Still life
by Belladonna

The moment I asked him to do this, I knew it would be trouble. I just hadn't known then how much.

Where do I start? The first thing is that Starsky isn't quite able to sit still for an enough amount of time...for any amount of time, period.

He's always in motion, be it either with his mouth when he's talking or gesturing wildly with his arms or when he's walking.
Oh, sorry. Someone like Starsky doesn't just walk, he's strutting his stuff in a way only he can – especially when he does that thing with his hips with his jeans nearly painted on that perfect tight butt...But I'm getting distracted already.

So he can't sit still, I knew this would be a problem when I asked him to pose for me.
And then I've encountered the second problem.

You see, I didn't count in the fact just how distracting this would be for me when he actually agreed to pose nude for me.

And since it takes a while to complete the sketch, I would have to look at his body, laid out on my couch on display, and for quite a while as well. Not that I mind that actually.
To be finally able to do what I've always wanted, without fearing anyone could notice and come to the wrong or rather right conclusions feels quite freeing.
To look at his muscular body, the well defined muscles and his tanned skin. How does he do that anyways to get such a flawless tan, I wonder. And why didn't I notice all of that at the precinct under the showers or in the locker room? Oh, right. That uncomfortable reaction which is already in progress behind my own jeans would undoubtedly provoke some questions there, from the others and him.

So I clear my throat and go back to the sketch, adjusting myself unnoticedly from him and being ever so thankful for the fact that I'm having my sketch pad with me.

I'm back to my still life with man, back to bringing his hairy chest (not too furry for me, but just in the right way) on paper, taking extra care of the nipples to make them look just as bitable as the lucious lips a bit higher up. The way he's slightly parted them, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to wet them...

And here again I'm getting distracted, but really who wouldn't at such a wonderful sight. Now I'm going further down, letting my eyes run over what I'm drawing, the dip of his bellybutton and following the small patch of hair to what's resting there on one of his legs, the other leg slightly bent and raised.

I'm definitely going to take extra care of that. His well toned thighs, the wiry dark hair and the heavy balls in their silky hiding place, following the cut head of his cock and the full length of the slowly rising shaft right to the throbbing vein underneath.

Waitaminute – rising shaft?
Seems like I was wrong. Guess there's still some life in this still life after all.