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Message-ID: <36885asstr$1024607406@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: mmtwassel@aol.com (mat twassel)
Subject: {ASSM} Mat Twassel: Still Life  (MF rom flowers)
Date: Thu, 20 Jun 2002 17:10:06 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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  I'd originally planned this story to be a part of
  The 2002 Summer Rom Erotica Festival, but I've
  two other festival stories already, and from the
  sound of it, the festival is well-supplied.

  If you'd like to see a photograph of one of the
  inspirations of this story, look for the 
  "illustrated" version of "Still Life" on 
  http://calendar.atEROS.com


Still Life
by Mat Twassel
==============

I wasn't quite getting there with my erotic story for the 
Summer Romance Story Festival, so I thought I see what 
Laura was up to. I found her in the dining room. Spread 
out over the table were the birthday flowers from the 
bouquet our daughter Annie had given her last month, and 
Laura was snipping with the big shears--scattered 
everywhere were stems and stalks and bits of brittle 
leaf.  I watched as Laura selected a few of the dried 
blooms and arranged them in a clear vase with a bed of 
glassy pebbles on the bottom.  A tweak and a touch and 
she was done.

"That's beautiful," I told her.  "You're so talented."

She smiled.  "That's me. Talented and beautiful."

"Really, it's nice.  What do you call it, a still life?"

Laura laughed.  "I don't know.  'Still Life' is more of a 
painting term. But I'm glad you like it."

"Mm," I said. Moving close behind her, I put my arms 
around her and whispered, "It makes me want to fuck you."

Half-turning, she said, "Everything make you want to fuck 
me." But she had that naughty look in her eyes.

"Not everything," I protested.

"Dead puppies on the highway make you want to fuck me."

"That's not because ... I mean it's  just ... I don't 
know ... sometimes sad things ...."

"Sad things like these dried up flowers?" 

"No, no, not just sad things.  Happy things, too.  
Beautiful things.  Ordinary things."

"Everything," Laura said. She smiled at me.  A 
triumphant, mischievous sort of smile, but there was a 
little touch of sadness in it, too, and it was that touch 
of sadness that made me want to be fucking her right that 
instant.  I couldn't help it.  My hands found their way 
under her tee shirt and up to her breasts. My fingers and 
thumbs caressed her nipples.  Light pinches fattened them 
fast. My middle began pushing against her bottom. But she 
brushed me off.  "Your mom and dad are coming over soon, 
and there's too much to do. Not even time for a quickie."

The way Laura said quickie made me want to fuck her, too. 
We hadn't had a quickie in far too long.  "Not even a 
really quick quickie?" I pleaded.

"Nope," Laura said.  "I'm way way behind as it is. You 
clean up these scraps."  But she kissed me.  It was a 
nice kiss. It left me wanting more.  A lot more.


The dinner with my parents went well enough, except that 
Laura's flower arrangement was in the center of the 
table, and whenever I looked at it, I couldn't help 
thinking about having sex with Laura.  As soon as my 
parents left we'd do it--maybe right there on the table. 
Such thoughts made it a little hard to concentrate on 
food or conversation.  I was really glad that my parents 
always like to leave early to get a jump on traffic. By 
six-thirty they were out the door.

"You get to clean up," Laura said.  "Don't forget I have 
that Shakespeare class."

I was at the desk with my laptop when she got home.  I 
had made some progress on the erotic story.  I knew the 
start and I knew the middle. Getting to the end was the 
problem.

"How's it going?" Laura called from the hallway. I could 
hear her rustling around.

"Okay," I answered.  "Maybe I'm a little stuck. How was 
Shakespeare?"

"Okay.  A man may see how this world goes with no eyes.  
Look with thine ears."

"Come again?" 

"It means close your eyes."

"Close my eyes?"

"Yes, close thine eyes, honey bunny, I have something for 
you, but I don't want you to see."

"Oh."  I closed my eyes.  "Okay, mine eyes be both doth 
shut."

"Keep them closed."

"I'm keeping them closed."

"Don't peek."

"I won't."

"Don't open them until I tell you to."

Her voice was closer.  I could tell she was in the room 
now.  I listened hard.  I thought maybe I could hear her 
breathing.  She seemed to be drawing things out.  Testing 
me.  Finally I couldn't keep quiet. "What do you have for 
me?" 

"You're so cute," she said.

"Come on, tell me."

"So impatient," she said. "Can't you guess?" 

"Give me a hint."

"Okay, a hint.  It's not a puppy."

"Not a puppy.  Hm. A kitten?" 

"Close," she said. "Open your eyes." 

It wasn't a kitten.  Laura was standing next to my 
computer desk holding the vase with the dried birthday 
flowers. They were especially beautiful. Maybe they were 
especially beautiful because she was holding them, and 
she was beautiful, and she was naked.  "These are for 
you," she said.  She set them on the corner of the desk.  
"Are you disappointed it's not a kitten?"

"Oh, no," I said.  "I really like them."

"Maybe I could be your kitten. Your little sex kitten."

My cock lurched.  Laura leaned over to adjust the vase, 
the angle of a stalk. Her breasts were like perfect pears 
aching to be picked.  She swiveled slightly, and the 
swell of her ass made me swallow.

"I think they look nice here, don't you?" she asked.  
She'd turned to face me again, and for a moment I 
couldn't answer. In truth I found it hard to focus on 
anything but Laura's pussy hair.  Fluffy but trim, the 
soft little patch of auburn wool pranced and played atop 
her plump mound, then tumbled swiftly to the shy furrow 
below.

"Um, yes, very nice."

"I can see your reflection in the glass.  Can you see my 
reflection? Mat, look in the glass."

"Yup, I said.  It was true.  Because of the curve I could 
see both of us, but all my attention was on Laura, her 
bare breasts, her adorable belly, the tip of her delta 
dipping into the bed of pebbles--a glorious still life of 
gentle slopes seeking secret crevices, smoothly grooved 
stalks flowing towards pale blooms, shy buds peeking 
bravely out, and softest petals waiting for fresh dew. "I 
do like," I said, "but I like you more." I started to 
reach for her.

"No," she said. "Not so fast. You have to finish your 
story first.  I thought maybe my flowers would inspire 
you."

"Oh, they have," I said. "They have." I closed the laptop 
lid. I pulled her to me. "This story's done."

==============
Still Life
by Mat Twassel



Mat's Erotic Calendar at http://calendar.atEros.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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