffed, smirked, let her eyes lower to his lips.
They were so close together she could feel his breath on the sensitive skin of her neck. A few nights ago they’d been intimate. With Max, together they had a threesome, too, a few nights before. Abstinence was an artificial construct. They came together slowly, Cole’s eyes lowering as well now.
At the last possible moment, even past the point where she thought she would succumb, her tummy crunched quick and fast, thrusting her expected kiss downward. Her pouted lips mashed into the rigid head of his cock and she made a cartoon kiss sound as she tried to scramble away. Flopped belly first on the mattress, legs kicking to get herself away from him, she burst out laughing as his hands struggled to hold her ankles.
“Get back here,” he laughed.
He slapped at her ankles as she pretended to kick at him, crawling like an alligator on her elbows and knees back to her end of the bed. Cole remained in his half, sitting upright and forward now, muscular arms planted in the bed, gaze lowed in mirthful menace. She flipped over onto her back and raised a foot like she would strike him with a heel.
