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                I have

loved to paint and sculpt for years. My wife has seen me at my best and at my

worst. She is a special creature. I hardly deserve her and I thank the day fate

dropped her into my lap. Well, not my lap precisely.

                There

are times when I allow my mind to wander back to the early days. I never knew

much else except for art. Father was a well-to-do merchant, and mother died

when I was young. I knew more of nannies than I did of motherly love.

                I had

no propensity for facts and figures. Father found that out quickly. He tried to

interest me in the business, but there was no point in trying to force the

issue. A bad accountant would destroy everything he had worked so hard for.

                As a

child, I liked to doodle and draw, so he sent me to an art school. I did well

here, amongst the brushes and paints, the marble and the chisels. I soon found

a love for all the various bodies and forms that I found around me. I was one

of the only equines in the class. My size made me a bit clumsy in the cramped

studio, but my physique drew the attention of all. I spent as much time

modeling as I did rendering my own artwork. The ladies in particular liked me

for my; endowments.

                Ask me

later, and I'll tell you a few tales from those heady days of my youth. This

story starts much later. Father had died and left me the house and a small

fortune. I was well known to the critics by then, but his death precipitated my

great depression, what they called my blue period. Everything I did was dark

and horror filled.

                I was

sitting in the gardens one day when I heard an unfamiliar sound. I looked

around and spied a waif, one of the little street urchins that abounded in this

place. She was dressed in rags and was trying her best to get an apple from one

of the many trees that grew there. The garden was walled off from the public,

but a spry person could obviously breach its height.

                By the

time she saw me, it was too late to run. I grabbed her by the cuff to keep her

from escaping. I reached up into the tree and pulled down a lovely red one and

handed it to her. She grabbed it and cradled it for a moment.

                "What's

it going to cost me mister?"

                "Nothing.

I have more than I need and you are welcome to this one."

                "I

don't like stealing. What can I do to repay you?"

                I was

going to tell her again that I wanted nothing, but I could see in her eyes that

she wasn't a bad person, just one that was tired, hungry and alone. "I'll tell

you what. You come here every day and talk with me, and I'll give you something

to eat each time. But it must be you and you alone. I'll not be overrun with

little thieves."

                She

nodded quietly, bit into the apple, careful not to lose a drop of juice. I had

eaten a ton of the things and I don't think I ever got that much pleasure from

doing it as she did that moment. I watched her disappear over the wall. For a

brief minute, my day had been brighter.

                She

came back at the same time the next day. I had a meal sitting out on the table,

of warm bread, wine, cooked barley and oats. She was an herbivore like me,

though in her size I would say maybe burro, with a mix of something else. There

weren't a lot of pure bloods anymore. Even the felines and the canines where

getting jumbled in their lineages. Overall, this was merely an observation, not

a commentary. I hardly cared what the world did in its spare time.

                She saw

the food and her eyes went wide. I held up a hand. "Here in my house, we have

manners. You will wash your hands before eating." I showed her to a running

fountain, where she washed the grime from her hands. She ended up eating enough

to give me a stomachache. Her little coat was straining at the seams by the

time she was done.

                "Thanks

mister. Are you sure I can't do something for you?"

                "Tell

me about yourself, and about the world outside. I so rarely visit it anymore."

                She

looked around the gardens. "I can see why. There is so much beauty here.

Outside, it's garbage and rot. I'd stay here too if I could."

                It made

me smile. I guess I had forgotten how nice it is to share. "It is nice. But

what of you? Don't you have a home?"

                She

straightened her clothing. "Not really. Lost my mother last year, and I haven't

seen my father in three before that. Ain't got no brothers of sisters, so it's

just me."

                It

didn't seem right, though I was hardly in the position to convert the world

over to being a better place. "Would you like a job?"

                She was

street wise, this one. "Doing what exactly?" You could almost see her getting

ready to dash for the wall.

                "Artist's

model. I haven't had the energy to paint in a while. I think maybe I need

something that sparks my interest. Something like you."

                "I'm a

someone thank you!" she answered tartly.

                "Yes,

yes you are. So I guess as such, we should introduce ourselves. My name is

Cornillan Moderius. You are?"

                She

backed a way for a moment. "The Cornillan Moderius?"

                I

sighed. "Is there any other?"

                She

reached into her tattered clothing and pulled out a battered piece of canvas.

She handed it to me. I had to smile. "Where did you get this child? I thought

the whole thing was destroyed when the Caravellia Museum caught fire last

year."

                It was

the corner of one of my paintings that had been hung proudly in the museum.

This corner of it was burned on all sides, but my signature, with its odd

flourish, was still visible on the charred surface.

                "I

found it in the street. I used to sneak into the museum to see the beautiful

things people had created. I had no idea you were the same artist that had

created that masterpiece."

                "It's a

small world..."

                She

stared at me for a moment before realizing I was waiting for her name. "My name

is Penelope. Penelope Martins. "

                I

handed the scrap back to her. "Well Penelope, you like art do you? Follow me."

                She was

still a little in awe of who I was. I wasn't. I was just another creature on

this world that lived and died and if they were lucky, made a positive impact

on it in some way or another. I wasn't feeling too confident of the latter any

more.

                Inside

the house it was packed with paintings and sculptures, some by me, and some by

friends. Many of them belonged in a museum, but the fire last year had showed

me how fragile our works could be. I now tended to horde my work rather than

share it. But I felt a small thrill at finally being able to show it off to

someone who genuinely cared. This little girl, a mere waif of an equine; she

now meant more to me than any critic or friend had ever had.

                Needless

to say she fell in love with my house. And I fell in love with her. Oh, now

don't go thinking anything bad of me. I loved her company and nothing more. Or

so I thought. I allowed her to come and go as she pleased, but over time, she

spent longer and longer hours in the confines of my house. I made a decision

one day that I hoped I wouldn't regret.

                She

came over the wall one day, looking dirty and bearing a nasty cut. I had had

enough. "Penelope?"

                Her

smiled was warm. "Yes?"

                "Remember

when I asked you if you wanted a job?"

                "Sure.

I thought you were kidding."

                "No.

I'd like to hire you as an artist's model. I think that what I need is some

inspiration in my painting."

                "What

would I have to do?"

                "Model."

                "I get

that. I mean like what and how?"

                "Whenever

I feel like painting."

                "I mean,

would I have to be naked?" She didn't sound all that disappointed with that

idea.

                "I

suppose maybe. I haven't thought that far ahead."

                "How

far ahead have you thought this through?"

                I

pulled out a box. It was large, but not overly heavy. I set it down in front of

her. "What am I supposed to do with this? Is this where I'm supposed to live?"

                I could

tell she was being funny. "Open it!"

                She

pulled open the top and stared inside. The first thing she pulled out was a

smock. After that, a new dress cut as close to her size as I could have the

tailor manage. There were shoes, stockings, hats, bed sheets, and in the

bottom, canvases, paints and brushes. The color drained from her face.

                "All

this for me?"

                "If you

want it. Call it an advance on your wages!"

                She

never left after that day. I drew her a bath, complete with bubbles, and made

her get in it. It was strange, taking care of another being. I had looked only

to my own needs for so long. As it turned out, under all that dirt was a

beautiful little creature. Sure, she wasn't a pure blood, but that didn't

matter. She was, once she was clean and dry, a lovely little lady with coltish

good looks.

                 I guess I was staring at her a little too

long. "Should I get dressed, or should I start modeling now?"

                I

snapped back to reality. "Get dressed girl. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was

thinking." Oh, I did too. I was such a liar.

                I found

delight in teaching her to see things with an artist's eye, not only the

colors, but the shadows and the light. She was a quick learner, and when she

wasn't learning to master the brush, she would sit quietly for me. There were

times when I asked her to strip, and she was always willing without a fight.

                As time

went on, I tended to prefer her that way. I longed to look at her, and would at

times forget my canvas until the paint dried on the palate. Still when I could

pull myself away, the work I would do was wonderful. I didn't think so, but

Magelleni the dealer did. He came by from time to time to try and get me to

part with some older works.  At these

times, I would have her hide away. I did not want to have people questioning me

about her. Street folk were looked on as inferior and disgusting.

                He

stepped into the garden and saw the one I was working on at the time. He looked

at it, got in close with his glasses, stepped back, and then walked around it

before stopping again.

                "Who is

this intriguing creature?"

                "No one

of importance."

                "As

likely as not, but whose is she. She is exquisite!"

                "Someone

I know. Let's leave it at that."

                "Oh, I

see. A lover is it? That would account for the brighter colors and the vibrant

details that you had seemingly forgotten. I don't care who she is! Just keep

her around. And please consider selling a few pieces. I have collectors

clamoring to have one of yours.  The

museum has rebuilt the damaged section and they too would like a replacement

for the one that was burned..." His eyes fell on a scrap sitting on the table.

                He

picked it up. "Is this?"

                "It

is."

                "Where

did you get this?"

                I

pointed to the painting. "It came from heaven where this girl came from."

                He

nodded. "Yes, just add some wings and she would be fit to roam the clouds

above." He set down the salvaged scrap. "I'd like to meet her someday."

                "When

she's good enough for you to judge her art, then maybe you will."

                "Oh ho!

Model and painter. I believe that was your calling at one time. I will look

forward to what she has to offer."

                As he

walked away, I mumbled to myself, "So will I"

                The

door closed. I heard a faint voice. "What did you mean?"

                It was Penelope

of course. "Mean by what?"

                "You

said so will I. I believe Master

Magenelli said he would be looking forward to what I had to offer."

                "It was

nothing, just an offhand comment. "

                She was

insistent." It was not an offhand comment. I had lived here long enough to know

what you're thinking, and this time, I don't understand what you meant. Are you

talking about my art?"

                "I

don't know Penelope. Sometimes I feel that..."

                "Yes?"

Her voice rose a little.

                "It's

just the desires of a tired old horse. You've managed to brighten my days and

give me a reason to look forward to each passing day. I just thought that

maybe..."

                "Yes?"

He voice was trembling with eagerness.

                I

couldn't say it. If I scared her off I would be alone again.

                "Say it

please master!"

                "I AM

NOT YOUR MASTER!"

                Tears

formed in her eyes. "Why are you angry with me?"

                I

dropped to the floor. "I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with me. I should

never have brought you here. It was a fool's dream."

                Her

petite hand came to rest on mine. "I did not mean any disrespect when I called

you master. I was referring to your prowess as a teacher. I am your humble

student, and you are my master."

                I

suddenly felt ashamed. "You are a wonderful student. I thought that you were

thinking of yourself as a servant or a slave. I could have no part of that."

                "You

have treated me well always. I have no complaints. So why do you fret so?"

                I drew

in a breath. "Because I don't want to lose you. I never knew how lonely I was

until you came along. Now, I don't know what I would do without you!"

                "So you

still can't say it?"

                "Say

what?"

                "I'll

go first. I love you."

                I was

stunned. "Do you mean it?" Her smile was enough to melt my heart into a sopping

puddle. "Do you really mean it?"

                Her

hand gave mine a squeeze. "Of course I do. How could I not love you? You took

me in, you gave me food and clothing. You taught me how to paint! And you asked

for so little in return. Anytime, you could have asked for so much more from me

but you didn't. Now you have everything I can possibly give at your disposal,

and yet you fail to see it."

                I was

too stunned for words. I reached out and hugged her close. Her body relaxed

into mine. All those days of staring at her naked body had been wasted. I could

have been hugging it and more. True, she was young and I was old. But I was

beyond caring. I had rediscovered a purpose to my life.

                "Penelope,

will you marry me?"

                 "I thought you'd never ask!"

                I

sobered up right then. "You know, it'll be a few years before the law will

recognize you as being old enough to marry, since you don't have parents to

vouch for you."

                "I'll

wait!"

                "Time

is more on your side. It is less a friend to me now than before."

                "So

what do you suggest?"

                "That

we carry on as before, until such time as the law agrees to our marriage."

                "Nope.

I will have no part of that."

                My

heart sank until she spoke again. "We have wasted enough time. I hardly need a

piece of parchment to tell me where my heart lies. It lies with you. Will you

do me the honor of gracing my bed tonight?"

                I felt

a quiver in my legs. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes!"

                I

thought I was going to suffer a heart attack before the sun dropped and night

fell. I went to her room and knocked. A voice inside beckoned me in. I had

stayed out of her rooms from the moment she moved in. I wanted her to have her

own place, somewhere where she could get away even from me if she needed to.

She spent so much time with me that I failed to notice what should have been

obvious. She didn't want to be away from me, she wanted to be with me.

                I

entered quietly, not knowing what to expect. I don't know what I could have dreamed

of, because what she had done was beyond it. The lights were lit above the bed,

and she was on it, wearing her one costume from the painting Magelleni had

remarked upon. She was such a different creature from when she had first

climbed over my walls to steal my apples. That seemed like ages ago.  

                With

her mane styled, and her fur trimmed, with white teeth and bright eyes, she was

as far from the street as you could get. The white diaphanous gown was

pointless as an article of clothing, for it hid nothing from the eyes. Her

breasts were budding hills, and I knew what lay lower from the many times I had

seen her undress for her modeling. Only now, I knew I would be allowed to

sample it for the first time. I was shaking I was so nervous.

                I felt

like a foolish teenager. Not in years had I felt this unsure of myself. It made

me giddy. She sensed my discomfiture and extended a hand. "I have waited too

long for this moment my love. Let's not tarry it away with unnecessary delay."

                I could

hear her old voice in the back of my head. She had grown up so much. It was so

hard to believe that they were one in the same girl. I knelt on the bed as she

moved over, the smile never once leaving her face. I relaxed into my role as

lover, rekindling old memories as to how best proceed.

                That's

when it dawned on me that I might want to get undressed before getting into

bed. I stood and dropped my clothing, doing my best to not be shy in front of

her. How long had she modeled for me without a touch of crimson in her cheeks.  As it was, this was the very first time I had

taken such a liberty. She leaned forward and ran a finger along the length of

my cock.

                "Oh my.

It looks like you've saved your best lessons for last my master. This is the

most intriguing tool yet!"

                It was

springing to life under her gentle touch. I climbed into bed and leaned over

her, kissing her soundly. She returned it with enough fire to stoke my long

dormant furnaces to a raging inferno.  I

suddenly felt years younger. I might not by the end of the night, but I was

awash in the flames of love. And love conquers all, they say.

                Penelope

was quietly unwrapping herself from the folds of the gown she was wearing. When

she was done, she presented herself openly and plainly. "Come here, my love,"

she cooed in my ear, and I was quick to comply.  Her hand instinctively guided my engorged cock

to her hole. I outsized her, now and forever, but I'll have you know that she

took me in; all of me in... that very first time.

                She was

an incredible lover, because when it came down to the basics, this is what

making love was all about. Not just physical horseplay, but intimate, loving

entwinement. Becoming one. I felt my soul cling to hers that night, digging in

and not letting go. It was the last day of my blue period. From then on, it was

said that I had a renaissance in my work. It was only years later, after we

were married, that the truth came out. I was surprised how few found fault in

my choice. Penelope went on to become famed in her own right. But that is

another story.

                I was

on top, feeling the heat of her body comingling with mine. I swear; the sheets

should have smoldered and caught fire! Her hand's rubbed my chest, and mine

rubbed hers, playing lightly over her delicate nipples. They seemed like ham

hands compared to her body, she was so undersized, but she enjoyed every minute

of it, maybe even more than I did.  I

carefully thrust into her, taking extreme caution not to damage her on the

first night.

                She

would have none of it. "I won't break lover! I'm made of sterner stuff!"

                I

pressed a little harder. She tweaked some of my mane hairs. "Really? Is that

all you've got?"

                I knew

she wasn't being petty or demeaning. She honestly wanted me to step it up. So I

did. I pulled back and delivered a solid thrust that pushed her insides up an

inch. She let out a gasp. "Now that's more like it!"

                Having found

my mark, I proceeded to work away the evening, cumming multiple times and

making a mess of her bed. She didn't mind, In fact, I think she had planned it

this way. After the seventh time, wherein, I had her on top and allowed her to

be dominant in our act, she whispered to me, "Lover, I think maybe I'll need to

sleep in your bed tonight. Look at the mess we've made of mine!"

                I

yawned sleepily. It was the age factor creeping in. "I agree. But then, if you

start sleeping in my bed, who's going to sleep in this one?"

                She got

the biggest grin you can imagine. "Oh, it'll see plenty of use! Just not for

sleeping!"