Art Appreciation
"What are you looking at?"
"Art," she replied, sitting on the couch. He was standing behind the couch, looking over her shoulder. The two mice were at home.
"Art?" His nose and whiskers twitched.
She nodded. Turning a page of the big book, which contained lots of large, glossy pictures. Colored pictures of paintings. "I found it at the library," she said.
"Didn't know you were at the library."
"Yesterday."
"Didn't know you even had a card."
"I do," she said coyly, turning her neck to look behind her. Exchanging a glance with him. She smiled lightly and turned back to the book.
"Expressionism?" he asked.
"Impressionism."
"Oh." Pause. "What's the difference?"
She shrugged. "Don't know. Only that there is one."
He slowly came around the couch, sitting beside her on the cushions. He swallowed and blinked and peered at the pages. "Flowers."
She nodded.
"Anybody can paint flowers."
"Can you?" she pressed, looking to him.
"If I tried, maybe."
She turned another page.
"A sunset," he said.
"I can see that," she whispered.
His nose and whiskers twitched again.
"Stop that," she asked of him.
"What?" he asked.
"Twitching."
"I'm a mouse."
"So am I. You don't see me twitching every five seconds."
He shrugged. Twitching again.
She smiled lightly. Eyes scanning the paintings on the pages. "I'm trying to concentrate, darling."
He smiled, biting his lip. He liked it when she did that. Called him "darling," or used her various pet names for him, or ... it felt so affectionate. Made him feel warm.
She kept scanning and turning pages, pretending to concentrate on the art. Still smiling lightly.
He could see, now, that she was distracted. And so, too, was he. He had forgotten what he'd been doing, or what he'd planned on saying ... before he'd entered the room. Before he'd sat down. As he was simply looking at her now.
She turned and met his eyes. "Yes?"
"Can't I look?"
"At me?" she asked.
He nodded.
She smiled and shrugged, her large mouse ears blushing a deeper shade of pink. "I suppose. Though you're making it hard for me to ... appreciate," she said, looking back to her book, "The art."
His nose and whiskers twitched. "Well ... you're better to look at than the art."
She giggled lightly, looking to him. Again. "Yeah? So, by ogling me, you're really ... partaking in art appreciation?"
He giggled this time, looking away and then back to her. "I suppose."
She smiled and shook her head, wanting to laugh. But touched by the sentiment. As sappy as it was. She grinned and closed the book, putting it on the coffee table, which was right in front of them. And she leaned back, taking a deep breath. "Appreciate me," she asked of him. "How much would I go for?"
He grinned. "Millions."
She laughed. "Only millions. Not billions?"
"Well, I couldn't afford you, either way, so ... but, if possible, I need to keep you as close to my price range as possible."
"Which would be about a few hundred dollars," she joked, knowing how he spent and saved his money. Knowing how much he made.
"I'm just a poor country mouse," he said innocently.
"That you are," she whispered, smiling. Meeting his blue eyes.
There was a pause.
"Appreciate me," she told him again.
He nodded silently, scooting a bit closer to her. "Well," he said, nodding, swallowing, putting a paw on her arm. Sliding it slowly up and down, through her silver-grey fur, her soft fur. "Your texture ... is a sort of downy texture. Very comforting."
She smiled.
He allowed his paw to travel to her belly, under her shirt. Massaging her belly. "Very soft and warm. It defies logic."
She giggled. "Yeah?"
He nodded. "Yeah," he whispered. Continuing to rub. Allowing his other paw to go to her side. He swallowed, his ears swiveling. Flushed. He ran his paws up and down her sides, slowly.
She sighed. Blinked a few times, and her own paws went for his ears. Holding to them. The thumbs of her paws running along the insides of his sensitive ears.
He shivered, his eyes closing for a moment.
"Your ears," she told him, her turn to appreciate. "Are very ... delicate, very keen. You're very understanding. You're a good listener." Pause. She fell to the cushions with him, wriggling so that she was laying on top of him. She kissed his right ear. "You have lovely ears."
He wrapped his paws around her back. Holding to her. Their twitching noses were touching. Twitching. It tickled.
She initiated the kiss. Tilted her head, lips to his. Both of them closing their eyes, their noses twitching and flaring for breath. And when they broke the kiss, they were both panting lightly. They both opened their eyes. Their fur was flushed.
A window in the room was open, half-open. Crickets and night-bugs and frogs could be heard as evening was falling. Cool air was coming in.
She started fumbling at his clothes, tugging at them. "I can't fully appreciate you," she said, swallowing, "If I can't see all of you."
"Well, I can't appreciate you, either, if ... "
"Alright, we can stop talking now," she panted.
"Yeah," he whispered, falling quiet to another wet, gentle kiss.
It didn't take them long, panting and squeaking lightly, to get bare. Their paws running through each other's fur. She ran her paws through his honey-brown fur, to his hips, up his sides. While he put his nose in her fur. Breathing in.
Her thin mouse tail waved back and forth in the air behind her, like a hypnotizing snake. Her body still on top of his, with no intention of budging. She wrapped her arms and paws around him, sighing and kissing his lips again. Loving how his whiskers brushed her cheeks. How her whiskers brushed with his. How his tail was trailing over the side of the couch and to the floor, limp. And she could already feel his sheath bulging against her waist.
Her ears swiveled at the sounds coming from outside. And at his barely audible squeaks as her paws traced over his fur and muscle. And her own panting as he touched and pawed at her, and as they kissed again. And she was clutching at his fur now, anticipation so high, she found herself writhing gently with him. As they pawed and kissed and sucked and licked each other. Both of them squeaking quietly, getting louder. Running on instinct now. Letting it happen.
Feeling his member slide free, hot and stiff and bulging, she let out a breath and squirmed and wriggled until she was straddling him. Paws on his rising and falling chest. She raised up, maneuvering over his erect mouse-hood. He maneuvered with her, eyes half open, until they were connected. Until he slid into her wet warmth. She went down on him, enveloping him. And she sighed, her breasts rising and falling as she just sat there, with him inside her. She closed her eyes and breathed, twitching. He did the same, paws on her hips, running through her fur. Clutching.
And then she slowly lowered herself up, and then down. Up and down. So that her furry folds were parted and taking him to the hilt, and then rising up, and then taking all of him in again. The head of his member rubbing her insides. His shaft filling her. She leaned forward a bit, a bit weakly. One paw supporting herself on his chest, keeping her up. The other rubbing at her clitoris. And she squeaked lightly as she rose and fell on him, still straddling him.
He panted and squinted, squeaking helplessly. She was warm and moist, and the smell of her fur, and that look in her eyes and on her face, and her twitching whiskers ... he was beside himself. And he simply squeaked as the sensations crept higher and higher with the passing seconds and minutes. As the intensity grew. As he squeaked with a wild abandon, his ears blushing and flushing as he did so. Already, he knew he was leaking pre into her. And he could feel his seed creeping and crawling up his shaft, as if preparing to push the involuntary button that would force him to release.
Her thin tail snaking out and curling, coiling around his tail, dancing with his tail, she continued to rise and fall, starting to sweat beneath her fur. As was he. She, panting, said, "Buck ... back." She swallowed. Panted.
He nodded, squeaking. And bucked his hips back at her. In rhythm with her.
Her neck fell to the side, eyes closed. "Oh ... mm, mm ... " And she bounced faster, feeling it coming.
Pinned and flushed beneath her, he could only take it. Buck back with what energy he could muster. "Uhn ... uhn, uh ... ohh ... "
She wanted to tell him to hold on, that she was almost there, but couldn't form the words. Simply shivered and squeaked, feeling herself spasm. Clench. Feeling and smelling the fluid leaking from her. Felt a warm flush from her foot-paws to her tail-tip to her ears and nose and whiskers. "Ohhhh," she moaned, eyes watered shut. She whimpered and stopped bouncing, simply resting on him, slumping over and supporting herself by putting both her paws on his chest. She panted desperately for breath.
Her climax, and her sounds and motions ... all resulted in bringing him along, too. He felt a twitch, and he sucked in a deep breath. Feeling another, and then a deeper, more forceful twitching, his seed spurting out of him. Sending a wave of pleasure through his fur. His nose twitched weakly. He squeaked out. "Mm, mm ... uhhhh."
She whispered softly to him, rubbing him.
"Ohh," he breathed. And he blinked, own eyes watering. He tried to catch his breath, but descended into squeaking. She squeaked with him, holding one of his paws.
For a minute or two, they just remained like that. Connected. Breathing. Recovering. When they began to cool down, and their hearts slowed, and as he shrank inside her, she wriggled off, crawling beside him on the couch. She swallowed and took a breath.
He blushed, taking slow breaths. Whiskers twitching every five seconds or so. His ears at a descending flush.
She kissed his left ear. "That was nice," she whispered.
He nodded. Blushing. He nuzzled his nose against her, his eyes giving her a silent thank you.
She squeezed his paw, indicating he was welcome.
They laid there. Breathing.
"I think," he finally said, breaking the silence, "You've made me into an art lover."
"Have I?" she beamed, nose twitching against his cheek.
"Only ... you're too pretty for any museum."
"That's sweet ... really. That's sweet." She flushed at the compliment.
"I'll think I'll have to keep you ... and study you more."
"You'll get no complaints," she breathed, giggling, "From me."