Art Something
9
First Time
DETENTION WAS A BLESSING. Friday afternoon, Ms. Clayborn watched as I put in the last detail on the painting. Maybe not the very last. I spotted a few places where I thought I’d like to add something or clean something up. It was pretty close, though. And it was already past the time when we were supposed to go home. Annette hugged me and gave me a kiss that was not approved for school grounds.
“I understand,” Ms. Clayborn said. “I’d almost kiss him myself. This is good work, Arthur. You captured an incredible feeling. It’s a great start.”
“A start?” I was crushed. I knew it was the best I’d ever painted. How could she say it was just a start?
“Yes. A great start. It is the first of your exhibition quality work, Arthur. Only the first.”
“Second,” I said automatically.
“You have another?”
“I’ve been working on it at home for the past two weeks. It’s kind of… intimate, though.”
“Hmm. There is nothing wrong with intimacy in artwork as long as it’s not vulgar. I think you would know the difference,” Ms. Clayborn said.
“I know the difference,” Annette said. “It’s intimate. There is absolutely nothing vulgar about it.”
“How would you feel about being on detention for the rest of the year?” Ms. Clayborn asked.
“I… What did I do?”
“We’ll make something up. But you will need to pay attention in Mr. Kowalski’s history class. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, grinning.
“Where are we going?” I asked. Annette was not taking me home.
“Out to dinner. It’s Friday night—date night,” she laughed. “Don’t worry. I already cleared it with your mother.”
“Wow. I’ve been so out of it this week. All I could think about was getting to detention. Is that weird?”
“It would be for anyone else, but not for you. I’m so proud of you, Pen.” She pulled into a parking spot at the Italian restaurant and leaned across the console to kiss me.
“What do you get out of this?” I asked as we waited for a table. “I don’t mean that to sound mercenary, but you do so much for me and I’m all self-absorbed. I’m a terrible boyfriend.”
“Let’s just say that some women have a very protective instinct,” she smiled.
My name was called and we followed the hostess to a table. I didn’t even need to look at a menu. I loved their penne pasta with Italian sausage. They put so much cheese on it that it was gooey all the way through. Our waitress took our orders and told us our salads would be out shortly.
“That doesn’t seem like much to build a relationship on,” I sighed when we were alone again. “It’s like you’re my mother. You do everything for me.”
“With one very important exception,” Annette said. “I’m going to have sex with you. And I expect it to be really good.”
“Um… Uh… I don’t know if I’m any good at it. I don’t know what to do.”
“You’ll figure it out,” she laughed. “Tonight.”
An hour later, I realized I’d eaten only half my meal.
Annette had planned our entire date. It was so sweet of her to take me to the art museum for the opening of the new Post-Modernist exhibition. We held hands as we walked through the exhibit. It was a little disheartening.
“I don’t paint like any of them,” I sighed.
“Of course not.”
“But they are the contemporary artists. How am I supposed to fit in?”
“You aren’t supposed to fit in. You’re supposed to stand out. A lot of these artists are still painting, but they are no longer contemporary,” Annette said. “There’s a generation beyond this that was influenced by computers. When you look at art created after 1990, even paintings, they tend to explore what the computer can do. They use effects. ‘Let’s try putting strong colored lines around all the edges.’ That sort of thing.”
“I don’t do that, either.”
“No. We’ll come up with a new name. You’ll start a new movement. We’ll call it the Post-Digital Movement. You will be the poster boy.”
“You, my Lady, are sometimes silly.”
“Yes. It’s why you love me.”
We left the museum when it closed at ten. Annette parked in my driveway and proceeded to show her love for me across the console. My hand was under her sweater and hers was stroking the front of my pants.
“Pen,” she whispered. “This is where a good date would be asking if I’d like to come in for a while. He’d be thinking, ‘I don’t want this to end yet. How can I get her to keep going?’ And then you’d say something clever like, ‘Would you like to come in for a drink?’ only since we’re too young to drink alcohol, you’d think up something clever like hot chocolate, or maybe to see your latest painting that I haven’t seen since the morning I woke up in Morgan’s arms. Understand?”
“Um… Yes. Sure. My Lady, could I warm you up inside with a cup of hot chocolate? Please, come in with me.”
“Thank you, Pen. I’d love to have you warm me up inside. I warn you, though, that hot chocolate makes me sleepy. You might have to put me to bed later.”
“I’ll take care of you. I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep on the way home and have an accident.”
It was a cute little play. Of course, I knew that I couldn’t just take her to bed with my parents three doors down the hall, but there would be no problem with her sleeping in Fay’s room. And we didn’t have to say goodnight right away. We could take our chocolate to the family room and pretend to watch a late movie while we made out on the sofa. Yeah. That would be fine.
There was a light in the kitchen when we went inside. It seemed to be the only light in the house and I assumed my parents had gone to bed. We went to the kitchen door and saw Mom standing at the counter.
“Come on in, you two. I made you hot chocolate.” I tucked my shirt in quickly.
“Thanks, Mom. We thought we’d maybe watch a movie for a while,” I said.
“That’s a good thing to do for a while,” she answered. “Be sure to rinse your cups out when you finish.” I handed the first mug to Annette and she sipped appreciatively. I turned to Mom and she wrapped me in a big hug. “You know your father will look in on you in the morning,” she whispered. “It would be courteous if Annette were covered and not exposed. I love you, my son.” Then Mom practically ran out of the room and I heard her on the stairs. I took a sip of my cocoa.
“Do you really want to watch a movie, Pen?” Annette asked.
“Um… I just thought it would be the proper thing to do instead of just suggesting that we go into the family room and make out,” I sighed. “Did I do something wrong, Lady?”
“No, honey. You did everything perfectly. But, Pen…” she sighed more heavily than I had. “I want to make love to you. Can’t we just go to your room?”
“Really?”
“Maybe I haven’t been making myself clear enough,” she said. She pulled her sweater and camisole off over her head and rushed to hug me. “Do you get the message now?” I ran my hands up and down her bare back as she lifted her lips to give me a chocolatey kiss.
“Mmm. Let’s rinse our cups,” I said. As soon as they were in the dishwasher, I picked up my lover and carried her to the stairs.
“Wait! Wait!” she giggled. “Put me down.” I was sure I’d gone too far. Girls were so confusing. I set her down. “I left my sweater and cami on the kitchen table!” she said, running to get them. She ran back and jumped into my arms. “Now, my gallant Pendragon, carry me to your bed.”
“I think we should take a shower,” she said softly as we stood by the sink after brushing our teeth. “Will you bathe me, milord?”
“Annette, my Lady of the Lake, I will do anything for you. I’m lost in your presence. Tell me how to serve you.”
“You could start by taking the rest of my clothes off and running the water. And let me take off your clothes as well.”
I did as I was bid. It wasn’t difficult to get her socks off, and her skirt had a simple catch and zipper. I’d seen Annette in just her panties before. We’d slept together like that. She simply stood there looking at me and I felt overwhelmed with her love.
“They won’t remove themselves,” she whispered.
I knelt before her and put my hands on her sides, just above her panties. Then I moved them down and caught the elastic band in my thumbs and slowly began to lower her last article of clothing. In all my imaginings, my paintings, and dreamscapes, this had been an area represented by a brilliant splash of color. Indeed, as I saw my lover’s sex for the first time, I could see the colors I had imagined. But beneath them, I saw Annette. She had neatly trimmed brown hair above a little slit. As I watched, the lips parted and pink-tinged flesh began to protrude from within.
I placed a soft kiss on the exposed lips and Annette sighed, placing her hands on my head. She gently encouraged me to stand when I would have stayed on my knees worshiping her forever.
She pulled my shirt off and unfastened my jeans. Like I had done, she knelt in front of me on the bathroom floor and got my jeans and socks off. Then she slowly lowered my shorts. I was embarrassed because I couldn’t control my erection and it sprang out, almost slapping her in the face, but she didn’t seem offended. Once I’d kicked off my underwear, she studied my cock with the same curiosity and intensity with which she studied my paintings, shifting slightly from side to side so she could see it from every angle. Then she leaned forward and lightly kissed the tip, lingering a moment to touch the clear fluid gathered there with her tongue.
She stood and we stepped into the shower. I’d never taken a shower with someone before. I’d never been completely naked with someone before. I’d never known the pleasure and joy of washing each other, shampooing her hair, feeling her hands scrubbing my body, feeling her body sliding as she pressed it against mine.
It sounds strange to say that we didn’t do anything sexual in the shower. We were naked and both of us were aroused, but our time was spent exploring, each learning about the beautiful flesh of his partner. Her partner. Both of us.
We dried and I helped brush out her hair so it wasn’t tangled.
“Do you want to use Fay’s hairdryer?” I asked.
“No. Shouldn’t the Lady of the Lake rise naked and damp as she gives herself to her Pendragon?” she asked. When I thought of it like that, I realized how sexy her wet hair was as it hung down her back and framed her face. She took my hand and led me to my bedroom. At her urging, I sat on the bed and faced her as she stood before me. What a beautiful creature! “I will teach you about me,” she whispered. “This will be a hands-on lesson.”
She held my hands and, as she spoke dreamily to me, she guided them around her body.
“My face,” she whispered. “I love when you touch my face with your fingertips and with your lips. Not just to kiss me, but to caress my skin. When you kiss me, my heart speeds up. See? You can feel it beneath your fingers. You can feel my breast, too. I know it excites you, I can see the evidence in your lap. It excites me, too. Until I pulled your hand beneath my sweater after the movie last spring, only I had ever touched my breast. I swooned with the delight you gave me, even though you didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t manhandle me. It’s very sensitive flesh. It responds to your attention. See how my nipples have hardened? When they are like that, they are even more sensitive. I can feel your touch as if there was a direct nerve that ran from here right down to here.” She held my finger against her nipple and dragged it down her torso, through her navel, and into the thin patch of hair at the top of her slit. She pulled my hands back under her armpits and began smoothing them down her sides.
“They say that skin is the largest organ of the body and the average adult has twenty-two square feet of it. I think if you average together all the adult men and women, skinny, fat, short, and tall, I’d come out on the small side of average. Let’s say I have twenty square feet of skin. Do you know what’s amazing? There are nerve endings in all 2,880 square inches. Everywhere you touch me, I feel your caress. When you touch me, I want to bathe in the feeling, cover my entire body with you, bring every square inch of my skin in contact with your skin. I want to live inside you and feel what you feel—feel what your fingers feel when you touch my skin.”
She couldn’t guide my hands easily to every part of her body, but when she pulled them around her, I got the idea and continued to explore her back. She moaned softly and began to push my arms down until my hands rested on her cheeks.
“My bottom. Don’t ever jest about the size of my bottom. Girls are more sensitive about our bottoms than about our breasts. Feeling your hands on my bottom excites me mentally as much as physically. Your hands are so close to my most intimate areas. Your hands on my cheeks can pull me into your embrace. Your hands can control the rocking motion of my hips when my excitement overwhelms me. Even as you tug me forward, my Delta of Venus brushes your lips and I know that you must catch a faint whiff of my arousal.”
I didn’t attempt to lick or penetrate. I could, in fact, smell a scent that was different from the freshly washed skin. It excited me. My nose touched her sparse pubic hair and I inhaled deeply as I softly kissed her slit.
“Ah! Yes! There. There is the most sensitive spot on this woman’s body. When you touch me there, I lose the ability to speak. I will know nothing but the pleasure you give me. When you touch me with your fingers, you will find how slippery wet I am with the excitement of having you make love to me. When you taste me, you will know the essence of my womanhood. And when you place the tip of your penis at my opening, you will feel the heat of my passion—passion that I release to you.”
We held still, my nose still pressed against her mound, my hands on her cheeks. We breathed heavily.
“There will be time for you to explore, to touch, to taste,” she continued. “There will be time for me to kiss and suckle. But now is not that time. We need to join together, Pen. We are both too excited to constrain ourselves to touching and kissing. Make love to me, Pen, my darling, my Arthur, my king.”
She pushed forward and sank down against my chest as I kissed her tummy. I felt her hand on my cock and then the moisture of her opening touching and enveloping its head. I tried not to thrust forward, letting her control the pace until, at last, she sat astraddle my thighs with my cock completely in her pussy. I pulled her toward me as I lay back on the bed and we laughed as we tried to get ourselves straightened out without disconnecting.
“We’re really doing this,” I whispered as I held her to me.
“We are. And I’m so happy to have you in me, Pen. I’m so thrilled to welcome you to my body as much as I’ve welcomed you to my heart.”
We both knew there was nothing we could do to hold back the storm that was brewing. I pushed my hips up toward her and she slid up and down my cock. It was so hot and slippery! I could already feel the churning in my balls that told me my climax was near.
“Yes,” Annette whispered, holding me tightly, rocking her hips back and forth. I’d never taken my hands from her cheeks. “Yes,” she repeated.
“Annette! My Lady! I’m…”
“Yes!” she called out.
The dam burst and the flood was upon us. We shook as we came. We fought for the kisses we shared between breaths. We wept our joy as tremors continued to wrack our bodies. And when we had settled, our breathing returning to a semblance of normal, we began stroking each other again, kissing each other, and climbing to the peak once more.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
