1 comments/  105091 views/  9 favorites

The Butterfly

By: Seeker196



As I drive to meet you, I can hardly contain my excitement, I have brought you a new toy expressly made for your pleasure.

It is a butterfly vibrator, named that because it is shaped like a butterfly with its wing’s spread and the body is a very small but powerful vibrator. It is worn pressed lightly against the clitoris and has a remote battery pack with a remote variable speed switch.

The model I have selected is totally silent while in operation and is held in place by elastic straps or your underwear and can be worn under clothing.

As you enter the car, we kiss passionately and I tell you that I have brought you a present, you squeal in delight wondering what I have brought you. I present you with your new toy, as you look at it and wonder what it is, having never seen such a strange device, I explain what it is and how it is used and you excitedly ask if you can try it now?

I tell you that you are expected to try it now and you quickly peel down your panties and I help you fit the butterfly to the front of your pussy, before I leave I give your clit a few well placed flicks before you replace your panties to hold the butterfly in place. I take the control box and attach it to your skirt in the back where it is hidden by your top.

You lean to kiss me and thank me for your present, and as we are kissing, I reach behind you and turn on the butterfly on its lowest setting.

You gasp and pull away from my kiss and look at me with a wide eyed look of astonishment as the butterfly very gently and silently makes soft little touches right on your clitoris. The feeling is amazing and after a few seconds you mash your lips against mine and tell me you knew that you could trust me to bring you the most exquisite pleasure. 

I proceed to leave the parking lot and drive to our destination, I watch you from the corner of my eye, as you have become strangely quiet, you are staring straight ahead, and are biting on your lower lip as you rock your hips back and fourth. You begin to moan and gasp out my name ands I see that you are getting close to cumming.

Being the tease that I am and knowing that delaying your orgasm will only make it stronger when it happens, I reach behind you and switch the unit off. 

A large moan escapes your lips and you exhale slowly, then I hear a delightful mewing laughter coming from you and you lean over and kiss me and tongue my ear as I drive, telling me that I will pay dearly for letting you get so damn close to cumming and then stopping.

As I pull into the mall and park, you begin to remove your panties to remove your new toy and I tell you that it is not necessary to remove it while we walk in the mall shopping.

You give me a strange look and comply with my wishes, having found out from experience that I can be trusted, would never compromise our love, and always have your pleasure in mind as one of my top priorities. As we exit the car and embrace for another passionate kiss, I take your hand and we walk into the mall and begin browsing the shops, hand in hand.

As we walk, I place my arm around your waist and turn the butterfly back on its lowest setting. You gasp and look at me in astonishment, and lean in to tell me to stop, I reply by turning the unit to a higher speed, this causes you to bite your lower lip in an effort to stifle the moan escaping your lips. I return the unit to a nice pleasant slow speed and ask you if that is ok. You nod and tell me yes, you can walk with the slower speed but it is driving you up the wall.

As we walk and window shop, you are in your own little world, your toy silently humming against your clit as we walk. Every once in a while you stumble, showing me that you are totally distracted by the small butterfly.

We stop and you turn to me and tell me you cannot take the stimulation anymore because you are about to cum. I take you into my arms and turn the butterfly off as I kiss you and then pull your head to my chest in a hug. 

As your heart slows and you release a sigh into my chest I turn the butterfly back on, this time it is on its highest setting! You look up and around the mall to see if anyone is looking, and then up into my eyes, and as your eyes are saying NO, your mouth opens to complain to me just as your first orgasm washes over you and you bury your face into my chest to stifle your moans.

I let you cum for several minutes as I hold you tightly before I turn the butterfly down to its low setting and you groan softly into my chest, as I hold you I can smell your sweet pussy and know you must be completely drenched and in danger of leaking. 

As much as I would love to help you clean up that nectar, I decide we should go, as this is not the place for that.

I turn you around, and place my hand around your waist and we walk slowly out of the mall, as we reach the car I switch off the butterfly and gently place you in the passenger seat.

As I enter the car you immediately start kissing me again, you tell me that you have again experienced the most erotic experience in your life, that cumming in the mall, in front of all those strangers, where no one could tell, all while you were trying desperately to not scream out loud was as mind blowing as your orgasm was.

You reach into you panties and remove the butterfly, I take it from you and lick off all your pussy juice, and then remove the control box from you back and hand the entire unit to you. I then dip several fingers in your drenched pussy to give us both a taste of your pleasure. After you clean off my fingers with your tongue, you kiss me, thank me, and promise to think of me every time you use your new toy.

We drive back and I drop you off, kiss you goodbye, and you walk inside on shaky legs with a large smile on your face.

The Butterfly



Fact or fiction? Fiction mostly, but ... well, think what you like.

IT'S a long time ago now, but the nineteen-seventies is an era that remains fresh in my mind as if they were last year. We thought it a time of great change, with the so-called 'free love' phenomenon a huge seismic shift in social attitudes, a shift which we considered unique. In reality, it was just a one on the Richter scale and no greater than the many decades since. Perhaps it was simply that we were undergoing change - personally that is. Getting married and having children is probably as big a change as you get. But we didn't miss out on sexual freedom because of it. This is our story: 

We were married at quite a young age; me 23 with my bride even younger at 18. We were married after a very short relationship, just four months, with our first child already conceived. It was 1969 and pregnant brides were not an unusual occurrence then and even less so these days with more options for girls in such circumstances. Firstly, sexually active girls now find it much easier to avoid unwanted pregnancies in the first place with the pill for prevention, and for the really desperate, an after-the-event termination. 

None of that was available to us then, though I can now say with benefit of hindsight; thank goodness, as it has all turned out well. Secondly, a child 'out of wedlock' does not carry the stigma it once did, with plenty of single women making a deliberate lifestyle choice to be single mothers. 

In the sixties, contraception was basically limited to a condom (usually only obtainable via an embarrassing encounter with the chemist shop girl), or the withdrawal method. Both relied largely on the male to ensure compliance and protection, and as anyone can tell you, in the heat of passion, even the most reliable males can be very unreliable. Such was I, and the resultant marriage was one commonly referred to as a 'shotgun marriage' for reasons obvious to most people. 

Fortunately, mys were understanding and very supportive of our circumstances facilitating a quick marriage. And I mean quick! Even though Hayley was not yet even three months gone, we had a white wedding, church service and a reception to follow. Many friends and relatives who were not aware of our circumstances were surprised when we had our first child only seven months later. Premature? Yes, you could say that! 

I'm also very pleased to tell you that the young 18 year old girl whom I married then is still my wife today, and that the unplanned pregnancy resulted in our first beloved child now 38. Two years later, an equally loved sibling followed. We had become a nuclear family; two plus two. 

Our marriage had its little ups and down as most do, though mostly ups, and here we are today settled into a comfortable domesticity, close to both our children and probably closer to each other now than we have ever been. 

But let me tell you a little more of Hayley: She was not a beauty in the classic sense, but she was certainly attractive, and I found her desirable. She lived at home in suburban middle class circumstances, and although it was mostly a loving environment for her and her older and younger siblings, there were tensions; her mother and father did not enjoy a happy marriage. Hayley would tell you that it was often a stressful place where she remained on edge because of her father's moods, moods that often result in verbal and occasionally even physical violence against her mother. I think such an environment resulted in her passiveness and a predisposition to avoid conflict. 

As a very young girl, she had apparently been a little on the plump side, but that changed as she blossomed into maturity. When I first met her, she was slim, about five foot two, long dark hair, blue eyes and fair complexion, small breasted (ah, my preference), and took pride in her appearance. She tended to wear the very short skirts and dresses which were a fashion of the sixties and which occasionally gave you the tantalising flash of white panties (if you were careful to watch for it that is). I suppose that sounds a bit tame today, but then it was erotic pure and simple and it used to drive my hormones wild. 

Even though she was just 18 when I met and married her, Hayley was not a sexual innocent. She may have appeared the virgin goodie-goodie type, but she had lost 'that' years before during sexual encounters with a couple of high school boyfriends when she had 'gone all the way'. Upon leaving school and starting work at age 16, she had an older boyfriend of driving age (who had a car), and sex was a regular part of their relationship. This of course was academic to me as I wasn't even on the scene at the time, but Hayley subsequently told me all this on an occasion when I asked out of curiosity. 

In the two years prior to meeting Haley, I was overseas completing my Military Service. We went there as the 'The Virgin Soldiers' but quickly learnt what a wild time could be had for young lads who finds themselves to be 'cashed-up' soldiers in a third-world country where anything went. 

A boozy night out at our preferred bar a few miles out of camp was almost always followed by a visit to The Butterfly, our preferred house-of-ill-fame, where the madam would parade a dozen of her girls for our selection. The girls were young, mostly attractive, compliant, and available for a relatively small amount of money. Most did not speak English so, apart from a smile, there were none of the usual niceties such as a friendly conversation, just straight up to her room for a pure uncomplicated unadulterated fuck! I think they call that a symbiotic relationship, we both worked hard to give each other what we wanted; me sex and she money, with the concept of exploitation never entering my head. 

Thinking back, what amazes me about those times is that I never used a condom or ever withdrew before ejaculation. A few of my mates wore a condom, but even then, only for their protection. Venereal disease, mostly gonorrhoea was around, not epidemic mind, but occasionally someone would be 'pissing razorblades'. I was dumb enough to have no fear of this but lucky enough never to catch a dose, and those that did would go along to the RMO for a course of penicillin shots which quickly cleared it up. Of course this was before such life-threatening diseases as HIV. 

Occasionally I think of those girls and feel a nagging guilt. Leaving my seed in so many in such a care-a-less way makes me wonder what may have happened to them, but there's no way to ever know. Perhaps not knowing is better. 

I first met Hayley through mutual friends soon after my discharge from the Army. She was still going out with the boyfriend with the car (a much better one than the one I owned incidentally) but I soon discerned her interest in me. 

One evening, a small group of us were playing a ball game on a local sports oval adjacent to where Hayley lived. As it got dark, the others drifted off one-by-one leaving just Hayley and me. I recall that she threw the ball and I caught and ran with it. She chased me (as I had hoped she would), and eventually caught me (as I intended she should). We both fell to the ground mock-fighting for the ball, and my hand 'slipped' and found its way to her small firm breasts and in a just few moments I had her practically naked and I, that is we, were having sex for the first time. It was like The Butterfly really, it happened as easily as that. 

Within days the boyfriend was dumped and our relationship continued. From then on, Hayley and I saw each other daily, and hardly a day passed when I didn't enjoy her small firm breasts usually culminating in intercourse. It was the climax of my day -- no pun intended. I was still not wearing a condom, nor did I withdraw.

***

HAYLEY did not work in the early years of our marriage as we had two pre-school children to care for and, with shift work and overtime, I made good money. Our neighbourhood at this time was one of those 70's estates, all new houses and young families. We made friends with our neighbours and through work social events, with work colleagues and their partners too. Shift work was okay but it involved either going to bed early for an early get-up, or working all evening and getting home very late. 

Although we shared a marital bed, Hayley and I often slept in it at different times, though she never rejected my late night advances if I woke her in a stimulating way.

Often, if our shifts ended at the same time, I would go for a beer - or several - with a workmate, Lenny, older than me by a few years. Hayley and I had socialised a little bit with Lenny and his wife Jane, but more often it was just he and I having a drink after work. Lenny was a bit of a larrikin, a ladies man. He was also a more seasoned drinker than I and much less cautious about driving after a skinful than I. If it had been a particularly heavy session, I would suggest that he drop me off on his way home. I would somehow collect my car the following day. This was never a problem to him, it was on his way home and it suited me. 

One evening late, we both arrived at my house a little worse for wear to find Hayley still up, but in her dressing gown ready for bed. With the boldness of several beers in him, Lenny pulled Hayley toward him, sat her on his lap and said 

"C'mon here; let's have a feel of those lovely little tits I've heard about". 

Had I ever mentioning this to him? I honestly couldn't remember. Hayley's first reaction was one of complete surprise; 

"Lenny.....!" she exclaimed. 

But in a second, as his hands boldly slipped into her gown to fondle her breasts, I saw a look in her eyes that I recognised: Lust. 

I had no idea this would or could happen, but when it did I was surprised by my feelings, no anger nor jealousy, in truth I found it strangely arousing. Lenny was attracted to my wife. I didn't know it then, but that was the start of our open marriage. 

I had to start work early the next morning. After Hayley had removed Lenny's hands from her breasts, she removed herself from his lap with pretence at shock and mock embarrassment. I suggested to Lenny that he should go, it was late, I had to book a taxi for a ride to work next morning and I needed a few hours sleep. Lenny though suggested another idea; 

"Why don't I stay here on the couch, and you take my car in the morning?" 

He was rostered off the next day. 

"Save you a taxi fare." He added. 

Such absences from home, I was to learn, were never a problem for Lenny's wife Jane, she would often get a phone call from him saying he was staying out, here or there. Jane knew he was an incorrigible but as long as she knew where he was, she seemed to enjoy the peace and quiet his absences brought her. 

The next morning I was up with the alarm, showered and dressed and left for work in Lenny's car, leaving him asleep on the couch. 

Before the car had warmed up, Lenny was not only enjoying the warmth of my bed but the warmth of my wife. 

It was some time before I found out, but it slowly dawned on me that Hayley was having an affair - and doubtlessly with Lenny. Afterwards, I admonished myself for being so naive and clueless, but that was being unfair. Although there were little clues in her behaviour, and Lenny called around a little more often than he did before, it was not so obvious at the time. 

One day without pre-planning it, I casually said to her; "I know about you and Lenny". 

In an instant, the look on her face had confirmed my suspicions. 

"You know?" She replied; 

"No, I didn't really - well not until I just saw the answer in your face" I said adding "Now I know". 

She was immediately all tears and apologies, and I could sense her relief as she confessed to me all that had happened. Lenny had entered our bed that first morning and she allowed him to stay. It went on from there. Lenny would know what shift I was on, and he would call around to see her in my absence. On each occasion, she did not resist his advances, but on each occasion she vowed that it would be the last. 

One particular evening, he called around and she refused to open the door to him, but afraid that his knocking and pleading through the door was likely to alert neighbours or wake the children, she allowed him in. She then asked him to leave saying she would tell me if he didn't. Lenny replied; 

"Okay, okay, I'll go ... just let me have a feel of those lovely little tits first".

Hayley was in the middle of ironing, and threatened to burn him with the iron if he came near her, but it was an empty threat, she couldn't do it. His hands went inside her gown and cupped her breasts and with that, her will to resist was gone. The iron was turned off and he had had his way ... again. 

I knew what Hayley's feelings would have been as this was happening and why she continued to allow it to happen: it was because she couldn't stop. There were no feelings of love or affection for Lenny so it had nothing to do with making love, nor was it because her love for me was diminished. It was simply lust, an illicit fuck, no strings attached, and it was irresistible. I remembered that feeling from The Butterfly.

***

NATURALLY I confronted Lenny with the knowledge that I knew. He smiled and looked a bit uncomfortable, and he was obviously trying to gauge my reaction before saying; 

"Sorry mate, but you'd have done the same if you were me", 

I doubted that I would, nevertheless that night; we had a beer or several together. 

There was no anger or animosity on my part towards him or Hayley, and after too many beers one night, he told me how "good she was", and that she was "always up for it", illustrating the point by telling me; 

"Mate, I went around there one morning and she was making the bed. She was leaning over to adjust the bedding and I got a good flash of her panties, so I just rolled her onto her back, slipped them off and fucked her". "Sometimes I've gone there and had her stripped naked before I was even in the door, you only have to touch her tits and she's gone". 

Men have been murdered for less than this, but I confess I liked his crude honesty and found his voyeuristic descriptions of my wife arousing. 

Hayley and I would socialise with Lenny and Jane, they would come to our house or we to theirs, so as couples we came to know each other well enough. Of course, when the four of us were together, three of us had a little secret that one didn't know, or so I thought. I was to learn later that Jane almost certainly knew what had occurred between Lenny and Hayley, perhaps because she expected such a thing from her husband, or more likely, because he had told her. 

Lenny and Jane had been married longer than we, and had a son, an only child who was already at primary school. Their marriage was not what anyone would call ideal, Lenny reserved the right to live his life as a single man when it suited him, but Jane had to be a dutiful wife and keep a home for him when he chose to return to it. For Jane, it was a case of keeping the peace, she had realised long ago that her husband would never change.

Jane was then about 27, a month or two older than me, She was a quiet and quietly spoken woman and well groomed ... well actually overly groomed, being meticulous about her appearance to the point of vanity. She had coiffured blond hair and was of slim build, a little too slim around the hips I thought. I like a woman to have a 'womanly bum' if you know what I mean, and Jane's figure had that slightly boyish look, though her well-defined breasts would have certainly assured anyone that she was indeed not a boy, and was nevertheless very attractive. 

On one occasion that Hayley and I were invited to their house for the evening, Hayley could not go, I think due to one of our children being unwell, so I went alone. It became a bit of a drink-fest between Lenny and I, and although Jane shared a few drinks with us, she then excused herself and went to bed. We continued on until we were both quite intoxicated. It was late and it was my turn to request the couch. To my surprise, Lenny suggested; 

"Why don't you go in with Jane and I'll take your car and go to Hayley? We might both get lucky". 

There was no premeditation to this and neither wife was consulted, but in our condition, it sounded like a great idea. 

Lenny left for my house and, I assumed, to a lustful welcome from Hayley, especially after what had already occurred between them, and more so since I was now condoning it. I meanwhile was left to announce myself to Jane in her bedroom. 

I had never conceived of being in such circumstances and immediately started to get cold feet wondering if this was not such a good idea after all. How would Jane react? She may be offended, angry, insulted, or ... well, worse. But if Lenny was going to enjoy the delights of Hayley, I decided there was only one way to find out if it was going to be reciprocal and gently went to her room. 

The door was just slightly ajar and I could see the room was in darkness. I opened the door and entered the room whilst quietly calling her name. Jane was awake and sitting up in bed anticipating my entry. 

"I heard you two arranging this" she said, adding; "I've never done anything like this before, and I'm too scared to do anything with you right now". 

I sat on the bed next to her and laid back, I knew exactly what she meant, saying; 

"I've never done anything like this before either." 

I reminded her that Lenny was at my house with Hayley and in all likelihood were 'doing it' right now, so why shouldn't we? 

"I can't help that" she said, "I just can't do it, maybe some other time, I don't know, but not now". 

Well, I took that as a maybe, a tantalising hope for the future, but of little consolation right now. I continued lying there with her, I still fully dressed, and the furthest anything went between us that night was conversation and a far-from-passionate kiss. 

About an hour after Lenny had left for my house, the phone on Jane's bedside table rang. I was still right next to her and so could clearly hear the conversation; it was Lenny ringing from my house. 

"It's me, how're you?" he said. 

"Alright". Jane replied cursorily. 

"Can I speak to Tom?" he said. 

Jane simply passed the phone over to me. 

"How d'ya go?" he said.

"Nothing happening here mate, we're just talking" I replied, adding, "best you come back with my car so that I can go home". 

Ten minutes later, Lenny pulled up into the driveway, with a passenger; it was Hayley. They both came into the house, and it thankfully broke the ice. The girls ended up laughing at the situation we had placed them in, and though it may have been from embarrassment, no hard feelings were evident. 

On the way home, I asked Hayley if anything had happened. 

"Yes" she replied. 

I should have simply left it at that I suppose, but I had to ask for the details. 

"Well, we had sex. On the kitchen floor if you must know" she added. 

After that night, I would occasionally call round to see Jane. Sometimes Lenny was there and I would see them both, have a beer with Lenny and go. But more often than not she was on her own. We would just have a coffee and chat but I never made a pass at her or suggested anything more than that. I doubted anything more would ever happen; she just didn't seem the type, though in honesty I remained hopeful. Then one evening, after sitting and chatting for a while, Jane surprised me saying; 

"Can I ask you a question?" 

"Yes?" I answered, though more as a question. 

"Would you like to go to bed with me?" 

Hopeful I might have been, but when she asked me that, it was still a surprise. 

"Yes," I replied, though what I really meant was; "YES!" 

"Okay, why don't we go into the bedroom" she said, and lead the way. 




The Butterfly Effect



“You’re drinking your life away.” Allan Ranker tried with out success to pull his best friend, Michael Verona, out of his self inflicted hell. Six months ago Michael had been a budding musician with the world at his feet. Today he was bordering agoraphobia, drinking like a fish, and wasting his talent writing love poems for pretentious self centered woman that didn’t deserve to breathe Michael’s air.

“Just leave me alone Allan.” Michael grumbled pulling the blankets back over his head. They smelled like sweat and old beer but it didn’t matter really, nothing did. He’d given everything he had to Julia, and she had left. No one needed him like she did…like she used too. He thought to himself darkly that if he hadn’t been so centered on his work, if he’d bought the clothes she preferred, then she would still be here. She wouldn’t have left him for her account executive. She’d said that he was a waste of her time and that she wanted to be more than the wife of a musician who didn’t care about “the big time.” He’d picked up a bottle of Tequila that day and hadn’t put it down since. 

“Come on man this place looks like a pig sty.” Allan said kicking his way through the laundry that had amassed on Michael’s floor to loom over him. “I’m not going to let you just lay there and rot.”

“Why not?”

Allan smiled,” Because I have too much time invested in you and if you drink yourself to death I’ll have to waste time finding a new best friend.”

Michael laughed for the first time in weeks. Leave it to Allan to call something like his suicide an inconvenience. “You’re all heart.”

“Look I’m going to go to the store and get you some food that isn’t eighty proof and some trash bags so that you can clean this rat hole up. Why don’t you take a shower, get dressed and we’ll sit down and figure out a way to get her back.”

Michael sat up in bed his head swimming, “I don’t think I want her back.”

“Then what do you want?” 

“I don’t know,” Michael shrugged feeling life slowly seep into his alcohol basted brain, “I just want to feel needed.” 

Fifteen minutes later he was climbing out of the shower. He still felt like pond scum but at least he was clean scum. He finger combed his shoulder length black hair and took a look at himself in the mirror. The circles under his eyes were almost the same shade of brown as the eyes themselves. His high cheekbones were over pronounced by his recent lack of food and his usually toned body held the weight of his battle with unhappiness. He took the time to shave and put on some jeans and a t-shirt. He grimaced as he realized it was his band on the front of it, Gray Dawn. They were a dark industrial punk band that preferred to play small clubs rather than big concerts; he’d met Julia after one of his larger shows. She was from a rich upper class neighborhood and had been enthralled with Michael’s seemingly dark personality. She’d been shocked to find out that he was basically a cheerful sort of guy with an easygoing temperament. 

Julia had pushed him hard to be a success, seeming always to want the bigger better deal, and Michael had just followed her. It was only when he’d been approached by another band and offered a lucrative touring contract, one that required him to leave Allan and the rest of his band behind, that he’d refused to do as she asked and Julia left. He didn’t remember much after that except a wish to retreat and lick his wounds. Allan must have thought that Michael had moped around enough and was going to bring him, whether he liked it or not, back to the real world. He sighed in resignation wondering if he were ready for the real world or not. Probably not. A knock on the door brought him out of his self-condemnation. 

“Forget your key genius.” Michael swung open the door expecting to see Allan but instead he stared into the face of an angel. 

“Well, actually no,” the angel smiled holding out a jar of pickles, “I’m looking for a helping hand.”

Michael just stared at her unable to even summon up an apology. Her golden hair streamed down her slim form to caress her slightly flared hips barely concealed by her short butter colored sun dress. 

“My name is Kimberly Papillion, I live upstairs. I’m sorry to bother you but I can’t open this jar.” 

Her gaze was the same gold as her hair Michael thought trying to comprehend what she wanted from him. “Umm…Papillion that’s French for butterfly, right?” 

She arched a brow at him and then nodded still holding out the jar expectantly. A million questions ran through his mind as he continued to just stand there and stare at her. When had she moved in? Why hadn’t he seen her? There were only four apartments in his complex and to his knowledge none save his was occupied. 

She drew the jar back and gave him and amused smile, “Of course if you’re busy I can come back later.”

“Later?” He replied stupidly.

“Are you okay?” 

She had an unguarded joy in her expression that he had never seen on anybody before. He reached down gently removing the jar from her grasp and opened it. The thought struck him like lightning; she needed him, even if it were only for a few seconds, someone needed him. 

“Thank you.” She said looking at him in a pondering, “I think I know you.”

“You do?’ Michael desperately searched his memory for any sign of her, but couldn’t even remember passing her on the street. How could he have missed her? 

“You’re Michael Verona right, from Gray Dawn?”

He nodded impressed that she’d even heard of him, “How did you know that?”

“It’s on your t-shirt.” Her grin was infectious as she winked and tuned with her pickle jar to leave. “Thanks for the help Superman, you’re my hero.”

“Kimberly?”

“Yes?” She turned back to him cocking her head in a puppy-like fashion.

“Anytime you need me, my door is open.” 

“Just remember you said that.” With a chuckle she went back upstairs leaving Michael to wonder. 

By the time Allan came back with the food Michael had returned his house to a semblance of normalcy. There was still the lingering smell of alcohol (probably coming from the laundry in the corner) but Allan noted with relief that the blinds were open and Michael was in the kitchen doing dishes.

“What happen man? You get a visit from the ghost of Christmas past?

Michael made a rude gesture from beneath the suds but declined to answer. 

Allan, never one to take a hint, continued, “I knew I was an awesome motivational speaker but…”

“Keep dreaming,” Michael said flinging dishwater everywhere, “I’ve got to find a way to have her and I’m not going to find it in the bottom of a bottle.”

Allan made a face and leaned against the door jam, “Did she call you?”

Michael shook his head, “No she came over so I could open a jar of pickles.”

“She drove 15 minutes so that you could open a jar?” 

Michael scowled, “No, she lives upstairs.”

“Julia moved upstairs?”

“Julia?” For a moment Michael frowned in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” Allan demanded.

Michael shook his head laughing, “Never mind about Julia, I’m talking about Kimberly.”

Allan sat the groceries on the counter with a huff, “How did you manage to wake up, get sober, and grow a new heart, in the half hour I was gone?”

Michael clapped Allan on the shoulder sending soapsuds flying. “I didn’t need a new heart mine turned out to be fine. What I do need is your help.”

Allan grumbled, “You need somebody’s”



Kimberly smiled with a look of triumph as she took an overly large bite of pickle. Michael Verona. She’d debated with herself for days on what she would say to him if she bumped into him in the hall, in fact she’d still been entertaining herself with scenarios of what would happen when she’d been thwarted by the jar of pickles. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to take the jar down to him and see if he would open it. Men loved that damsel in distress kind of thing and no one could play distressed better than Kimberly. She’d seen Michael a few times in concert at The Copper Tea Kettle and, besides being one of the hottest guys she’d ever seen, she admired the way he lost himself in the strong beats of his music. She wouldn’t call herself a devoted fan, but she had known about the touring contract and had admired Michael for standing up for his friends. She sighed softly wondering how it would feel to be defended with that much devotion. The thought had no sooner taken shape when she felt a soft fuzzy head push itself into her empty hand.

“What are you up to Attila?” 

Kimberly’s dog Attila looked up at her with adoring brown eyes and half a shoe string hanging out of his mouth. She’d found him under her car last Christmas and had decided that he was the perfect gift for the season. It had taken her three baths and twice that many towels to reveal a half starved little hair ball with a black and pink speckled tongue. Ten months, two vet visits, and half a ton of dog food later that “little hairball” had developed into a monstrous dog. He was good at eating things that were, for all intents and purposes, inedible and for that reason could not be trusted to stay by himself in her apartment. She shook her head ruffling his fur as she pulled what remained of her running shoes out of his mouth. She didn’t bother scolding him, for she’d learned long ago that it was an exercise in futility and instead went to refill his bowl. She pondered for a moment what she was going to do with him when she had to go somewhere that he couldn’t ride along. In her other house her next door neighbor had let him stay in her yard while Kimberly ran errands. Kimberly thought herself very self sufficient in a scattered sort of way, but she’d been accused more than once of ignoring the laws of personal space. She’d grown up in a small town and tended to treat everyone, regardless of the length of their actual association, like family. She grinned as she recalled her meeting downstairs. Michael HAD said that his door was always open if she needed him.  

“Poor Michael,” she said kissing the top of Attila’s head, “He just signed up for way more then he bargained for.

Allan walked into the Copper Kettle with a smile as he brought in the new song list that Michael had given him. It was good to have him back. Allan had been Michael’s best friend since high school and Allan had nursed him through more than one broken heart, but he’d been really worried this time. He had noticed Michael had been looking for the “forever” kind of love for the last year and had been all too happy when Julia had expressed interest. Allan had been disgusted when the closer Michael tried to be to Julia the more rules and standards she placed on him. Allan had told him more then one that no one, especially Julia, was worth jumping through that many hoops for. 

“Are you here again?” 

Allan glanced up to see Denise standing in the door way of her gallery, arms crossed with her usual haughty expression. He wasn’t sure how a woman who wore more paint on her clothes than she put on her canvas could manage to make his heart skip a beat, but she did. Her wild red hair was currently semi-restrained by a large silver clip. Her skin, when you could see it beneath the paint, was pale and lightly freckled in a way that made her look constantly innocent. It was when she opened her mouth that her real nature showed. No, Allan thought, that wasn’t true though she lacked the same verbal filter Allan did, she cared for everyone and everything in her vicinity. Whether it was a stray cat or a stray person, she found some way to show them that they mattered in the world. She was a creature that lived in chaos; Allan frowned glancing behind her into the gallery. It was always beautifully, albeit haphazardly, decorated in a way that made Allan’s fingers itch to straighten it. Any time he was foolish enough to try to add order to her life by folding towels or moving paintings she got offended and left. It irritated him that she could be so nonchalant toward his affection when she was the only other person besides Michael that he gave a care for. At the moment he was too pleased that Michael was rebounding to rise to her comment and settled for holding up the song list.

“Michael sent me with some show changes for this weekend.”

Her expression softened as he said Michael’s name and for some reason that irritated Allan too.

“How’s he holding up?”

“Worried about your investment?” 

Allan could have kicked himself as he saw her face cloud with anger.

“No, I’m worried about my friend. You know what that is right? Friends? People who actually enjoy your company.” 

Allan winced internally; she always knew exactly where to hit him.

“He’s back in the game, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“How so?”

“He’s going to try and woo the girl next-door.” Allan shrugged, “What can I say? The man is a glutton for punishment.”

He wasn’t sure what it was he said but Denise turned on heel and left without another word. Though the other guys in the band claimed a liking for him they were always suspiciously absent when Michael wasn’t around. Michael was sort of his ambassador to the world, laughing off his sometimes blunt statements and finding a way to soften his sharp edges. Until recently Michael had always been the buffer between Denise and him and he could see why. Even when he was practicing a non straightening strategy with Denise, he always found some way to say something that hurt her feelings. When Julia had appeared on the scene and taken an instant disliking to him, Allan had gone to Denise for help. He would have liked to think that they had grown closer in that time but their truce had only lasted until…well just now when he’d opened his big mouth again. 

Denise came back in about half an hour while Allan was attempting to adjust the sound levels on stage. She didn’t say a word, just handed him a cup of black coffee and a small brightly wrapped package.

“What’s this?” Allan asked adjusting the bow symmetrically on the package. He didn’t notice Denis’s shoulders slump in defeat. 

“The new artist that your band is booked to open with gave me a couple of prints to hand out. I thought Michael could use a pick me up.”

Allan smiled, “And the coffee?”

Denise shrugged, “Are you almost done?”

“Almost.”

“I guess since Michael’s back I’ll be seeing a little less of you than I have been lately.”

Allan raised his brow sardonically, “Are you going to miss me?”

“Sure, in about…” Denise checked her watch, “Sixty years.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working or something?”

She laughed, “You really know how to make a girl love the hell out of you Allan.”

Love, that was a laugh. It didn’t take Julia’s betrayal to convince Allan that love was a fool’s game. He watched Denise heading toward the back office and vowed not to get caught up in its foils.



Allan decided to stop by Michael’s to drop off Denise’s gift before he went home. He’d spent a lot of time with her recently and found himself a little lonely for company. Not just any company, her company. Before Julia, he and Michael used to split meals, work on music and basically hang out together almost every night. He’d respectfully backed out of Michael’s life when Julia had mad it plain that he wasn’t welcome. It had taken about a week for Denise to notice his late nights at the Kettle before she started inviting him to eat and hang out with her. He wasn’t quite sure how it happened but he’d come to look forward to her strange cooking concoctions and almost equally as odd sense of humor. He was still frowning when he knocked on Michael’s door. The soft thrums of music that floated through the hall stopped only long enough for Michael to yell, “Come in.”

“I come bearing gifts.” Allan produced the package with a dramatic bow and joined Michael, who was sitting cross legged, on the couch. He sat the guitar aside with a crooked kind of smile. “What’s this for?”

“Denise said it was a pick me up.” Allan ignored the look of amusement on Michael’s face, “So open it.”

A flurry of blue orange and red paper revealed a small print of a faceless woman standing on the edge of a building looking ready to fly. Her black hair floated all around her giving the impression of butterfly wings. The picture was signed and titled, “The Black Butterfly.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Michael said stroking the lines of the woman’s face as though he could fill in the features, “But she looks so alone.”

Allan grunted, “Denise has a strange way of picking people up.”

“Where did she get this?”

Allan rose to go get a hammer and nail, “That’s the Black Butterfly we were hired to open for.”

“He’s a wonderful artist.”

“Denise seems to think so It’s all I’ve heard about for the last week.”

Michael smiled, “Jealous of the competition?”

Allan ripped the print out of Michael’s hand and headed toward the back of the apartment, “No. I pity the man that takes on that woman. She is the most complicated, pigheaded, unorganized female in the known universe.”

“Why do I get the feeling it is only the last part of that sentence that gives you pause?”

“Because,” Allan growled, “You are a romantic fool. Now where do you want this?”

Michael was still on the couch working on a song when the door sounded again. He glanced at the clock putting down his guitar and frowned noticing it was a little after midnight.

“What Allan don’t you get enough of me during the day?” He swung open the door to glare down at Kimberly’s cheerful smile. 

“I don’t know about Allan, but I could certainly deal with a larger amount of your time.” 

“Kimberly,” Michael stammered, “I thought you were Allan.”

“I get that a lot,” she teased, “Must be my manly knock.”

Michael felt himself blush…he was blushing…he was 27 years old man standing in his own living room blushing like he was 16.

“I heard you playing,” she smiled softly; “It was beautiful.”

“Uh, thanks.” He felt his color deepen.

They stood there gazing at each other a moment before she seemed to snap out it.

“Sugar?”

“I’m sorry?”

She held up a measuring cup, “I’m making cookies and I’m ¼ of a cup short.”

“I think I have sugar packets.” He offered lamely.

“Perfect.” She walked into his apartment and straight to the kitchen like she’d done it a thousand times, “I’ll help you get them.”

Michael silently thanked God and Allan for the sparkling condition of his apartment.

“They’re in the cabinet above the stove right?” She said setting her measuring cup down and opening said cabinet to produce the box of sugar packets.

“Yeah,” Michael said in amazement, “How did you know?”

“Great minds think alike.”

She began unceremoniously opening sugar packets pouring them one at a time into her cup. Michael refrained from mentioning that she could do it faster if she opened a couple at a time and instead grabbed a single packet and began to help her.

“So where do you usually play?” She asked sloshing a little sugar onto the cabinet.

“The Copper Tea Kettle mostly, but occasionally we get talked into a school prom, or a hall show, and some outdoors charity stuff in the summer.”

“That’s great. I’ve seen The Tea Kettle, it’s a really nice place,” She smiled at him seemingly impressed.

He shrugged dropping his gaze. He’d thought it was a great place too. Julia had always made him feel like The Copper Kettle was a waste of his talent, but it paid the bills, he liked Denise, and most importantly he was happy there. He took a pointed interest in the sugar. 

“Ahhh, are you shy Superman?” She teased causing him to grin.

“I didn’t used to think so.”

“Well it’s very charming,” she frowned picking up her cup and glancing at the cabinet, “I think I managed to get more on your counter then into the cup.”

He leaned over to inspect their handy work with another shrug wishing he could think of something intelligent to say. “I’ll convince Allan to clean it up tomorrow.”




The Butterfly Effect



I could tell that you were extremely pleased with yourself. You waved the package in front of me and said, innocently (too innocently), "It's for you."

I looked at you suspiciously. "It's addressed to you."

"But I ordered it for you! Go on! Open it." 

I knew you were up to something, but I decided to humor you. Besides, I was curious. I took the scissors you offered me and slit the packing tape along the edges of the box. It was a fairly small box, and there wasn't much on the package to indicate where it had come from. I open the flaps and pushed aside a layer of packing peanuts to see what it contained.

I laughed. "Oh, you did NOT buy this."

"Oh, but I did! And I think we should try it out today. See, it's got a remote and everything."

I pulled it out to get a better look. It was one of those wearable vibrators in the shape of a butterfly made of soft green jelly-rubber with glitter and a matching wireless remote. "I even got it in your favorite color," you said cheerfully.

I stuck my tongue out at you. "How thoughtful." I dangled the device in front of my nose by its thin elastic straps. "Looks uncomfortable."

"Mmmhm. I know you want to try it out." 

And as usual, you were right. Just looking at it was making me wet. Not only did it look as if it would perfectly hug my clit, its body curled up and back, with a subtle hook at the end that I was certain would penetrate my vagina and rub up against my g-spot. The idea gave me delightful shivers. I grinned wickedly. "I assume you want me to try it on."

"Indeed. But first, you should change."

I raised my eyebrow. "Change?"

"Come on, you know how much I like to see you in that little black swing skirt..."

I sighed. "All right. You are such a demanding man. Just a second, it's in the laundry room. Aren't you lucky I just washed it?"

"Oh, yes. Very lucky."

I was suspicious of your predatory smile (I kept waiting for you to lick your lips, like a wolf with a particularly tasty hunk of meat), but I complied. It was one of my favorite skirts, after all – black, pleated and short enough that I couldn't bend over. I liked showing off my legs, especially for you. I grabbed it from the drier and slipped it on, and looked in the mirror to make sure it was covering my ass. It was, more or less.

When I returned to the living room, you were standing, swinging your car keys in one hand and the toy in the other. "What are those for?" I asked, indicating the keys.

"Oh, I thought we could go out to lunch," you said innocently.

My mouth formed itself into an O as it clicked into place. "You horny bastard!" I shrieked. "You planned this!"

You grinned sheepishly. "Maybe just a little. Please? You always said it would turn you on."

"Yeah, but I didn't think we'd ever actually DO it," I muttered.

You waved the butterfly in front of my nose, making your most adorable puppy face. "Pleeeeeeeeeeease?" 

I shook my head, grinning. "Fine, you silly man. Give!" I pulled off my panties and snatched the butterfly from your hand, trying not to laugh at your gleeful face. After some finagling, I managed to get it situated. I had been right – its body DID rub up against my g-spot, and sent shivers down my spine whenever I moved. 

I reached down for my panties, but you grabbed them first. "Nope! No panties!" you cried.

I glared. "You're having way too much fun with this!"

"Yes. Yes, I am." You tossed my panties across the room, took my arm and started to drag me towards the front door. "Come on, love! I thought we could go to that Thai place."

"What, and scandalize that poor waitress who only speaks about three words of English?" 

Before I could protest too much, you had managed to get me in the car. Climbing in on the driver's side, you reached into your pocket and produced the remote. "Let's see if this works, shall we?" You flicked the switch and spun the dial slightly. Instantly, a gentle vibration thrummed against my clit, and I squirmed. "Feels nice, doesn't it?"

"Yes!" I gasped. "Now turn it off if you don't want a wet spot on your leather seat!"

You complied, but continued to flick it on and off at various degrees of intensity as we drove into town, which meant that by the time we reached the restaurant, I was dripping wet. You would bring me to the edge of an orgasm, and then flick off the vibration, leaving me writhing in frustration. You parked behind the building, near the back alley, and turned to me, smiling broadly. "Enjoying yourself yet?"

"Yes...but...oooooh." I moaned as you flicked the butterfly on, then off again. "But I'm not going in there if there's a wet spot on my ass!"

You helped me out of the car, and spun me around. "Nope!" you said gaily. "No wet spot!"

I sighed, resigned to my fate. "All right. Come on, you dirty boy."

"Yay!" you said cheerfully, like a little kid in a candy shop. You took my hand and we walked into the restaurant, to be greeted by the waitress who only spoke three words of English. She led us to a corner table, and I was glad to see that no one else was sitting near us. She handed us menus, which neither of us bothered to look at, I, because I already knew what I wanted, and you because you weren't here for the food. When she came back to take our orders, you flicked on the vibrator just as I opened my mouth to speak.

I had expected you to do something like that, but it still startled me. "I...oooh..ummmm." I took a deep breath to regain my composure, and tried not to think about how hot my pussy was or how good my clit felt. "I'd like the—mmmph!" I stifled a moan as you suddenly increased the intensity, and kicked you under the table as I tried not to squirm. I heard you laugh quietly. I could tell you were enjoying yourself immensely. You took down the vibration a little, and I tried again. "I'd like the Pad Thai with bean curd, please. And a pot of jasmine...teeeeeea....!" A completely unexpected orgasm ripped through my body as you suddenly turned the vibration up to the max. I bit my lip to keep from screaming, and clenched my legs together, trying to keep my body from shaking too much. I let the pleasure wash over me as you ordered your food, and slumped down a little when she left.

"Was that good?" you asked, smiling innocently, and turning off the toy.

"Yes..." I gasped, "but, oh, you asshole! I can't believe you--!" I was cut off as you turned the vibration up to high again, and I had another orgasm. 

"This really turns you on, doesn't it?" you whispered as I recovered. "You love knowing people are watching you come..."

"Shhh!" I said, halfheartedly. These were better orgasms than I'd had in awhile, it was true, but still! I didn't know if you could be arrested for having orgasms in public, but I didn't really want to find out. The waitress brought our drinks, and with your usual sense of timing, you thumbed the toy on as she was setting my tea in front of me, causing me to jerk and gasp loudly. The waitress looked at me with concern, and in broken English, asked if I was sick. I tried to smile reassuringly, but a reassuring smile is a rather difficult expression to muster up when one is coming uncontrollably. My face was burning, partially from embarrassment and partially from the heat that was radiating from between my legs and spreading into my body. 

"She'll be all right," you said with a charming smile for the poor waitress. "She's just having a hot flash."

I kicked you indignantly under the table, and came again as you flipped the toy on to high. The waitress backed away, looking thoroughly confused, and fled into the kitchen. I took this opportunity to stand up, grab you firmly by the arm and drag you in the direction of the restrooms. 

"Hey! Our food hasn't come yet," you protested, but I ignored you. I continued down the back hallway, past the restrooms, to the back door, which opened onto a sort of courtyard surrounded by a tall fence. A latched gate led to the back alley. The ground was a mixture of brown grass and gravel, broken up by the roots of a small tree backed into the corner between the fence and the far wall of the restaurant. I closed the door gently behind us, and finally let go of you.

You looked a bit confused. "What are you doing out here? Peeing in the bushes?"

I didn't deign to answer that and instead marched over to the little tree and leaned against it to steady myself as I loosened the straps on the toy and let it slither down my legs to the ground, where it sat glistening, completely covered in my juices. My pussy was soaking, a fact that I proved to you by bending over and flipping up my skirt to reveal my dripping wetness. "Fuck me. Now," I demanded.

You seemed a little taken aback. "Here?"

"You started this, so you finish it!" I insisted. "Besides," I added, grinning wickedly, "it's not like you don't want to. You're rock hard. I can tell."

You laughed, and unzipped your pants to free your throbbing cock. I smiled. "Now, doesn't that fell better?"

"Much," you agreed. You advanced towards me and rubbed the head of your dick against my slit. I groaned in anticipation. "Is this what you want?"

"Ooh, stop teasing me!" I begged. "You know what I want!"

You leaned over to nip my ear. "Then tell me," you breathed heavily.

"Fuck me," I repeated. "Fuck me hard."

This was obviously all the excuse you needed. You slammed your cock into me, and I nearly screamed. Plastic vibrating butterflies were all very well, but nothing could compete with a hard, hot, throbbing cock plunging into me, deeper with every thrust, brushing against my g-spot, already inflamed from the butterfly, but stimulated in entirely new ways by the heat of your cock. Your hands grasped my breasts, slipping under my blouse and bra in a practiced motion to pull at my nipples and roll them between your fingers, making them as hot and hard as your cock. I pushed myself against you, moaning and gasping your name. One of your hands left my breasts and reapplied its attentions to my throbbing clit, aroused and erect. I felt a huge orgasm building from a series of smaller ones. "I'm going to come so hard," I moaned. "Keep fucking me like that...ooh, your cock feels so good..."

I continued to murmur increasingly incomprehensible encouragement that quickly dissolved into passionate moans as I ran out of words. I could feel you tense as my orgasm began, and I felt you come inside of me as my orgasm ripped through me, sending waves of pleasure through my arms and my legs, up into my brain, which I think shut down for a minute or two. All of me was on fire, and my clit and my pussy felt hot enough to explode. My pussy spasmed around you as you clutched me in your own throes of ecstasy. Finally, I slumped against the tree, exhausted, and you slumped against me. We ended up sinking to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs, and I rested my head on your chest, feeling content and at peace with the world. 

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I was aware of was a loud and startled squawk. I opened my eyes and found our waitress standing in the door holding a bag of trash, completely stupefied. 

We scrambled to our feet. I grabbed the butterfly from the ground and hid it rather guiltily and ineffectually behind my back. You zipped up your pants, and though you were beet-red, mustered your courage and reached into your pocket for your wallet. You took out a twenty, and pressed it into the waitress' limp hand. "For the drinks," you explained. "Keep the change."

And then we ran like hell. 



The Butterfly Effect



John was excited for a number of reasons. The biggest perhaps was their leaving on vacation to Mexico in the morning where they would spend a week relaxing at the beach, sightseeing, as well as enjoying one another inside their hotel room. The other reason John was excited, was because he'd stopped by an adult toy store on his way home, picking up his wife, Diane something special to hopefully enjoy using during the trip.

Just thinking about all of it made him hard. He'd even removed his prick, stroking it occasionally during the drive home just thinking about her. She was an attractive woman that never failed to arouse him whenever he did, but even though she was, she was a bit more reserved than he'd like her to be, especially when he knew how she could get when she too became aroused.

They were both in their early forties, though Diane looked actually younger than that especially with her dark brown shoulder length hair and brown eyes giving her somewhat of an exotic look. At five foot nine, the same height he stood at, Diane also had amazingly long legs, which John loved her showing off. He especially enjoyed the few times he'd convinced her into wearing short skirts, revealing just how shapely her legs really were. She had great tits too, very full, firm and heavy against her chest, which again John loved whenever he held them, feeling their weight in his hands as he played with her, or sucking on her dollar sized light tan nipples. Nipples that grew amazingly hard and erect, especially whenever she sucked them herself, which she knew aroused and excited him whenever she did that for him.

They had arrived at their hotel, already anxious to head out and relax, enjoying a few drinks together at the hotel bar. He had surprised her of course with his naughty gift as they had begun to dress, taking the time to tease her a little as they did so. It was next to impossible for him not to want to touch her whenever he saw her in some state of undress, and used the opportunity to do so now, especially when he realized she had surprised him with a little gift too. Normally Diane kept her pussy closely trimmed, though on occasion she would completely shave herself for him as she knew how much this excited him. As she came out of the bathroom from her shower, he saw that she had done so again.

"Oh baby, I love it whenever you shave your pussy like that for me, it's so damn sexy!"

Diane blushed hearing his words, though she had known of course that it would indeed excite him, as well as herself in knowing how he would react and respond to her in doing it.

"And...I got you something fun, something special I thought we could have fun with tonight down in the bar."

"Oh? What's that?" She asked curiously.

John took out the butterfly vibrator he had secretly purchased for her. What was really interesting about this one too, was the fact it had a wireless remote control. She was hesitant at first about actually wearing something like this out in public, but John urged her to try it, especially as they were on vacation and that it would arouse him even more than he already was if she did. Diane finally relented, fitting on the device, and then John tested it by giving her a little soft humming vibration as she stood there.

"Nice?"

She grinned, nodding her head. "Just don't turn it on full blast!" she warned him seriously, "just go slowly with it, and I'll let you know if it gets to be too much," she added. They'd been seated at a nice secluded corner booth at John's request. Diane had worn one of her sexiest bras too, the lacey design clearly showing through her equally elegant white blouse, just a hint of that tantalizing tit flesh showing through the two garments. But it was the thought of her actually having worn the butterfly vibrator that he had purchased for her that he appreciated the most. He had turned it on the lowest setting after they'd been seated, and then given the drinks they had ordered while waiting for their dinner to arrive.

"How's it feel?" he asked. "You like it? Would you like me to turn it up a little more?" he'd asked excitedly.

"It feels good," she said still somewhat nervously, glancing about as she sat there. Though there was no way anyone could possibly know she was actually wearing it, she was still a little anxious about it. "But no...keep it where it is for the moment anyway, it's just enough to feel good without feeling 'too' good," she emphasized with a smile. She then surprised him by reaching over, placing her hand within his lap. She wasn't at all surprised to find him all nice and hard when she did, giving John's prick an affectionate rub through his pants even when the waitress came by with their dinners. Just her doing that as they were served was exciting, and he knew then that the butterfly was definitely affecting her in a very positive way.

"God babe, it's making me SO horny thinking of you sitting there with your pussy being pleasured," he whispered over to her, taking a quick look about ensuring no one was looking their way, and then giving one of her breasts a quick loving caress. Even through the blouse and bra she was wearing, he could feel her hard extended nipple pressing against the material as he thumbed it briefly. Diane giggled, and sighed pleasurably.

"Go ahead, try the next setting," she suggested seductively.

John knew Diane was enjoying this sensation, her having no control over it, with John holding onto the remote, he increased the vibration slightly, saw and enjoyed the expression on her face as she felt it even more directly begin to stimulate and caress her cunt as they sat there together picking through their dinner.

They had ordered another round of drinks as their dinner dishes were removed, the affects of which had helped to settle both their nerves and excitement somewhat, though also easing their mutual inhibitions to some extent as well. Once again, John felt his wife's hand caress his cock, then actually pull down on the zipper on his pants, her hand worming inside to actually make contact with his hard swollen prick.

"You're sure nice and hard," she again giggled somewhat, feeling him with her hands, feeling the pearly drop of moisture that had escaped from the head of his prick which she now used to rub playfully about his hard cock head with. John turned up his wife's toy to the next setting without telling her. She squirmed in surprise, but then quickly accustomed herself to it and smiled at him stroking his prick beneath the table even more openly now, though continuing to keep an eye on everyone around them. "Let's go back to the room," she whispered hotly into his ear.

Eagerly, John somehow managed to stuff his hard swollen prick back inside his pants though even then, he knew it would be difficult trying to hide his erection. They soon made their way over to the elevators, stepping inside where John now turned his wife's toy onto the highest setting, causing her to moan uncontrollably as he pushed the button for their floor. One other couple got on, joining them, and it was exciting to stand there knowing full well that his wife stood next to him being pleasured, the vibrator tickling her clit as they stood there trying to look normal and composed. A few moments later the elevator stopped and the other couple got off. The moment the door closed, Diane came into his arms where they kissed passionately, her hand once again reaching down to the front of John's pants rubbing him through the material. Likewise, John now openly fondled his wife's breasts, teasing her hard nipples, pinching them slightly with his fingers through the material, separating only when the elevator stopped on their floor.

As they stepped out of the elevator, John noticed there was a small alcove around the corner where they kept the ice-machine for their rooms along with a small vending machine for snacks. Passing by, John pulled Diane into it. He was in a naughty mood, and knew by the look in his wife's eyes that she was too. Though curious, she neither questioned nor complained when she felt John reaching down, lifting her short skirt. Seconds later, John cupped her pussy, placing his hand over the vibrating toy they had fixed in place. As he did, he once again unzipped himself, freeing his cock. He knew as they stood there, they would easily hear the sound of the elevator should it stop, or the sound of anyone coming down the hallway towards it too. Taking his own cock in hand, John now rubbed it against his wife's hard tender clit, teasing her with it, now adding to the sensation of the vibrating toy inside her.

"You're going to make me cum if you keep doing that," she warned pleasurably.

"Good, I want you too...right here," he grinned lustfully. Diane placed her hands about his neck in order to steady and support herself. Her legs already threatening to give way with the erotic naughty pleasure she was experiencing as they stood there, John still rubbing his own pick up and down, back and forth against her clit, masturbating them both as he did so.

Moments later, she began doing so, humping herself even more purposely against his prick, especially when the warm streamers of his spunk began splashing against her, using his own cream to now further stimulate her with as she came, trying hard as she could to muffle her cry of pleasure just as the sound of the elevator coming back up reached their ears. Quickly adjusting themselves, they hurriedly walked down the hall towards their room, John's cum running down her legs in little rivers as they unlocked the door stepping inside just as the elevator doors opened.

#

The following morning they had sat out on their small little balcony enjoying their room-service breakfast. They were both ravenous after a long night of fucking and sucking one another like crazy until they had both fallen asleep from pure exhaustion. Below, the almost white sandy beach beckoned to them both, though as they sat eating, John couldn't help but notice the occasional woman strolling by, her breasts bare on the clothing optional beach below them.

Diane laughed. "This why you picked this particular hotel?" she teased. He honestly hadn't known, but now he was interested yes, and excitedly wondered if his wife would be daring enough to do that herself. She had purchased a brand new fairly revealing bikini for the trip, and he was anxious to see her in it as well. He knew that his wife would attract several looks, and he always enjoyed it when other men and women looked at her, admiring her whenever they did.

Eventually they had wandered down to the beach, Diane only then taking off the cover she had worn over her swim wear, revealing as she did so how prominent her nipples were, pressing against the thin material of her bikini top. John was tempted to reach out and thumb one, barely able to contain himself as they spread out their large beach towels over a pair of lounge chairs they would be laying on. They were neither too close, nor too far away from anyone else, though it was still early yet. Almost immediately, Diane lay down on her stomach.

"Would you like some lotion?" John asked sitting next to her, already the feel of his cock growing in interest.

"Yes please," she said reaching back, undoing the clasp on her bikini top, letting it fall off to the side, her breasts now covered only by her laying on them. John applied the lotion, enjoying the feel of her bare skin beneath his hands as more and more people began coming down to the beach, filling up many of the vacant spots. Not at all unexpectedly either, many men and women were either nude or nearly so, enjoying the sun, and openly displaying their bodies to it as they lay basking in the warmth of it. Much to his delight, Diane eventually turned over, though at first she held her bikini top against her breasts.

"Go ahead, leave it off," he urged her, smiling when she finally cast it aside, allowing her own twin spheres to remain exposed, her nipples not quite so hard as they had once been, though he sat watching as they began to harden and stiffen all over again.

This time he didn't ask, pouring a liberal amount of lotion into his hands, which he began applying to the newly exposed flesh. "Don't want to get these beauties sun-burned," he had cautioned, though Diane had given him a knowing look as he sat beside her, more caressing than applying the lotion onto her breasts.

As the beach continued to fill up, another couple placed their beach towels just down in front of them, and another couple off close to one side. Though Diane now lay with her eyes closed, John smiled inwardly, catching the occasional looks in their direction from several people, both men and women, though it was the dark-tanned young man who'd positioned their towels just below them that seemed to glance his wife's way more often than most.

"Don't look up or anything," John told his wife. "But you have an admirer," he whispered towards her. "I think he's enjoying looking at you almost as much as I am." She lay unmoving for a few minutes more until the curiosity got the best of her, then she half sat, readjusting her lounge chair into more of a sitting position, just enough for her to relax back while allowing herself to look about. Almost immediately she caught the man glancing her way, he smiled when she did, causing her to blush briefly, though she returned the smile. "I'm going to go get us a couple of drinks," he informed her. "Go ahead, flirt with him a little while I'm gone, tease him a bit," John added curiously wondering if she would, though her initial look told him she thought he was being silly. "Seriously," John added once again as he stood up and headed over towards the beach bar in order to get their drinks.

It was only a short distance away, and he stood waiting for the bar tender to make their drinks, casting a glance back in his wife's direction, pleased to see the young man had turned over onto his belly, now looking directly towards where his wife was laying. From the side, he could see she had once again closed her eyes, but then to his surprise, he also watched as she nonchalantly opened her legs just a little as though attempting to make herself more comfortable as she lay there. John knew without even seeing it himself, that his wife's pussy lips would be more clearly defined, outlined against the crotch of her bikini panties as she lay there. Something that didn't go at all unnoticed either as the young man then tapped his girlfriends shoulder, her own eyes opening, looking up in that direction. John smiled, seeing the young man and woman both smiling as they lay there staring at his wife.

He quickly made his way back to their spot, carrying their drinks, though fighting the lusty desire that was threatening to lengthen his prick as he did so. John took a moment to gaze down at his wife's crotch upon approaching, pleased to see that indeed there was a clearly defined indentation outlining his wife's split as he sat down rejoining her. Diane opened her eyes, simultaneously pulling one leg up into a knee bent position as she once again adjusted her chair into a full upright position. Now her breasts were even more prominently displayed, which John again appreciated, just as was the other man who was sitting beside them as he lifted up the drink he was holding in his hand, acknowledging them both in greeting as he did so.

"I hope you don't mind my saying this," he spoke in a thick Spanish accent. "But you're wife has very, very beautiful looking breasts," he said boldly, his gaze just as boldly fixed on each of them. John grinned, seeing his wife's blush, but enjoying the sincere smile on her face as she held up her own drink towards him, nodding her head and then thanking him for the compliment.

"Thank you," she said easily enough. "But I think there are many more women on this beach more beautiful than I, and certainly with just as lovely, if not even lovelier breasts than my own," she told him.

"Ah, some more youthful perhaps," he agreed, "but none more sensual and attractive looking as those of a mature, seductively attractive woman such as yourself."

They sat chatting with the man sitting beside them for a while, the conversation easy and pleasant, though John also enjoyed the ongoing tease his wife continued to give the young couple laying in front of them, now likewise occasionally joining in as John and Diane spoke, enjoying the day together until they finally felt they had had enough sun. They had made plans earlier to go down to the market, browse around through a few shops and stores for souvenirs. Though Diane had of course replaced her bikini top before leaving, John had asked her to leave her cover up off momentarily as they drove towards town. He was enjoying the view of her incredibly hard nipples, which had remained so as they'd sat chatting with everyone, knowing full well that Diane had found herself aroused, being looked at, and having her tits actually commented on.

"Well, that was interesting," she stated after they had gotten into the car.

"It certainly was," he said no longer content to refrain himself, reaching over to brush one of her hard thick protrusions with his finger tip for a moment before backing out of the lot. "And I think that young guy in front of us had an erection too," he added, though naked, he had managed to remain on his stomach, though lifting up periodically, resting his upper torso on his elbows whenever they spoken to them.

"Yes, he did," Diane giggled knowingly. "I saw it a couple of times," she added. "Once I think, he repositioned himself purposely so that I could see that he had one. He grinned at me when he did that, and caught me looking at him."

John smiled even more broadly than he had been. "Not too surprised, he was certainly enjoying the view of your tightly pressed crotch, as was I!" he told her. "God babe, your pussy lips were so full, and so wonderfully defined, I wanted to reach over and rub you there so badly!"

"Did that...make you excited? Knowing they were looking at me, and not even pretending not to?" she asked.

"Oh hell yes!" John admitted. "And I don't mind telling you honey, I was having a few very naughty thoughts about it myself, wondering what they were thinking as they were."

"Yeah, me too," Diane admitted, and then surprised her husband as she pulled her bikini top down once again exposing her breasts, even as they drove along the highway in the car, her fingers now toying with her hard extended nipples, finally cupping one, lifting it up to her own mouth to suck on and flick with her tongue. Diane knew how much John enjoyed seeing her do that, and especially now, sitting next to him in the car as they entered the highway heading towards town. What she didn't realize or see until it was entirely too late, was the eighteen-wheeler that had merged onto the highway pulling up alongside of them. 

"Oh my God!" she squealed with embarrassment, suddenly looking over and up, seeing the driver of the truck driving next to them peering down, though he was grinning from ear to ear holding one of his thumbs up with obvious approval.

"No! Don't put it away," John told her. "Keep playing with it," he urged hotly. "We've only got a couple of miles until the turn-off, so keep doing it, let him have a look and some fun while you do!"

Much to the truck drivers delight, as well as John's, she did so, suddenly getting into it even as she more fully displayed her held breasts through the window, letting the driver see her cupped tits as she pressed them together, then held on to her own nipples, lifting her full heavy breasts just by that means, and then shaking them for him as he drove along side, once again giving Diane a thumbs up of approval as she did so.

"Play with your pussy too," John urged. Only then did Diane give her husband a concerned look. "He can't really see it..." John pressed, "He'll only be able to know what you're really doing...please?" This time she laughed, actually finding it wickedly erotic to be doing this in the first place. Still bare breasted, she now slipped a finger inside herself, fingering her pussy, though how much the driver could see wasn't at all certain. It was enough however that he could obviously still see her tits as she now sat, fingering her own hot juicy quim, and getting rather turned on while doing it.




The Butterfly Effect



"God John, I can't believe how hot this is making me!" she exclaimed in surprise. And even John had to admit, this was a side of his wife he hadn't really seen before, not in public anyway.

"Making me pretty fucking hot too!" he now told her, his hand down in his own lap, grasping his now very hard stiff cock through his pants. He could now hear the liquid squishing as she fingered herself, unabashedly so.

"Shit!"

"What?"

"There's the turn off!" He heard the sound of the driver's horn thanking them as he pulled the car off the highway, down the ramp. 

"Find a parking lot."

"Where?"

"Doesn't matter...anywhere. Just find one and then pick a somewhat secluded area within it," she suggested still playing with herself, though she now tossed her bikini covering over her bare breasts, though keeping them readily available in doing so.

Only a moment or two later John spotted the perfect place to pull in. Pulling off to the side, there were few other cars around them. He even backed in, making it easier to get out if they had to, but also giving them a perfect vantage point to see from should anyone head in their direction. Diane then slid over closer to him, freeing John's cock entirely, sucking it into her mouth and began licking, flicking her tongue out at the super-sensitive head of his prick.

"Oh fuck honey...that's nice...so damn nice!"

It was easy to also reach over and latch on to her still free-swinging breasts, capturing one, holding it and then locating her hard swollen nipple, which he rolled around between his fingers while she continued sucking his prick.

"Let me know when you're close," she told him. "I want to feel your hot cream spurting against my breasts!"

"Oh fuck babe...just hearing you say that's got me close!" he told her, the tickled feeling of pleasure already beginning to surge up the length of his shaft.

Lifting her cover, Diane once again bared her breasts to his view, taking his prick and rubbing it between them, pumping him until she felt the warm delicious splash of his climax saturating her boobs. After she had milked him dry, John watched as she then massaged in the white creamy spunk into her tits until her flesh had absorbed most of his cream. Only then did she replace her bikini top, along with her covering.

"Take off the bottoms," he said grinning at her. "Your turn!"

John had of course finger-fucked his wife on numerous occasions, but usually just as an additional stimulation included in foreplay. It was rare that he ever did so, bringing her to orgasm, and rarer still to be doing that here. He couldn't even recall a single time where he had fingered her like this in the car before, and began doing so, still keeping an eye out, but enjoying the feel and sensation of his wife's hot slippery cunt as he played with her, teasing her clit with the tip of his finger, swirling it, tapping it, and sliding one finger, and soon after two, in and out of her as she sat next to him on the seat, her hands once again fondling her bikini covered breasts.

"Oh my God! Yes! Yes John, Yes!" she cried out pleasurably soon after, humping herself back against the seat, as well as his fingers as he continued to finger-fuck her wet delicious cunt, hearing her cry of ecstasy as she came hard against the palm of his hand.

Once they had both collected themselves and straightened up somewhat, they then pulled out of the lot, heading into the city with smiles on their faces.

#

They had spent the rest of the day sight-seeing and browsing a few shops together, but to his delight and surprise, Diane appeared to be just as excited as he still was himself. He had taken the opportunity whenever the chance presented itself, to give his wife's ass a friendly caress, once or twice managing to grope her tits when no one was looking or could see them. She too had done the same, once even bending over pretending to look at something, though purposely grinding her ass against the front of his crotch. By the time they had returned back to their hotel room, they were once again horny as hell. John would have been content to just jump into bed and spend the rest of the night there, but it was Diane's suggestion they go downstairs to the bar and have a couple of drinks first.

"Oh baby, to hell with the drinks! Let's just stay here and fuck!" he'd said wantonly, lustfully.

Diane emerged from the bathroom a moment later however, dressed to kill by the looks of it. She had worn the shortest of skirts that she owned, her long legs attractively displayed, but even more surprisingly, she had also worn one of her very revealing low cut blouses as well. Her breasts threatening to fall out of the deep plunging "V' neck, which he also only then realized she was wearing without having a bra on, something she honestly never did.

"Just a couple of drinks," she stated. "I want you as horny as you've ever been by the time we get back up to the room," she told him. I have plans for us a bit later," she added suggestively. In seconds, John was dressed, once again groping his wife playfully on the ride down in the elevator.

#

The place was far busier than the night before, most of the tables already taken so that they had had to sit at the bar instead. Neither one of them minding it however, especially as it tended to show off Diane's legs because of it, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by several couples sitting together at a nearby booth next to them. Perhaps because they were similar in age and appearance, one of the women struck up a conversation with Diane, asking where they were from etc, soon laughing and having a good time as they conversed, even whispering on occasion back and forth, giggling whenever they did. Curious, John eventually inquired what it was they'd been talking about. 

"She told me I looked very sexy, and asked if I'd ever had the pleasure of another woman," she told him honestly. She hadn't, but she was obviously flattered by the remark, and John had found it intriguingly delightful that his wife seemed to warm to the woman's continued attentions of her, not to mention the attractive man sitting with her who continually eyed Diane throughout the evening as well. Sitting high on the stool, Diane's skirt had ridden up considerably, showing off a great deal of her exquisite thigh. Seeing this, John mentioned it, and then told her to swivel around on her stool, giving the two of them an even better look. Flushed, yet obviously excited, Diane did so, revealing as she did a very quick brief glimpse up her skirt. John saw their eyes drawn there when she did, though she pretended she herself hadn't realized she had, still chatting, laughing and talking to them the whole time. At one point, the girl had gotten out, excusing herself to use the restroom, her lover standing up in order to let her slide out, though he didn't return immediately to his seat, preferring to stand now next to Diane. John noticed he was tall, well over six feet, and with his height advantage, standing next to Diane as he was, it was easy for him to peer down the front of Diane's low-cut blouse, which became even more revealing whenever she leaned this way or that, the "V" billowing out to one side or another, threatening to spill her breasts out entirely.

The other couple had introduced themselves as Mike and Cindy, like themselves here on vacation, and coincidentally staying on the exact same floor they were.

"Hey, you two interested in something adventurous and fun?" Cindy had asked Diane.

"Sure! What?" She had answered.

"Well, we noticed...there's an adult store just down the street from here. We thought earlier about going there, having a look around, and see if we could maybe find something naughty fun to bring back with us, you interested in going with? Having a look?"

Though Diane certainly didn't mind John's going into any himself, especially when he'd always chosen, or brought back something naughty and excitingly fun to see or use, she herself had never been inside such a place before. Surprisingly, she hesitated only for a moment. "Sure! Why not? I've always wanted to see what it might be like to go in one," she freely admitted. "And at least here...no one would recognize me if I did!"

It was only a couple of blocks away, so the four of them walked there together rather than driving. Nervously, yet excitedly, Diane entered the rather large shop, immediately surprised at the wide variety of toys, movies and sexy apparel that the shop sold. They browsed together through several items, finally finding themselves entering a small curtained partition, which led down a small hallway with several doors leading off to the left and to the right, each one with a separate entry door leading inside.

"What are these for?" she had asked, and John had informed her that you could check out a movie to watch, bring it inside one of these booths, and preview it in privacy, along with a few other things if you chose to do so. John had already grabbed a particular movie he thought Diane might enjoy seeing with him, paying for the use of the room for an hour, and then led Diane inside, having watched Mike and Cindy doing the same right behind them. There was a small, yet comfortable looking couch facing the screen, after putting the DVD in the player, sitting down, John had already freed his cock in expectation as Diane grinned looking down on it, and then lifting her skirt, revealing to him when she did that she hadn't been wearing any panties on beneath it. 

"Damn babe, you mean to tell me they knew you weren't wearing anything on underneath?" he asked excitedly, hearing her giggle as she answered.

"Well, I'm sure they eventually saw that I wasn't," she said simply. "But Cindy wasn't wearing anything either, or didn't you notice that? I saw hers several times too when she managed to flash me from where she was sitting."

"Damn, no...I didn't. Must have been at the wrong angle to see that, but just knowing they could see you, is horny enough!"

What was also pretty horny, was the movie. A woman, looking very much like his own wife was sitting on one man's dick, just as Diane was sitting on him now having easily slipped herself over John's hard stiff prick. The other woman however, was also sucking another dick as she did.

"That's hot!" John said peering around his wife up at the movie. 

"Oh, you like that do you?" she said teasingly. "You find the thought of me doing that exciting? Sucking another man's cock while you fuck me?"

"Ah hum," John moaned pleasurably, not quite sure how to answer that, though it was obvious he was excited and thinking about it. 

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"Is that...what I think it is?" she suddenly said, pointing towards a hole in the wall separating their room from the one next to them. Glancing over, even John was stunned to find what was obviously another man's hard cock poking through the hole in the wall. He actually laughed upon seeing it. "Yep, I think it is...those are called 'glory holes' in case you've never heard the term before," he added, and realized upon doing so, that it had to be Mike's prick sticking through the opening as he and Cindy had gone into the room next to them earlier. "That's got to be Mike's cock," he now added, telling her what he had only then remembered.

Tentatively, she reached out, grasping it as John looked on, amazed that she had, though she was obviously excited at the prospect, especially with John's cock lovingly stroking her cunt at the moment.

"Go ahead honey...play with it," he urged her, which she began doing, feeling the equally hard penis currently sticking through the opening in the wall. "Lick it," he then told her. "Go ahead babe, give it a little suck."

Diane leaned over, her mouth slowly enclosing around the head of Mike's cock as John continued fucking her from behind, hearing the pleasured gasp as he did so, and as she gingerly sucked and stroked Mike's cock through the opening in the wall. After several more minutes they could both hear pleasured giggling on the other side, then the sound of Cindy's voice coming through the opening.

"My turn!" she stated, waiting expectantly. Diane laughed, jumping off her husband's prick, and then leading him by it towards the opening, then putting it through, standing beside him in order to watch, fondling his heavy laden ball sack as she did so.

"Is she?" Diane asked though the look on John's face told her she was. And though it felt good, erotically naughty just because of the way it was being done, John soon after withdrew, once again needing the feel of his wife's soft sweet pussy milking his cream from him. Diane leaned over the arm of the couch, John now standing behind her, once again slipping himself inside her, enjoying the feel of her super-slick pussy, as he began fucking her wildly as they stood there together. The sounds of a likewise heated coupling taking place in the room next to theirs only heightened their own passion, hearing Mike and Cindy moaning and groaning together as they soon came, triggering their own pleasured orgasms within moments after hearing that.

They emerged from the room just as Mike and Cindy did a few minutes later, soon after heading back to the hotel. "You guys like to come down to our room for a night cap?" Mike offered.

"It's late," Diane said and we've got a sight-seeing tour scheduled for way early in the morning, perhaps another evening," she said then saying goodnight as she and John headed off to their room.

John was initially concerned that Diane was troubled or put off by what had happened, but as she turned with a wickedly wild look in her eyes, he knew better. "I hope you don't mind John, but as erotically naughty as that all was, what I needed and wanted more than anything, was to come back here and fuck my husband," she told him. "Out there..." she then pointed, towards the balcony.

#

Their room was on the fifth floor of a six-floor hotel. The likelihood of anyone even seeing them was remote, especially if they had merely sat down in one of the two chairs by their little patio table. John stood outside waiting for her, wearing only his bathrobe while she had excused herself to change, joining him momentarily. He had turned off all the lights in their room further concealing them from being backlit should anyone look up from below. He turned at hearing his wife coming towards him, grinning from ear to ear at seeing her entirely naked as she approached, but also once again to his delight, wearing the vibrating butterfly he had given to her their first night here.

"You like that little device do you?" he said gathering her into his arms.

"Very much so," she giggled handing him the remote. John laughed accepting it.

"I have to admit honey, ever since you tried this out, ever since then, you've really seemed to blossom in a way, you're certainly more adventurous, that's for sure," he indicated with a nod of his head towards her as they stood outside on the deck together, entirely nude as she slipped his robe over his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the ground. And as if to punctuate that, Diane moved towards the railing rather than taking a seat as he might have expected her to do.

"Come fuck me honey, fuck me against the railing, fuck me while this naughty little toy of yours is vibrating my clit!"

The railing was at a perfect height in a way, Diane leaning over it, her large breasts dangling over the side, erotically so as he looked at her, her pink pussy winking at him invitingly, knowing even as he stepped in behind her, turning the vibrating toy she had strapped in place on the next to highest setting, watching her jump in response to that, though he didn't give her much time to get used to that before he slipped his cock inside the opening of her warm wet cunt and buried himself deeply inside.

It was erotic as hell to look out over the railing, seeing people walking about below them, some wandering off into the darkness down by the beach, others laughing, standing on the boardwalk enjoying a drink, or just marveling at the warm wind as it caressed each where they stood. Likewise, John and Diane enjoyed the warmth of the night wind as it caressed the two of them, though they stood naked together, coupling slowly at first. John reached around his wife, cupping her full breasts, holding onto them, fucking into her and enjoying the harsh slap of flesh against flesh whenever he did.

"Harder baby...harder!" she soon urged him as he also turned up the vibration on the butterfly still tickling her clit. "Oh yeah! Yeah!" She nearly screamed, the sound of her voice briefly worrying John that someone might overhear and look up, then that very same thought becoming erotically charged as well, wanting someone to actually do just that, look up, seeing Diane's luscious breasts freely swinging to and fro beyond the railing as he stood behind her, stabbing his cock into her violently from behind as they came together.

#

It was the last day of their vacation together. As a surprise, John had scheduled massages for them both, very special massages that Diane had no idea as to how special John had wanted them to be. Though taking a bit of a chance, Diane had indeed transformed in many ways, so he was in hopes that she would warm to the erotic naughty session he had scheduled for her.

John smiled inwardly when the two masseuses's arrived. One was a very tall, very attractive looking Latino male that John knew Diane would find attractive, and did as she turned immediately shy while undressing and laying down on one of the two massage tables they had set up in their room. Likewise, the Latino female was also extremely attractive with long dark hair, and with what John could only surmise, a full firm set of breasts though perhaps not quite as large as Diane's were.

As good as his own massage felt as the pair began, he couldn't take his eyes off his wife as her masseuse began working on her. He had given the man a knowing nod of his head, telling him as part of a prearranged signal that he was to proceed exactly as they had discussed. 

Initially, John watched as Diane relaxed, enjoying her massage, though he watched her eyes pop open a short time later, knowing when they did, that her masseuse must have come very close to touching her bare pussy. John knew the man was taking it slowly with her, also as they'd discussed, each pass of his strong hands lingering briefly, just hinting at, but not quite directly touching her there though he slowly got closer and closer to doing so with each pass of his hands.

Just by the look on her face, John was able to see that it was beginning to arouse her, she shifted as though adjusting herself, making herself more comfortable. But once again, receiving a knowing smile from the man's face just as they'd discussed. John knew that she was secretly responding to his touch, as Daniel winked, grinning, telling John in so doing that she was. Daniel likewise began working his hands beneath her ribcage, now massaging, yet caressing her there too, fingers probing, hinting, teasing at her still hidden flesh, though she had found herself lifting up ever so slightly allowing him easier access each time. 

John was able to see as Daniel gingerly probed her flesh, his fingers expertly sliding beneath her full breasts, briefly, but methodically. Each pass once again seemed to linger a bit longer, as well as a bit further as his fingers reached beneath her upper torso, though John could also tell she was beginning to help him as he began doing so.

When Diane's eyes popped open again, John knew that her masseuse had touched her directly, letting her know when he did that this time it hadn't been an accidental caress or touch as a few of the others had seemed to be. Seeing her look as she gazed over towards him, John mouthed the words, "I love you," and then smiled, winking, letting her know at that moment that what she now felt and experienced had been part of his surprise for her.




The Butterfly Effect



"You may turn over now," Daniel said, as Diane remembered her masseuse being originally introduced to her as. Simultaneously, John was given the same instruction, knowing when he did, that his now very rock-hard cock would be easily seen which, was also part of the plan. John wanted his wife to know how aroused he had become while watching all this, though it had the added benefit of letting Theresa know how much she'd been helping in doing that too.

As John half sat, and then rolling over onto his back, Diane saw how erect his prick was, and knew immediately that he was just as aroused as she was. As John's attractive looking masseuse, Theresa, began working on him again, Diane grinned, finding it extremely erotic to see the woman as she seemed to teasingly work around her husband's hard stiff prick as he lay there on the table. Likewise, Daniel now massaged around her breasts in circles, sometimes touching them even more lightly than a feather as he skimmed the tiny tips of each nipple. She moaned pleasurably, just as John was now doing with each passing stroke, each lingering touch of the hand as each of their masseuses began getting bolder and bolder with their touches.

"God babe...just watching you is making me horny!" John told his wife. "Seeing the pleasure on your face is so fucking erotic!"

"Ditto baby, ditto!" Diane replied looking over towards him, though she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Daniel's fingers now slid easily into her wet honey spot, the tease of which now began to pleasure her thoroughly as she began to succumb to it.

Likewise, his hands now fingered and manipulated her taut swollen nipples directly. Rolling them, sometimes pulling or pinching them lightly, he alternated between doing that, or fingering her wet juicy split. Only when she heard John's occasional pleasured sighs did she again open her own eyes to briefly look, seeing Theresa's hand now working John's hard stiff cock up and down, slowly, expertly.

"Feel good baby?" she asked moaning herself as Daniel once again teased the hard little knot of her clit.

"Oh yes...you?" John moaned, deeply groaning out his own sweetness as Theresa surrounded just the tip of his prick with her oiled hands, teasing it by firmly twisting, then releasing only to grab and do it all over again.

Her answer came in the form of a pleasured gasp, she felt Daniel ease one finger just inside her ass, another still working and caressing her "G" spot, as she now felt the double intrusion of fingers scissoring her tender flesh. "Oh fuck!" she moaned loudly, audibly, and not prone to openly using vulgarities except when extremely aroused, which John now new, she obviously was. She felt him double fingering her, the sensations driving her mad with pleasure, his free hand alternating back and forth between her breasts, her nipples continuing to play with them as he stood beside where she lay still scissoring her cunt.

The pleasure Theresa was giving John was greatly enhanced by the look on his wife's face. Knowing that she was hovering on the edge of orgasm at that very moment, threatened to have him spilling his own seed. Theresa pumped, jacked, played with, and continued to surround the head of his sensitive prick, teasing him unmercifully. John felt his climax beginning, just as he heard the deep-gutted ecstasy and joy escape from his own wife's mouth, her cry of pure pleasure triggering his own. John grimaced, and then allowed the force of his climax to erupt through his prick, showering his masseuse with his cream, streamer after streamer of which began spurting from the head of his dick as Diane opened her eyes, still moaning as she watched.

Together, they lay side-by-side, though apart, climaxing, cumming, and enjoying their pleasured expressions as they watched one another enjoying pure bliss.

#

John had tipped them both liberally as they had prepared to leave for the extra special treatments they'd been given. Curiously, Diane had drawn Theresa off to one side, speaking to her momentarily in private. She in turn then spoke briefly to Daniel who smiled, nodded his head, and then grabbed her massage table along with his own and carried them out through the door. John turned, still holding it open for Theresa, but then got a surprise of his own as he watched his wife suddenly reach up and begin undoing the buttons on the woman's blouse.

"Close the door...and your mouth John, now it's my turn to surprise you!"

Up until now, it had all been pillow talk between them. He never thought he would see the day when his beautiful wife would actually be bold enough, horny enough, and wild enough to ever touch or play with another woman. Closing the door, he felt his prick already beginning to stiffen once again, though it had only been minutes since he'd just had an orgasm.

By the time he had crossed the room, taking a seat in one of two large oversized chairs, Diane had finished helping Theresa to undress. He had been right about his assessment of her, her breasts though not quite as large as his wife's were, were nevertheless just as full and pliant to the touch. But unlike his wife's lighter tanned, dollar sized nipples, Theresa's were much darker, and somewhat larger. Seeing the two women standing side-by-side for a moment as they stood touching and playing with one another's tits, sent a renewed surge of lust-filled delight coursing through his entire body.

Watching his wife as she and Theresa crawled into the bed, they soon interlocked their legs over one another, now pressed pussy to pussy. And though Theresa's quim wasn't shaved, she had a very thin, neatly trimmed little patch of pubic hair, which in addition to the differences in their breasts and nipples, gave John even more to enjoy viewing.

"You are so warm, and so wet!" Theresa giggled delightedly as she slowly rubbed herself against Diane.

"So are you," Diane moaned pleasurably, enjoying the sensation of fondling the woman's soft breasts as she pressed her own sweet split against Theresa's grinding rhythmically against her.

"Damn, that is fucking hot!" John blurted unable to contain himself, even as he now sat unabashedly fisting his cock.

"Why don't you come over here and sit honey, so you can see us better?" His wife directed, patting the side of the bed as she continued humping against Theresa. Standing, John looked down at his own hard firm erection, soon after following it towards the bed where he now sat, peering directly down and between the two women's legs where they met. He could clearly hear the sound of their sweet juices mixing, playing together.

"You like what you see baby?" His wife asked. By way of an answer, John's prick dribbled a pearly drop of pre-cum, which Diane immediately snatched up with her finger, applying it to the tip of one of her nipples. Theresa then leaned over, mouthing Diane's breast, sucking it off. John quickly squeezed out another thick droplet, to which Diane repeated the same process, applying that to her other breast. And Theresa again, licking and sucking that off.

"Ooh, give some to hers now," Diane moaned. The sight of his wife hungrily sucking, licking and even kissing Theresa's breasts soon had him leaking like a sieve as even more lubrication leaked forth from his prick. 

As much as he would have liked to join in, he was mesmerized in just watching them, something that he now knew Diane was enjoying, not only because it felt good, but also because she knew how much it excited John in watching her. Moments later, she and Theresa had repositioned themselves on the bed, now with them licking one another, tongues lapping, teasing and exploring one another's splits. Diane groaned deeply as she felt the woman's mouth encircle her clit, holding onto it, and then sucking it. Following her lead, Diane quickly followed suit, drawing in Theresa's hard stiff little clitoris, finding the sensation of sucking it wildly erotic, decadent, and naughtily perverse.

"Oh yeah, lick her pussy baby! Lick it, finger it and suck it, and lick it...lick it...lick it! John urged hotly, now fisting his prick almost as wildly as he sat beside them, hearing the sounds of their tongue-tickles and slurping as they devoured one another's sweet juicy quims.

John last track of the number of times both women had made one another cum, or had in fact even cum together. He had nearly blown his own load several times just watching them, content to do so even, but Diane had told him not to, to hold out if he could. Just when he thought he couldn't stand it anymore, Diane finally spoke.

"Come fuck me John, fuck me from behind, doggy style, while Theresa eats me!"

John quickly slid around behind his wife as she knelt there on the bed, Theresa wiggling beneath her, once again locating her well lubricated slit. But to John's delight, she also grabbed onto his prick, guiding his shaft into his wife's cunt, teasing her with it, as well as himself as she did so. After a few delicious moments of this, she then guided him inside though it certainly wasn't necessary. Below, he felt, as he knew his wife certainly did, as Theresa's tongue went back to work on his wife's clit, occasionally licking his shaft as well as he slow-stroked his wife's creamy cunt.

"Oh fuck John! Fuck that feels good!" Diane moaned, her head slowly being tossed from side to side, her breasts free-swinging as John glanced over in the mirror of their room, watching the spectacle of the three of them together. Diane's hand reached out, her fingers finding Theresa's pussy as well, fingering and toying with it as John's prick picked up the tempo. "Yes! Yes! Fuck me baby, fuck me and make me cum!" Diane cried out.

Seconds later John felt his wife's pussy erupt, the sudden creamy warmth of her climax bathing his prick. Below them, the sounds of Theresa as she captured their combined essence, John now grunting out his own pleasure as his prick began to spurt. He felt Theresa's hand, then her mouth surrounding him, taking a portion of his pleasure, sucking his prick, and then ramming it back inside his wife's cunt where she finished milking out the last remaining droplets of his spunk.

They had spent the next hour fucking and sucking one another in ways that John hadn't thought possible, until it was unfortunately unavoidable. They needed to pack and prepare to check out of their room if they were to make their scheduled flight on time.

After Theresa had left, they had quickly showered, once again making love though softly with less urgency this time. Dressing, and then packing, they prepared to return home.

"Hey babe, I didn't see the butterfly I bought you. Did you pack it?"

"Pack it hell John, I'm wearing it home...on the plane!" She then handed him the remote control, once again kissing him as she did so. "I'm planning on you driving me nuts during the flight," she giggled suggestively.

John couldn't help but laugh at that either. Before coming here, he couldn't have imagined her doing that, let alone the things they had now enjoyed and shared together during their trip.

"You know honey, I can't help but feel that new toy I bought for you had a lot to do with all this," he said reflectively.

"I think you're right John, it really did have quite an effect on me, and it's helped me to see myself for the sexy, sensual being that I am, always have been. But you've known that all along, you just helped to coax it out of me, help me to see it was there all the time too." Then she handed him a small package.

"What's this?"

"Go ahead, open it."

He did so, finding what appeared to be a cock-ring with a small little vibrating egg attached to it. Diane then held up her own little remote control. "Should be an interesting flight back don't you think?"

John could only shake his head in wonder and smile.



The Butterfly Effect



I had arrived late from work, as usual, and hungry, as usual. Throwing myself on the bed with my shoes on, I asked her to make a popcorn, but she said no, was tired too. To me that was what was missing to crown about a week of monosyllabic conversations and hostile looks — what was missing for me to start yelling and get out slamming the door.

Half an hour later I was in a singles bar, checking out a blonde in a black dress who was walking in alone. The hottie looked around the place as if searching for someone, glanced at her phone and then came squeezing her nice hips between the tables until passing mine.

"Did you see how she looked at me?" I asked my bud Fred, who I had almost dragged out of home that night.

"Yeah. She looked at you as if looking at a post," he muttered, still a bit upset.

Ignoring the comment, I looked over my shoulder. The blonde was now talking with two waiters, who soon began joining tables for what seemed like an improvised gathering. I put my glass on the table, got up and casually walked towards the restroom, passing close enough to overhear them.

"Twelve, right?" asked one of the waiters. "Then there are only two chairs missing."

"We have two unoccupied," I offered promptly.

"Thank you," she said suddenly turning around, only then seeing me there. "That was nice."

"...Victor."

"Oh?"

"My name. And yours?"

She laughed at my opportunistic introduction.

"Monica."

"Glad to meet you, Monica. Can I keep you company until your friends get here?"

"All right, but they probably won't take long," she said, and at the same moment I pulled myself a chair.

They really didn't, but we had time to get to know ourselves at least a little. I told her I was an obstetrician and gynecologist, lived in the neighborhood and worked at a clinic not very far from there. She was finishing law school and lived near too. We exchanged cell numbers. The next day I called, we talked some more and decided to meet for a beer Saturday night, when I was supposed to be at work. Perfect. Neither one would suspect anything.

As expected, I headed to our date without arousing suspicion. When I got to the bar Monica was already there, in dark jeans and white blouse, her long straight hair in a ponytail. Always on time. We drank, ate and chatted with all the parsimony of the first encounters, but it didn't take long for the kissing and the touching and the urge to get out of there straight to a room start. Thinking about saving the money of the motel, I asked if she lived by herself, but she said no, with her mother. She then returned the question and, as I couldn't mention my wife, I made up a roommate. So we chose the most obvious solution. I knew a reasonably comfortable and not too expensive place, to where we went by cab, making out in the backseat. We entered the suite at the same pace, her hands on the back of my head and mine on her waist, but she suddenly stopped as if realizing something important.

"What?" I asked.

"Do you have condoms?"

"I'll ask the attendant now."

I did, and while we waited, I emptied my trousers pockets, taking time to check my phone. A call from my wife would worry me more than one from the clinic, but Monica didn't know that.

"Afraid of being late for work?" she asked.

"Actually, I should be already at the clinic. But usually there isn't much to do there, so I kind of check in whenever I want." I smiled opening my shirt. "Technically, they're paying me to be here, in this motel."

She gave me a somewhat sly smile, put her hand on my bare chest and gently kissed me until the attendant arrived with the condoms. After he left, I finished taking my shirt off and threw myself back into bed. Show time!

I stripped Monica off her jeans leaving only her blouse on, like an outrageously short white dress, snuggled between her legs and with my index finger traced the division of her pussy lips over and under her panties. Everything there was wet. She pulled the cloth aside, sighing, and I put my mouth in action, gently and at the right spots (modesty aside, no-one knows the female body like me). For a good ten minutes, I teased her in every way; with my lips, with my tongue, outside, inside, slowly, fast, until she started moaning softly and pushing her hips more to my mouth, back and forth. When there was a louder groan, I stuck two fingers inside and sucked her clit with a little bit more pressure. I wouldn't stop before she came in my mouth — and she did, hard and loud. Only after that I took her panties off.

Now it seemed like she was wearing nothing but a very short dress, and I was stroking her inner thigh while she was running her fingers through my hair and looking at the outline of my hard cock on my trousers, wanting it too. Eventually she glided along the bed and took it out. She began with by balls, sucking them into her mouth one at a time, then licked all the way up the shaft, went around the tip and down the other side, staring at me. Very slowly, savoring, she was rubbing my dick on her tongue, lips, cheeks, all that giving me that saucy gaze of someone who likes and knows what they're doing. Then suddenly covered half of it with her mouth and started going up and down, sucking with pressure, moving her tongue underneath the glans and stroking the shaft with the same rhythm. From that moment on she had her eyes closed, just tripping, as I watched her head go down and up and further down. In less than a minute my whole dick was in her soft mouth. I was even getting afraid to come, but before that would happen she stopped and lay by my side. As if I wasn't horny enough from that nice and tight blowjob, she held me by the hair, gave me a deep and wet kiss, looked at me and in a firm voice said "fuck me". Of course I obeyed right away.

I got on top of her and started simulating a fucking motion, just rubbing the tip of my cock on the outside. Sometimes it would get the right angle and half of the head would go in. On the third or fourth thrust, she stirred and prohibitively clapped a hand to my thigh, giving me a serious look.

"Get the condom," she said.

I had agreed to ask for a packet, but the truth is I hate condoms. I never use them at home. I'm accustomed this way.

"In a bit," I promised without stopping what I was doing. The thrusts got more frequent and deeper, until she complained again:

"Hey. The condom."

"Let's just be still like this for a minute, then. It feels so good."

But I wasn't still. I was moving almost imperceptibly, hoping she wouldn't protest anymore. It could take forever, but I didn't want to risk ruining everything, and to be honest I was even enjoying the suspense. Every inch of me sinking in that hot, wet flesh was like a conquest and a shot of adrenaline. When it was all inside and I started moving slowly, the feeling was almost like euphoria.

"You're crazy," she murmured in a hoarse voice.

"Don't worry, I won't come inside."

I kept moving slowly for a while and she, too, let nature take its course. Soon her breathing was heavy again, her legs were wrapped around my ass and her gaze was fixed on the ceiling mirror. She watched me move from up there for a long time until throwing her head back with an ecstatic "aaaaah" that drove me wild. I grabbed her hips and went as deep as I could, and she began to rub her clit. Her other hand was making my neck tingle, but by then any part of me that she touched would give me pleasure. My body was increasingly sensitive and my reasoning increasingly slow. I was lost in lust, in that state where anything sexy the other person does makes you lose control... And what made me lose control was she moaning, grabbing me, tensing everything up in a second orgasm. When it hit me, the juices were rising inside me and it was too late to hold off.

I came inside her. I came inside, now what?

We stayed there paralyzed for what seemed like several minutes, and then I quietly slid to my side of the bed while taking a peek at Monica out of the corner of my eye. The expression on her face suggested a fear equal to or greater than mine.

"You said you wouldn't..." she started.

"I know. It was an accident. Sorry."

"Oh my God."

"We can go to a drugstore and buy a morning-after pill," I suggested. For a change, we do the mess and it's them who manage to get things back in order.

"I was told this pill is a pain," she grimaced. "My brother's girlfriend took it once and spent the whole day feeling sick."

"Sometimes it is... But we can't take risks. Another kid would be just too expensive for me right now."

"Another? So you're divorced?"

"Not yet..."

She nearly jumped out of bed. As if in a rehearsed movement, we reached any cloths at hand and covered ourselves at the same time.

"Oh my God. Married? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't ask."

"You should have told me anyway, shouldn't you? Besides, you're not wearing a ring! You were alone in a singles bar! And you said you lived with a friend!"

All that was true, but in such situations we always try to justify ourselves. I tossed excuse 001, "marriage-not-going-too-well," taking the opportunity to tell her of our last fight and complain a little about Kate. I probably talked for about ten minutes.

"See? Just a popcorn, and she refused," I said in the end. "That wouldn't be any trouble at all."

"If it wouldn't be any trouble at all, then why couldn't you do it yourself?"

Shock. She was defending the woman, and the worst part was that I could find no counter-argument.

"I'd never see this coming. You're great. If I wasn't married, I would ask you to be my girlfriend."

"And of course I would accept right away, coming from such a nice guy."

Saying this she went to the shower, and I got dressed and called the reception asking for the check. While waiting, came to my attention a brochure about the risks of the various STDs, which I spent the time reading as if I didn't already know all that by heart. Me, a gynecologist, risking bringing my wife a venereal disease.

The attendant came and went, I gave the room one last look to check if I hadn't forgotten anything and Monica forever in the shower. In addition to mad at her I was getting quite worried about the situation, because the effectiveness of the pill (which is not 100%, to begin with) decreases if not taken soon.

"Are you ready... er... what's your name again?" I yelled to the bathroom. "Sorry, it's just that there are so many..."

She came out wrapped in a towel and went straight to the other side of the bed, where her clothes were.

"There's no need to apologize. Your confusion makes sense, after all, you get paid to touch the private parts of a line of women and stay in motel rooms."

She got dressed, combed her hair and finished getting ready, and only then looked at me.

"Okay. Let's go."

It still took us time to find a drugstore open, and then we went to eat something to stave off hunger and help the pill down. When everything was finally taken care of, it was almost midnight, but I wasn't feeling like going to work anyway. I called Fred and we arranged to meet at a pub, where I told him what that Thursday night had turned into. As the beer bottles were emptied and my speech went through a couple hours, I was losing coordination and the rest of my serenity.

"The slut who has casual sex thinks she can judge me," I remember mumbling during the monologue, but Fred just kept listening without responding. I insisted: "How absurd is this?"

"Look..." he finally began in a modulated tone. "Even if casual sex was wrong, at the very least you did the same, so you can't call her names. In addition, she wasn't cheating or lying to anyone, and you were."

"Damn it, Fred. Whose side are you?"

"Man, I'm just trying to be realistic. I'm saying what's on my mind, because that's what friends do."

But that wasn't what I wanted to hear. After we finished our beer nearly in silence, I went wandering alone on the sidewalk. What a week. In three days, I had had a disagreement with my wife, a woman who wasn't even my lover and my best bud — who, I would later admit, was right. Not to mention the fear of an illegitimate child to get me out of sleep.

And time would prove that I hadn't lost sleep for nothing. My fears were confirmed about a month later with the news of Monica's pregnancy. I'd ask for DNA test anyway, just in case, but a part of me just knew the child was really mine. And of course my wife one day found out and filed for divorce.

From there on, not even monosyllabic conversations and hostile looks we exchanged anymore. The housemaid refused to wash my clothes, so most of my shirts were tucked in the hamper (maybe I was lucky all of them hadn't turned into mop), and even my four-year-old son sometimes seemed not to give me much attention. I felt like a ghost wandering through the rooms of my own house. Things went on like this until I got an apartment, and the next four months I spent trying to convince Kate to take me back — with flowers, gifts, letters and lots of emotional blackmail —, until one day my effort was rewarded. "I'll come back," she said, "but you better know things aren't going to be like they were before." To me that sounded like typical female drama, so without paying it too much attention I responded everything I thought she wanted to hear (and, to tell the truth, I could see myself making the same mistakes of the past all over again).

But I would soon discover the real meaning of "things aren't going to be like they were before." Getting home from work on a Saturday when our son was at his grandparents', I found the surprise in our bed: six foot tall, chiseled body, and a cock that even at rest seemed pretty big and thick. It was Tyler, our computer technician. To his left rested my wife, naked as well and not even a little shaken to see my dumbfounded face there in the doorway.

"Honey, you're early," Kate smiled patting his chest with her left hand, no ring on. "Get us a beer, will you?"



The Butterfly Fragrance



Angel wasn't just beautiful, she was what many described as breathtaking. She was a gorgeous, petite, teen model but she was neither just a pretty face nor just a hot body. There was something else about her. The name Angel described an angelic quality about her clear smooth complexion that seemed to radiate purity and glow with youth and vitality. Her shoulder length honey-blond hair was like shiny silk and glistened as light caught it. Her blue eyes were large and entrancing and her perfectly proportioned face with pouting, red cupids bow lips and tiny ears and nose was the stuff of mythological descriptions of fairies and goddesses rather than an earthly women. Her body was exquisitely proportioned, rounded with enticing curves and seductive tautness. She was petite, but all woman despite her tender age. Full, round, pert B-cup breasts spilling from her scant bras, slender waist, long shapely legs and the kind of cock-achingly deliciously, proportioned pert ass that turned heads and had all eyes glued to her whenever she went. 

To add to her mystique Angel had been a model for a controversial, lingerie and underwear line called Teen-Angel as a sixteen-year. The advertising catch phrase was 'not for virgins' and the uproar about this angelic pure looking adolescent girl wearing unbelievably sexy underwear from the moral minority was a real publicity circus. The company played it to the max and the catalogue was even withdrawn from distribution which made it a collector's item worth a fortune for every man who wanted to ogle this delightful creature in her undies and arouse their guilty under-aged girly fantasies. These ideas were fuelled by tabloid media stories that Angel was sleeping with older celebrities and the next campaign which had her seen everywhere with older guys wearing designer clothes torn so her underwear could be glimpsed. Once more, the uproar from the moral majority was presenting an image of a young girl having her clothing torn from her. The campaign was outrageously successful, the company made a fortune, and the underwear line was extremely popular with rebellious teens globally. 

Angel was probably nineteen now perhaps twenty and the controversy of her first major modelling contract and the mystique of the titillating media frenzy surrounded her even fours years later. She was interviewed and a constant celebrity guest at all kinds of events. One so called candid report suggested that she had grown to expect that guys would have hard ons around her and that even gay males admitted worshipping her ass. Catching sight of this fantasy icon in the building where I worked as a security guard had me more than a little excited. I had been one of the forty-year old men who jealously hid the copy of the banned catalogue to use in my private fantasies. The building where I worked was occupied by a large consortium of modelling/talent agency, advertising and public relations companies all loosely connected to media, fashion and promotion/public relations. In the few months I had worked as the supervisor of the C-C TV/ security camera network, I had seen so many mind achingly beautiful women in various states of undress that I almost did not see her in the gaggle of beautiful women that were the mainstay of the occupants of the building.

She walked from an elevator dressed in a stunning white halter top that was somehow ripped so that her butterfly patterned silk bra flickered into view as she walked. Her tiny mini skirt was torn in such a way that her luscious legs moved aside her red skirt to reveal the butterfly-patterned panties beneath. Just enough to imagine the wings of a rainbow coloured butterfly covering her delicious little pussy with its delicate wings. I watched her disappear into an office and switched cameras so I could follow her my heart pounding with every step she took in her stiletto heels, with every tiny glimpse of her underwear and heavenly form. For some reason the whole of this building was wired for vision and some for sound too I guessed the models were use to being seen and we needed to have them under constant surveillance in case some maniac attacked them out of view. Later that day I got an official email directive saying Angel was going to be around to promote the new 'Butterfly Effect' line of lingerie and I was to make her security a high priority. 

Towards the end of the day, she came down to my office to get her security pass and although I must admit to shaking with desire while I slipped the tag over her neck, I found her to be unbelievably cute and bubbly and not at all snobby or standoffish. She was downright friendly and like a mature young businesswoman, although I must admit to having a hard on the whole time she was there. Anyway, she was part of my job that I was going to enjoy and I rescheduled my day so that her security received hourly updates. I watched her eat, try on a range of sexy outfits and underwear for the photo shoots and even caught her in the bathroom with the door open and her nickers around her knees peeing. 

Each night I went home and fantasised about her. Since my divorce some two years ago relationships with the opposite sex had become a bit thin and I was definitely between girlfriends and doing the 'washing by hand' or renting a call girl if I got desperate. Angel became the star of my nightly masturbations, resplendent in all her sexy underwear and seductive clothing. After about a week of watching Angel, I found myself not only besotted by her but also addicted to watching her. One night instead of knocking off at the usual time when everyone had apparently left the building, I followed her with the CC- cams to an office on the fourth floor. A guy in his mid forties who was probably a graphic artist, occupied the office. Angel entered his office without knocking and proceeded to kiss him and he ran his hands under her loose fitting dress to caress her luscious ass cheeks and sample a feel of the delightful satin that was stretched across it. I could tell Angel was fiddling with his fly and had unzipped him and slid her slender hand inside. I fumbled with the room facilities menu to see if I could get sound and switched on the ambient room mic catching his breathy moans as she fondled his swollen cock. 

'You have something that will help me don't you.' She sighed breathily. 

He could only nod and groan more helplessly. 

'I'm going to take a look ok?' she slid to her knees and seemed to be looking at his cock as it bobbed across her lips.

'Mmmmmmm I have the number now. Do you want your reward for helping me?"

He groaned loudly and she began to slide her moist lips across his swollen cock, covering it with tiny wet kisses. She glided her tongue expertly up and down the shaft until it glistened with wetness. She blew across the tip and waited for him to quiver with excitement for a moment at the relative proximity of her mouth from his cock. Then engulfed his tip ravenously and began to pump the shaft with her hands swallowing urgent thrusting strokes and squeezing hard with her slender fingers. 

"Mmmmmmm, nummy, nummy, nummy." she panted. 

I could tell she now had one hand inside her own panties and as she sucked him and stroked him with one hand and her excited mouth she fingered her clit until she began to moan and shiver. The graphic artists could barely contain his shouts of joy as she suppressed her own orgasm with his cock inside her mouth he exploded violently shooting cum into her mouth as she gagged on the rush of juice and his urgent thrusts. His cock slipped from her mouth as she gasped for air and sprayed her angelic face with another excited explosion of jism. She looked up at him, smiled cheekily, and simply said. 'Thank you.' 

She stood up and peeled the rainbow butterfly string bikini panties off wiped the cum from her face and then wiped it from his cock, slid the cock back into his pants and left the panties inside with them as she zipped him up and kissed him with her sticky lips. I sat there dumbstruck nursing the biggest hard on of my life, shivering with desire. It took me several hours to come to my senses and as I had a company directive to report all inter-office activity, I resigned myself to telling her that I had seen it and not report it formerly. Perhaps in the vane hope that she might also reward me. Little did I know what I was getting into. 

The next day I emailed her a request to visit me at my office as I had a security issue to discuss with her. She arrived shortly after lunch wearing another article of satin butterfly underwear in black this time with a tight form fitting stretch ultra short mini dress once more with designer rips and tears. She breezed into my office and at my invitation to sit, crossed her delectable long legs. I watched the short hemline of her dress rise up and the strategic rip show a hint of the black butterfly V string panty beneath. 

'I don't quite know how to put this Miss, but I saw you, um, kind of having relations with a guy on the fourth floor last night and I was wondering whether he was kind of blackmailing you or hassling you in some way? At any rate I didn't want to report it without asking you first.' I stammered. 

Angel just smiled and looked at me. 

'Do you mean you could see me going down on that guy last night?" She said matter of factly. 

'Um yes I can see almost everything that goes on in this building.' I said.

'So if someone else was doing that you'd know.' She looked bemused and triumphant like someone who has just had a brilliant idea. 

'Yes, if that person was a priority like you are.' I replied. 'Why are you asking?'I said. 

'Oh sorry, I should explain. I'm playing a kind of game that involves collecting clues and identifying information and sometimes I use sex as a way to get that information. Have you heard of massively interactive games? This one is partly online, meaning on the Internet or mobile phone network, and partly live and some of the people are helpers like the guy last night who found out some information that is in a coded cache. The code for that cache was on a transfer on his cock so the only way to get that information was to do what I did last night.' 

I just stared in disbelief. 

'You see I've been in the modelling game for so long and I just got bored so I started to play this game called the X factor. People can enter by discovering information or they can buy themselves into positions of power. They can use their bodies to get information. I wanted to see how far I could get. That guy and lots of people in this building play the game and perhaps that is one of the reasons that there are so many CC TV cameras as some of this stuff may be recorded as part of the game.' 

'Oh I see.' I feigned understanding. 

'Have you got an internet connection?' 

I nodded towards the computer on the desk behind me. She got out of her seat, walked towards the computer and logged onto the X-factor site, entering her password. My attention flickered between her sumptuous ass bending over a desk and the screen. 

'Look here.' she said. I moved up behind her standing inches away from her goddess-like behind. 

'Closer silly.' I moved so I was almost touching her and she stopped clicking the mouse for long enough to move her ass against my now extremely hard cock. 

'Mmmmmmm you are excited!' She cooed. 

She wiggled her ass across my raging hard on as I panted breathlessly. 

'Look here.' She said as she returned her attention to the screen.

'This is the table of leadership points. See how these women here are ahead of me. Can you tell me if any of these women are having sex with any of the guys here and if so who they are and when?'

I looked at the names finding it hard to concentrate with her ass pressed against my cock. 

'Uh I guess I could do that for you.' I gasped. 

'I would be ever so appreciative if you could.' 

We both knew what she meant. I was shivering with desire. 

'Oh I am sorry, I need to thank you for helping me. You know the rules of the game prohibit me having sex with you or you touching my pussy until I have a better position on the table but there are some things I can do that I'm sure you'll enjoy.' 

She turned, smiled and peeled down the panties she was wearing and kissed me sweetly. The touch of her sweet tender lips against me made me almost swoon with desire. With one hand, she unzipped me and with the other, she wrapped the soft, black shiny satin panties around her hand. When she touched my cock and liberated it from its confines I almost exploded on the spot. 

'Oh my you are so big. You know because I am a small woman most cocks are big but you are huge. Mmmmmmm I would love to have you in my pussy sometime soon. Would you like that?' 

I didn't really reply I merely grunted, panted and moaned as with the next stroke of her hand the soft flesh of one hand extending my swollen cock was replaced by the sating gloved hand and she began to masturbate me expertly. She slid her spare hand down to her shaved pussy and explored the wetness there and I reached out and groped for her tits and waist helplessly. 

'Oh my your big cock is making me so wet.' She cooed. 

I touched her firm round breasts and pinched her nipples through the sexy butterfly wings that covered her supple flesh. As she began to quiver in pleasure, panting and shivering, she kissed me again and I felt my cock throb uncontrollably. My cock exploded and I felt my eyes roll back into my head as the waves of pleasure crippled me. She orgasmed murmuring

'Oh yeah' in a sexy whisper repeatedly, muffled by her kisses. 

I held her for a moment as we both recovered. The black panties were covered with cum and I had sprayed it all over her dress as well. As she had done the previous night she wiped the cum up and then placed the panties inside my shorts with my cock still hard. 

'So you will help me will you? I hope so because if you help me to the top of the ladder we can find some ways for you to make me very happy with that big cock of yours.' 

How could anyone refuse such an offer? I agreed, hoping that I could help her so much that I could help myself soon. I spent the day and most of the night clutching her panties and reliving her touch sliding the shiny satin over my overexcited cock. I lost count of how many times I jacked off. I fell asleep that night clutching the panties to my face drinking in the intoxicating scent of her fragrance. The scent was addictive and I found myself sneaking opportunities to inhale them every chance I got. Apparently, the Butterfly Effect lingerie range had some secret formulae built into the fabric that responded to body fluids by emitting a sweet perfume. It certainly had me addicted. 

I spent the next day, tracking the two women who Angela had shown on the game site list. Angel had sent me an email with links to their personal detail sites and given me a password so I could log on officially as a helper and read up about the game and my role in it. While I was on the site, I read up about Angel's details and got a good idea what she liked and disliked but generally just ogled the cute pics she had on the site. The two women ahead of Angel could not have been more different. 

Felicia who occupied the first spot on the hierarchy was a dark haired tall Hispanic beauty in her mid thirties, who worked in marketing. Although she may have been a model in her younger days, her generous D cup breasts seemed to be her major attraction. The 'geeks' who she blew, and there were several each day I tracked her, seemed to want to slide their cocks between her substantial breasts and meet her mouth at the tip rather than have their cocks deep inside her mouth. Her technique had obviously been refined over many years and her stunning low cut tops and sexy lace bras that clenched her ample tits crushed into an exciting cleavage certainly had the 'tit-men' scrabbling for her bra strap the moment the opportunity arose. I could see why she was at the top of the table; she had most of these guys eating out of her hand effortlessly. I emailed Angel with the detail of who she blew and when each day. 

Rosy could not have been more different. An Irish redhead with flaming red hair, slender but shapely traditional tall model like figure. She was stunning and sophisticated wearing business suits and long pencil skirts, crisp white blouses, stockings and hi heels. She was nonetheless active in her pursuit of the male prey also blowing several guys each day in all kinds of places. Her approach was to strip for them the businesslike and overdressed covering was peeled off to reveal beautiful undergarments. Suspenders and stockings covering her shapely legs, a tight black bustier that lifted her small round breasts into a sumptuous feast of firm round flesh. She would strip to her underwear, tease them, and then blow them, leaving them with her stockings afterwards. This was her signature and I noticed that afterwards the guys put the signature-clothing article in a postbag and sent them off. I guessed that was to validate the contact. 

While I was on my rounds before closing time I peeked at several of the packages in the mail room and noted the addressee was the same. By the end of the week, these sex commandos had blown some fifteen guys and I reported each one to Angel. Her reply after I sent her the latest stats was that she would be coming to see me after work at the end of the day. She appeared as promised, wearing yet another hot pink butterfly outfit beneath a revealing, loose fitting short dress. 

'Mmmmmmm there's only one guy left in this location and if we can just work out who he is and I can get to him first I'll be in the top position.' She explained.

'I think I know who it is. ' I blurted out.

'Oh how? She looked at me expectantly. 

'Well after each encounter the guys put the article of clothing into a postbag and send it off. I just got curious and checked the name of the addressee in the mail room last night.' 

I knew I was scoring big time by the look on her face. She moved towards me, put her arms around me, and kissed me longingly. I held her lithe petite form shaking with anticipation. Feeling her satin smooth bare skin on her back and absorbing the pleasure of feeling the divine contours of her slender waist and hips, wondering if I dared to touch her heavenly buns. I didn't hesitate long and slid my hand over the firm contours revelling in the shape and touch of it tentatively, half-expecting her to stop me. Instead, she kissed me more urgently and pressed against me and I felt my already hard cock rubbing against her throb with excitement. She caressed my neck tenderly and I was conscious of the closeness of her beautiful breasts brushing my chest. I looked down and saw the exposed flesh crushed into the hot pink butterfly bra. I was conscious of the fragrance that I had grown so familiar with filling the room. I hoped it meant the panties she wore were wet. She broke from our embrace. 

'You are such a clever man, and if we can just find out what this guys habits are and I can get to him first you are due for the best reward you could hope for.' She said excitedly. 

'Oh I can tell you that I can do readouts of where his security pass goes and see what he does and when. I also have access to his diary.' 

For the next half hour or so, she sat on the raging hard-on in my lap and I trawled records and stats until we got a profile of the target male. All the while I worked she kissed my neck and let me pause to caress her tits to encourage me to keep trawling. By seven o'clock, I had established that he was a key company executive, married with children, arrived at work at 7-30 am each day using the executive car park. His Internet use suggested he checked the game files for half hour each morning before work and a quick look through video records showed he had all the signature artifacts stored in a locked private file. Angel had enough information to plan her assault on him. This one wasn't just being blown he would get to fuck the most luscious woman on earth. I could barely believe I had spent all this time helping some other guy get laid. 




The Butterfly Fragrance



Angel got off my lap and peeled the dress she was wearing off, looking at me and smiling in a temptingly naughty way. The smell of butterfly scent filled the air and I gazed longingly at the pink g-string with a tiny butterfly wings spread to cover her delectably tiny pussy. I scanned the superb waist and curvaceous hips where the thin pink string stretched across it. The bra too was a mere wisp of transparent butterfly wings that wrapped her fulsome breasts seductively. She ran her tongue across her full red lips like a tigress about to devour some tender meat and looked down at the impossibly hard cock that filled my pants. I gasped as she walked silently toward me and then knelt before my chair. She unzipped me eagerly and in moments was smoothing the skin back from the head of my shaft to complete the transition to relief that her fingers brought to my previously trapped desire. 

'You are such a big boy. Can you smell the scent in the air? That means that the thought of you is making me very, very wet.' 

I nodded helplessly to acknowledge that I could smell the sweet sexy aroma that filled the air. You know if I get this guy tomorrow I will have completed this level and I can choose how I reward my helpers.' As she spoke, she wrapped her fingers around my cock and began to stroke it with one hand and she grazed my balls with the fingernails of her left hand. I was quivering with desire and moaning incoherently. She seemed to reduce most men to dribbling wrecks and enjoyed it. She moved her lips to the tip and kissed it wetly and I felt the warm waves of endorphins consume me. She withdrew her lips and licked around the tip until it glistened with wetness then made her way up and down the shaft doing the same until my whole cock glistened with her saliva. Then she withdrew her lips from my shaft and it was as if I suddenly ached for it, missing the touch so deeply that I shivered with desire. She blew warm air across the tip her lips within thousands of an inch from my distorting flesh. I shook and moaned. 

'Mmmmmmm you're so big, so hard. My mouth is little like my pussy.' 

My cock throbbed at the mention of her pussy and then she plunged down hard on my cock taking the tip and part of the shaft into her mouth and began to suck excitedly, wetly slurping loudly like a child eating an ice cream. Her hands continued to fondle my balls and stroke my shaft in between her wet sucking mouth. I slipped between ecstasy and transcendence almost unconscious with desire. Not conscious of whether her lips, tongue mouth or fingers were causing the intense pleasure I felt crash into me like waves. My moans and shouts reached fever proportion as I screamed in pleasure with every fresh touch of her and found I was clutching her head, feeling the silken texture of her hair as I thrust forward to meet her mouth.

'Mmmmmmm Nummy Nummy! ' She said in between mouthfuls of my cock. 

She tasted my precum as my cock throbbed more and more uncontrollably. She paused and looked up at me, her hands still working their magic on my cock as she smiled sweetly and said. ' Would you like me to swallow or do you like to spray my face and tits? Or Both.' I mumbled a weak ' Both' as she began to nibble my cock like a candy too delicious to suck, the kind you had to eat, then resumed the relentless torrent of tongue, lips mouth and fingers that she had done before. This time however the uncontrollable throbs that had seen my cock move to being a distorted tower of flesh to an earthquake about to happen began to send a repressed shake over my body and I found myself shaking and shooting hot spurts deep into her mouth as she swallowed and continued with her sucking. She wasn't content with a few short hot shots she was working my cock to suck me dry and give me the longest continuous orgasm I had ever had. When she had swallowed a few spurts of my first round she squeezed my balls hard and crushed the base of my cock with her, other hand and the pleasure of her touch seemed to turn my cock into a fire hose that sprayed her face and tits. In the moments I could force my eyes open from the intense pleasure I saw her eager face with thick cum dribbling down it and her luscious tits all dribbling with my explosion. She looked like someone who had just had a lifesaving injection rather than a girl covered in cum. She let go of my cock when the pleasure abated and the cum stopped pumping and then resumed licking it clean and swallowing the sticky remnants that covered my cock. Her eager tongue repeating the intense waves of pleasure for me each time her lips met it. 

When she had finished she got up off the floor and sat on my lap again and we kissed, her lips sticky with my cum. I pawed at her beautiful breasts knowing I was not permitted to touch her pussy. She rocked her ass against my still hard cock and as we kissed and I fondled her, she slid a finger inside her panties and masturbated until she came. Once more her orgasm liberated a gentle ' Oh yes' muffled by our kisses whilst the fragrance of butterfly panties filled the air. When she finished, she replaced her clothing, kissed me silently, and left the room. 

That evening I received an email from her saying she wanted me to watch her 'do' this guy at 7-30 next day and that if she was successful she would email me the details of where we would meet after work that day. I was excited about the prospect of fucking her but strangely jealous about the guy who was going to get her first. I guessed she thought if I watched then I'd fuck her like I had something to prove and she'd like that, although I guessed most men wanted to be the best fuck she had ever had. She did think my cock was big that was a plus. I had always been proud of my nine inches of cock. Some girls called me a 'grower not a show-er', which meant that on the slack my cock looked reasonably ordinary but when sufficiently excited it was enormous. That night I tried not to think about Angel and the executive. I was so excited by the way, this twenty year old blew me that I couldn't think of anything else. I combed the game website for information about her and made some decisions and hypothesised about her always being in control always having men want her and want to jump her bones or get her to go down on them. It seemed that part of the pleasure of this game for her was that she delayed actual sexual gratification for herself and the things she liked for long periods of time while wrapping men who exploded on contact round her little finger. The next morning.

I was at work by 6-30am. Angel arrived at 7am wearing a striking red mini dress with matching iridescent red on white butterfly underwear. As arranged I watched the car park for his entry which happened at 7-20am and phoned her mobile to alert her he was on his way up in the elevator. She joined the elevator from the floor above. I could only imagine what she did in the elevator but when I caught sight of them leaving the fifteenth floor together, her clothing looked more ruffled and sexy than ever and he looked nervous and excited. I pulled her fragrant panties from my pocket and sniffed at them as I watched them walk towards a small meeting room adjacent to his office. They bolted the door behind them and put on the red do not disturb light. I switched to the fully wired view of the room interior. Angel had wasted no time in peeling off her red dress and it lay on the floor. He fumbled with his belt buckle hurriedly and she smiled and just said. 'Let me help you with that.' 

She moved close to him and gave him a brief seductive kiss. All the sensation of her kissing me like that surged forward in my memory and I gasped for another nose full of her fragrance as I clutched the panties. She removed his pants and shorts quickly and efficiently and laid them neatly across a chair then undid his necktie and shirt buttons and helped him off with the shirt, which she lay neatly on the back of another chair. She returned to kiss him and he began to nervously fondle her sweet ass as she began to caress his engorged cock for the first time. Each gentle touch of his cock triggered waves of pleasant memories. She guided his cock to her satin panties and slid the tip across the soft shiny surface. Pressing it against the outline of her labial folds until moisture seeped through and he could feel it fill her panties. All the while, she kissed him and he fondled her ass cheeks then turned his attention to the firm fruits of flesh that filled her tiny butterfly bra. His moans portrayed the rush of pleasure and excitement that made him shake with desire and anticipations. 

'You like it from behind don't you? Why don't I just bend over the desk and slide my panties aside and you just fuck me as hard as you can. I can't wait any more can you?' 

She knew he was infatuated with her tempestuous ass, dropped his cock, and walked to the large table and bent over it seductively, then reached behind and slid her panties aside to reveal her swollen pussy lips. He quickly pressed behind her and paused only for a moment to caress her alluring ass cheeks before guiding his cock to her sumptuous pussy lips. He pressed his average size cock against the tight folds at the entry. 

'Mmmmmmm you're so tight, so wet.' He gasped. 

'I'm a little girl and I'm so horny. Fuck me hard with that hot cock.' She panted breathily. 

He took no more encouragement than that and thrust into her brutally. I saw her wince a little then turn the discomfort into a sexy lie. 

' Oh God I want you fuck me harder.' She wiggled her ass tempestuously with his thrusts becoming more urgent and she began to shout 

'Oh yeah' louder to encourage him more. He was deep inside her and as he continued his short fast thrusts, he tore the bra off her tits and began to pinch at her nipples hard. I was unsure whether or not she faked the orgasm that followed or not it was so convincing I thought it may have been real but his awkward fucking was hardly a recipe for satisfaction. At any rate, she screamed the house down and told him his cock was divine. 

'I want to fuck you and kiss you.' she said as he pulled from her.

They turned around and she wrapped her legs around him as he entered her as she sat with her legs open on the desk parting her panties once more, so he could enter her. She kissed and bit at him like an animal as he thrust unimaginatively into her and she orgasmed again. This time I could tell she was extremely wet and perhaps getting off on the theatre of the encounter or simply hanging out for a cock inside her after a week's celibacy. 

'I want to ride you and make you cum in me.' She traded places with him and made him lay on the large boardroom table. She removed her bra and let her magnificent firm round titties bounce freely as she climbed on top of him on the table, straddled him and once again guided his throbbing over excited cock towards the space she made as she stretched her panties aside. He gasped as he felt her wetness slide onto his cock tip and the ample juices rolled down the shaft. Her pussy swallowed his cock easily and completely disappearing inside her up to the hilt. She held it deep inside her and then clamped her pelvic floor muscles around it. She was impossibly tight. His eyes rolled back into his head like mine had and then blindly he reached out to cup her magnificent breasts, pinching the nipples roughly and cupping one in each hand. She began to rise up on him until his cock almost escaped her, then plunged down hard clamping down as she did. His eyes continued to look like consciousness was in a momentary struggle with helpless pleasure. His moans and breathless cries and shouts increased in intensity as she began a slow ride that increased in intensity and tempo until she was bouncing hard and fast on him. Her succulent tits bouncing wildly up and down leaving his hands which slipped to cup her slender waist. 

She too was panting and moaning and the quiet squeal and the cries of ' Oh yeah' reached fever pitch as she came crashing down on him repeatedly. He managed to scream 'Oh God I'm cumming!' and she too began to orgasm, not once but repeatedly. 

His hot shots spurting deep inside her while the combined juices oozed from the tiny opening between her legs. When her orgasms abated, she rocked on his cock as if to squeeze every drop of cum from him and milk the orgasmic pleasure for all it was worth. To finish she wiped his cock with her bra and put on the dress, slipping her cum soaked panties off beneath the scant hemline that covered her pussy and tossed them at his cock. She left him with the cum-soaked trophies sitting in his lap and kissed him sweetly then left the room. 

All the while, I was watching them I noticed the video monitor had a red dot in the top right hand corner that signalled that this was being accessed elsewhere. I guessed afterwards that this would be on both their game files as evidence that she had scored the winning cache. A few minutes later Angel called me. 

'Did you like that? I think you can do better. In fact, I know I just can't wait to have your big cock inside me. Hey thanks for everything. Check, your email and I'll send you the details of where we'll meet tonight.'

I must have checked my email a thousand times that day and it wasn't until almost 6pm when I finally received it. The hot little bitch was deliberately teasing me. The address of the apartment was in the email and she left a link to the game website that I followed through to see her new top ranking position. She had been playing the game online for several hours today and established her new game mistress status that meant she was able to choose rewards rather than have them chosen for her. I too had been busy online studying her profile, hypothesising about what she liked, I had a plan, and I was looking forward to the evenings encounter with great anticipation. I left work bang on quitting time drove as fast as I could to prepare myself for the evenings tryst. 

I showered and made myself as scrupulously clean as possible shaving myself smooth, washing my hair and body obsessively with scented male products like a boy on his first date. All the time I wondered what it was she saw in older men. I knew she had lots of guys fawning after her constantly, movie stars and celebrities, rich and powerful men all wanted her. I guessed her early life may have been full with 'fatherly types' who wanted to 'protect her' and couldn't resist sampling her forbidden delights and she must have formed her sexual habits then. It was obvious that she got some extreme pleasure by teasing older men to extremes. She also seemed to like to tease herself by holding off on what she really wanted for as long as possible. She obviously loved cock inside her and the bigger the better. I wondered about anal certainly it was the one thing she had not appeared to offer anyone. The other quality she seemed to have was that she seemed to know exactly what men wanted from her and tease them so much that she could skip all the preliminaries and cut to what they really wanted. She read men like an open book knowing what turned them on, what they wanted and how to use her womanly charms like a targeted missile system to hit the sexual core of any man repeatedly until they exploded with maximum devastation. She was always in complete control. It was with this thought still in my mind as I dressed. 

I cast a look at my reflection in the mirror. I may be over forty but because I still work out and keep myself in trim for my job I still had an enviable six pack and firm muscular physique and after all the gun in my pocket was the kind of larger calibre Angel seemed to crave. I glanced at my watch, hurriedly left my apartment, and got in my car to drive to her place. It was a short distance and at ten to seven as I turned off the freeway exit to her district my phone rang. I activated the hands free and answered. 

'Hi, Mike here.' It was Angel. 

'Mikey darling I just thought I'd ring to tell you how horny I am.' 

I found myself lost for words once again and simply grunted.

'You know I'm giving you something tonight that no other man has had. Do you know what that is?'

'You're going to let me fuck you hot little ass.' I blurted excitedly. 'No, that wasn't' it but I kind of thought that was something we could do tonight. No tonight, I'm going to be naked for you. It's something no other man gets to see is me with no lingerie, no bra, no panties no dress or nightie. In fact, I'm taking off my dress now. Now I'm unsnapping my bra. You like my tits don't you. But here's the specialty of the house. I'm taking off my wet panties now and I'm not shaved.' 

I was getting so excited I could barely contain myself my cock was just about jumping out of my pants. I knew what she was doing she was in extreme tease mode and knew I wouldn't last a minute if I got inside her too soon. 

'I'm so Horny Mikey, I cant wait for your big hard cock. I'm so wet for you, I'm dripping.' She began to pant breathily as she did when she came and I heard her sweet little 'oh yeah' repeatedly as she continued to masturbate. 

'Hurry, Mikey I'm going to stay on the phone and keep cumming until you get here. I pulled up outside the apartment block and got out of the car with the headphones in my ears with her panting and moaning and squealing about how much she wanted my huge cock. 

'I'm sticking a finger in my ass hole. Mmmmmmm Its so tight I cant wait to have your huge cock inside it.' She descended into wild screams now I guessed she was cumming hard and the image of her sensational naked body gripped in orgasm with one finger inside her tight asshole and the other fingering her squirting clit writhing about on the bed was like a fever that consumed me. I hurried up the stairs to her apartment and knocked at the door. The sound of heavy breathing and moaning stopped.

'I'm cumming darling and the phone hung up and the next thing I saw was the door opening. It was dark in her apartment and as I moved inside, I could see her exquisite naked form silhouetted against the soft light emanating from a bedroom behind her. She was right her naked was one of the most breathtaking images I had ever seen. She was so perfect, her skin, her delicious curves, her superb ass, delectable full breasts like dropping mangoes, nipples erect and succulent like pink jelly beans, shapely slender legs, smooth flat tummy. I inhaled her form like an enchanting fragrance as we moved into the light of the lounge room. I glanced at her pussy and saw the secret garden. In a world of models who shaved everything, Angel has a sensuous golden clump of pubic hair that adorned her sweet pussy like a golden necklace. The golden tinged silken hair glistened with fresh moisture. I was panting uncontrollably. 

She moved toward me, we kissed, and I ran my hands over every inch of her desirable form as we kissed tenderly. I cupped her ass cheeks and pushed her against my throbbing hard on and she moaned a little. As we kissed her moist lips sent tingles through me, her tongue lanced my mouth exploring it, sensually imitating the movement of a cock inside her own wetness. As much as I wanted to rip my clothes off and fuck the living daylights out of her then and there. I controlled myself. She hesitated and began to unbutton my shirt and pants. 

'I can't wait for your big cock Mikey.' I let her undress me and fondle my aching cock. 

She kept urging me to fuck her and we moved to lie on the large lounge suite. I continued to resist and kissed her enjoying fondling her beautiful tits and rolling the nipples between my thumb and forefinger until they were hard. With my other hand I stroked her moist silken pubic hair and she let out a couple more 'oh yeah's' as I parted her lips and began to massage her clit. In moments she was cumming again and begging me to fuck her repeatedly. I resisted again. I felt like a boy on a first date. I wriggled my fingers to her vagina and slid first one then two fingers inside her. She was so incredibly tight. 




The Butterfly Fragrance



'Feel how tight I am, don't you want your cock to feel that?' She screamed at me, as I finger fucked her vigorously to another orgasm. 

'God you are so wet, so tight.' I panted as I thrust into her deep and fast. We kissed urgently and her hand was stroking my cock constantly but I barely noticed because I was so intent on bringing her off.

'Oh you think that's tight do you? Imagine what your big cock would feel like.' 

She teased, and then she clamped down on my fingers like a vice. My fingers were drenched in her wetness and I felt the muscles tighten around them and her pussy almost suck me deeper into her. It was the most mazing control I had ever felt. I wanted to be inside her so badly I could barely control the desire to replace my fingers with my aching cock. As she squealed in another orgasm I began to suckle at her hard pink nipples she shivered in pleasure as I removed my fingers from her cunt and concentrated on sucking her tits as sensuously as I could. She shivered, moaned, and continued to beg me to fuck her. I kissed my way past her tits towards her luscious flat tummy, pausing briefly to tongue her sweet belly button. When I finally inhaled her sweet pussy scent and breathed my warm breath around her silken pubic hair. I blew the hair sensually, licked the folds apart, and began to nibble at her swollen clit. She stopped begging me to fuck her and began to shiver with pleasure. Her sobs and cries were no longer the sweet little 'oh yeahs' of her previous orgasms she was begging me to 'suck her clit, Eat my pussy.' And 'make me cum hard' I obliged, running my tongue up and down the smooth folds and sucking in the sweet juices between my lips. Lapping at them as she writhed in pleasure. 

'Oh that's so good!' she screamed repeatedly. 

I took her clit between my lips, sucked it into my mouth, and then flickered my tongue across the tip and she exploded in my face squirting wildly and screaming incoherently. I released her clit and shoved my finger into her hot hole once more and then resumed licking and sucking her clit and bringing her to the edge of ecstasy for close to half an hour until she was so worn out from cumming that her throat was sore from screaming. At that point I stopped fingering and sucking her and lay on top of her my cock between her legs and kissed her tenderly. 

'Oh yes please!' she murmured weakly. I moved my cock to her sopping opening and slid it across the wetness until the head was lubricated with her abundant juices. Then I slowly and gently parted her labia with the thick, engorged cock and pushed gently past her super-tight opening. She somehow relaxed to allow my thick head to slide into her easily and I felt her wet velvet cunt almost melt away as I slid more and more of my cock inside her. It felt like I had never had my cock inside a cunt before she was superbly wet and her muscles seemed to vibrate around my cock as it plunged further inside her. As I felt the last few inches, move inside her as if her urgent need for cock sucked it deeper than deep. As my balls touched her ass cheeks, I heard her whisper breathily in my ear. 

'Oh God it's so big, so beautifully big! It feels so good. Fuck me hard make me scream.' 

I began to move inside her, slowly at first with long gentle but deep thrusts feeling the wetness swirl around my cock and her velvet muscles vibrate around it. Her fingernails grazed my balls teasing them expertly. Her other hand dug her nails into my naked back and as my thrusts became more violent and hard so that the sound of our slapping flesh filled the air to join our groans and shouts she clawed at my back in a frenzy. I shifted one hand beneath her, cupped her sweet buns, and increased the speed and intensity of my pounding cock until she was sobbing and screaming. 

'I'm cumming, Oh yes, yes yes, It's so good, so big so hard Mmmmmmm yes! Yes! Yes!' 

She shouted and screamed in a torrent of orgasms her pussy streamed wetness and with each wave of pleasure, her pussy contracted and pulsed around my cock. I moved her legs around like a rag doll in dozens of positions sideways, split each time attempting to put my cock into her ever deeper and make her cum again. She wrapped her legs around me, I cupped her ass, and we just rocked against each other as she moaned and held me in a succession of orgasms. I found her tiny tight ass-hole with my finger and in the midst of a blood, curdling orgasmic scream shoved my finger roughly into her ass. I half expecting her to protest, but rather than complain she let out an excited yelp and it as if the previous orgasm was foreplay because she came more violently than she had for hours and clawed at my back raking it with parallel lines from her finger nails.

I pulled my cock from her and she lay shivering sexily on the sofa. 

'Where's the bedroom.' I asked. 

She looked towards a door on the left and I scooped her up in my arms and carried her petite young body to the bed as she wrapped her arms around me and kissed my neck and earls tenderly. I piled pillows over the edge of the bed and lay her over them. I came up behind her, shoved my cock into her pussy deep and fast, and began to fuck her from behind as I had done earlier, once more she orgasmed equally as violently. 'I want you to ride me like you did that guy today.' 

I lay on the bed and she straddled me eagerly, pausing to kiss me and nibble my ear. 'Your such a good fuck Mikey, now I'm going to give you the best orgasms you've ever had.' 

She guided my cock into her dripping cunt once more. It was outrageously tight. In this position, she was back in control and she knew it. She loosened her grip on my cock which was throbbing violently each time she contracted her velveteen muscles around it. I reached up and fondled her delightful tits as she began to ride me slowly and deliberately and I let go of her tits as the ride made them bounce and moved my hands to circle her waist and feel her luscious ass pound down onto me. Just as I had when she blew me, I felt myself slip between ecstasy and consciousness. It felt so good! She began to work her magical contractions on my aching cock and after a few minutes of shouting uncontrollably and thrusting, upward to meet her succulent ass she came more violently than ever before. Her cunt gripped me and sucked me deep inside her and I melted and exploded like a volcano shooting deep inside her as she rocked on me whipping me with her long silken hair, her tits bouncing violently, a shiver gripping her whole body and passing between us as we came simultaneously. I lost track of time and felt my consciousness return only when I felt we were motion less and holding each other tightly. 

She had collapsed on top of me and was nestled against me like a child, my cock still buried deep in her, the waves of endorphins passing over us as we lay exhausted on the bed still locked in our sexual embrace. 

'That was the best fuck ever. Don't you think Mikey?' she said cheekily. I nodded in agreement. We lay resting for over an hour feeling the afterglow cuddling and fondling each other. She untangled herself from me and we both used the bathroom. 

"You found my Achilles heel Mike. So I guess we'd better go one better than the best fuck ever don't you?'

She got back onto the bed this time straddling my face and started to work her magic on my cock with her mouth. I returned the favour by sucking her sweet cum filled pussy again until she began to shiver in her usual tiny orgasms. I shifted my attention from her pussy to her sweet little ass hole and slid my tongue around the rim until she began to gasp. 

'Oh yeah, you know I like that don't you.' Her hands still stroked my balls and cock firmly. I was every bit as hard as I had been an hour ago. As I teased her ass rim with my tongue she resumed kissing my balls and cock then ran her own tongue around my ass hole sending shivers through me. 

'Yeah its good isn't it.' She cooed sexily. But I want this big cock inside it now.' 

As she said the word "now' she shoved a finger into my ass hard and began to wiggle it and thrust it into me. Just as suddenly, as she penetrated my ass, she pulled it out, leapt off me, and piled the pillows beneath her as we had done when we first fucked in the bedroom.

'Shove that huge cock into my hot tight little asshole now.' She pouted her ass and I couldn't restrain myself any longer. She reached across to her bedside drawer, withdrew a tube of scented lubricant, rubbed it over her hands, and then resumed her prone position bending over the pillows. She reached behind and rubbed the sweet smelling liquid over her ass cheeks and drizzled it into her sweet asshole. I came up behind her and she rubbed the lubricant onto my cock. 'Do my hot ass with that big hard cock. Fuck me hard and fast and fill me with that delicious cum.' 

I moved my slippery cock to her rosebud and pressed it gently against the hole, feeling it relax and open to take me inside. The head went in easy so I shoved hard and pushed deeper a little too quickly, because she let out a cry of pain and I saw tears falling from her eyes. I slowed my entry and fondled her tits while we adjusted to my throbbing hugeness inside her tight ass. She whispered thank you as she relaxed and I began to move my cock inside her gently and smoothly and the tears gave way to breathy panting. I reached around and masturbated her as I fucked her ass with a slow steady but deep rhythm. One hand stimulated her dripping empty pussy the other fondled her breasts while I kissed her neck and told her how good she felt. She came unexpectedly. No build up just a wild explosion and she flopped about like a rag doll or like a seizure. I could no longer hold her breast or touch her pussy and simply help her hips tightly as I thrust into her tight young asshole. 

'Cum in me.' She screamed. 

"AAAAAAAAGH!' was all that escaped from my mouth because the mother of all orgasms gripped me and I began to shoot load after hot load into her. God she was tight! I pumped cum into her ass holding her hips above the pillows as she flopped over helplessly gasping, shivering, and screaming ' its so good.' repeatedly. 

We enjoyed each other most of the night until we both lapsed into exhausted sleep. The next day we ate brunch, fucked some more and then I drove her to the airport where she boarded a plane for her next modelling job in Paris. I got an email from her the next day saying: 

I've fixed its so the game revolves around you at this level so I'm sure you'll appreciate the activity that it brings to you. Love Angel 

PS when I get back in a few weeks, I want to do that again. XXXXX 

Over the next few weeks I found out what Angel meant by' fixing the game so it revolves around me' a succession of hot young women tried to seduce me almost every day. As good as that was I still looked forward to Angels return and still sniffed at the butterfly fragrance like an addict. Oh! I almost forgot. The Butterfly Effect lingerie range was released with much controversy. The underwear was sold individually wrapped in a very phallic looking 'chrysalis' and the catalogue, shaped like a butterfly bra sported sensational pictures of Angel posing in them. The undies in each shot were scratch and sniff.



The Butterfly Game



I knew at nineteen my daughter was too old to still be climbing into my lap. My little girl, taking in her Daddy's masculine scent, subtly, sexily arousing herself having learned exactly which of her certain little movements would make my cock rock hard under her bottom, us both aware of her breasts mounding from her chest, her nipples plainly visible, how they tingled and ached to be touched; it was all I could do sometimes to not just take my daughter right then. 

Our game was, she would sit on my lap, both of her legs over mine and I would open and close my knees with her rhythm, My arms around her waist, my hands clasped in front of her, her hands on mine, she seemed to delight in my looking over her shoulder, her full breasts and nipples so sexily pushing out from her chest. 

I still remember the first time when she started the game. She was wearing a flannel nightgown, and I noticed how beautiful she was in the winter evening light. She liked it when I noticed and commented on her eyes, her suddenly focused on her legs dangling from mine. She wanted comment on her figure and I smiled and told her she was lovely, how she was Daddy's girl, and she laughed (I love my daughter's laugh) her breasts jostling and swaying so seductively, her nipples hardening and pressing so sexily through the soft material of her flannel nightie. I couldn't take my eyes from her breasts, the thin feather-soft flowered fabric touching her like that, the shape of her breasts. My desire to touch and feel them exceeded my will. 

With each movement, her feminine rounds fluidly defined the cottony soft nightie, and in my lap and despite myself my cock responded to her relentless little rocking motions her so warm and naked underneath. I breathed in her distinct smell, my daughter her sparkling flirtatious eyes. I suppose I did know, I could tell; she was seducing Daddy, and I suppose I was playing my own little game if even just on myself. 

As I opened and closed my legs as had been our little evening ritual, her tender thighs spread with mine, little butterfly wings we would say her nightgown riding higher and higher on her smooth bare legs, I remember becoming acutely aware of the sweet musky scent of my little girl's sex. I remember, how she would snuggle against me, turn up and kiss my cheeks, her lips warm and wet and her kisses progressively longer and fuller each time. How she let go of my hands and rested hers on her upper thighs, her eyes closed her mouth open her breathing slowing our legs opening and closing with her motions. Pulling and pushing, her breasts jostling, my cock getting harder and harder watching them, wanting them in my hands, in my mouth. How her fingers began involuntarily cinching the material of her gown up her legs exposing more and more of her tender inner thighs as if she wanted to reach herself touch herself in front of me, for me. As if she wanted to show herself to Daddy, become more than father and daughter, prolonging her little agony, savoring her little game, pulling me further and further over that deliciously intoxicating edge.

One evening I saw us reflected in the blank TV screen in front of my chair. Seeing our reflection was like watching an arousing film witnessing what I was physically experiencing while and as I did it, looking up between my daughter's legs, her at nineteen on my lap her bare legs dangling out over my thighs, opening and closing. Soon after, I looked forward to the game too, very, very much. So much, I began anticipating her coming in from being out each evening, her bathing, changing into her nightie, and her climbing into my lap to watch T.V. with me. Her taking my hands in hers, holding them on her lower belly, her settling in. Her lovely breasts pushed together between her arms, her nipples hard and pushing out, her flannel nightie pulling up higher and higher revealing her bare smooth glowing legs. 

Sometimes she would hold my hands very tightly, her nightie bunched up as high as her hips. Her panties unselfconsciously visible, her breathing slow and heavy her legs rhythmically opening and closing Daddy's legs, at her will, our game, now so purposeful, a secret, something we knew we did in private, just me and my daughter. 

I would subtly offer resistance as she squeezed her thighs back together, which she seemed to like. Her breathing would quicken, sometimes a little moan, her bottom tightening and lifting as she squeezed. She would sometimes breathe out loudly, or in tiny gushes, or let out soft little mewling sounds opening and closing our legs, biting her lower lip as she worked her legs and hips to squeeze Daddy's legs back together, the very effort sending little humming vibrations straight between her legs deep into her groin her belly. Her sweet musky arousal filled the air around us as she lay back against me, melted into my lap her head moving side-to-side, safe and warm on Daddy's lap the T.V. fading away. I watched, mesmerized, my breathing beside hers, my looking down over her shoulder at her breasts, the way they mounded, pushed up, jostled ever so slightly her figure so clearly defined under her thin, soft flannel gown, my cock already hard and pulsing under her. I know I should have stopped her, stopped myself. At first I figured what harm could come of it, what harm could come of a father and his nineteen-year-old daughter, his lovely daughter playing such an innocent loving game.

Then there was the one evening when she climbed into my lap, upset and almost in tears. I asked what was wrong, and she pleaded, "My breasts hurt, Daddy, they ache Daddy, please..." her body swelling, cramps, in pain, her pleading, "they hurt, Papa, make the ache go away, Papa," her tensing and fidgeting unable to get comfortable. 

At first reluctant, her mother upstairs, thinking what would her mother have done, I reached up her sides and lovingly, delicately, traced little feathery lines with my fingers up toward her swollen hot breasts, her taut aching nipples, my words a whispering lullaby of, it's okay baby, let Daddy help, let Daddy make you feel better. 

She quieted almost immediately relaxing into my chest. Her light breaths turned to ah'ing and then cooing, her hips moving involuntarily, pressing down, her bottom rotating and pushing into Daddy's lap. Before I knew what was happening I realized I was trying to make her feel more than better, more than trying to make her breasts stop hurting. Increasingly I was kneading my daughter's aching swollen breasts in Daddy's big hands, massaging her breasts through her soft flannel nightie. Pulling gently on her hard nipples to relieve the ache, her tears stopped and she began breathing out in a murmuring soft hum, "Mmmm, Papa, that feels so good, nnnn, don't stop, don't stop...feels so good," her breasts so firm and ripe and swelling hot in her Daddy's big hands. 

I'm not sure I could have stopped. Her breasts looked so exquisite through the flannel material of the gown, the way they felt and looked, full and flesh-hot through her nightie. I was transfixed, aroused, doing what I'd been thinking for weeks. I kneaded, cupped, and squeezed my daughter's lovely breasts, squeezing them out toward her nipples so incredibly erotic through the flannel gown. I wanted to suck her nipples into my mouth, suck on them through her nightgown, and whispered, "Let daddy make them feel better, baby."

She pressed her head back into the nape of my neck, cheek to hot cheek our warm breaths mingling together over her lovely full breasts so swollen in Daddy's hands, rolling her nipples through the flannel gown, practically hissing, "yesss baby, let Daddy make them feel better, baby," my touches and pulls eliciting a response from a lover, her little bottom pressing harder, rotating, lifting and pressing against my straining hard cock under her. Her soft little voice, "Nnnn, Daddyyy, touch me, Papa," my daughter sinking her weight into her father, letting me have her, giving herself to my hands, my touches 

"That's my good girl," I whispered hot against her face, "let Daddy make you feel good, baby," watching her little hips roll and push, her mound so rounded under her nightie, her thighs under her nightie spread out over my lap. The more we moved together, the more we sank back into the chair until she was laying on top of me, my throbbing hard cock touching up toward my belly under her. Images of my touching my daughter's pussy flashed through my minds-eye, her rocking her pelvis, her smooth rounded mound lifting, touching at the air. Each rock of her hips pressed the length of her warm damp slit to wrap around the length and girth of my aching hard erection. Her father's cock pulsing under my daughter's bottom, the length of my cock fitting up into the groove of her quivering hot little pussy separated only by her flannel gown. Her pressing out with her legs against Daddy's legs, like butterfly wings opening and closing us both slipping down in my big chair letting more, and more of my cock fill the length of her now soaking wet slit. 

The natural effort of her hot little pussy to trap Daddy's length in her lips, press up inside her, pushing her flannel gown inside her, damp warm, her breathing turned to gasps. 

"Ohhh, ohhh god, ohhh Daddy, nnnnn, Papaaaa," she gushed rolling her little hips, undulating, rocking, her back arching, her arms open, her hands out to either side gripping the rests of the chair, grinding her bottom against my lap. I couldn't stop myself if I'd wanted to, my breathing heavy and hot over her shoulder, my arms and wrists squeezing against her rib cage pulling her tightly against me, Daddy's big hands knowing exactly how to make my little girl feel good.

Her bottom rubbing my raging cock dripping with pre-cum, my balls hot and tight, her hot little pussy rubbing trying to fit Daddy further and further along her damp wet slit, backward and forward, she rubbed her hot little cunt on Daddy's cock. We could feel each other's heat through our pajamas, wet and friction heated, her legs on the outside of Daddy's knees, her chest pressed forward. I reached down and took her by her tender little hips, held on to her as she rubbed forward and back, took her by her hips and guided her as Daddy met her rhythm, "Mmmmm, little baby, yessss."

I couldn't stand it any longer and pulled her back against my chest, reached around her my arms locked over hers and took her breasts into Daddy's hands, again squeezing and pinching and pulling my little girls' full swollen breasts, kissing her hot wet cheeks, my little girl grinding on her Daddy. Our both breathing hard, moaning, our breaths hot wet whispers, I did the unthinkable. My hands dragging over her writhing little belly, her cheek turning to mine, her breath hot on Daddy's neck, over her hips, over her upper thighs, her open mouth gaping at Daddy's throat I began cinching her gown up, pulling the thin material up her legs, over her thighs, up to her hips. The damp heat was palpable between us. I reached between her spread open legs, her bare smooth thighs, and touched my daughter's bare naked cunt so slippery hot wet. 

Her hips lurched upward, into my fingers, her pelvis pressed into my cupped hand as she gushed out a hot breath, her pelvis rocking and bucking into the heal of my palm so warm and pressing into her mound. I held her on my lap, rubbed her little clit, pressed into the insides of her thighs, spread her legs open, my gushing out an exhilarated groan realizing I was touching her freshly shaven smooth bald little mound.

In a frenzy of heat, she raised and I reached under her and freed my cock my raging hard cock from the slit of my pajama bottoms. Pulled it out from under her grinding little bottom, pulled myself out in front of her hot little pussy, pressed my length against her and cupped my hand over the head of my erection pulling myself into my daughter's pink wet slippery hot sex. I groaned, she groaned, my bare-naked cock sliding hot and unfathomably rigid, aching throbbing hard pulsing hot against my little girl's warm-hot slippery bare creamy wet cunt. We both erupted into the heat and wetness of her folds slicking on Daddy's cock, wrapping around Daddy's cock. 

Not saying a word her little hips lifted, and I pressed my cock against her steaming little cunt, slid up and down hot and hard and slippery against my little girl's swollen slippery wet sex, and then it happened. We found her. Daddy's cock, slipped inside her. 

At first just the head of Daddy's pounding, aching hard cock. When she whispered, "more Papa, just a little more, Papa, want to feel you...in me, Papa," us both shiny wet with pre-cum, her creamy satiny juices, we both fell silent as I slid deeper and deeper inside her warm-hot, so, so soft, us both gushing out heated breaths, moans, settled into each other, sinking me deeper and deeper with each of our pushes inside my daughter. 

I reached back up and took her breasts back into Daddy's big hands as she lifted and pressed and gyrated and wriggled her little pussy on her father's throbbing hard cock. Taking a little more, and a little more of Daddy's cock inside her she moaned. Her body melted into mine as I kissed her neck, her cheeks, reached down and wrapped her hips, her upper thighs in Daddy's big hands, pressing her down, pushing my cock up inside my little girl. Rocking her pelvis, fucking her father's cock even when I stopped, I whispered, "Yes baby, fuck Daddy, baby, that's my good girl," the sensations of warmth and wetness and softness, our heat, indescribable.

Fucking my cock into my little girl, my hot sexy daughter, I slid one hand up to my little girl's lips, and she sucked her Daddy's finger into her hot wet mouth, sucking my finger, her juices, her sprawled out over my lap. I pressed my other hand between her spread legs, cupped her hot little cunt, my fingers against my little girl's slick little pussy. I spread my fingers on either side of my cock sliding inside my daughter, my little girl as she sucked Daddy's cock into her hot wet little cunny, as she sucked my fingers bucking her little hips as I fucked my little girl, my lovely daughter right there in my chair, as she fucked Daddy, no longer just pretending.



The Butterfly Panties



I guess I was lucky. Just born beautiful! I had the golden blonde hair, slinky body, perfect little tits and a smile to dream about. I'm not bragging...OK, I am bragging but still, if you've got it, why be shy about it?

So, of course I was interested in modeling when I graduated from high school. I was 18 and gorgeous! I could have had any boy I wanted with just a slight gesture of encouragement. To be paid for my good looks seemed like a natural thing to me. It was my birthright...wasn't it?

I started out modeling clothing for, like, juniors because of my youngish looks but I really wanted to do high fashion stuff. The guy, Harry, who ran the modeling agency I worked for kept telling me I needed more experience and I just had to work my way up. I was aware that most of the girls he used went unpaid because they so desperately wanted the work. But I always got paid because Harry knew I wouldn't have it any other way.

It was a few years ago now that Harry called me and said he had a really important shoot coming up but it involved modeling underwear. "There's no nudity involved," He promised, "But, after all, it's panties and bras so..."

Harry knew I would draw the line at anything sleazy like nude photography. Nowadays everyone expects you to do it but I felt My good looks put me above something like that. He also promised the money would be good so I agreed to do it. Harry told me I had to shave "Down There" since a lot of the outfits were very brief. I was OK with that.

When I got to the shoot I found out the panties I would be modeling were for a well known lingerie line whose specialty was, well, things that you wouldn't ever wear anywhere but the bedroom, and then only for a few minutes. In other words, you only put these items on when you were expecting to take them off and then have sex.

"Be a pro Jill." I told myself. "Do the gig and get the money. It's really no different than any other work and Harry said the pay was going to be real good."

There was another model there that day, a dark haired girl who was tall and good looking. I guess she was to kind of balance out my Blonde schoolgirl look. We took turns modeling what turned out to be very scandalous outfits. Panties that just barely covered your pussy. Nothing but a little string riding up your butt in the rear.

The other model, Pamela, was joking the whole time and I assumed she'd worked for Harry doing this type of gig before. I noticed the look on her face when Harry was about to shoot the photo seemed to change. She had these sultry "Bedroom Eyes" and she showed them off every time the shutter clicked.

"She's really good!" I finally had to admit. The whole point of the pictures and the ensuing catalogue was obviously to display the female body and it's sexual allure. I realized that both women and men would be looking at these photos and I should be posing as sexy as possible...just like Pam.

So I began to try and emulate her style, licking my lips before the camera worked it's magic. Thrusting my breasts out to emphasize my little tits. Trying to get my nipples to show up in each photo. 

We eventually got to the thongs and they were really tiny! You could never wear something like that out in public or even in private for more than a few minutes. But Pam and I did the best we could to make it look real. They asked us to "Lose the tops" since they weren't going to show in the photos and they wanted us to use our arms to shield our breasts.

Well I thought there was "No nudity" involved and, to me, topless photography was nudity.

But Pam just took off her top and there were her sizable boobs...bigger than mine, and she just went on posing wearing only the tiny thong now.

Maybe it was a mistake but I decided "Oh, what the heck," and took off my bra. The photographer didn't pay any attention but Harry, after several weeks of using me as a model, now was treated to his first ever look at my tits. And he paid attention!

"That's very nice Jill." He complimented me. "Very nice indeed!"

I was posing with just a little white G string now, topless and Harry asked me to pull my "Panties" up a little tighter. I went along with it assuming this would be a desirable shot for this particular item. When I adjusted my panties, I felt the skimply material slide into my hairless vagina!

I didn't want to seem like a baby but now the pink skin surrounding my pussy was visible and it seemed like it was too much! Bob, the photographer, said "Oh yeah, just like that!" and shot the picture.

They placed me on my hands and knees on an upholstered chair that was there on the set and now I felt cool air on my almost naked posterior. I could imagine what I must have looked like from behind: My perfect teenaged ass cheeks were on display with only a little white ribbon "Covering" my asshole!

I figured they would airbrush that out later but it was still embarrassing to show that part of me to a couple of men...even in a professional setting.

Next they chose white see through panties for Pam and I to wear. And I do mean "See Through!" Why, you could read a newspaper through them! And no cotton liner at the bottom! When Pam put them on her vagina was visible just as plain as day. And she just did it like "No big deal."

In fairness to Harry none of the poses actually showed her pussy but Harry and Bob certainly got to see it. I remember thinking it's just part of the job. After all, they didn't invent the panties, they were just trying to sell them.

When It was my turn to model the see through panties I did the best I could to do it like Pam had. I figured that my vagina wouldn't show in the catalogue and I assumed Harry and Bob had seen lots of girls in such attire.

But they did pose me in slightly different ways including a shot where I was asked to sit the the upholstered chair and drape my legs over the arms. This completely opened my vagina with only the gauzy fabric "Covering" me. My little tits were bare and, as far as I was concerned, we were getting close to pornographic shots now.

Just then, there was a knock at the door and Harry paused momentarily to admit a short, elderly asian man. 

"Mr. Yamaki! So glad you could make it!" My boss gushed. Mr. Yamaki didn't speak but smiled and nodded at each of us in turn.

I quickly closed my legs and covered my breasts, resenting this intrusion. What did Harry expect? That just anyone who happened to stop by could view my nearly naked body?

"Oh now Jill, don't get upset. Mr. Yamaki is one of our best customers. I invited him here today to get a little preview of next year's line. Jill...Mike Yamaki... Mr. Yamaki, this is Jill."

I forced a smile and Mr. Yamaki said something like "Oh...so pleased to meet you!" He had this kind of sleazy smile. Maybe I shouldn't say that but I noticed that Pam appeared to recognize him and she seemed...underwhelmed to see him.

"Could I see miss...miss Jill in this panty please?" He asked politely. Harry seemed eager to please and told me to resume the pose Mr. Yamaki had interrupted. 

I couldn't see any way out of this so I sat back in the chair and lifted my legs over the arms. I reluctantly moved my arms and exposed my breasts to the entire room. Bob resumed the photo session.

"Oh, that very nice!" Mr. Yamaki commented. I noticed again that Pam wasn't smiling and had seemingly lost the cheerful demeanor she'd kept for most of the session. I wondered why.

Next, they asked me for the same rear view shot that I'd posed in earlier in the thong. I knew that everyone would now be treated to a barely disguised view of my asshole and pussy. The see through panties did virtually nothing to hide any of my girlish charms and it got real quiet in there when i assumed the pose. Harry told me to "Look back and smile" and, when I did, I saw a very strange look on Mr. Yamaki's face. I was suddenly more self conscious than I had been all afternoon.

"What about...the Butterfly panties?" Mr. Yamaki asked. It took Harry a few seconds to understand the grey haired asian.

"Oh yeah!" Harry finally said. "They're gonna be a great seller this year!" He went over to the box where the panties were kept and pulled out a tiny pink garment that, yes, featured a lacy butterfly in the front.

Right about then Pam spoke quietly to Harry. "Harry, I'm sorry, I've got to go now. I...I have something I really have to do...and it can't wait. Sorry."

Harry was all "Wait...wait a minute! Hey, this is going to be one of our...Hey Pam wait!"

But Pam just wouldn't even look at Harry. She just dressed, gathered her things and quickly make her way out the door leaving me as the only female there with the three men.

"I remember...she...she a little...sensitive." Mr. Yamaki commented. Harry was still staring at the closed door as if Pam was going to magically reappear.

So it was up to me to model the Butterfly panties. Only when I got behind the screen did I realize exactly what was up with these panties. The beautiful lacy pink butterfly fit right where your pubic hair would be. Below that...below that it was open. There were two little pink elastic ribbons that connected to a ridiculously brief triangle of pink fabric that attached to the waist band. The lips of my shaved pussy were completely bare!

I began to understand why Pam had left so hastily. No nudity indeed! Harry had to know these panties were going to be used today. Still, it seemed odd. Pam was older than me. Maybe 24 or 25. I got the impression she had posed in more revealing outfits than this and maybe even nude.

I looked over the screen at Harry as if to say "What's up with this?" and he saw my expression. He didn't speak but rubbed his thumb and forefinger together as if to say "Money."

OK, well that's what I was there for after all. Money. this was a paying job and these "Panties" if you could call them that, were going to sell for $14.99 or something and it was my job to sell them so...

So I timidly walked out wearing only the Butterfly panties. My hairless pussy lips were on display and it seemed that the two elastic straps that held the butterfly in place were kind of pushing them together. I couldn't remember ever feeling so exposed before in my life.

Mr. Yamaki got that weird smile on his face and motioned for me to turn around so he could see the back and I reluctantly did so.

"Oh, she very nice...very very nice!" He said. It seemed Mr. Yamaki had a very limited English vocabulary. I didn't want to look back at them so I just stood there, my ass naked for them to ogle. There was just that little pink triangle of fabric and then a little skinny pink strap that didn't even come close to covering my little back hole.

They started me out on the chair with my legs up and over the arms again. Now my little pussy was naked with the two pink straps framing it. Just a vertical line there just beneath the Butterfly. I guess I was supposed to smile when Bob shot the photo but, instead, I lowered my eyes in shame.

"Oh...Oh...she very pink!" Mr. Yamaki blurted out. I knew he wasn't referring to the panties either.

Chuckling now, Mr. Yamaki addressed Harry. "Will the...will the panty...prevent muster...muster..."

"Masturbation?" Harry interrupted. "Will they prevent a young lady from masturbating? Oh no Mr. Yamaki!" He warmed to the task. "Not at all, go ahead and show him Jill!" This comment was accompanied by another of Harry's "Looks" that meant "Just go ahead and humor the old guy."

I should have just walked out like Pam had done but I figured I was in so far now it would be easier to just get it over with and get paid. So I moved my finger down and lightly rubbed it up and down the length of my exposed pussy while the three men looked on.

"Oh...dat nice!" Mr. Yamaki said smiling. "Das very nice!"

I could tell the aging gentleman was eating this up. Here I was, for all intents and purposes, naked in front of him and touching myself while he had a front row seat.

"Could we see...da back please?" He asked.

Harry turned me over on the chair asking me to place my knees on the arms of the chair while my tits rested on the top of the upholstered back.

Now the old guy could see virtually everything I had. The little pink ribbon was bisecting my butt cheeks but my asshole showed on either side. Below that my hairless pussy lips were completely naked.

I couldn't believe what a spectacle I was making of myself!

Again I heard that nervous laugh of Mr. Yamaki's that was really creeping me out. "He's some kind of sleazy voyeur" I realized. "He gets his kicks from watching." I heard him say something I couldn't quite understand to Harry.

His comment to Harry I didn't catch but Harry immediately responded "Oh...Oh not at all Mr. Yamaki!" Yamaki laughed again nervously as Harry answered: "Mr. Yamaki is wondering if the Butterfly panties would have to be removed in order to have sex."

That was about the dumbest thing I'd ever heard! That was the whole point of these ridiculous panties...you could enjoy them visually and then, with no interruption you could...

My thought was interrupted by the sound of a zipper. Yes, a zipper! And, again, I should have just got up and left when I heard it and I have no excuses but the next thing I knew I felt something touching my exposed pussy lips. And it was Harry's cock. 

"You see Mr. Yamaki?" Harry called to the now perspiring asian. "No problem!" I felt Harry cock now traveling up and down the lips of my pussy as he "Demonstrated" to his asian client how easily sex could be accomplished even with the panties in place.

"And...and da...da anal...?" Mr. Yamaki wondered.

"Harry..." I began. Knowing I was going to complain about this ludicrous handling of my young nearly nude body, he fired back quickly enough that he figured the English challenged Asian would never understand.

"Please, let's get it over with and we'll both laugh all the way to the bank." 

No, Mr. Yamaki didn't understand the remark but I certainly did. It meant "Just go ahead and whore yourself Jill. Just whore yourself and enjoy spending your lewdly earned money."

Then, I felt Harry's big penis begin to penetrate me. I was forcing back tears as I realized that I was going to be fucked right there on the overstuffed chair. Right in front of Bob and icky Mr. Yamaki. I wasn't a virgin but I certainly had never engaged in anything like this before.

I heard Harry moan as more and more of his sizable cock began to slide into my unprotected pussy. I'd love to say I was completely dry inside but I couldn't help but become at least a little aroused in the past few minutes. Harry took the little ribbon that bisected my ass cheeks and slowly pulled it to one side.

My asshole was now complelely naked and, just below, Harry's cock was buried halfway in my pussy. "See there Mr. Yamaki?" He looked down to where we were joined. "No problem with the anal."

I was feeling sick inside as Harry forced more and more cock into my no longer resisting pussy. I might have moaned a little myself at that point. Harry's cock was bigger than any of the boys I'd had at that point and, inch by inch, he managed to achieve complete penetration. I felt his balls now resting against my pussy lips as he'd stopped his motion.

I was confused now. Was he going to fuck or not? I mean, he had me now. My innocent little pussy was all stuffed with his his big stiff penis...and he stops?

I looked back at him and wasn't really shocked to see Mr. Yamaki had now opened his pants and was stroking his small penis. No surprise there. Bob, pro that he is was doing his best to catch good pictures of my debauched experience. I turned my head and Harry renewed his assault on my hairless young pussy.

His balls began to slap into my pussy lips and I must reluctantly admit it felt good in spite of my humiliating situation. I would be lying if I tried to say I totally didn't enjoy it. 

Harry's cock was thrilling me as he held me by my waist and fucked my helpless little cunt there in the studio. I assumed he would come in my pussy and I was on the pill at that point so...so whatever.

But he didn't. I'm not really sure why but Harry pulled his still hard penis from my now well lubricated vagina and asked me to turn over. 

I shot Harry another of my "Looks" and he tightly closed his lips and glanced at Mr. Yamaki as if to say "Almost done." I followed his instructions and resumed my position on the chair with my legs spread open and my now desire swollen pussy glistening with my natural lubrication. Mr. Yamaki approached me.

I looked at Harry, anger in my eyes now, and he just put his finger to his lips as if to say "Shhhh! Don't speak."

Mr. Yamaki, his hands trembling now, slowly approached me holding his hard little cock. He was panting and apparently erotically stimulated from what he's just witnessed.

Harry stroked my hair softly as if to calm me down as Mr. Yamaki gently touched his cock to my bare pussy and began to slide it up towards the Butterfly that adorned the area just above my exposed sex.

"Ooooh!" Was all he said as he dragged it downward and then he began to come. "Oh! Oh!" Mr. Yamaki cried out as his sperm began to spash onto the little pink butterfly panties. All over those now defiled little panties. He gasped and his breath came in staccato bursts as he spilled his seed all over my panties.

Then, shame overcame the ancient businessman and he began to apologize...well, I assume he was apologizing, it was all in Japanese. Mr. Yamaki fired off several unintelligible sentences as he was stuffing his rapidly deflating penis back into his trousers. Then, In a matter of moments, he was gone.

Harry apologized, in English, and profusely. He explained the whole history of the oddball asian but insisted all of us would make money as a result of his lewd and kinky behavior.

I got a nice check and a couple of hundred dollar bills before I left that day and more a couple of months later. 

I never worked for Harry again after that but I did see Bob one time at another modeling gig. He said Mr. Yamaki needed a "Virgin" model each time he pulled this routine. Once he'd "Had" you, he was embarrassed to see you again. Apparently He'd pulled his number on Pam once before and she'd refused to go along with it.

The modeling business can be glamorous and lucrative...but it can also be sleazy and degrading. Young girls beware.



The Butterfly Pt. 01



Prologue

Christine looked over her shoulder at the gentlemen across the room. "The fellas over there want to buy you a drink" the waitress explained, and quickly walked away after depositing the Cosmopolitan in front of her. It was another night as the object of affection, and another meaningless token from frat school boys 10 years past their most promising days. They wore the same suits, sported the same haircuts, and held the same impossible hopes as the last group. Christine sighed. 

Her boyfriend was late. Again. It was Friday night and their reservation was for 7PM. He sent her a text at 7:15 letting her know he was stuck on a call and would be at least another half hour. She sipped her drink slowly, hoping the Frat School Three wouldn't come over and chat her up. She wasn't sure she could handle the mediocrity right now. She saw the Alpha Male of the group heading over. She suspected he was in derivatives, but if this was small town in North Carolina, he might well have sold Honda Accords. 

Alpha flashed a smile as he zeroed in, readying his finest pickup line. Christine closed her eyes, wondering when she would ever feel her pulse quicken again. It had been years since it had raced at the thought of a man's touch. Her relationship was comfortable, familiar, and satisfying, yet when she was honest with herself, she thought back to her wilder days in college, and traveling across Europe, to the men who most made her feel desired. She yearned to feel that way again, at least for a little while. She made a wish. 

She opened her eyes, fearing the worst, and Alpha was headed in the opposite direction. She felt a gentle touch at her shoulder, and a gentleman whispering in her ear "Just play along and Big Jim over there will keep on walking back to his table." 

He kissed her cheek. She looked up, readying a slap for this stranger, and found she was staring into a lovely pair of blue eyes. 

"Hello darling," he said with a cool confidence, and a light accent she was unable to place, "Sorry to have kept you waiting."

"It's okay," Christine found herself saying, "You're here now." 

They settled into an easy rhythm of make believe - enough to convince any onlookers that he was the awaited boyfriend. But he was no boy. Peter Walsh knew his way around women, yet had rarely seen a beauty like Christine. She was 28, of Eastern European descent, likely Czech he thought, tall at 5'8", with fair skin, a slim but athletic build, and long dark hair and eyes. After 10 minutes, he confirmed his suspicions when he ascertained she was born in Prague, but raised in New York City. He asked her about her plans for the night. 

She looked at her phone, awaiting a sign. It was another text, with an apology. 

It was decided. 

She took his elbow, as he paid for their drinks. 

1: Opened

Exactly Two Years Later

Christine slid onto the bar stool and thought about the last time she was here. Meeting Peter Walsh had redefined her. It took only one evening for her to cast aside years of propriety and just live for the moment. And she had lived that way since. 

He was what most women would consider dashing. Mid forties, just shy of 6', he was well groomed, very fit, his hair a distinguished gray, and always exuded a quiet confidence. Unlike many successful men of the era, he was kind and open, not serious and severe. Making no effort to be aloof, he would try to be helpful and humorous, and talk to people about their struggles and successes alike. Those who worked for him considered him grounded and compassionate. He wanted to change the world for the better, supporting many causes through his philanthropy. Splitting his time mostly between his film production company in the US and his estates across Europe, they traveled often, spending time in a variety of locales. 

He had married Christine in Inverness just three months after their first meeting, and they had been nearly inseparable ever since, exploring the world and each other alike. He loved life, and he loved sex. Oh god, did he ever. He was insatiable.

Peter was taken with Christine from the first moment he saw her across the room. Yet she seemed incomplete, perhaps a little broken in the way she had allowed herself to settle into a passionless routine, expecting nothing more from life than what others settled for. He saw in her so much more than that, waiting to be born. He had reached out, and in one motion changed both their lives. He looked at her now from across the room. 

She had chosen a small tattoo of a butterfly and had it inked on her shoulder in exactly the spot Peter first touched her. She always said that it represented the freedom that had come from their meeting and marriage. He so enjoyed making her happy.

She closed her eyes again, thinking of her wish, and how amazingly grateful she was that it had come true. 

"Hello, my darling." she heard from beside her. She opened her eyes. The man standing next to her was not her husband. Javier was a man with dark skin and hair, and darker eyes, a true Spaniard. He reached out and touched the butterfly, a signal that Peter had selected this man for her. She smiled as an equally lovely blonde gentleman walked up behind Javier and introduced himself. Alex was of Swedish descent and it showed. Tall, fairly pale, but beautifully structured, with royal blue eyes, he kept eye contact with Christine until she blushed. Peter had really outdone himself this evening.

"Shall we get some air?" Javier suggested, and Christine allowed each man to take her hand and she walked out into the breezy autumn air with two of the loveliest specimens in the room. As they walked toward the Four Seasons, her two suitors took turns lightly touching her shoulders, waist, hips, and ass, flirting with her all along the way, and getting to know one another. She occasionally dropped her hands to feel their hardness and their readiness for her. Her heart was racing. By the time they arrived at the room, she was so hungry for them.

The door to the room closed. She spun around and pushed herself into Javier's arms, kissing him full on the mouth. He put his arms around her waist in a warm embrace. She felt so very safe knowing these men were hand-picked by her lover to satisfy her this evening. Peter always chose wisely, and safely, and she knew there was never anything to fear in any way. Their tongues danced. She felt a kiss on the back of her neck - seduction. 

She reluctantly left Javier and met Alex's gaze behind her. She turned, and he kissed her neck ever so gently, moving the straps of her dress off her shoulder. The two men undressed her, until she was naked, exposed. With them still fully dressed, she felt like their plaything. An object they would use to fulfill themselves. They had been instructed well as to her desires.

She dropped to her knees, obedient and eager. "What can this little whore do for you?" she purred. 

They each took their cocks out for her to admire. While markedly different, she thought each one looked delicious. She started with Alex, unbuttoning him completely and dropping his pants to the floor. She gently took his balls in her left hand and rubbed the head of his cock against her lips with her right, feeling the soft texture, and loving his smell. She opened her mouth eagerly, not wanting to wait any longer. Not able to wait any longer. She swallowed his cock in her hot mouth, stroking it and applying further pressure with her tongue directly to the underside of his dick. He moaned. 

"Peter told us you were such a slut. Glad he was not exaggerating." he breathed. 

Christine released his cock from her mouth. "I am a slut. I will have both of you fucking my tight wet pussy tonight, and I will love it." she encouraged. She turned her head to see Javier patiently waiting his turn.

She moved him to the side of the bed, standing at attention, and crawled on top of the covers. Positioning herself on all fours, she faced Javier, and began to lick his dick, while opening her legs for Alex. Alex shed all his clothes, and lay beneath her, grabbing her hips and pulling her shaved pussy down onto his mouth. She was already so wet, her slit glistening. After a few minutes of working his tongue around her lips and pushing it into her, he was eager to put his cock into this married slut's pussy. 

He got up behind her and slid it in bare. Javier had been fucking Christine's mouth with abandon, but when Alex began jamming his cock into her, she groaned, took that cock out of her mouth and began to fist it, so she could talk dirty to them both. 

"Oh god, yes, fuck that married pussy with your cock like so many other guys. Use that pussy to get your cock off. I want your cum right in it." Alex had been told to shoot in her pussy as much and as many times as he could, so he saw no reason to hold back. He grabbed her hips and began slamming against her ass, pounding that pussy hard. 

"Yes, fill my cunt right now. Give me that cum!" she demanded! 

Alex felt the rising tension in his balls and knew he would be blasting off in mere moments. He took one final thrust and buried himself deep, losing his cum deep in her pussy. She moaned as she felt her very favorite thing, a man's sperm splashing her inside, so hot and wet in her. She was so anxious for more. 

Alex pulled out and slumped into a chair near the bed, watching the show in front of him eagerly. Christine had continued lightly pumping Javier's cock, keeping him hard and ready for her. She rolled onto her back and put her feet flat on the bed with her knees up. She spread her legs. 

"Get over here and keep fucking me with your big prick." she asked of him. 

He obliged her, standing on the floor and parting her thighs further. Her hole was wet and inviting as he slid in, feeling Alex's hot seed already inside her. Javier's dick was about the same length as Alex's but much thicker. This posed no problem though as she was already slightly stretched and lubed for him. Nevertheless, his cock stretched her even more, filling her so completely. He stroked inside her for a bit, and decided that when he came he wanted to really drive it deep into her. He climbed up on top of her, parting her thighs further. She wrapped her toned legs around him pulling him in deeper, and clawing at his back. 

"Oh yes baby, fuck that slutty pussy. It already has one load in it and needs another. Do you feel how wet it is? That's another guys cum in my pussy. Give me yours too!" she cried. 

Javier had rarely heard a married woman talk like this and he knew he couldn't hold out much longer. He slipped his hands under her ass and began to ram her pussy deep. He let himself go. As he did, Christine came underneath him, hard, and pulled his ass down with her hands to get him as deep into her as she could. He bucked once and exploded, unleashing a hot flood into her. She groaned as she got her second load of the night, so deep into her hot cunt. 

Alex was at half mast by now, watching the scene in front of him. Christine was a sweaty mess, her hair plastered to her cheek, a thin sheen of perspiration over her entire body, particularly her chest in between her lovely B cup breasts. Her dark nipples were hardened points. Javier climbed off of her, his cock never really completely softening. Perhaps he had taken a little blue pill before this evening's activities. 

He positioned himself at her face, and she reached up to fist him. Alex climbed onto the bed next to her, kissing her neck and down to her nipples, swirling his tongue around them. Christine swung her leg over his hips and climbed up on top, grabbing for his dick and positioning it at the lips of her slit that were smeared with cum. She pushed down on him, craving another orgasm, and ground her crotch against his, creating a friction she knew she could use to get off. She went back to stroking Javier's dick right next to her face. 

"How have you been enjoying this married pussy guys? Do you think it has enough cum in it, or does it need some more? My husband will get to fuck it later you know. He likes being last after a bunch of other guys have used it. He likes it when I'm happy and he knows I'm only happy if I'm a total whore." 

She spouted all of this while grinding on Alex's cock, and he didn't even get a chance to signal that he was cumming before he started spurting again into her. Javier took over jacking his own cock right in front of Christine's face, and shot onto her lips, neck and breasts before collapsing onto the bed on the other side of her.

The three lovers, satisfied, but a total mess, showered. Christine soaped their pricks while they worshiped her body, massaging her all over with sudsy soap, cleaning her well used pussy, and giving her light kisses. She stroked each of them to climax once more. They each sprayed their loads against her belly and shaved bare pussy, then got out of the shower leaving her to finish up and prepare for her last lover of the night. 

When she had put on her black lingerie, reapplied her makeup and lotion, and walked out of the bathroom, Alex and Javier were gone. She lay on the bed and closed her eyes. 

"Did you enjoy that?" she asked Peter, who had watched everything from the balcony. 

"Very much so." he said, his voice moving closer. "Happy Anniversary, my darling." 

She turned her head toward his voice, and opened her eyes.



The Butterfly Pt. 02: Pillow Talk



This is part two of our story. While it can be read individually, reading previous chapters may help you to get to know Christine and Peter better. We join our story in progress - Peter had arranged a threesome for Christine with two men for their two year anniversary, while he had watched from the shadows...

*****

Peter caressed her face, and kneeled beside her. 

"You are so beautiful, my love." he said as she looked into his brilliant blue eyes. 

She saw truth there, and reverence. They kissed, his lips gently caressing hers, his tongue feeling hers. He kissed her face all over, while his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on her right hip. 

"Thank you for freeing me, and for always knowing exactly what I want. Two years later, I still think it's crazy that you're in my head like this, but I guess I'm not surprised. Those guys were great, but I'm glad you're here. I love you, Mr. Walsh"

"And I love you, Mrs. Walsh. You gave a brilliant performance tonight. Like an athlete. Simply stunning" he continued, as he gave her butterfly kisses across her shoulders and neck. 

He unbuttoned the black corset she wore as lingerie for him, freeing her pert breasts, and stroking the soft flesh of her stomach. He loved to touch her. The first time they made love, he had spent hours running his hands over every part of her body. She had been his, body and soul ever since.

"Do you ever get jealous?" she wondered aloud, perhaps for the hundredth time since they met. "Those guys used me pretty thoroughly. Do you ever feel like putting a stop to all this and just keeping me for yourself?" But she already knew his answer.

"You are mine, my dear, as I am yours, no matter what girl I'm with or what guy takes you to bed. Ours is a transcendent love of the mind and spirit. I love that we can use sex to stimulate our bodies and fuel our sex life. I've always felt like we have what others do not. They just don't know what they're missing." 

She smiled. Peter had always been so supportive of her fantasies, and had never denied her anything. She knew that he got off on it as well. She had gone on countless dates at this point, and all Peter asked was that she tell him every detail, if he wasn't able to watch. She did so with joy, usually with his cock inside her the whole time. 

He stood and undressed. She saw his cock, rock hard and at attention, straining for release after more than an hour watching her be savagely fucked by Alex and Javier. He climbed on top of her, leaving her stockings in place, but pulling the crotch of her panties to one side. He gently parted her swollen pussy lips and placed his head at the entrance. She was tender, but yearning for her husband, and signaled him with her hand on his hip to put it in her. She sighed as he did. When he was bottomed out, he held it there, not thrusting, knowing he would cum quickly if he did. They had played this game many times before.

"What's our next game, my dear?" he asked, settling in and feeling the hot grip of her young cunt. 

He wasn't quite twice her age, but at nearly twenty years her senior, he biologically could have been her father, she thought to herself. He loved the feel of her fit body beneath him, and her always hungry pussy.

"I want to see you with Camilla and Magdalena again, and I want to play too." 

She was referring to their bisexual friends. Camilla was from Buenos Aires and Magdalena from Madrid. They had been together many years and were both so lovely and open with Christine and Peter. Their friendship and sexual adventures were always strongly fulfilling and comforting at the same time. They were familiar friends and lovers. 

"Of course, my dear, we'll see them while we're in town." 

He kissed her neck over and over, finding the spot he knew so well that would turn her on even more. Sometimes they slowly made love over hours, just talking while he was inside of her. She loved it, being slowly screwed while enjoying the conversation as well. It was always a treat for her mind and body. Tonight she was exhausted, however, and knew that Peter would need release two or three times before he would be satisfied, especially after the show. She ground her hips up into him, signaling that she wanted that cum. 

She whispered to him "You're the third man to fuck me tonight baby. Do you like fucking your slut wife's pussy after two other guys have used it?"

He knew what she was playing at, and that this would quickly push him over the edge. He allowed himself to start stroking inside of her, thinking of those guys parting her legs and sliding their cocks in and out of his wife. He boiled over, allowing ropes of semen to paint the walls deep inside of her. She arched her back as he came, and told him she loved him time and again as she pulled him close to her. She had never meant it more.

They stayed like that, his cock softening, but not fully. Often he stayed inside of her until he got hard again. Usually this was easy when they were talking dirty to each other, which was always. 

"Did you want to see more men fucking me?" she asked. "I could probably have handled two or three more. To be honest, I loved their cum so much I wished they could have kept going, or that there were more guys to put it all over me."

"Well, my dear, I don't think we have to make you wait till our three year Anniversary to give you three men. You can have whatever you desire." 

She felt him hardening again inside her. This time she knew he would be able to fuck without coming too quickly so she encouraged him to start thrusting into her well fucked pussy. She loved it when men used her pussy to get off, especially if they could shoot inside of her multiple times. It made her feel like such a whore, and she always loved spreading wide for another load, whenever it was available. There had been times she and Peter had been with other women, that she had encouraged Peter to fuck their cunts until he was just about to cum, then quickly switch, and stuff his cock back into her, dumping his load right where it belonged - inside his slut wife. She decided to remind him of that night.

"I remember how good it looked when you were fucking Camilla with your big cock. I loved watching you hammer away on her pussy from behind while she ate Magdalena out. I was fingering my pussy while watching you. Do you remember how you pulled out of her pussy just before you came and then slid it inside my hot cunt? The way you just used it to dump off your hot load? Do you remember that?"

"Mmmph yes!" Peter said as his thrusting increased. 

He loved how much of a slut his wife was and how much she loved sex. He particularly loved the way she would challenge him to come as many times as he could by talking dirty to him. It was their little game, and they always both won, by playing it. 

"I'm going to shoot again." he told her. "I'm going to dump another load into your hot used pussy like every other guy that has. You're such a slut. You just use your pussy to get guys off."

"Yes, baby, cum for me!" she encouraged. She grabbed his ass and slammed her hips up harder to meet his thrusts. "Give me that cum!"

He gave her that cum, grunting and depositing another load right where she wanted it - deep inside her body. Their breathing was ragged. He felt her come just after him, groaning and exposing her sweaty neck to his kisses. He was spent, but would be surprised if she let him off without coming a third time for her. He sat in the chair next to the bed and watched her. She was beautiful in her afterglow. She played with the sticky white sperm that leaked from her sodden pussy, tracing it up onto her stomach and breasts. She opened her legs lewdly in front of her husband, hoping it would do the job. She fingered her pussy with one, and then two fingers, letting him know she was still good for one more go. 

"Are you too tired, baby?" she asked. "Do we need to bring another guy up here to finish me off? My wet hole could still use one more load and I don't think you have one for me!"

Despite everything, he was a little hard, but only just. Christine took this as a challenge and hopped off the bed, shedding everything but her black stockings. She dropped to her knees in front of her lover, and took him in her mouth. Her fingers continued to work in and out of her dripping pussy. She could taste the spunk of three different men on his cock - at least she imagined she could. She fantasized about how three different men had cum inside her that evening, and that this cock had fucked her last. Her head bobbed frantically as she got the result she wanted. Peter was at full attention.

She quickly hopped into his lap on the chair and crammed his cock up into her. She pressed her mouth against his, and tongued him, letting him taste the cum in her mouth, along with her own juices fresh from his cock. She then pressed her mouth against his ear and began to play again. 

"God, can you taste all those guys on me? I have had three dicks in my mouth and pussy tonight. That's so slutty. I am such a whore for you! Do you mind that your wife is a dirty whore that loves to eat dick and let every guy fuck her pussy? Do you mind that you were the last guy to fuck your wife after those other guys were finished?"

Peter knew that he had one chance to shoot before the moment passed, and he took it. 

"Oh God, yes." he said. "I love that you used that slutty pussy tonight to get all of us off. I wish there were more guys here now to pin you down and keep taking turns on that slutty cunt of yours..."

His cock spasmed twice, giving her two thin ropes of cum, the last he had in him, but this was enough. She kissed him sweetly on the lips, dropped to her knees, and again took his quickly softening cock in her mouth. She cleaned him, tasting her own pussy and cum mixture. Christine Walsh looked up from her knees at the man who had given her two years of loving devotion and told him again that she loved him. He touched the butterfly on her shoulder and told her he loved her always and forever, and he meant it. They climbed into bed, and she pressed her warm ass back against him, feeling her pulse begin to return to normal. His arm draped around her, gently fondling her breast. He kissed the back of her neck.

"Goodnight Mrs. Walsh." he said, and they closed their eyes.



The Butterfly Pt. 03: Hermes



This is part three of our story. While it can be read individually, reading previous chapters may help you to get to know Christine and Peter better. We join our story in progress - Peter had arranged a threesome for Christine with two men for their two year anniversary, while he had watched from the shadows, and fucked her afterwards...

*****

Peter awoke with a raging hard-on the next morning. Christine was still asleep, clearly attempting to regain her strength. A devilish grin crossed his face. He slid his hips down the bed quietly and positioned himself at an angle just beneath his wife's ass, with a direct line to her pussy. He reached over onto the side table where some of Christine's skin cream had been left out. It would have to do. He didn't want her to wake up fully until his dick was all the way inside. He squirted some of the smooth milky cream into his hand and reached under the covers, stroking his cock until it was lubed up nicely. Then he began to inch forward in small, incremental, stages. As the head of his cock made contact with her slit, she stirred slightly, but enjoyed the closeness of her husband behind her. She foggily assumed that his erection was just the usual nighttime state of Mr. Walsh, and besides, she would have no objection to a cock pushing against her. She backed up against him, and he ended up half inside from simply being lined up properly.

He felt she was still wet from the night before. Perhaps she was having sexual dreams and they were making her very wet - how could she not after last night? He thrust his hips forward gradually. Every movement brought an ache needing release. At last, his pubic bone bumped against her ass, and she was only slightly stirring, now most assuredly having a sex dream. He decided to be a little more aggressive and see where it led. He placed a hand on her hip, and pulled out half way before pushing back in. He repeated this motion three or four more times before he knew for sure she was awake, and by then it was definitely too late. 

"Mmmmf, whatter you doin'?" she barely got out. 

"I can't help but keep thinking about the way you let those men mount you, just like studs trying to breed with you." he breathed in her ear. "It's my turn again now." 

She offered a half hearted resistance to his having his way with her. She knew it would get them both hot. She pushed back at his hip with her left hand and pulled her hips forward. 

"No, you're trying to rape me - stop it." 

His cock nearly left her cunt before he adjusted for her defiance. He grabbed at her hip and pulled her back, getting another good thrust in. 

"I mean it. I'm not in the mood. I want to take a shower and I have to go to work of all places." she tried. 

Peter was having none of this. He flipped her onto her stomach and rolled his entire body on top of her from behind. Her hips were pushed down into the mattress and he continued grinding himself into her pussy as she squirmed, trying to get away, trying to crawl up the bed away from him. 

"This will go much harder on you if you struggle, you little whore. Just let me blow my load in your cunt and it will be over. It's my cunt anyway, to use whenever I want."

"NO!" Christine shouted, as she managed to get unto her knees and crawl up toward the headboard. "I get to decide who uses this pussy and when - not you!" 

In the struggle, Peter's cock left her pussy, and he used the moment to launch into a fury. 

"You little bitch, now you're going to be sorry!" He grabbed her ankle so she couldn't get off the bed, and managed to reach his Hermes tie draped over the back of the chair. He spun back toward her, now releasing her ankle but grabbing one of her wrists, and then the other when she tried to claw at his face and neck to secure her release. These he expertly tied together and tied to the leg of the heavy chair. She would not be able to free herself without leverage, and he wasn't planning to allow her any. She was face down, ass up, against the floor and could only kick back with her legs. These he secured at her ankles using his shirt. 

He then placed the entire weight of his body against her back and ass, and roughly brought his stiff rod back between her thighs and up to her cunt. He forced it in as she cried out that he was a bastard. He knew she would be uncomfortable with the lips of her pussy being pushed in, but he didn't care. After five or six thrusts her wetness provided enough lubrication for her pussy to be comfortable again, and she moaned as she cursed him out. 

"Shut up!" he said, "You're going to take my cock into that dirty cunt, and afterwards apologize for your behavior!" He thrust without remorse or abandon and was close to coming. 

"Fuck you." she whispered, "I'm not going to come for you so just do what you have to and get off of me." 

He reached around underneath her at this and pressed two fingers against her clit as he continued to bang away. He waited another thirty seconds and when she wailed in frustration and pleasure as her orgasm ripped through her core, he came hard into her with a growl.

She lay on the floor, beaten. He kneeled beside her and loosened her bonds, casting them aside. 

"Get up." he said, helping her to her feet. 

Her cheeks were streaked with tears, and her knees and hips were red and raw from scraping and banging against the carpet. They embraced, and he ran his hand up her back to her neck. He kissed her tears, then her lips, and she kissed him back fully, a soft moan escaping her lips. He ran his hand through her long dark hair, along her scalp, massaging the back of her head as she pressed her face into his chest. 

"Thank you." she whispered into his chest. "I love you."



The Butterfly Pt. 04: Agincourt



This is part four of our story. While it can be read individually, reading previous chapters may help you to get to know Christine and Peter better. We join our story in progress - Peter had arranged a threesome for Christine with two men for their two year anniversary, while he had watched from the shadows, and fucked her afterwards. The next morning, he took her again, forcefully.

*****

It was true, Christine did in fact have to go to work, and Peter had a day full of meetings before a premiere that evening of a French foreign language film. She would of course be his plus one. She found it difficult to concentrate at work, as sexual thoughts tended to fill her head. Luckily, she had opened her own boutique brand agency with some family money, and believed in hiring a brilliant team to run day to day operations, so she could always afford a quiet day if needed. The company was self-sustaining.

She stopped home after work, and selected a lovely black and white striped dress that showed off her toned legs and thighs. There would be pictures the next week on Fashion Police, as the team discussed whether this outfit was "too slutty" for the wife of a studio head. Three out of four panelists would agree that it was, but she didn't care. Peter would love it. 

She arrived and walked the red carpet, knowing she would meet Peter in the lobby, as he was almost certainly pressing the flesh. What she saw when she arrived was not exactly a surprise. Peter Walsh was always surrounded by beautiful women. He wore a soft grey suit this evening, and was in deep conversation with a very young brunette in a red dress. Was she an intern, perhaps? No. There was something odd about this girl. Were you to compare her with Christine, one would say they were similar in type, but this girl was no older than twenty. On top of that, she had about a full cup size on her, and dazzling eyes, moving and speaking with a confidence she had only seen in one other person she knew - Peter. They seemed to alternate between affectionate banter and bitter argument. Christine was not yet in view so she spent a few moments using the other guests and media as a shield to watch her husband and this mysterious stranger. 

It was undeniable. If Christine had to guess, she would have ventured that this girl had known her husband all his life, yet she knew most of his close female acquaintances and conquests, and had never heard of her. This should be interesting...

She strode over to them confidently. She was, after all, Mrs. Peter Walsh. They interrupted their conversation, and switched from French to English. Christine knew Peter was fluent in several languages, so this was not a red flag of any sort. 

"Ah, this must be your lovely wife I have been hearing all about." the girl said with little enthusiasm and thinly veiled bitterness. Her accent was clearly French, and up close she was even more stunning. 

"Yes, let me introduce Christine. Christine, this is Madeline, an old friend." 

An old friend, Christine wondered. When exactly did they get together? It is obvious being in proximity to them that this girl had clearly had her husband, and had him more than once. Had it been a recent affair, and he told her nothing about it? It must clearly have been when she was younger - she would soon hear a story from Peter about how he had seduced an innocent sixteen year old French girl, she was sure.

"Pyotr, she is quite lovely, as you have said, but does she know how to please you, and will she accept you? Your happiness is my only concern." 

Bitch! Who does she think she is? Christine was somewhat in shock being spoken of this way, first as if she wasn't standing right there, and second, having her relationship and sexual adequacy questioned by a child! The words stuck in her throat and she turned to Peter (Pyotr? What the fuck was that about anyway? That isn't French.) for help.

"Madeline, that is quite enough! This is my wife and you will afford her the same respect you afford me. I have told you she makes me incredibly happy and you must accept that." 

He turns to Christine apologetically "I'm so sorry my dear. Madeline has spent quite a bit of money on this film and is nervous about its opening. Please forgive her. She has always meant well."

Christine had too many questions swirling in her head and needed to get her husband alone to ask them. That seemed impossible in the moment so she pivoted to another topic. "Well Madeline, your film, what is it about?" she managed. 

"The Battle of Agincourt, my dear. I am sure it means nothing to you, as it does to most Americans, but it is a passion of mine. History, that is." And with that she looked up a Peter with an undisguised longing. 

Peter knew when to make an exit, and also knew significant damage had already been done that he would likely be paying for later. "Well, bon courage, mademoiselle. We will see you soon at the after party." He kissed her hand, ever the gentleman.

He took his wife by the arm and moved toward the theater with her. Glancing back, Christine saw Madeline's eyes moisten as she watched them go. In that moment, as much as she wanted to claw the girls' eyes out a few minutes past, she felt a deep sympathy for her. Something was hurting her very much, and she suspected that it was seeing Peter happy, and with another woman. 

The film was quite good, but very sad. The reviews would call it an "elegiac longing for another time" and "a romantic but unapproachable work." Madeline had a producer credit and a story credit on the film, Christine noted. Madeline Aries. The after party seemed to be a somber affair. While everyone was very polite, no one seemed to have much sense that this film would perform in any way, at least in the US. Madeline seemed to brush it off as if she already knew the Americas were a lost cause. She stole glances at Peter and Christine occasionally as they mingled. Christine pulled her husband aside as soon as it was feasible to find out what was going on.

"You've had a relationship with her, haven't you?" she asked directly. Peter had never lied to her. Ever. But he had certainly omitted quite a great deal. Still, he wasn't going to start now. 

"Yes, I'm sorry, my darling. I had inquired and was told she wasn't coming. I had very much wanted to see the film. I knew how important it was to her. But I wouldn't have put you through that if I had known. You see what she's like." 

Christine felt a bit of a lump in her throat to hear how important this woman was to him that he needed to see her film, but she pressed on. 

"But your relationship with her was before we met? That's all I want to know. You just never said anything about her and I need to know that. Everything else can come later." 

He hesitated. "Yes, it was before we met. But I would be lying if I said she wasn't very important to me. It...it would never have worked, but I know she loved me deeply. Sometimes people have a connection, but that doesn't mean they can spend the entire rest of their lives together. Trust me, she has a good soul, and a good heart. She just has a difficult time with the world sometimes."

Christine sighed. She loved this man, but this was the first time in two years she felt she wasn't getting the full truth. Rather than go on the defensive, and lose ground in his eyes, she made a tactical decision in the moment to be the bigger woman. And she felt she had to let Peter know that she trusted him completely. 

"Okay, love. I trust you. I can see how important she is to you, which means I have to know her better. She seems so sad tonight. Perhaps we should take her home and try to cheer her up?" 

Peter smiled. He loved this woman, and she never failed to amaze, but they were on dangerous fucking ground. While Christine didn't know what she was getting herself into, he did suppose that Madeline would be more accepting of her if she knew her more intimately. 

"Okay, do you want to tell her or should I?" he said with a wink. 

"You can. I feel like you two need a moment alone anyway. Meet me at home."

She watched as Peter crossed the room, and touched Madeline's shoulder. Christine shuddered and wondered if she was making a terrible mistake. That simple gesture was the exact one he had made to her their very first meeting, and where her butterfly now resided. Madeline listened to Peter for a few minutes as he was clearly trying to make peace and explain the situation. Madeline looked down for a moment when he was finished, and then back up into Peter's eyes, and embraced him. He held her back, trying to comfort her. He looked over to where Christine was standing, but she was gone. 

Christine went home fighting back a tear or two. She hadn't felt this way in two years of marriage. She had always felt safe and secure in her relationship with Peter, never once questioning his love and affection for her. She had never doubted their connection. She still didn't, but now she had a suspicion that their union wasn't as unique and special as she thought. 

The truth was that her husband had secrets and a past love affair with another woman. Woman? More like a girl. Perhaps their secret was just that he was ashamed to have been with such a young girl? What were the laws on something like that in France? She had no idea, but suspected it was more forgiving for an older man to be with a young girl there. 

How much did she really know about his past anyway? He had traveled so extensively, it seemed he had an excellent working knowledge of most cities they visited. But she always attributed this to his interests and success. 

Still, he himself had not given her any reason to doubt his love for HER, and that was what mattered most. It was still possible she could control this situation somewhat. And yes, there was a part of her that wanted to prove herself to this girl. To prove she was worthy of Peter.

The door opened and Peter and Madeline arrived. Madeline walked over to her, and kissed her on each cheek. Was this genuine, or the kiss of Judas, she wondered. 

"I'm so sorry Christine, for my behavior tonight. Seeing Pyotr and you together has been quite difficult for me, I won't deny it. When I heard of his marriage I stayed away, but I wanted to meet this woman that I hear is so important to him, perhaps the way I was." 

At this, she shed a single tear. Peter was out of earshot, fixing drinks. This was not for his benefit, so Christine gave her a pass, and just assumed she was an emotional being. Perhaps they were not so different, but that wasn't exactly a comforting thought. Did she really want to be Madeline 2.0?

Madeline was staring into her eyes, looking for what? Forgiveness? Compassion? A fatal flaw she could exploit to get back into Peter's life permanently? 

Christine knew that she preferred to be present for this inevitable act. She would rather Peter fuck this girl in front of her, with her, rather than be tempted to visit her privately. She would make the first move. 

She kissed Madeline on the cheek softly, tasting the salt of her tear with her tongue. The girl did smell amazing. It was surely a soft and sweet perfume to complement her natural scent. Her skin was so soft that it was almost hypnotic to touch her. She could see why Peter would be drawn to this girl. Who wouldn't be? She moved to her lips, kissing her softly to see how she would respond. Madeline waited a moment then opened her mouth, allowing Christine's tongue entrance. Their tongues began to battle, slowly at first, then with more aggression, seeking dominance over the encounter. 

Peter had returned with the drinks, but was now watching with fascination from several feet away as his past lover and his wife were locked in a very wet and passionate kiss. Passion after all includes more emotions than love alone, and he felt this would be a complicated pairing, but inevitable, if Christine was going to be in his life. 

Madeline unzipped Christine's dress in the back, and traced her fingers across her flesh, running one hand down her lower back toward her ass. There it stayed, while with her other hand, she pulled the black and white dress away from her flesh and let it pool around her feet on the floor. Not to be put at too much of a disadvantage, Christine slid the straps of Madeline's red dress down, and pulled the top of the dress down, freeing her breasts.

Here Christine gasped, despite herself. Madeline's breasts were ample, and perfect, with soft pink nipples set in the center of milky white globes. She sunk to her knees, cupping a breast in her hand and opening her mouth to take the nipple inside. Madeline ran her hands through Christine's hair and smiled as she accepted the worship of her breasts. After a few minutes of this, Christine attempted to regain the initiative, and removed the rest of the red dress blocking her view of Madeline's pussy. 

Her hair was neatly trimmed, leaving her pink pussy lips exposed. Of course she wore no panties. Christine stood, and led Madeline to the bedroom, pushing her back onto the bed and sinking to her knees. She would show this girl something of pleasure. Peter followed them, his interest rising. Madeline grabbed Christine's head and pulled it to her crotch. Christine didn't waver, and not only dove in with her tongue, but also began to finger the soft pink pussy in front of her with two fingers, and then three. Madeline began to breathe heavily, as Christine worked her pussy. 

Behind them, Peter removed his clothes and began to stroke his cock gently, rising to full hardness fairly quickly. Madeline came abruptly when she saw Peter's exposed cock being fisted. Her eyes hungered for it and her body shuddered as his wife ate her out. 

"Mmmm. I see why Peter likes you." she mused "Let me return the favor my dear." 

She positioned Christine on her back on the bed, away from Peter, and crawled to her pussy. Christine realized that Peter was directly behind Madeline and would have a perfect opportunity to begin fucking her young pussy. Wanting to appear open to this, she again tried to make the first move. "Peter, I know it's been awhile since you fucked that beautiful pussy. Go ahead my darling and fuck it. You can even cum in it if you want to. Don't hold back." She hoped she sounded convincing. The truth is that she wanted his seed in her pussy first, but didn't want to seem selfish or insecure. 

He moved forward, and while Madeline's tongue made contact with Christine's cunt, her husband's cock was pushing into another woman's pussy. She had watched this scene before, but Christine saw the pure joy on Madeline's face when she received Peter's cock again. Who knows how long it had been since their last coupling?

She resolved to enjoy the head she was getting and also get off on watching her husband plow a gorgeous young girl. Madeline was incredibly talented, and while she was feeling all sorts of emotions, not the least of which was jealousy, she wouldn't be able to hold out for long against her talented tongue, and young slender fingers. Good. She would come and then perhaps they could change positions. 

"Oh God, you're going to make me cum, you little slut. Keep fingering that pussy until I CUM!" Christine cried out as she climaxed.

Of course, seeing his wife lose herself with his former lover drove Peter over the edge more quickly than he expected. It didn't help that he was buried to the hilt in one of the hottest, tightest cunts he had ever experienced, one of his favorites, and his load rushed out in a torrent into the young girl. Both Christine and Peter's eyes were closed during their orgasms, but had they been looking, they would have seen a sly smile spread on Madeline's face as she captured that cum deep where she felt it belonged. 

Christine knew she lost the first round, if having an earth shaking orgasm could be considered a loss. But she felt she was well positioned for round two. It was most assuredly her turn to get properly fucked. 

"Peter, you had better get hard again and fuck your wife if you know what's good for you." She lay back and toyed with her own pussy, spreading her lips with her left hand, while slipping two fingers in from her right. She began pumping them in and out to entice the man. 

"Allow me to be of some assistance, and please, feel free to have a taste of what belongs to you." Madeline offered helpfully. She positioned her dripping cunt over Christine's face, pressing her snatch against her mouth. Christine received the gift gratefully. The mix of her husband's cum and the young girls juices helped drive her over the edge. She knew this act would be enough to get her husband hard enough to fuck her, and with Madeline's help, she was right. 

The nubile young girl helped Peter reach full hardness by taking him all into her mouth and cleaning her own juices from him. She then placed his cock at the entrance to his own wife's pussy as he thrust home. Watching his wife on her back, her athletic body breaking out into a sweat as he pumped into her, he knew that both these women were eternally part of his life, but that Christine was the love of his life. Madeline bent over, tonguing Peters cock as he pulled out, and Christine's lips and clit as he pushed in. 

Peter's orgasm approached. Christine was working her tongue up Madeline's cunt and was otherwise occupied. And so when Peter was close, Madeline seized the opportunity, and popped his cock out of his wife's cunt and into her own eager mouth. She acted quickly, and took his cock all the way to her throat, where his cum began shooting. He sighed, enjoying the sheer perversity of the moment, fucking his wife's pussy and finishing off in another girl's mouth. It was perfect. 

Madeline lifted herself off of Christine and moved up toward her mouth to kiss her deeply and show off Peter's cum. Christine felt like she had lost control. Her husband had ejaculated into another woman's pussy and mouth, and she had to rely on that woman to share his spunk with her. Under normal circumstances this would not be enormously difficult to handle, but with everything that went on that day, she felt like second place. After a long deep kiss, Madeline broke it off and walked over to Peter, kissing him as well, and wishing him goodnight. 

Her work was finished. In just one day she had planted the seeds of doubt in both their minds. She could wait, she thought; she had all the time in the world. Slipping into her red dress, Madeline then slipped out the door.

"Peter?" Christine nearly whined, "I need your cum tonight, just for me. Just once?" She knew what else he needed to hear to help him out, so she said it. "I loved seeing you pound that young pussy. It looked so hot the way you drilled into her, stretching that little pink hole. I know you liked shooting your load in her." 

She walked over to him and took his cock in her hand and straddled his lap. "Do you want to pretend that my pussy is hers? Do you want to shoot your load into Madeline's pussy again?" 

He was stiff in her hand now, and she eased onto him, knowing she would finally get what her pussy deserved, some nice sticky sperm. "Go ahead and fuck her pussy, baby. Forget about your wife and just fuck that young pussy until you cum. That's right, baby. That's right." 

She bounced up and down and she finally felt him shooting into her. She sighed with relief. "Mmmmm, good boy. That's a very good boy."

There were tears in her eyes.

They went to sleep without another word, but the truth was apparent. Madeline was not ancient history. She was part of Peter's life again, if she had ever left it, and now she was part of Christine's. While the sex had been great, for the first time in two years, Christine had no idea what the future would hold.



The Butterfly Pt. 05: The Opera



This is part five of our story, and it contains no sex! While it can be read individually, reading previous chapters may help you to get to know Christine and Peter better. We join our story in progress - Christine and Peter engaged in a threesome with Madeline, a mysterious young girl from Peter's past. Though Christine is his wife, it is clear Madeline has a powerful hold over him...

*****

If the next morning was difficult, the two weeks following were unbearable. After two years of exceptional communication in their marriage, Christine and Peter were barely speaking. Peter was finding excuses to work late or to travel without her. When he was around, he was lost in thought, as if the weight of the world was upon him. Christine made sexual overtures the next day following their tryst with Madeline, but he rebuffed her, explaining that after their Anniversary, and evening with Madeline, he was "fucked out" and needed a bit of time to recover. He left for LA the next day for a four day trip. Normally Christine would use his time away to find a new plaything, and let Peter know all about it after he returned. This time she just didn't feel up to it. 

He returned, and they made love his first evening back, but he was distant and distracted, and it was a fairly quiet affair. Madeline had returned to Paris, but she was still very clearly in their bed. 

Christine had just about enough of this. Peter was sitting quietly, staring out the window at the New York City skyline, from their condo penthouse uptown. She approached him from behind, and placed her hand on his neck, playing with his ear. 

"Darling, you have to talk to me. Tell me what's going on, what you're thinking. If we're going to survive this, we need to clear the air. About Madeline. About everything."

"If we're going to survive this?" he asked. 

He looked up at his wife a long time, so sadly, and then turned to gaze back out over the city. 

"You know, very little of this was here a couple of hundred years ago. People have come and gone - buildings, lives, lovers, hopes and dreams. No one really survives it, do they? I will love you till the stars go out, my darling. I will. I promise you. I'm sorry that's not enough." 

Christine was thunderstruck. Was he leaving her? Telling her it was over? One night with an old flame and they were broken? She took a step back, tears welling up in her eyes. 

"Why won't you fight for us?!" she yelled at him. "You'll love me till the end of time, but it's not enough?! What kind of BULLSHIT is this?!" 

She was sobbing now, but things were going from bad to worse. He rose. 

"I have to go to Paris, to speak to Madeline. I've been thinking about what to say to her since that night. I'm going to ask her to leave us alone, in peace. I hope you believe me. If you don't, I'll understand."

"Peter, you love her, it's so obvious. If you love her, why not be with her? Why be with ME if it's so difficult not to be with HER?!!" 

Christine grabbed an ancient vase and hurled it against the wall, nearly pulverizing it. Peter looked at it as though it was a great loss; one of his precious antiques. It probably had belonged in a museum. He seemed to be taking it rather well. 

"It's very complicated, my dear. I do love her, and probably always will. But you're my wife now and I love you terribly as well. I married you after only a few months of knowing you, and I did that for a reason. You know I have had a great deal of experience with women and you are truly special; very much one of a kind. And that is saying something in this world. I just need you to trust me right now. I chose you then, Christine, and I choose you now, if you think this is some sort of contest." 

Christine was furious with him, not so much because of what he was saying, but how he was saying it. So calm, so rational. He was like a machine sometimes the way he could suppress emotion in difficult times, as if none of this really mattered. Meanwhile her emotions were in overdrive. 

"I'm going with you then, if you insist on going. I'm not sending my husband into another woman's arms without a fight."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea. Madeline can be very emotional. She might not react well to what I have to tell her. She has been known to act drastically in the past when she has felt threatened. It seems to be something of a pattern with her. You have to let me go. I'm best equipped to handle her."

"Then go."

He reached out for his wife, but she pushed him away, and stalked out. She had already made up her mind he wasn't going to get away with this. She wouldn't be left here while he went to his young lover, no matter what excuses he offered. She would be in Paris on her own by early the next day. She and Peter had not traveled there previously, and now she knew why. She was in enemy territory. Still, two years with this man was enough to be able to find him in a big city. She knew the hotel he would be staying at from his credit card. He wasn't exactly trying to cover his tracks. Perhaps he thought she was just furious at him, and out getting fucked for revenge. She strongly considered it, and perhaps would, but right now she had more important things on her agenda. She sat at a cafe across from his hotel, waiting for him to make a move, to go out to see...her, whatever she was to him. When he did, she would be waiting.

Except he walked up behind her, kissed her on the cheek, and sat down at her table, smiling. 

"Shit." she said under her breath. 

He laughed. "My dear, I was in the city before you arrived, and have already been to see Madeline. She...sends her regards."

"Well, guess I'm caught. So how did things go with your precious Madeline?"

He paused and thought about it a moment. "I'm not going to lie to you. She doesn't think we should be together. She doesn't think you're right for me. She actually likes you quite a bit, but she thinks we're too different for it to work. In fact, she thinks...you'll leave me someday and she doesn't want to see me hurt."

"Well fuck what she thinks, that's what I think." 

"I agree with you, and I told her so. She said it would be our choice, yours and mine, and that she wouldn't stand in our way if it's what we wanted. I believe her." He seemed very open and truthful. Christine felt a strong sense of relief but was unwilling to forgive so quickly for everything that he had put her through these past couple weeks. 

"So what do we do next?" she asked "Go home? Act as if nothing has happened? I feel like you've kept so much from me and now I just don't know what to think. You haven't explained very much about any of this, and I've tried to give you your space, but Peter, any reasonable woman...any reasonable wife would expect more than this from her husband!"

He sat quietly as if deciding whether to move forward with the conversation, but he just couldn't. Not now, not here, and maybe not ever.

"My love, I've booked us tickets for the opera tonight. Let's spend a few days here and then go home. I don't want to have this discussion now. I just want to go back to being your husband. Can we do that tonight? Just be together?" 

She considered this. "Fine, but no sex until you've explained yourself in more detail." 

Knowing her the way he did, Peter guessed that he would have her tied up later that night, but didn't push his luck. "Whatever makes you comfortable, dear. Let's go get changed. Would you like to at least move into my hotel room for the rest of our stay?" 

She smiled despite herself. He laughed. It was a start.

Christine moved her things to Peter's hotel room and dressed for the opera. As they were about to depart, he produced an antique box and brought it to her. 

"My lady, I think it's about time you had these. They have been in my family for some time. I would love to see you wear them tonight." 

She was very touched but was still conscious of the fact that he was trying to get back into her good graces. She opened the box and saw the most lovely string of pearls. This kind of thing only happens in the movies, but sometimes life with Peter Walsh was like that. She had gotten used to it a bit, but was still touched. 

"Thank you, Peter. Of course I'll wear them. Help me put them on." 

She lifted her hair and he moved behind her, close, his breath on her neck as he put them in place. He kissed the back of her neck, and she let her hair back down and smiled. One step at a time, he thought. This could still be okay.

They attended Wagner's The Twilight of the Gods then drank coffee across the street at a small cafe. Around 3:00 AM they started heading back to the hotel. It was dark and the streets were empty, but they were still on Eastern Standard Time and were wide awake. Peter knew the side streets very well. 

There was one person that knew them better. 

Madeline stepped out in front of the couple silently, not ten feet from them. She wore a black uniform without any markings, her hair tied back in a tight bun, and was nearly invisible against the night. 

"Have you told her the truth Pyotr? I told you it would be her choice." 

Peter's face went ashen, almost helpless. Christine had never seen him not fully in control of a situation. Who was this girl? He moved forward to put himself in between the two women, but as he did, Madeline smoothly produced a Walther P-22 from behind her back and circled them to the left. She was clearly trained for something. Normal people don't move like that. She leveled the pistol at Christine's face. 

"You really love her, don't you? You're terrified she will know the truth, and then she will leave you. Have you even thought about her? What you are taking from this girl? The life she will be forced to live. You have been selfish, and foolish. Shall I end her life now? It will end soon enough as it is. Why prolong what is inevitable?"

"Don't do this," Peter pleaded "You will expose us. We just want to be together, to live our lives..."

"To live your lives as a lie, and deny her the truth! To USE her life and her body in service to your desires! If I didn't know you better, Pyotr, I would think you were a monster."

Christine was frozen, watching this exchange. She felt like she needed to say something in their defense. She was on Peter's side here, wasn't she? She needed to make this girl understand, but she was psychotic. 

"He freed me." was all she could manage, quietly shaking. "Why can't you understand?"

Madeline regarded her. "No. I will free you." 

She turned the P-22 on Peter, and put three rounds easily in his chest, without any hesitation. 

At first, he was only surprised, looking down as three small red dots began to expand on his white shirt. He dropped to his knees, his mouth open, looking first at Madeline, then at his wife. He might have spoken some last words of devotion to her, but instead simply fell forward, his head and face cracking against the pavement. 

Christine was horrified. She went quickly to Peter's side to roll him over, but there were no signs of consciousness. Madeline hadn't moved an inch since she fired. 

She continued to regard Christine and spoke "Let me give you some advice. Do as he asks." 

This did not register. Blind fury overwhelmed her as her husband lay dying in the street, but in this moment all she wanted was to kill the little bitch. She rushed her. Aside from a mixed martial arts workout class, Christine had never trained for anything. Still, she was in excellent physical condition and covered the distance quickly with her adrenalin rush. 

Madeline spun around her balletically, tangled her feet with only a small extension of her own right foot, and pistol whipped her in the back of the head, as she tripped forward. There was no malice in the action, only reflex and reaction. She had used exactly the necessary amount of force to end the fight decisively, and nothing more. Christine dropped to her hands and knees in the street and saw stars. Madeline hovered above her, and replaced her weapon in a small holster at her lower back. 

"Just remember, that could have been you. I'm sorry for what you have lost. Now live."

With that, she was gone, at one with the shadows. Christine crawled over to her husband's body, fishing in his blazer for his cell phone. She had to call an ambulance, the police, anyone. She pulled it free, when Peter stirred. 

"No hospital." he whispered. Then he began coughing hard, blood spattering the pavement. 

"You're fucking crazy! You're dying! I'mcallingthegoddamnambulance!!" 

He grabbed her wrist with a bloodied hand. It was cold and slippery against her skin. There was blood everywhere. He struggled to his knees, and then to his feet. She rose with him, staring at him in abject horror. He coughed several more times and took the phone from her hand, as she found herself frozen for the second time that evening. 

"Just do as I say, woman. I'm in no mood to argue." He buttoned his jacket to conceal his wounds as best he could, raised his collar, and began walking slowly back toward the hotel.



The Butterfly Pt. 06: Immortal



This is part six of our story, and it contains no sex! (Don't worry, more is coming) While it can be read individually, reading previous chapters may help you to get to know Christine and Peter better. We join our story in progress, after Peter has been gunned down in front of his wife by Madeline, a former lover...

*****

When Peter set foot in the hotel lobby, he was barely bleeding. By the time he ran a hot bath and slumped into the tub, the three holes in his chest were merely bright pink, barely visible through the muddy red water that surrounded him as he scrubbed himself clean. He turned the water to hot, laid back with his eyes closed and waited for the inevitable. It didn't come quite yet. He had to give Christine credit. She followed him back to the hotel, albeit at a safe distance, and stood at the door of the bathroom, watching him undress, and not saying a word. Finally, as he slipped into his black silken bathrobe, and collapsed into bed, she decided to broach the subject.

"So, I guess this is what you've been keeping from me; the big secret. Care to explain, or should I just check myself into the asylum?"

Peter sighed. He had never done this before - explained. He felt like he had gone through it in his head hundreds of times but had never come up with a great way to start. 

"There's nothing to be afraid of, darling. I'm the same man you've been loving, fucking, going to baseball games with, and forcing to eat your mother's cooking for the past two years. Yes, I have kept this from you, but you have to understand it is not something that is ever revealed. The risks are too great."

"Explain it. All of it." 

She sat down in the chair at a distance, and crossed her arms. Well, at least she was still here, Peter thought. He would have to do more damage control than anyone in history.

"Well, it's not like it is in the movies. There's no secret society, no superpowers, no swords or magic, no nanotechnology, no secret origin story, and no, I'm not from the future, or space, or an alien ship - I don't think so anyway. I'm just a man. I just won't age past this point, unless all of a sudden something changes and I do, and I won't die from anything this world or anyone in it throws at me. That's pretty much the gist of it." 

"So where ARE you from? Is your name really Pyotr? Oh...god...that means Madeline is..."

"Yes, just like me."

They sat in silence for a long time. Christine started to think back over the past weeks and years before it, making connections, filling in the blanks, replaying events in her head and fitting them into the new reality. She had a million "what if" questions, and a million questions about her husband's life. She realized she didn't know him at all, and everything had been a lie.

"If I stay here - if I don't walk out that door right this instant, will you be honest with me about everything? Answer every question?"

"Yes, everything I know. Do you promise me that you won't start freaking out when you hear the answers?"

Christine went over to the bar. She fixed herself a drink, drank half of it, and topped herself off. She returned to her seat. 

"I can't promise that, but I'll try, Peter, because you've been good to me. Because I've loved you so, and I know you've loved me. But I just don't know."

"Fair enough. Go ahead."

"What was your relationship with Madeline? How long have you know her? Why aren't you with her now?"

A long pause. "You're going to start freaking out."

"Peter!"

"Okay, okay. I've known her since...I don't know, the 6th or 7th century. It was Roman Gaul at the time. Things get a little foggy, you know, after 1300 years. It's easy to forget. We've...oh god...been married, I don't know, five times perhaps? It never works out. Never. But she and I have tried and have come together time and again over the ages. Sometimes we are together only briefly, and sometimes for a lifetime. What else are we supposed to do? It's so very lonely. We do connect, definitely for a time. But it ends up being impossible for us both to preserve and we often need a break. A long break. But we gravitate back toward each other. And...she's not the only one."

"So she's your ex-wife? The holy mother god worst bitch ex-wife ever that you keep letting back into your life?"

"That's certainly an oversimplification, but yes. She is one of my ex-wives."

"She shot you three times tonight."

"It wasn't the first time, my dear. I told you she was volatile."

"So, Agincourt. She's not just a history buff. That movie really meant something to her."

"Yes. It's why I was eager to see it. We were there, she and I. We were there 600 years ago."

"Do you...have any children...ugh, and do you have any with her?"

"Yes, we seem to be the same as any human as far as reproduction. It makes keeping track of your family tree rather difficult when there are so many branches, but yes, I'm sorry. They usually end up being quite exceptional, the children of an immortal, but there are very few of us, so it tends to be okay. And we cannot mate with each other. We are very secretive, and I've tried to let other men take credit for fathering my children. Most of us have values from a different age, as perhaps you have seen. Some among us consider us the fathers and mothers of history."

"How many?"

"How many children do I have? Oh god, that I don't know."

"Ugh, no. Not how many children do you have, how many of you are there?"

"There is a census, but it's not exact. We have a rough guess as to how it works. It seems one of us is born every hundred years or so. This has always seemed odd to me, because more people are being born on Earth now than ever before. You would think there would be more of us 'born' as well. Perhaps there will be and we just haven't seen it happen yet. Anyway, it's difficult to get to an exact number. It seems the earliest of us cannot remember our origins, so it's possible we predate the earliest civilizations. All in all, there are less than, say, 200 of us? There are no Neanderthal looking types, so I don't think it goes back that far. There are a few among us that have tried to record the secret history of our kind, but honestly, they don't know any more than the rest of us in terms of 'why' or 'how' we exist. They just keep track of the Lore."

"The Lore? The stories of your kind?"

"Yes, for the most part. All the stories we've inspired that is. Dracula, Rasputin, the Greek and Roman gods, our 'demigod' children, witches and wizards, magic, etc. The list goes on and on. We're not special, like I said. We don't have any unique ability, other than being able to heal very quickly and being unusually resistant to damage. We rarely get sick, injured, and whatever else there is - and when we do, we just don't die from it. Probably the biggest advantage is carrying forward your skill set, learning over multiple lifetimes rather than just one. We tend to be good at a lot of different things, and can become quite exceptional at them as well."

"Such as lovemaking?" She finally cracked a smile. It was a ray of hope for him that he hadn't lost her.

"Yes, that would be one thing. Another, as you saw with Madeline, is self-defense. There are times in all of our lives when we are hunted. When we must disappear or escape, or when we must fight. Imagine a practitioner of the martial arts who learns all they can in a lifetime. Their skill and knowledge would be vast, for a mortal. Now imagine that multiplied over ten lifetimes, or a hundred lifetimes."

"It sounds terrifying to be honest. What stops you from being completely selfish and self-interested, and trying to set yourselves up as the gods of us mere mortals?"

"It has happened. Some have tried. It is rather easy to amass and maintain great wealth and to cultivate powerful friends and allies. But it is a balance. It works both ways. For those who seek to upset that balance, there are those of us who would preserve it. Also, our justice...is severe."

"Your justice? What can you do?"

"Incapacitation, confinement, and exile from humanity are easier than you think. The proverbial Loki with his liver being eaten for eternity. That sort of thing. It happens sometimes. Also, and I think you should feel good about this next part, most of us are fundamentally good, or at least neutral. It seems that with great age, wisdom follows. You are our children, remember, in many ways. We have shaped your history and given birth to many of you. Most of us...love you all deeply, and wish to see you prosper. After all, we have to live here for eternity. We want Earth to be a paradise, not a cinder."

Christine finished the last of her drink and poured another. She would have been exhausted but her adrenaline was still coursing through her. She was, if this wasn't all bullshit, hearing the most important secret on Earth, and who doesn't like hearing a secret? She sat back down.

"So this is going to be a bitchy question, but I think I'm entitled. Why does Madeline get to be 20 years old forever? Not that you're not a handsome man, but you're not 20."

"Hah, she is trying to look older for her age, but it is another mystery I'm afraid. We just stop aging when we do. It's different for everyone. She got very lucky, I suppose you could say. Or not. It's more difficult to conceal your age when you're very young. I could pass for 35, or 55. I have more flexibility before I have to 'drop off the grid' I think is the phrase they use these days. We are all wrestling with what this new technology will mean for us. Fingerprinting, facial recognition software and the like will change things for us, but to us it is new, coming as it does in the briefest of moments where we are now. There is a movement among us to harness this technology and to control it to help conceal ourselves. Our resources are vast and none of us want to risk exposure. We have friends in many governments, but even they do not have a complete view. Were we ever exposed, in this day and age, it would be not just a media sensation, but the end of us. We would become lab rats and prisoners and never see the sun. We all fear that. It's why I have told you nothing. Why I would likely have never told you."

"You would have let me grow old, and believe that you always looked great, huh? That is a dilemma. You already have me thinking about how old I'm going to feel in 30 years."

"I know. I'm sorry. We normally don't become so attached to any one particular mortal. Hence Madeline's ire. If she thought you were just another of my playthings, she wouldn't give it another thought. But I married you. And you brought...you bring me such joy, and life. I have found something in you I have never found, not with her, nor with any other immortal or mortal. I told you that you were the love of my life. That is a great accomplishment, and also a great tragedy for me."

"Because in 70 years tops, I'll be dead even though I'm the 'love of your life.' And you'll be back with Madeline, or...someone else." 

Her eyes welled with tears. She was confronting her own mortality and the loss of her great love all at once, along with the knowledge that there was at least one woman out there, probably more, who loved her husband deeply, and would outlive her easily to have him again when she was gone. 

"Yes dear, you will die, and I will live. I have already lived with that thought for two years, but I have sought to enjoy our time together, what little time we have."

"Hah! To you I'm a terminal patient with 70 years to live if I'm lucky. If this weren't such a shitty, unbelievable situation, it would be kind of funny." 

Peter rose from the bed and kneeled down in front of his wife. He found her quite lovely when she was in tears. He took her hands in his, and kissed her cheeks. She pressed her forehead against his and took his face in her hands. 

"What are we going to do, Peter? This is crazy. How will I live like this? How can I live WITH this?"

"It won't be of any comfort, my love, but I have lived with this all of my very long life. I have watched every mortal I cared about grow old and die. Lovers, children, friends all have left me. It's enough to leave one feeling very detached, if you're not careful. But then I found you. And I knew I wanted to spend every moment I could with you. Let's not waste any more time. Will you be mine?"

Christine sniffed, wiped her face, and looked into the infinite blue eyes of a man she could only begin to comprehend. It was like looking into the storm of what her life would become if she stayed with him. But in that storm she saw his love and devotion for her.

"Why not?" She smiled. "Life's too short, right?"



The Butterfly Pt. 07: Payback



This is part seven of our story, and it contains sex! Finally! While it can be read individually, reading previous chapters will help you to get to know Christine and Peter better. We join our story in progress, after Peter has confessed his secret. He is an immortal, and Madeline, his former lover and wife. Christine is dealing with this revelation as best she can...

*****

Christine still had blood on her wrist, arms and dress, and went to wash up. Peter ordered room service. Yes, room service at 5:30 AM. Apparently, being shot dead worked up quite the appetite. For a time, they were both alone with their thoughts. Peter considered that so few mortals knew their secret that Christine was in immense danger. Many of his kind would never accept that an outsider could be trusted. They would no doubt try to silence her if they perceived she was a threat. Perhaps Madeline was right - he had doomed the love of his life by involving her at all, but it was too late now. If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

Christine stared at herself in the mirror after her shower, fully nude and exposed. She had no idea how she was going to do this. She loved Peter so deeply but his world had just gotten so much bigger to her. She was a tiny piece of his grand tapestry. She was a mortal among gods. Two years ago she was just going through the motions. She had found herself with Peter's help, but she would need to push beyond even that to walk with these beings. She looked into her own eyes and made a decision.

She walked out to the bedroom. "Peter, I need to meet with her - with Madeline. She and I have some things to get straight, and I need to get some control back in my life. I'm not going to live in fear of your world. If I'm going to be part of it, your partner, not just your plaything as you said, things have to be different than they are now."

Peter looked her up and down, with her hands on her hips and resolute "this is fucking happening" glare. "Darling when you're naked like that I can't say no to you, you know that. I'll set up a meeting."

"Good, and the next thing you're going to do is get over here and eat my fucking cunt. Now that I know you can't be killed I'm not going to be so goddamn gentle with you!"

Peter dutifully approached her, knowing his role in this situation was to be very submissive. When Christine wanted control, she would take it in the bedroom first to establish her position. He had never seen her with such ferocity in her eyes. She looked at his chest - the bullet holes were gone, replaced by new, whole, beautiful flesh. She ran her hand up along his torso, through his graying hair and kissed him on the mouth hard, biting down on his lip without caution and breaking the skin. She tasted copper. It spurred her on. She pulled back from him and slapped him hard in the face and shoved him onto the bed.

She mounted his face, smothering his mouth with her pussy. She ground down, not caring whether or not he could breathe. The bastard could take care of himself, she reckoned. She felt his tongue enter her like a good boy, and brought her thighs together in a vice like grip around his head. She grabbed the headboard for added leverage and raised herself up, and slammed down onto his mouth and nose. Peter struggled for breath and to avoid getting his nose broken, and knew he needed to bring her to orgasm before he passed out. He bit at her clit as he could and used his chin to put pressure on her slit. Christine began approaching her orgasm, and spread her thighs out and pushed all the way down on him with her box spread wide open and held there, giving him no air. She convulsed, her orgasm ripping through her like fire and pumped her hips quickly into his face. She looked back over her shoulder and saw his penis was standing up straight, as hard as an iron bar. She smiled wickedly.

She raised herself up off of him and heard a swift intake of a lungful of air. It was the only air she would allow him. She slid down his chest swiftly, grabbed his cock hard, forcing the head to a brilliant purple, and inserted it in her cunt. She had not had a great fuck in two weeks, and she was about to take it out on this dick in a very serious way. She put her hands around Peter's throat and squeezed, slamming down hard on his cock, over and over. She tightened her grip until his face went pink, then red. His hands went up to her wrists reflexively trying to stop her from choking him out, but she leaned forward and squeezed harder, her nails digging into the flesh of his neck, feeling his windpipe narrow before being crushed. Let's see how resilient he is after all, she thought.

After two years in this man's bed, she knew he was about to shoot. 

"NO!" she shouted, and released his neck abruptly giving him an opportunity to suck in another much needed breath. 

She dismounted him, and swiftly gripped his cock with her hand and squeezed, feeling the cock attempt to twitch, but stifling it. She grabbed his balls with her other hand and squeezed them as well. 

"AUGHHH!" he cried out, as if he was being tortured. 

It was a good thing they had the penthouse or anyone in ear shot would have considered calling the police.

Christine waited a moment until she was sure he wouldn't come, then plunged her head down on his cock and started sucking the way she would have sucked on an area of his chest to give him a hickey, trying to bring blood to the surface of his skin, while maintaining a grip on his balls that would have reduced another man to tears. She made no effort to keep her teeth out of the way. 

"FUCK! Don't tear it off!" he pleaded.

She considered this a possibility at her current pace, and decided to end his misery. She removed her mouth and while continuing to asphyxiate his balls, started pulling on his cock with her hand unrelentingly. He felt a stinging sensation on his shaft as she quickly rubbed him raw, but he was ready and erupted up onto her face and neck with a pent up fountain and a heavy sigh of relief.

"There. Perhaps that will teach you to be a little more honest with me in the future, my love!" she declared triumphantly, as she proceeded to spoon her husband's cum off her neck with her fingers and lick them.

He was panting heavily, and cradling his genitals. "Of course, dear. I assure you I won't forget this lesson anytime soon." He smiled.

She threw herself onto the bed next to him, pressed her head into his shoulder, and lightly played with his cock as she fell asleep. It had been the longest night of her young life.



The Butterfly Pt. 08: Madeline



This is part eight of our story. Reading previous chapters will help you to get to know Christine and Peter better. We join our story in progress, after Peter has confessed his secret. He is an immortal, and Madeline, his former lover and wife. Christine is dealing with this revelation as best she can, and demands a meeting with Madeline...

*****

They awoke midday. Peter made several calls while Christine prepared herself and put on what she liked to call her "war paint" -- the thick eyeliner that made her feel strong, armored, and in conjunction with her black leather pants and jacket, like a warrior. She felt she would need it for this encounter with Madeline. 

"You're sure I can't talk you out of this, my dear? I am concerned about your safety, which I want to talk to you about after I've made some arrangements, but I think you'll be physically safe with Madeline. She got want she wanted last night and forced the issue. If she had wanted you dead, she certainly had every opportunity. I am more concerned about you continually putting yourself into this emotional 'no win' situation between the two of you. I don't want to see you further upset."

Christine zipped up her boots. "Peter, upset doesn't really begin to cover it. This is a whole new world I have to start defining myself in - your world. She's a big part of that, but also, as you said, she forced the issue. I want her to hear my decision from me, and know that I'm not backing down from my life with you. She may win in time, but you are most decidedly mine for as long as I get to have you." 

He embraced her. "That's so good to hear, darling. I have always admired your flexibility and strength. Thank you for accepting this cross and bearing it with me."

She kissed him sweetly on the mouth, and touched her forehead to his. "We can do this. Now, where am I meeting her?"

Paris was a beautiful city, of course, but Madeline's apartment was stunning. Modern, but filled with classic art, antiques, and furniture, it reminded her of Peter's tastes. She wondered how much they had influenced each other over the years. While she had talked a good game with him, she was afraid. She was walking into the lion's den alone, to meet a woman infinitely older and more experienced than she, who has had her husband time and again throughout history, and who probably had little respect for her as she was clearly 'the lesser race.'

Christine was shown to the study. Madeline appeared moments later, fresh from a bath apparently, in a thin white silk robe which extended only halfway down her thighs, wearing no makeup, and with wet hair. She was elegant and seemingly completely vulnerable when compared to Christine's layers of protection. She looked even younger than Christine's initial guess of 20. Of course, she had been off by more than a millennium anyhow. Her nipples were clearly visible beneath the robe and were quite pert. She had the body of a teenager, forever. Christine rolled her eyes at this, and Madeline laughed.

"I'm glad we could catch up, alone, just the two of us. No games, and no men."

"You shot my husband three times last night. And now you're standing there in a see through silk robe (which, by the way, is beautiful). My life has definitely taken a turn for the weird."

"You're right, let's sit." She gestured to an antique brown leather couch, waited for Christine to sit, and then positioned herself directly next to her, with her thighs already sticking slightly to the leather. 

"Pyotr told me he has answered many of your questions, but that you have something to say to me. Go ahead, my dear."

Christine paused a long moment before being able to begin. "I want to thank you. What you did was horrible, but I would probably have never learned the truth without you taking action. I've thought a lot about you. And about you and Peter being together throughout history, and what he means to you. When we first met, when we all first fucked, I felt like you were some young thing trying to break up my marriage. Now...now, I find out that's me. Shit..."

A tear began welling up in Christine's eye and a lump developed in her throat, already. She had wanted to be strong so badly, and here she was choking up so soon.

"Shhhh. It's okay." Madeline caressed her face, kissed her cheek, and swept her hair back behind her ear. She hugged her tightly, and Christine let her, letting go and putting her head against the girl's neck. "Just let go." 

The tears came freely, and the sobs intensified. They sat there like that for many minutes while the woman in black cried fiercely into the girl in white's shoulder and chest. After Christine composed herself, she sat up.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Shit. I probably should have waited before coming here. Peter was right. As usual."

"It's okay my dear, this is all so new for you. I can't even imagine how you're feeling. Perhaps it would help if I tell you what I told Pyotr. I told him it would be your choice, the two of you together. He has done something unusual, not unheard of, but it is unusual. He has chosen to marry and spend a life with a mortal. Usually we keep our relationships with them casual, occasionally mating, occasionally falling in love, but always moving on. He has told me that he sees something in you that is special to him, and I respect that. He and I have had centuries together, when you add them up, but I do not possess his heart...the way that you do...right now, as much as that disappoints me. And I cannot give him children. We cannot have children together."

Christine looked into her brown eyes, and took her hands in her own. She was just a woman after all, at least sometimes. "I know. Peter told me." 

"Pyotr is old, and wise, but even he does not fully understand women after all this time. And he cannot comprehend what it means to grow old and die. Not himself. I felt that if he was going to make this commitment to you, then you needed to know the truth. I once had a lover myself that I shared our secret with. I let it be her choice whether she remained with me, grew old while I remained young, and became the scorn of those who saw us. But the world was a much larger place then. You could live a lifetime in quiet seclusion without the prying eyes of mortal or immortal. It is not like that now. And so telling you the truth became ever more important. I sensed that he would not, and so I gave him the push he needed."

"That was one hell of a push. You're not quite the same woman sitting here that you were last night." 

"I just wanted you to have a choice. I never had any say in my life and what it has become. I wanted more for you."

"You can afford to be magnanimous can't you? You win in the end no matter what. I die. You live. You will have him again."

"Perhaps. I am one of the women that loves him deeply in this world. I'm sure you will come across the others. Be careful of Cassandra. She is quite the...bitch. She tried to behead me once. She will not be pleased that Pyotr is giving his heart to a mortal woman."

"Wait, what? Behead you? What...happened?"

"It does not work. We are too resistant to be cut that way. Our skin can be fragile...human...in some ways but our bones and many tissues inside...indestructible. Perhaps Pyotr was minimizing our abilities for you, to not scare you any further. But you should know what you are up against. I told him to tell you. Merde. If she had found you when you were unprepared, and knew what I know about the way he loves you, I hate to think what will happen."

"Are you just trying to scare me? Is this another game? Tell me I'll never be safe and then I'll leave him, just like that?"

"My dear, you are not safe. Whether you believe me or not is up to you. But I have discussed with Pyotr and I want to help, now that you are committed. I want to help keep you alive. For Pyotr's happiness that he has as much time with you as you are able. And because...I like you very much. I am saddened to admit it, but if you were one of us, you would be a better fit for him than I. I see that now. And when, if, I do get him back, I know that he will be diminished without you."

"Can I ask...are you like Peter? Can you not remember where you were born?"

"No, he is one of our oldest. I can remember my life when it was still a life, my childhood when I would play, and my mother and father, our struggles. I have always liked to believe that remembering those things, remembering my life, makes me more...human than those who cannot. He tries, but I think he is missing something."

Christine listened to her and felt like she was a bit under her spell. Is this what it was like with all of them? Were they all so wise and so very mysterious, like the depths of a vast ocean, waiting to be explored? She leaned forward suddenly, slid her hand around what she would probably always think of as the 'young girl's' waist, and kissed her. Apparently this did not come as much of a surprise as Madeline yielded to her and responded with equal excitement and passion. This time their tongues did not wrestle for dominance -- their feelings were real and tender. Christine reached down and unfastened the white robe, reaching inside it to cup and fondle those perfect breasts. As they continued to make out tenderly, she reached down and found a bare pussy, already moist and awaiting her fingers. She toyed with it, flicking the clit, and massaging the lips of that slit. Madeline was becoming frustrated. 

"Put your fingers in me. I want all of you."

Christine obliged, and as the tight cunt opened up, stretching to fit first three then four fingers, it became more and more slippery, allowing her to thrust harder and push her fingers deeper with each thrust. 

They continued to kiss passionately, and Madeline was now up on her hand, riding her. Her still damp hair dangled into Christine's face, her breasts bouncing.

"Oh god, you are so beautiful. Please make me cum. Do not stop!" she cried. She pumped her hips faster and faster, taking quick breaths, her heart racing, until she began coming all over Christine's hand. Her pace slowed, and then stopped, but they held each other that way for a time. 

Christine continued to play with her pussy, enjoying the slippery wetness. "May I?" Madeline asked, as she reached to her neck and began to unzip her leather jacket, pushing it off of her. She then undressed her the rest of the way, finally wrestling the leather pants down her legs and throwing them away from the sofa with a huff. 

"I want to be close to you," Madeline purred, "I want to feel you."

They sat opposite each other on the sofa, facing one another, their legs spread out, each taking in the others' body. They moved together, their legs crossing until they were in a tight embrace, their slippery and bare cunts sliding up against each other. They undulated together, their hips thrusting in unison, holding each other closely. Madeline reached down to Christine's ass and pulled her in even tighter, and ground their bodies together. 

"Cum for me," Christine whispered in her ear. "I can feel your wet lips rubbing right up against mine. I'm coming. I'm coming. Come with me!"

Wrapped together so tightly, they did come, and they held onto each other for dear life until they came back down to Earth. They kissed each other sweetly and lightly for a few more minutes and then disengaged. 

Madeline replaced her robe, prepared Christine a drink as she was getting dressed, and sat back down next to her. 

"Now that you have decided, and now that we have cleared the air, I want to help you if I can. Together, Pyotr and I have friends who will help. He wants nothing more than to protect you, his beloved, and I want to protect him from loss. And I wouldn't mind keeping you around as well if you are going to continue to fuck me like that."

"Gosh, good thing I am decent in bed or I'd be up shit's creek with the two of you, huh? Delightful."

"What a charming way you have with words. You don't know it yet, but you will like what we have in store for you. Pyotr will fill you in when we have all the details prepared."

"Thank you...again, Madeline. I know we got off to a rocky start, and that things won't be easy, but I am really trying here, to be equal to the challenge of being a part of your world. It means a lot to me that I don't have to think of you as an enemy."

"My dear, we are not enemies, but do not mistake me. My loyalty will always be to Pyotr. If putting a bullet into your pretty head somehow protects him from harm or pain, I will have to do it. I would, of course, prefer the alternative. There is not enough love in this world as it is."



The Butterfly Pt. 09: Sesamus



This is part nine of our story. Reading previous chapters will help you to get to know Christine, Peter, and Madeline better. We join our story in progress, after Peter has confessed his secret. He is an immortal, and Madeline, his former lover and wife. Christine makes her peace with Madeline, but is warned of impending danger from the Immortal world...

*****

Later that day, Christine and Peter met at the Jardin des Plantes and strolled arm in arm in the fading sunlight, enjoying the lushness of the garden and the sight of the many French locals and tourists alike. They had enjoyed few moments of peace in the past couple weeks, and were happy to just savor the others' company and begin building back toward a semblance of a normal relationship. 

Christine filled Peter in entirely on her rendezvous with Madeline, including every graphic detail of their coupling. At one point in their walk, he had become so aroused that they found a secluded spot in the garden where she quickly dropped to her knees and freed his prick from the straining confines of his pants. She lubed it with her mouth and then needed to stroke him with her hand for only a minute or less until he was ejaculating directly onto her tongue, and down her throat. She swallowed all of it, and zipped him back up. They were very practiced at this form of public pleasure and were finished in only a couple of minutes.

They settled onto a park bench and discussed their next move. 

"So it's obvious that I have less to fear from Madeline than the other members of the Peter Walsh fan club, not to mention any other immortals who are less than pleased with a mortal knowing about their secret."

"Yes," Peter replied, "Cassandra is a very jealous woman. I haven't seen her in centuries, but if she decides to come after you out of spite, it could go very badly. There aren't very many individuals I would consider a threat though. Less than a handful. We have sealed away those who have been the true megalomaniacs and psychopaths among us. Still, it is enough for me to want us to get away on an extended sabbatical, and bring you up to speed. I have already made the arrangements at the studio for me to spend some time abroad, traveling. You should do the same. Then, I want us to travel to a safe place where we can gather our friends together and prepare you.

"Oh, a working vacation, how lovely." she replied sarcastically. Christine was unenthusiastic about spending an extended period of time in a bunker, or a library, or any other place she would be squirreled away from the world.

"Don't worry, my dear. I know a place you will be more than comfortable in. A few close friends and I share it as a retreat. We also are patrons of the town surrounding it, providing additional safety and security. It was known to me first as Sesamus. I think you will find it a nice combination of beautiful vacation spot and quiet retreat."

"And what do you have planned for me while I'm there? I hope we will be meeting some interesting people." she said seductively. 

"Oh yes, I think you will find them interesting indeed. But it's not all play, dear, not even close. I want you to be able to defend yourself, if you run into trouble. By our standards, your knowledge is anemic. You're in great shape, believe me I know, but fucking like a champion and fighting like one are very different skill sets." 

They both laughed at this.

"I don't see how you could expect me to keep up. I'm not like you."

"No one expects you to be more than human, but you'll have the opportunity to work with some of the finest minds in our world. You will surely pick up something, as smart as you are. And there are some basics to understand; firearms and self defense. Just so I don't need to worry as much about you, either at my side or when I'm not around, if something happens."

"Sounds like fun actually. If I am getting to meet some of your close friends, it's all the better. How's the girl/boy ratio going to be? I love being the center of attention." she said with a wink.

"Hah! You will find everything quite pleasing, but you will have a bit of competition as well. Madeline will be joining us there in time, and has offered to work with you. But enough questions. I'd rather you see it for yourself. We leave in the morning."

Sesamus was the nearest thing to a vacation island fortress that Christine had ever seen. They flew to Ankara, Turkey, and took a helicopter another 100 miles or so to the island. A narrow stone bridge connected the Great Island, which jutted out into the Black Sea, with the mainland. There was a second, smaller island, known as Rabbit Island not connected to the Great Island that housed a private villa and facility where Peter and Christine would be staying. The only way onto Rabbit Island was by sea, air, or as Christine would later learn, a secret undersea passage connecting the two islands. A combination of Roman and Byzantine style architecture defined the village, which was located on the Great Island.

Christine was definitely impressed. She knew that Peter was a man of means, but she was only now getting a glimpse behind the curtain of what "old money" really looked like. They took a quick helicopter tour of the island and came in for a landing. As they descended, and were still 100 feet away from the helipad, she saw what appeared to be a very large gentleman striding out to meet them. 

"Is he?"

"One of my best friends in the world, yes. And one of the most brilliant tacticians among us. He has sired and trained some of the great military leaders in history. And has been looking forward to meeting you. Don't be intimidated though. You would refer to him as a 'sweetheart.'"

They landed, and the enormous man strode out, partially bowing out of necessity. Apparently when you are over 6'5" a helicopter's rotor blades make you fairly nervous. Christine took all of him in. He was a gorgeous black man, incredibly well muscled and defined, with a short but full black beard, and appeared to be in his early 40's. She had a hard time believing he was much less than 300 pounds. His arms were nearly as thick as Christine's head, but he swept low and took her hand in his and kissed it sweetly. His beard felt so fuzzy on her skin, she already wanted to run her hands through it.

"So pleased to meet you. Peter was not exaggerating when he spoke of your beauty. Welcome to Sesamus. I'm Isidro, but my friends call me Sid."

His voice was deep and his eyes dark chocolate. He turned to Peter, and the men embraced like brothers, which she supposed they were. There was much back slapping, and Sid even lifted Peter off the ground with joy.

"How long has it been, my friend? Five years? Ten? It is good to see you again!" Sid said with genuine affection. This being the third immortal Christine had ever met, she was beginning to see patterns. These individuals were, thus far, always larger than life, full of confidence, charisma, and spirit - the pinnacle of what humanity was capable of being. 

She didn't think she would ever get used to this, being something of a child amongst them, but after speaking to Madeline she felt she had something to offer, a mortal perspective perhaps? She would try not to forget that in her dealings with them. She would not be a charity case, weak and unable to defend herself. If they were offering her a way to stand with them, she would take it, and learn all she could.

"Come inside my friends. There are others for you to meet, Christine. We have quite a group on hand for this occasion." Sid offered her his extremely large arm, and she took it at the elbow. She felt like a kid at his side and wondered what he was like as a lover. She had never been with anyone nearly this size. Peter displayed no jealousy at all, and cracked a grin as he watched the two of them together. He and Sid had always shared everything and he knew Christine would be in for a treat when the time came. 

The furnishings and decor reminded Christine of a villa one might have lived in during the ancient Byzantine era. She wondered how much was restoration and how much was original. Each and every room was filled with marvels to the eye, from sculpture to pottery. Very little modern technology was evident. Everything was incredibly authentic. She supposed it would have to be when so many of these individuals would know the real thing and how it looked and felt from artifice.

They arrived in a lounge area with only small tables laid out with food. Her eye was first drawn to someone she assumed was another immortal, just because she was there, but was not really giving off that vibe. She was a petite, and gorgeous, Chinese girl, dressed in a skimpy white bikini. She was lounging and eating some grapes, and when they entered she immediately sprang up and ran to Peter, giving him a huge hug, and burying her face in his chest. She looked like she was just out of college and on spring break.

"Peter, it's amazing to see you! It's been too long. She reached up to pull his face down to kiss him on the cheek."

"Hello Shan Shan, it's good to see you too. Please meet my wife, Christine."

Christine immediately braced for another Madeline-like cold introduction to one of Peter's old lovers, but the girl turned to her with a bright smile and shining dark eyes and hugged her tightly as well. She was tiny. Perhaps 5'4 with a very slim body, she radiated sexiness and modernity. Christine wondered if she was perhaps Sid's mortal lover. She couldn't tell. 

"It's such an honor to meet you. I've heard you were on the way, and that I would finally have an age appropriate friend around here!"

"Oh, so you're...like me then?!" Christine ventured, "What brings you here? These guys trying to tilt the boy/girl ratio in their favor still?"

"I'm here for the same reason as you, I think. They want us both to learn how to defend ourselves. I'm new, you know."

"You're...new?" 

Peter jumped in to clear up the mounting confusion. "Ah, Christine, Shan Shan is the most recently discovered of us. I found her, actually. I was on a business trip and heard some whispers about a Chinese girl who was still so youthful and beautiful looking even though she was in her 40's. I visited her and knew right away. We talked, and she wanted to remain in Hong Kong as long as she could, and as long as it still made sense for her to. That was 10 years ago. I assume you're here because you changed your mind?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "You're such a gentleman, Peter, but it's okay for Christine to know. I was working in a high end brothel in Hong Kong. I'm not ashamed of the work at all. I worked there because I liked it. I liked the sex, the money, and I was their most famous girl. Men would come from all over the world to be with me. No one really understood how I could be in my 50's and still look the way I do. But it was starting to scare me. People were starting to ask too many questions and they wanted me to get tests at the hospital so they could figure out my secret. So I called the number Peter told me to call, and within a day, Sid showed up and took me away from all that. And...I just want you to know, Peter is a very honorable man. We did not sleep together. He just wanted to help me." 

She beamed up at both men with gratitude. "Now they said I should spend some time here learning how to take care of myself in the world, and that you're here for the same reason, so the timing is very good! I'll feel a lot less intimidated about all this if we're doing it together!" 

She took Christine's hand in hers, and smiled her perfect, graceful, smile again. Christine could easily see how Shan Shan would delight the men of the world. She was a perfect beauty and such a joy of a person. She felt an immediate fondness and protectiveness of her right away. 

"Of course, it will be a lot more fun for us to do this together. Can't wait to get started!"

They all sat down and enjoyed the food that had been laid out for them. There were a handful of staff that came and went with food and drink with perfect manners and impeccable dress. It was going to be a great vacation, Christine thought, looking over at both Sid and Shan Shan.

She leaned over to Peter and whispered in his ear. "Why didn't you sleep with her? You don't find her attractive?"

"On the contrary, I find her extremely appealing. Definitely want to get inside that tight little pussy, but we had just met and I was trying not to confuse the situation with any sexual or emotional feelings. I was just trying to talk to her about who she is, and what her future would be like. It's been 10 years since I've seen her."

"Well, I'm happy to invite her to our room - just say the word."

"The word is given, my dear, but you should know me well enough by now to know a girl like that couldn't be turned down! And what do you think about Sid? He has been staring at you since we arrived and I don't blame him. You're glowing in this light."

"Oh god, yes, I have to try that as soon as possible. It's okay isn't it?"

"Of course, my dear. Everything is permitted. Except, you'll have to ask him. He may have some rules."

"Rules?!"

"Just ask him."

After dinner she did just that. After letting Shan Shan know how beautiful she and Peter found her, how much they both wanted to be with her, and watching her blush, Christine approached Sid. He cut her right off.

"Before you even ask, I have to let you know that you are here to train. With me. I'm telling you and telling Shan Shan that there will be no sexual activity until it is appropriate. If the two of you spend your nights doing what I know we all want to be doing, you'll be showing up the next morning in a sad, sad shape. We have a lot to do and I want to make sure we're doing things right. Understood?"

Christine made a pouting face, and put her hand on the big man's chest, and brought her lips to his ear, brushing it. "You just let me know when it's appropriate, Isidro." she whispered seductively. And she gave his ear a small bite. 

She wasn't able to tell, but Isidro was blushing.



The Butterfly Pt. 10: Training



This is part ten of our story. Reading previous chapters will help you to get to know Christine, Peter, Madeline, Sid, and Shan Shan better. We join our story in progress, after Peter has confessed his secret. He is an immortal, and Madeline is his former lover and wife. Christine makes her peace with Madeline, and because of impending danger from the immortal world, they travel to Peter's island retreat/fortress, Sesamus, for training, where Christine meets Peter's friend Sid and a rather "new" immortal, Shan Shan...

*****

Peter teased Christine all night before they went to sleep. Sid had called an end to the festivities early and ordered everyone to bed. Of course, being ordered to bed was no fun at all if you couldn't do anything once you got there. Peter promised she would be even more aroused and frustrated the next evening after the display he and Sid were preparing, but would offer no additional details. 

They arrived at what Christine would come to think of as the dojo, bright and early. It was in a separate building of the villa, next to a sprawling gym and pool, with adjoining hot tubs and saunas of varying types and temperatures. There were several colored concentric circles on the floor of the dojo itself, the smallest of which was five feet in diameter. It was inside of another ten feet in diameter, and the outlying circle was twenty. Even more fascinating was an area where a number of modern and more ancient weapons were secured; everything from bladed weapons to pistols and rifles.

Sid and Peter went off to a men's dressing area and Christine found a private area designated for women. Shan, as she had asked Christine to call her, had already arrived and was fully nude when Christine walked in. Her small, slender body was perfect, and Christine imagined it was so finely honed after decades of fucking. That's one way to keep in shape! She had small, pert, brown nipples that she would have loved to fill her mouth with, but she dutifully changed into the perfectly form fitting white sports bra and workout pants laid out for her. Shan had exactly the same uniform in a much smaller size. As Christine was changing she looked in the mirror and saw her discreetly checking out her body as she changed. They made eye contact in the mirror and smiled.

They walked back out to the dojo together, and she immediately knew what Peter had been hinting at. He and Sid were stripped down to the waist, wearing more traditional karategi uniforms for their lower bodies. They looked like magnificent specimens of maleness. Peter was incredibly fit, but both ladies stared at Sid's impressive physique, that of a champion Olympian fighter. Peter looked over at Sid, shook his head, and laughed as if they were sharing a private joke. Sid always got all the looks. The ladies sat down on the floor with their legs crossed and waited for the lesson to start. They watched the men stretch for about fifteen minutes, and attempted to emulate some of what they were seeing. Shan was far more successful. Was this girl double jointed, Christine wondered, or just used to being bent into a pretzel?

Sid finally stood up, and began "While it's going to be a long road, we wanted you ladies to see where you were headed. Well, where you would be headed if you spent a few thousand years, or more, looking at my good friend here, practicing. We obviously don't expect miracles - we just want to teach you defense tactics. We also wanted to show you that a properly trained fighter, even of much smaller size..." He stopped to snicker. "...can overcome a larger opponent. A much larger opponent!"

"Any time you're ready, my friend." Sid said, taking his position at the one side of the largest circle drawn on the ground. Peter ambled to the other side, confident as always, more concerned with stretching than the opponent facing him, twenty feet away. This confidence wasn't arrogance; only the knowledge that this was a dance he had performed many times over an incredible life span. 

"The circles on the ground represent different scenarios. There are times, for example, that your opponent will be within arms' reach of you, and you will have no means of escape. On other occasions, you will have more room for...improvisation." Sid explained. With that, they began.

At first glance it seemed a complete mismatch. Sid appeared to have a more disciplined stance, a height/weight advantage, longer reach, and even amazing quickness for such a large man. Peter was more relaxed, more fluid somehow in the way he moved. They spent a fair bit of time simply circling each other, trying to sense the others' stratagem. Whenever one would test the other with a punch or kick it was either quickly blocked or avoided. Shan and Christine exchanged glances. It wasn't much of a show. Of course, the ladies had no idea that they were seeing a variety of fighting styles being tested and countered before they could ever be employed; a chess match between grand masters. They were quite appreciative of the sweat the two fighters were working up however. Christine could feel herself growing moist at the thought of these two men mounting her after the match.

Peter sensed the girls were becoming bored at the show and decided to spice things up. All at once, he spun, allowing Sid to strike him low so that he could land a palm then elbow combination to his face. The big man was stunned, and abandoned some of the caution he was employing. He came in close to Peter, attempting to lock him up, but Peter leapt up onto him, practically on his shoulders, and used all Sid's forward momentum to flip him backwards and over him onto the mat. After this takedown, Peter sprung up and offered his hand to Sid, who took it, rose to his feet, and delivered a thunderous uppercut that launched Peter five feet back, dazing him. A similar punch would likely have hospitalized a less experienced fighter, who had not rolled with it. Sid pressed his advantage, coming in closely, delivering blow after blow with his feet, knees, fists and elbows, strategically placed at the vitals; face, groin, kneecap, throat, and sides. Many of these attacks were blocked or dodged, but several connected, with the sound of a mallet tenderizing meat or striking bone. 

The men were clearly having fun with this contest, really letting loose now. At times, their battle seemed to be a dance, at others, a brawl. At one point, Christine thought Sid broke Peter's nose with a surprise head butt. Their chests were dripping with sweat and now blood. Sid managed to use his size to get the upper hand, pinning Peter to the ground and locking his arm in place using both legs. Peter was trapped. Christine didn't see any way out, but suddenly Peter twisted and they all heard a loud "POP" as he allowed his own shoulder to be separated to gain the necessary leverage to free himself. Shan covered her eyes at this, then buried her face into Christine's shoulder, looking out from in between her fingers. Peter orchestrated a take-down of his own, using Sid's weight slamming into the side of his body to "POP" his shoulder back into place. He then rolled Sid over in one fluid motion and straddled his barrel of a chest, making a rodeo gesture before being thrown off. 

After about thirty minutes of the two extraordinary men fighting each other to a standstill employing all manner of tactics, Peter felt it was time to end it. He locked Sid up with his arms, and leapt over and around him, arms still entwined. For a moment, they were back to back and still struggling for control. Peter positioned himself into a stance where he could free one arm and turn, using the force of his own momentum to literally deliver a crippling attack to Sid's spine. Christine was reminded of videos she had seen, of martial artists shattering blocks of ice with a single blow. This was that blow. Sid wailed, a sound that seemed foreign to his lungs, and collapsed, his legs seemingly useless. Peter stood and staggered, but remained on his feet. Sid pounded the floor with his fist in frustration and rolled over onto his back.

Christine and Shan stood and rushed to the big man's aid. "I'm fine, I'm fine!" he said in frustration. "Just need to wait for the feeling to come back to my legs. Dammit Peter, that was a dirty fucking move!"

"It's good for our audience to see that in a fight for your life, there are no rules. You do what you have to if you want to walk away from something like that." he explained while catching his breath, and setting his nose into its proper place.

After about 10 minutes, Sid could move his legs again, albeit shakily. Were he any mere mortal, he would never have walked again. This fact made an impression on Christine. Shan would be able to suffer any damage and eventually be okay. If she herself came under attack, one bullet landing in the wrong place or the right blow to her head could mean the end. It was a frightening proposition. 

Peter toweled off his chest and further explained "You will learn some hand to hand, yes, but we also want you guys to get some light weapons training, as well as strength and conditioning. That's where we'll begin, as a foundation to everything else that will follow. It will probably be boring at first, nothing as exciting as that, so no need to worry."

He helped Sid up, this time without getting decked, and congratulated him on a good fight. In their almost three thousand years of friendship, Sid had never won one of these matches, but it didn't stop him from trying. 

True to Peter's word, the first weeks of training were indeed quite boring. Christine and Shan spent every day eating right, stretching, working every muscle group, running, climbing, stretching some more, lifting all manner of objects, tumbling, and finally stretching once again. Surprisingly, there was more to their education than the physical. Sid explained quite a bit about his philosophy - that there was a rhythm in all things, fighting, lovemaking, strategy in battle, and of course dancing. The girls were surprised that dance was part of their training regimen, but after many hours of grueling physical activity, it was fun to cut loose and learn some steps. Christine reflected every day about how odd this all was, to be spending time learning from some ancient master his philosophy, and then waltzing by sunset with him, or Peter.

While she was exhausted every evening, not being allowed to fuck was driving Christine insane. She would covertly finger herself and rub her clit in the shower until she came, imagining Peter and Sid taking turns with her, and imagining the men with Shan as well, using her petite body to satiate their needs. She asked Peter how long she would need to endure this monastic existence, and he assured her that it was not for much longer before they would move on to the next steps and be allowed more latitude. 

After the first couple weeks being away, she scheduled a call with her colleagues at work to explain her extended sabbatical, and give them direction on strategy to keep things moving forward. She felt like her career was spiraling down into the toilet, and that she was sacrificing so much to be part of this world. Peter assured her that it was for her own protection. Besides, he explained, they had more than enough wealth to never work again, something she never knew before his secret was revealed. She began harboring some resentment about giving up much of what she worked for, until she realized Peter was doing the same, and for her. He read a couple scripts a day now, sending notes back to the studio, but she found out he had resigned his position, and was working only as a consultant. She was floored at this. She had always known him as this studio executive, and he gave it all up in a matter of weeks, just to be with her and make sure she was protected. When she confronted him about this, he was at ease with it.

"When the dust settles, darling, we'll get back to work. I want to make the most of our time together." 

After that, she still missed her old life and routine, but realized that they were both sacrificing for this new reality they had stumbled into.

Her relationship with Shan deepened to one of trust and friendship. As they were spending almost every waking hour together, it was very lucky they got along. Their friendship was also good for one other thing - Shan had some amazing stories to tell about her decades of sex work. For a pent up Christine, these stories were like gold. They would share stories at meals and while working out. They called it their "girl talk" with some of it even making Peter blush and Sid break out into a sweat. The girls came to realize that this sexless existence would be weighing on the men as well and they resolved to try to break their will in the coming days. 

When they had time alone in the showers, Shan would often slide up behind Christine and begin whispering to her, telling her stories of particularly perverted and erotic things she had done. They would wash each other and run their hands over one another while talking, sometimes giving in and giving each other an orgasm just to stay sane. They stayed out of each others' bedrooms though, trying to respect Sid's rules as best they could. Still, they hatched a plan to finally turn things to their advantage as they approached about a month of training.

Their plan coincided with something of a feast that Sid and Peter had planned, to celebrate 30 days at Sesamus and the end of the first phase of their training. In a bit of their spare time, Shan had been teaching Christine some erotic dance moves, which Sid of course approved of. "Great for your core building!" he encouraged with a lascivious grin, as he stared at the two of them working their now incredibly tight and toned bodies. Christine felt like all of this strength, flexibility, and conditioning training had turned her into even more of a sex goddess - she just needed the opportunity to put her body to work.

"SO" Christine began at the start of the dinner, "The two of us wanted to do something to thank you guys for all the hard, sweaty, work you have been making us do, by making you guys sweat for a change."

The men were intrigued, but certainly not surprised. A knowing glance passed between them. The girls each stripped down, to matching black sports bra and thongs. "We want to dance for you. I have been showing Christine one of the ways I have danced for men in the past," Shan offered as she removed her bra. Christine did the same.

Christine approached Peter and asked him to sit on one of the recliners in the room; something of a Grecian couch. Shan positioned Sid on the other. The men faced each other, so that both could see the other couple quite clearly. Christine bent over, giving Sid an amazing view of her tight ass. She whispered in Peter's ear "I have been waiting for tonight for a long time. I want it to be memorable."

With that she gave him a long kiss on the mouth and walked away, over to the other couch, and Sid. Shan took her place, with Peter, and told him "I have been waiting so long to thank you for everything you've done for me. Please accept me and enjoy."

Meanwhile Christine, getting close to Sid like this for the first time, put both hands on his face and looked into his eyes with a "fuck me" stare. "Don't you dare try to stop this. I have played by your rules, mostly, for a month. I am ready to explode if this doesn't happen."

Sid smiled a huge grin. It was all part of the plan, and he had a plan for everything.

"We have a rule of our own," Christine began, "No touching!" Shan finished the sentence for her.

Both women began to dance slowly, seductively, in front of their partners, the rhythm in their heads, as taught. Shan was more the more practiced of the two, but Christine kept up with sheer desire fueling her body and actions. Both women straddled, caressed, kissed, and rubbed against their partners. Peter watched his wife undress Sid and climb on top of him, with only a thin thong separating her obviously moist slit from his large and erect penis. Their contrast was severe. Her pale and thin frame climbing and rubbing against his massive muscled girth was a thing to behold. 

Shan was putting in work as well, maintaining the routine along with Christine, undressing Peter at the same time. She was so tiny on top of him. Her darker skin was to his paleness, as much a contrast as Christine and Sid were together. His cock was an iron bar. It had not been easy over the past month to not fuck one or both of these women on a recurring basis, but it was all part of the plan to make this a memorable night, full of exploration and fulfillment. All four participants were so eager to fuck and be fucked tonight.

As if on cue, both women temporarily dismounted their partners and removed their thongs. 

"Remember, no touching!" they said together. The men groaned.

Christine climbed on top of Sid and began rubbing her pussy up and down on his dick, getting it wet as she went, and teasing him mercilessly. She was practically dripping in anticipation. "THIS is what you've been doing to us for the past month you bastard." she spoke into his ear before giving it a bite. He kept moving his hips, trying to position his cock at her entrance and slip past her defenses, but she was in control of the situation. She reached down, barely able to fully wrap her had around his cock, and slid it up and down over her lips. She would not put it in. 

Shan pushed her small breasts and nipples into Peter's face, forcing first one nipple, then the other, into his mouth. While he couldn't touch, he could open his mouth and extend his tongue, swirling it around her brown buds. Her hole was cleanly shaved, and was a darker skin tone than the rest of her body. Peter always savored the feeling of having a new pussy wrapped around his cock and had been anticipating this moment for the entire month. He took a moment to look over Shan to check on his wife. She had been waiting for this, and looked over her shoulder at him. He saw the butterfly on her peeking at him as well, and he smiled. She chose this moment to position the head of Sid's cock firmly at her entrance and begin to push down on it, clearly savoring the fullness of trying to get it all in. Shan took this as her cue, grabbed Peter's white dick in one hand, parted her labia with the other, and stuffed him into her wet Asian pussy without another moment's hesitation. 

It was only the beginning.



The Butterfly Pt. 11: Vacation Day



This is part eleven of our story. Reading previous chapters will help you to get to know Christine, Peter, Madeline, Sid, and Shan Shan better. We join our story in progress, after Peter has confessed his secret. He is an immortal, and Madeline is his former lover and wife. Christine makes her peace with Madeline, and because of impending danger from the immortal world, they travel to Peter's island retreat/fortress, Sesamus, for training, where Christine meets Peter's friend Sid and a rather "new" immortal, Shan Shan...

*****

The sex marathon lasted well into the evening, and left Christine feeling both raw and sore the next day. She had been fucked over and over again by Sid, who had no issues with stamina whatsoever. He was so impressed with her ability to take him repeatedly over the entire session, he gave both she and Shan the next day off, which was a first. The girls were lounging in the hot tub, comparing notes on the previous night. The jets of hot water soothed their aching muscles and alleviated the soreness of their sex. It was just what they needed.

"Was he too big? It looked like it might have been a problem." Shan wondered aloud.

"At first I thought he might be, but I was so wet, he was able to work it in, and after the first few minutes, I was able to handle him for the rest of the night. I didn't let him anywhere near my ass though, no way. You must have done a number on Peter. I offered him the opportunity to put a load in me before we went to sleep and he said there was no chance he would be able to come again. Said he was rubbed too raw anyway."

"Yes, that's true. Sorry. It had just been a long time for me since I had been with a man, and I needed him over and over. He was so good. His penis felt like just the right fit. I didn't let a single drop of his cum go to waste. I took it inside me every time. And I did NOT stop him from taking my ass. He was fantastic."

"Mmmm. Just thinking about it makes me hope we convinced those guys to relax the rules. I want my husband again."

"If you don't mind me saying so, Christine, he is such a catch, and a sweet guy! I am sure I have a crush on him, but don't worry, I know he is devoted to you."

"I like to think so. Of course, you can just wait for me to die off in 60 or so years and then console him. If our relationship lasts that long. Is he really going to want to have anything to do with me when I'm old? Not when he could have a hot young looking thing like yourself."

"That's terrible. Is that really the way you think of your relationship?"

Christine sighs. "I don't know. Not really. Maybe. I'm still getting used to being the only one getting older in this relationship. It will be fine for a while, but I don't know what he's going to think when we go out to dinner or a movie and people think he's with his mother."

"From what little I know of him, your husband doesn't seem like the kind of guy that would give a damn about what people thought."

"I know, I know. But the thought will always be there. I just need more time to get used to the idea. I haven't known about all of this for very long. God knows what I'm going to tell my parents when they notice he isn't getting any older." 

Shan was quiet for a long time and seemed upset at this.

"Shan, what's wrong?" Christine slid over next to her in the tub.

"What you were saying, about your parents. My mom and dad both passed away fairly recently. I...didn't see them in the end. Not for years. I would call, but I couldn't stand their questions about why I was still looking so young. I didn't know what to say. So I told them I was busy and couldn't make it home to our village. And then one by one they were gone. I have a younger brother as well. He looks much older than me now. Sometimes I feel like this must be the worst part, in the beginning, watching your entire family grow old and die along with everyone you ever cared about. I just don't know why this happened to me, of all people. I'm nobody, just a whore. Why couldn't some cancer researcher have been given this 'gift'? Or a physicist researching something important. Anyone but me." 

She closed her eyes and covered them with her small hand and sunk down into the water, temporarily removing herself from the world. When she surfaced, Christine put her arm around her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"You're not nobody. And with this gift you've been given you can be anything you want. If you want to cure cancer, get started, you'll have plenty of time. I...guess I haven't thought about it much from your perspective, or Peter's, for that matter. Immortals. Having to watch everyone they care about die. I've thought a lot about myself and how I'm going to feel about getting older, but really not about what Peter will go through. What you're going through. It's very sad. I'm so sorry."

"Thanks. I'm glad you're here. You've been such a good friend through all of this. Sid and Peter are great but it's nice just to have another woman around to talk to."

"Anytime, sister." They sat like that a while, cuddled up in the hot tub, until the men arrived.

"Ho, what is this? Our two lovely vixens didn't get enough last night and are ready for more? Is this how you're spending your day off? In the suds, making out?" Sid asked, as he dropped his robe and climbed in. Peter was close behind.

"Hello darling. Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yes, very nearly recovered. And you two?"

They laughed. Of course, she realized, they were probably all recovered far more quickly than she could have ever been. 

"We're great!" Sid exclaimed. "In fact, we wanted to let you guys know that phase one is over. After last night, you've both convinced us that your conditioning has you right where you need to be to start the next wave of your training. You've come a long way with your flexibility, stamina, and strength. You have a good foundation to grow on now. Also, you'll be glad to hear, that means no more rules. You showed us you can handle yourselves last night." He winked.

"That IS good news. All part of your master plan, huh?" Christine cooed while she moved over in front of Peter and backed up in between his legs. He began rubbing her back, giving an incredible back and shoulder massage. Just what she needed, she thought. She showed her appreciation by reaching behind and fondling his cock until it was hard and pressing against her lower back.

Watching this, Sid playfully pulled Shan up onto his lap and began giving her a massage as well. The contrast in their sizes was profound. He was literally three times larger than her, and when he rubbed her back, he needed only one hand. She leaned her naked form back against his chest and used him as a lounge chair and laughed sweetly. She was enjoying the big man's attention. He began rubbing her chest and legs as she lay there.

"So what do you two brutes have in mind for us next?" Christine asked, as she continued stroking her husband's shaft under the water. 

"Well, my dear, aside from the...obvious, we are going to move on to basic self-defense, as well as gun training and small blades, knives and the like. All are useful things in a pinch."

"I'm afraid to even ask, but how long do you think we're going to be here? It's all amazing, and exciting to be doing all of this, but we really haven't talked about when it ends." 

Peter and Sid exchanged glances. Clearly they had discussed this as well. Peter risked losing his erection by concentrating on the unpleasant thought of how his wife might take this, but replied honestly. "We don't really know. Obviously it is different for Shan. She will have to decide for herself when she's ready to move on, and where she wants to go and what she wants to do. We can set her up with whatever identity she wants and in whatever locale. But for us...well, I guess once you've got all the basics down, we can talk about the next steps. Whether we want to stay here, or travel the world. Whatever you want."


"You didn't say anything about going HOME. You mean for us to RUN?" Christine sat up and turned around to look her husband in the eyes. "That's what you mean. Keep moving. Lay low. 'See the world.' That can't be our life together, Peter. If there really are people out there that don't approve of us, of me knowing the big secret, and by the way that is a BIG if, because thus far we haven't encountered any issues with anyone, then we can't run from them. You and I only have so much time together. We can't spend it on the lam."

"I know, dear. I know. I want things to go back to normal as well. This isn't really the time to discuss it. You will probably have what you need to know by the end of the summer. Another couple of months, and we can figure things out then."

She eased back and let Peter resume rubbing her neck. She vaguely wondered if she was a prisoner here and if Peter would let her go back home if she demanded to, or if he was really sheltering her here. Even if it was for her own good, she hated to think there was no going home. 

The hot bubbles did their work, and all the naked flesh was having its effect. Sid was now rubbing Shan in between her legs. She was squirming and stroking Sid's thighs as he played with her slit. Finally, she very badly wanted to feel his cock inside of her, and slid up his body, and did a split of sorts over his crotch, reverse cowgirl style. She was facing Peter and Christine as she reached in between her legs and grabbed hold of Sid's monster in her little hand. Both husband and wife were thinking the same thing. No way. Where would she even put it? Of course, they were underestimating her time as a sex worker who had confronted this problem before. She spent several minutes rubbing it up and down against her lips, pushing a half inch of the head in and grinding on it a bit, then taking it back out. Over and over she repeated this, with more of Sid's dick disappearing each time. After ten or so minutes, she had made most of it disappear, but was still using her hands to prop herself up so he didn't plunge in too quickly. He was being incredibly patient, as he had learned to be over the years.

Always the dirty girl, Christine offered a suggestion. "Hey maybe next time, Peter should just warm her up for you, huh big guy? Stretch her out a bit and then lube her up with the first load?"

Shan smiled "Mmmm. Yes, that would be nice. Could he? I can do this but that sure would make it easier. And even more fun. Mmmmf." With that, she finally bottomed out. Peter and Christine had been hypnotized by this effort, and so other than some light stroking of each other, they had just stopped to watch. Now that Shan was actively riding this big black cock with her small cunt, they found their desire for each other growing. Of course, they didn't want to stop watching, so Christine assumed the same position, and let Peter slip his cock in from behind as well. She was still a little sore and stretched from the night before, but having her husband's cock in her felt so right. She ground her hips down and settled into a good rhythm, bringing her first orgasm of the day on quickly. As Sid watched her come, she triggered his own meltdown, and he gushed into Shan's pussy. Peter watched the sperm be pushed out around the base of Sid's cock as the little spinner continued to push down on his big dick, bringing herself off in an intense climax. This in turn was too much for Peter and he dumped his load into his wife's hungry cunt.

While the men stayed in the tub, the girls lifted themselves off their rides, and sat on the edge, opposite each other. They both eyed one another, lightly fingering their pussies and watching as cum dripped from each. Shan broke the staring contest first, swam over to Christine and pushed her face into her pussy, devouring it, and Peter's load, together. Peter won the contest to recover before Sid, and lined up behind Shan, pushing his way into her box, already stretched and lubed with cum. She still made it tight for him, and he pounded her from behind, grabbing her hips and slamming in deep. Sid was ready soon after seeing this, and stood on the top step of the tub, positioning his cock in front of Christine's face. She took it in her hand and began swirling her tongue around the tip, and licking the shaft up and down. She jacked it with her hand and kept spitting on it to keep it lubed up. After Shan finished cleaning her pussy, Christine turned her hips toward Sid and let him drive himself into her. Peter watched his friend mount his wife and started fucking Shan much faster. He placed his hands on her shoulders and began driving in as deeply as he could, wanting to explode right into the depths of her. His thrusts slowed but became longer and deeper as his climax neared. His dick began spitting inside her and he bottomed it out, letting it finish depositing his semen into her well used hole.

"Oooh god, you look so good fucking that little Asian pussy, baby. Did you fill her up good? Come show me, Shan." Christine begged. 

Shan got up out of the tub and straddled Christine's face. Christine repaid her earlier favor by eating her out hungrily while playing with her ass. Seeing this white girl acting like a total slut prompted Sid to buck twice and fire ropes of cum deep into her. She moaned into Shan's pussy, which stifled her cries, and she came again around the wide dick inside of her. 

All four of them slipped back into the tub to recover. 

"I have to say, Peter. You found yourself one hell of a wife. She is a complete and total slut!" Sid admired.

"Oh, I know," He agreed. "That's just one reason why I married her! But definitely one of the best reasons."

"I'm right here, guys. I'm right here." Christine said, as she closed her eyes and sank further down into the water.



The Butterfly Pt. 12: Bibliotheca



This is part twelve of our story. Reading previous chapters will help you to get to know Christine, Peter, Madeline, Sid, and Shan better. We join our story in progress. Peter is an immortal, and Christine will face danger from his world if they remain together. They travel to Peter's island retreat/fortress, Sesamus, for her training, where Christine meets Peter's friend Sid and another immortal, Shan. There they spend a month training and conditioning, and finally, fucking...

*****

Madeline arrived the next day, and kissed Christine sweetly on each cheek while regarding Shan coldly. Apparently another young, fit, sexy immortal competing for Peter's attentions was not something that sat well with her. Nevertheless, there wasn't a whole lot she could do about it. She greeted Sid like an old comrade in arms as he lifted her off the ground and set her back down. They all had a lot of history together, it appeared. Christine remembered that for them, it was a very small world indeed. Madeline, it seemed, was even more of a gun and blade expert than Sid, and she explained that she wanted to do all she could to help. Christine sensed that this desire was genuine, but that her ulterior motive was to demonstrate to Peter that she was being a team player. Madeline was likely playing a very long game indeed.

Training began again the next day. They spent a surprising amount of time on gun safety, then moved on to stationary shooting, firing from cover, target choice, different positions, and moving targets, all over the course of several weeks. They learned about different types of pistols and ammo, and then gained a familiarity with other types of guns, at least on the operational level. Their work with knives was not limited to blades, but basically anything at your disposal with which you could injure someone. Madeline could walk into a room and know roughly 30 ways to kill you using the objects it contained. It was definitely scary stuff for Christine, who felt like a fragile china doll amongst a herd of bulls. Meanwhile, Sid continued their training in self defense techniques. Now that they had built the requisite core strength and endurance, he began taking them through various scenarios and how they would respond in each. He taught them only one or two different fighting styles and their practical uses, not wanting to overwhelm them with a lot they would never use.

Christine acquitted herself well in all regards. It helped that Madeline was patient with her. The same could not be said for Shan, at first. Madeline did her best to ignore her as much as possible, offering neither praise nor scorn. After Peter took notice and mentioned something to Madeline, she softened slightly, and began working with Shan a bit more. All he had to say was "Someone helped you once." Still, Christine took it upon herself to spend extra time on the range with Shan, until they were both making good progress. Shan was sure to show her appreciation to Christine and Peter on a regular basis.

A month or so had passed, and with no rules or restrictions, the 5 permanent residents of the villa explored nearly every sexual configuration possible. Shan was often the odd person out where Madeline was concerned, but she had no problem finding a rigid cock or a soft tongue when she needed one. Time flew for the most part, and it wasn't for another 6 weeks or so that Christine's thoughts wandered to when she would be able to get on with her life with Peter, and leave the island, as lovely as she found it. 

While she began to fear she would be spending an indefinite amount of time at Sesamus, fate intervened. She was with Shan in the dojo, practicing the use of throwing knives, when Sid and Peter entered.

Peter explained "Madeline, Sid, and I need to take a bit of a trip. We could be gone a few days, or significantly longer, depending on what we find. One trip could turn into two."

"Back up there, mister. The days of not giving me all the facts about something like this are over. What's going on?" Christine assumed the position of hands on hips.

Peter knew this wouldn't go over well, but there was no going back. There hadn't been since their wedding day, when it came right down to it.

"We've received a message from Didaskalos. That's what we call him anyway. We're not really sure he has a name that he remembers, but it's good enough. He asked that we come to the Library, where we house the history of our people, and the secret history of your world."

"Whoa, and why aren't Shan and I coming?"

"Shan could come. As a mortal, you would not be welcome, though there isn't really a rule about such things. It just hasn't been done. We wouldn't want to upset Didaskalos."

"Well, I can't exactly argue with your thousands of years of tradition so I guess I am shit out of luck. What's so important?"

"From time to time, those of us who have sealed away some of the more infamous of our race check up on them. Ensure that everything is secure. One of them...found something...when checking on one of the prisoners. The prisoner is secure, but they want to meet at the Library to discuss what they found. If Sid and I hear something that would give us cause for concern, we might have to see for ourselves. That's all. Given the restrictions on travel to the Library, and the potential danger in visiting the prisoner, we felt that you would have to remain here."

Christine sighed. "I thought there was no Secret Society? No club meetings? Sure sounds like maybe there are."

"Maybe there are, but just a bit when they're needed." Sid offered, and laughed. 

"Peter, I need to get out of here, and so does Shan. We've been working so hard now for almost the entire summer and just need a break. I assume Shan wants to go ahead and see this Library of your people. Maybe I could just...wait outside for that part of it? Where are you headed anyway?"

"Alexandria. Egypt. And it seems okay that you come along, especially if everyone is leaving here. But traveling to where the prisoner is held just couldn't happen if it came to that. That secret is held only by those that imprison them."

"That sounds fair enough. So you have a Library in Alexandria? Where the most famous library of antiquity was, and was destroyed? I'm sure you're going to tell me next that the library wasn't really destroyed."

"Oh it was. It was burnt to the ground with Didaskalos in it. But he survived of course, and Alexandria had been his home for some time. In many ways, that's why the famous library was there to begin with. Our history was stored in a separate and secret vault that was unharmed. The manuscripts were moved to a more secure location after the libraries' destruction, and preserved ever since. You will see the newly constructed Library of Alexandria when we arrive. Our vault and meeting place is located deep within. And, there's one more thing you should know, if you're coming."

"And that is?"

"It was only a matter of time before you met her, but Cassandra is the individual who has called the meeting. You may be bumping into her. She and Madeline hate each other with a passion, so she may ignore you entirely, but with all of us there, she would never try anything."

"You really think she wants to KILL me? That is pretty extreme. Even in the worst case scenario, I won't be around long enough to be a problem for her. Why does she care?"

"It would be more to hurt me, I would think." Peter explained, "She and I were together for a time, but not like Madeline and I. I haven't been with Cassandra in a very long while, before Madeline, and sometimes she is very bitter about that. She hates Madeline because she will probably always feel like she stole me away from her. You would just be collateral damage. She would probably be offended that I had revealed so much to you, and would likely blame that on Madeline as well. On her forcing my hand where you were concerned. If she knew, that is. Finally, she's not a big fan of your kind."

"Of my kind? Cubs fans, I suppose?"

"Of humanity. She falls more on the end of the spectrum that would suggest that she no longer trusts humans to manage their own affairs."

"You're really doing a great job, picking women, Peter. Not sure what that makes me think about myself if you have such poor judgment!"

Sid laughed. He tried to jump in and help, "You are so different than many of his other women, and are a lot better for him, believe me."

"You're a sweetheart, Sid. You really are. My husband is lucky he has you to defend him!"

"I am lucky at that, to have him as a friend, and you as a wife. We should be in Alexandria tomorrow so let's get ready and get out of here. I know that will be music to your ears."

Christine was surprised that the new Library in Alexandria was so modern, but it was massive and a feast for the eyes as far as architecture was concerned. This pleased her because she would have to find something to occupy her time while all the others were able to proceed deeper and beyond the point at which mere mortals could travel to. They arrived and were met by a high level library administrator. He seemed to know only that there was a special section that only certain VIP's were allowed access to, and that they were the VIP's. He ushered them in and let them know immediately that Christine would be able to travel with them deeper into the facility, all the way to the Library itself, and that she was fully cleared for access. All were stunned, but Peter most of all. The administrator had few details, but said only that she had been added to the approved list of visitors earlier that morning.

They passed two rather high tech and highly guarded checkpoints, before taking an elevator down to the lower levels. At this point, the administrator confirmed that they all knew how to manage the rest of the trip, and bid them farewell as his own clearance did not allow him further access. They pressed on, through well lit but empty hallways, until they reached another elevator. This time it shuttled them horizontally instead of vertically, and after a few minutes of high speed elevator travel, the doors opened to, what Christine quickly realized, were more ancient tunnels.

"We are at the site of one of the original library vaults. All our materials were moved to this location after the ancient library was burned. Didaskalos also has his own private chambers here. This place is, literally, his life. You'll understand in a moment, but in essence, he cannot travel, at least not easily. He did not experience immortality until he was already at a very advanced age, and while he is sturdy, he isn't exactly mobile. As for his sudden interest in you, my dear, I have no idea. Let's be on guard a bit."

The passage widened at a stone arch, leading into a large chamber. It was cool and dry, kept so either by unseen technology, or just the natural characteristics of the space. The first chamber was clearly one of many. It reminded Christine of a museum, with large rooms displaying ancient artifacts. As she looked around, she realized that she had no sense of the scale, as they were underground. Large room, followed by large room is all she saw. It might have gone on forever, just like its subjects. Tablets, murals, scrolls, modern books all sometimes co-existed in one room.

"How is it organized?" she wondered aloud.

"Each of us...has a room dedicated to our history...our families, our impact on world events, everything. It makes some of us...uncomfortable. For others, it is a source of pride, and of ego. It just depends who you are."

So there are hundreds of rooms then?" Shan asked.

"Not quite. Some of us are not so ancient, and some have kept both their whereabouts and activities...lower key. There are certainly those amongst us who do NOT believe we should be the fathers and mothers of history, but rather silent observers, with as little impact as possible. Honestly, there are as many factions as there are immortals. We all tend to keep our own counsel on how to live our lives. You will learn this, Shan, and decide for yourself what makes the most sense for you. That said, Didaskalos strives to keep track of what is known. He also tends to be quite a gossip, isn't that right?" Peter asked, as a robed figure descended some stairs slowly from an unseen upper chamber.

"Yes. Quite right. Quite right. What are you calling yourself these days? Peter, yes? And you've brought others. Isidro of course. Madeline. And the newest of us...Shan Shan. It is very good to meet you, dear." Didaskalos spoke very slowly. Peter hadn't been kidding. He was extremely advanced in age. Christine would guess he appeared 90 years old at least but couldn't be sure. He had small wisps of white hair, but was almost completely bald, with nearly unseen eyebrows as well. He was very dark considering his subterranean lifestyle, and looked emaciated. She was surprised that he spoke English, or could speak at all, but the acoustics of the room were favorable and allowed him to be heard despite his quiet whisper of a voice. She would have thought of him more as an aged vulture than anything else. He had not yet acknowledged her, and she felt like her mere presence in this place was in question, so she held her tongue and waited for this all to play out.

Madeline stepped forward and took him in her arms, giving him a kiss on each hollowed wrinkled cheek. He smiled thinly. Christine had never seen a beautiful French girl kiss a walking skeleton before, but she was getting used to the unexpected.

"So you have come," Didaskalos began, "though you may not be pleased with what you will hear. Still, it is not for me to judge, only to observe and remember. It is Cassandra you have come to hear, and speak with."

Peter knew by instinct where she could be found. They began a long walk, to rooms that shielded some of the most closely guarded secrets of humanity from view. Didaskalos shuffled along with them, and by virtue of politeness they moved slowly through each room. Christine caught glimpses of critical events in human history, and of possible Immortals, possible offspring, that had played a role. She was making mental notes as she went, with questions to pose to Peter, Isidro, or whoever would answer later on. She quickly lost track of many questions as the weight of history became overwhelming. Her curiosity gave way to a sinking terror. These Immortals, their impact on human events, appeared vast. She began to feel as though nothing she had known was true anymore. 

The group arrived at a massive hall and stopped. It was the size of a long museum gallery, and would have been right at home at the Louvre. Peter turned to Christine and whispered into her ear "Please, whatever you see while we're here, give me a chance to explain later." 

It was his room. She knew immediately from a bust of the man she had been married to for years, but knew not at all. The bust was ancient, and of museum quality. He appeared as a king, or ruler of some type. Next to it was the bust of a woman she did not recognize. The rest of the hall contained both manuscripts and artifacts from all the history of humankind. Much of it was illegible to Christine. Her mind flashed back to the vase she obliterated in their apartment. She wondered what it had meant to Peter in a past life. There were also pictures of men and women she didn't recognize, clearly some sons, daughters, lovers, and friends. 

As they moved through the hall she saw that a woman awaited them in its center. Her most recognizable feature was her flowing red hair, not quite aflame in the dim light, but dark and full, with thick curls. She appeared at least Peter's age, if not slightly older, but was extremely well kept. Her pale skin was nearly luminescent, and as they drew closer she appeared to have blue or green eyes, Christine could not be sure. She was tall at perhaps 5'10" but not overly so. She appeared very attractive but severe, Christine thought, like a college professor without a softer side. The reality is that she carried herself like a queen, which she very well might have been. She was the woman whose bust sat next to Peter's. 

"It's so good to see you, Cassandra. I wish it was under less formal circumstances."

"Magnus Pietro, it would be if you hadn't spent a century avoiding me. Still, it is good to see you, even if it is a little crowded in here. I see you've brought your little bitch with you."

At first, Christine's face flushed, and she readied for a fight, but she realized Cassandra wasn't referring to her. Instead, she was glaring at Madeline, who Cassandra believed was her true rival in the room. Cassandra hadn't even acknowledged Christine's presence. 

"Yes, his little bitch is here with him." Madeline replied sweetly. He had me from behind only recently. I am always happy to be his bitch."

Cassandra was disgusted with this little tart, and didn't disguise it, but moved on to the business at hand. "Yes, I'm sure. Pietro always enjoyed having the servants. Nevertheless, why don't you shut your pretty face and let the adults speak now."

"Cassandra, please, it's no secret we all don't exactly get along. Just say what you asked me here to say. You know they have telephones now."

"Yes, and they have devices to overhear those conversations. I think not. In any event, you know I have been to see Alaric. He is imprisoned, his bonds are fastened, as always, but that is the second thing I wish to speak of. The first is what he had to say."

"You...spoke to him? That is never wise." Peter was clearly uneasy. 

"Perhaps, but I no longer feel as I did. Yes, I have spoken with him in my recent visits. The world is not the same as it was, and I felt he deserved to know. We were, after all, friends for a very long time before his fall. In any event, his long imprisonment has given him clarity of thought and vision. I no longer think he is the same man we locked away."

"So you have come to appeal for his freedom?"

"That is beside the point. What is important is what he seems to know now. What he seems to remember."

"What? What does he remember?"

"He says he remembers everything."



The Butterfly Pt. 13: Memory



This is part thirteen of our story. Reading previous chapters will help you to get to know Christine, Peter, Madeline, Sid, and Shan better. We join our story in progress. Christine travels with the Immortals to the site of their people's secret history, the hidden library at Alexandria. There they meet Cassandra, a former wife of Peter's, who has visited with Alaric, an Immortal they imprisoned long ago...

*****

They went in circles for an hour or more. Christine remained silent, and asked nothing. Didaskalos observed, as was his function. Sid and Shan were non factors. Madeline and Cassandra played a chess match of disdain with each other, while Peter tried to understand. From context, Christine ascertained that this Immortal, Alaric, was imprisoned by Cassandra, Peter, and three other immortals. He had striven for control, for enslavement of humans and the human will, and had been judged by his peers and locked away. He was like Peter, ancient and unable to remember his origins. Only now, he claimed to remember everything, his earliest memories. 

"He will speak only to you, he says. He called you his brother, repeatedly, and asked for you to come. Will you go?" Cassandra asked. 

Peter paced, amongst the tokens and records of his many lives. He always hated being down here; he felt it was like a tomb - his tomb.

"I don't know. Perhaps. There can be no harm in listening, even if he has gone mad. Is it possible? We have always assumed that we simply could not hold those many thousands of years of memory within our still human minds, but if he has, if it is simply a matter of remembering, perhaps we all could."

"With this newfound knowledge, we may be one step closer to understanding who we are, and where we come from. I have always wondered if the memories of the oldest of us held some special revelation. Peter, you have to go. I'll back you up." Sid interjected.

"As will I," Madeline said, never to be outdone when it came to loyalty for Peter.

"Then there is one last matter before our meeting comes to a close. One that will unsettle you even more, Pietro, but it must be spoken of."

"Go on."

"You were right. I no longer believe Alaric should be imprisoned. His actions at the time were drastic, but the world is a very different place. Mortals have this technology and the means to destroy our home many times over, and it is getting worse. We must begin taking more direct action to control them, and their actions. We must work actively to stop them, before there is nothing left worth saving. In such a brief century they have poisoned this entire world. Whether we can do this, or not, I don't know, but Alaric's crimes are long ago repaid, and his perspective is more valid today than at any point in the past."

"You are but one voice. The others..."

"The OTHERS will agree with me! Enough of them will, in any event. I have the authority to call them together, and I will. Then it will be decided."

Silence fell over the hall after Cassandra's flash of anger. Despite this entire span, and her reluctance to participate in the debate, or in any of these affairs, Christine was too chilled to remain quiet. Who would speak for humanity, in this moment, if not her?

"Peter, can this really happen? This ancient boogeyman will really be turned loose?"

"He cannot be held if the majority of those who sat in judgment of him no longer believe he should be. Besides, he is still relatively human, and out of touch with the modern world. As a physical threat, he would be nothing. As a symbol, a rallying point, a political figure for immortals who feel the same as Cassandra though, that is what worries me. Still, sadly, Cassandra is correct. But it's not over yet. There will still be a vote."

"No offense, but that's crazy. If people knew you were plotting to release someone like this into the world, that there were others of your kind that might rally to him, they would never allow it. This can't be left to a...a...parole hearing!"

"YOU have no voice here, girl!" Cassandra was suddenly imperious, and drew herself up to her full height. "What right does any of your kind have to sentence one of US to one of OUR lifetimes in shackles! None! You should not be here, and shouldn't be left alive. Didaskalos allowed this, for his own reasons, and now he has condemned you!"

"You will not touch her, Cassandra! She is under our protection." Peter moved in front of her, as did Shan. "Besides, she will tell no one. To expose one of us is to expose many of us. Even me. She is loyal."

"Perhaps, Pietro, but your protection is not absolute. You may even silence her yourself once she attempts to expose us. You heard what she just said. She will always stand with her kind. What does a few years of loyalty from a human matter? They are brief and fleeting, and change with the wind. They are not like us."

"We're going. I'll decide if...when...I'll meet with Alaric. You do what you need to, and I will be there to oppose you."

"Yes, you will, won't you? But at least we're in each others' lives again, aren't we?" Cassandra smiled for the first time since Christine laid eyes on her. It was a perfect smile, but it was bitter and cruel. 

On her way out of the hall, Cassandra stopped for a moment to admire their busts, side by side. "Were we not a great team, once, Pietro? You were magnificent."

"I was cruel." He said with regret. 

Madeline stepped forward in a protective gesture, as if to shield him from his past. She placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, glaring at Cassandra. Christine was sure that they would have ripped each other apart if they could have, if it would have made any difference. But in that moment, Madeline was his companion and protector as she had been for centuries. Whatever else she was, no matter how emotional or obsessed, she was loyal and ever loving, and there for him whenever he needed her, and would be for centuries more.

"You haven't been that man for a very long time, Pyotr. Do not think of it. I fell in love with you, and love you still, for the man you are, not the man you were." she whispered quietly in French, so only he could hear.

Cassandra took one last look back, then swept out of the room.

"That...could have gone better." Sid suggested. 

Despite her interest in staying and looking around, Christine felt that Peter needed to get out of here, perhaps just to get some fresh air, or to simply get away from his past. Madeline was still by his side. They looked like a couple, and Christine felt a surge of jealousy, but also compassion. At least he would have someone. Always, even after she was gone, she thought bitterly. But she went to him as well, and took his hand.

"Can we get out of here? It's so stuffy. We can talk over dinner. Everyone has to be famished after the kind of day we've all had."

"I agree with your wife." Madeline said helpfully. "Let's get out of this godforsaken hole. No offense of course." she said looking over her shoulder at Didaskalos, who most had forgotten was in the room as he lurked in the shadows, observing carefully.

He was not offended. He spent nearly every minute of every day thinking of this archive in the ground as a godforsaken hole, and his body as a prison of flesh. 

"I take no offense, mademoiselle."

"There's just one more thing I need to understand before we go. Didaskalos, why the change after hundreds of years? Why let a mortal set foot in our archives for, perhaps, the first time ever? What's going on here? I feel like Christine has been exposed to serious risks, and now have to regret bringing her here."

Didaskalos was quiet a long moment, and then another. At last he spoke in a stronger voice than Christine had yet heard from him. 

"YOU are responsible for her involvement. And YOU." he accused, looking, from Peter to Madeline. "If what I have heard is correct, and I believe it IS, then you have all had a lovers' quarrel that has led to a mortal being exposed to many of our secrets. At times, this has occurred by accident, and has been...dealt with. This was deliberate. Madeline, you have always been a creature of passion and your emotions have gotten the best of you once again. At least this way, I know what this human knows now, and perhaps something more about her. Despite her attempts to be silent, she has strong feelings about Alaric and what may come to pass. She will have a role in this. It has been a long while since a mortal has been involved in the direction of our affairs. It is usually the reverse, as you know. Now go, I tire."

Shocked to hear such strong words from the Didaskalos, they left, making the long journey back to the surface and out into the sun. Didaskalos shuffled slowly back through the hall, to a room adjoining Peters and was not surprised to find Cassandra waiting for him. 

"I thought you might still be here, Cassandra. Is anything troubling you?" he spoke in an ancient Sumerian tongue they were both familiar with, and that he found comfort in.

"No. That went very well. Pietro will visit Alaric. I am sure of it. He will be unable to resist the temptation, especially knowing he may soon be freed, and with the tantalizing knowledge of Alaric's memories being restored. Pietro was always somewhat obsessed with his own lack of memory. He once spent a human lifetime traveling around the world looking for traces of it, and his own early history. He found clues, but nothing definitive. It has haunted him."

"We are coming to an end, at last." Didaskalos said with relief. "Alaric is evidence of this. His knowledge, it all fits. It fits our great mystery. I have spent my lifetime seeking it from a dark, dusty library and museum of trinkets. All have been lies and half-truths. This place knows nothing, and offers nothing. You and I, we have merely been pawns all of our lives; small pieces in a large game. But now, with Alaric restored, I will finally have what I always wanted."

"Answers? Knowledge?"

"No! ...Death! I need to be free of this accursed form and this dungeon once and for all. I will do what I must to have it. It has been PROMISED to me. He promised..." he said with tears beginning to form in his eyes.

Cassandra reflected on this promise a moment. "We still don't know if it is possible. But we will soon. We will VERY soon. Now, perhaps? And we will see if Alaric's suspicions are confirmed. But come, old man, you must rest."

He stretched out his frail arm, and leaned on hers for support. They walked deeper into the halls together, slowly. 

Outside, Peter, Christine, Sid, Madeline, and Shan piled into a black Cadillac Escalade and were returning to the airport, where a private plane would return them to Sesamus.

"So you're going?" Christine asked Peter. "To Alaric. It could all be a lie. This doesn't sound possible from everything you've told me."

"Who knows, my dear. I told you we know so little. Is one man's restored memory so incredible? Alaric will remain confined until Cassandra calls a vote. She would not have freed him on her own or she would risk imprisonment herself. No. He and I will be able to have a nice private chat. I will know if he's lying. Are you...?"

Peter was about to ask Christine if she was okay after all she had been through, but at that moment, two events occurred in sequence. First, a spider-web appeared on the glass window to the side of Shan's head, who sat next to Christine, with a small hole at its center. A spray of blood erupted and appeared on Christine's shirt from the right. He looked into her eyes and all he saw was shock as she turned her head toward the blood to look at it spreading. Peter knew immediately what had happened. A sniper's shot, to eliminate Christine and end the threat she posed...As Peter threw his body on top of her, the glass finally shattered as several more shots entered the vehicle. The second event was an IED exploding on the road, to the left of the Escalade, immediately after the shots were fired. The front tire blew, with the concussive force of the blast shattering the windows and twisting the metal on the left of the large automobile. It swerved out of control, and off the road, flipping over twice and settling onto its right in the dust. Other cars on the highway scattered, some running off the road, and others slamming into each other attempting to avoid the area of the blast up ahead. 

All was silent inside the vehicle, a mixture of smoke, dust and blood. There was blood everywhere. Everything and everyone was still and motionless. In minutes an ambulance appeared, and Peter was regaining consciousness as he was loaded on a stretcher. He didn't want to go to the hospital, but was already strapped down. He tried to look around with his head in a fixed position and could only see the wreckage of the Cadillac, and his friends being pulled out. He saw Sid and Madeline trying to sit up weakly, before being placed on the stretchers, protesting unsuccessfully. And out of the corner of his eye he saw a body covered up by a dirty sheet someone had produced. There was already blood seeping through it where he imagined the head was located. 

"NOOOOOOO!" he shouted, looking up at the paramedic, and then back to the sheet with his eyes wide. "IS SHE...? IS SHE...?!"

The paramedic looked down at him with pity. He hated this part of his job. He didn't speak any English, and would have a hard time communicating. But he did know this phrase. In Arabic, he said with as much compassion as he could muster. "I'm sorry, sir. She's gone. She's gone."

Peter dropped his head back down onto the board under him, closed his eyes, and began to cry for his young wife.



The Butterfly Pt. 14: Mortal



This is part fourteen of our story. Reading previous chapters will help you to get to know Christine, Peter, Madeline, Sid, and Shan better. We join our story in progress. Christine travels with the Immortals to the site of their people's secret history, the hidden library at Alexandria. There they meet Cassandra, a former wife of Peter's, who has visited with Alaric, an imprisoned Immortal...as they depart, a sniper and IED attack rocks their vehicle, claiming one of their lives...

*****

The next hour or so was very chaotic at El Mowasa Hospital, which was more of a teaching hospital, and quite modest by Western standards. All surviving passengers of the crash were dutifully placed on stretchers, despite their protests, and brought in. It took some time for a set of doctors to get around to seeing to them all, as most appeared to have no serious injuries. Two fatalities were recorded in the crash, including the driver. 

Peter could have gotten up and walked out of the hospital, but in that moment, he couldn't be bothered. He lay in a bed in a non-private room, designed for five, along with Sid, Madeline, and two elderly local residents. They assumed Shan was in another room. Madeline had thought she would have felt relief at Christine's death, but all she knew in that moment was that the man she cared most about in the world was deeply grieved. She knew it would happen this way, just not so soon. She thought Peter would have more time to prepare to lose this one. She also felt guilt, and some shame. It was she that forced the issue, pushed Peter to tell Christine the truth. Had she not done that, this would just have been another business trip, and Christine would have been safe and sound at home, blissfully unaware. She wondered if Peter would end up blaming her for this, for the long eternity to come.

A doctor who was fluent in English came to Peter's bedside. He consulted his chart. "Mr...Walsh, I am so sorry for your loss. The paramedics have told me that you were close to the deceased."

"Yes, her husband."

"Sir, I know this is a terrible thing to ask, but I must. Do you know if your wife was an organ donor? We have a number of individuals in the area that would greatly benefit from an organ donation, and we must act quickly. Again, I am so sorry to ask."

"Yes, I'm sure she would have liked that." he said without looking at the doctor. Peter continued to stare off to his left, at an elderly woman on a dialysis machine, likely near death.

"Very good, sir. I just need to ask you to sign these documents. And, ah, there is one more thing. Before we can make a donation, you would have to identify the body for us. I know this is not a good time, but we must do things by the book."

"Of course. Of course."

Peter followed the doctor to the very small morgue downstairs. He was on auto-pilot, looking neither left nor right, other than to look morosely at his friends as he left the room. Sid was overcome with emotion as well. He had only known Christine a short time, but had grown very close to her. Madeline was lost in her own head, but took Peter's hand in hers briefly before he followed the doctor out. 

They arrived in the small and heavily air conditioned room, which smelled of clinical death, not true death that Peter had encountered thousands of times in his long life. The doctor offered him a mask that he waved away. He had seen more death than this man ever would, but this time it would be his wife. This was not the first time a wife, lover, son, or daughter had died prematurely, but he had felt such a deep connection to Christine that despite his many thousands of years of desensitization to the passing of the mortals in his life, he knew this one would hurt for a very long time. His eyes were still swollen and red as the doctor pulled back the plastic cover.

It is not easy to shock an immortal being; one who has seen everything, and maintained poise throughout, but Peter's reaction would have fallen right in line with what the doctor would have expected, given the situation. Peter stared without comprehending, his mind whirling. 

"Sir, I'm so sorry. I know this must be very difficult."

"Yes. No... I don't understand."

"Sir?"

"This isn't my wife. This isn't my WIFE!" He gripped the side of the metal table for balance. His world didn't make sense. He looked down at the short frame of a young Asian girl, her head on the right side mostly obliterated, with what he knew an autopsy would reveal were explosive rounds. He didn't understand any of this. This shouldn't have happened. He needed to find Christine. He needed to get this body out of here. 

"Was there another young woman in the crash? An American? A Caucasian woman?"

"Yes, sir. She's in intensive care right now with a concussion and cracked ribs."

"Can I see her? I need to see her right now! THAT's my wife you've got up there!"

They went upstairs two flights to the intensive care area where Christine was the only patient. Peter was not allowed in the room, but the unconscious woman on a respirator was definitely her. His tears flowed freely now and he couldn't help but smile. His emotions were swirling but he knew his wife was alive. But for his wife to live in his mind, the girl under the cover had to be Shan, and that still didn't make any sense.

"Thank you, doctor. She's going to be okay?" 

"We're hopeful. We need to perform some tests once she wakes up before we can be certain."

"Can she be moved?"

"Well, yes, but I wouldn't recommend it."

"Doctor, I mean no offense, but I can get my wife the best care in the world, and I can get it for her immediately. I just need to use your phone."

With one call Peter arranged for immediate medical transport and security, all in one. Within thirty minutes, a caravan rivaling the American President's arrived to extract the group, along with an unconscious Christine, and Shan's body. El Mowasa's Administrative Head was stunned by the effectiveness with which Peter's phone call had cut through any red tape on issues surrounding discharge of the patients and the body of their friend. Their destination was Clemenceau Medical Center in Beirut, a short helicopter flight away.

Peter had returned to Sid and Madeline and had broken the news in two parts, mindful that they weren't able to speak privately just yet. They were both incredibly relieved to hear Christine was alive. Then they were both dumbfounded, likely the greatest understatement of their long lives, to hear that Shan was dead. They said nothing until they were on the helicopter flying North-east. 

"Pyotr, what does this mean? Could we have been mistaken about her?"

"I...I don't know. Everything checked out. All the signs were there. She even exhibited all the traits of advanced cellular regeneration. No doubt the damage was severe, but it shouldn't have even gone that far. She should have been more resistant. This doesn't make any sense."

"We have to take her body to Louis. He'll have to run some tests. Maybe something will turn up." Sid suggested. 

All three considered the ramifications of this silently. The helicopter landed and the next 24 hours were mostly spent at Christine's bedside as countless tests were run. Before they could wake her, she opened her eyes on her own. The first thing she saw was Peter, sitting next to her.

"Peter..." she said groggily, "Where am I?"

He took her hand. "You're okay darling. You're okay. You're in the hospital. Don't try to move too much. Your ribs are cracked. But you were very lucky."

"What happened? We were in the car. Shan...got shot?"

"Yes, Shan got shot. Don't worry about that now. Just rest, darling. Just rest."

Christine closed her eyes again. She was feeling no pain, but her mouth was dry and she was so tired, so tired. The hospital staff woke her up repeatedly and continued performing tests. She saw Madeline and Sid nearby. Sid had come over to her and given her hand a squeeze and told her to "hang in there kiddo" and "you'll be kicking ass again in no time". Madeline even came over, and gave Christine a light kiss on the lips. Her lips were wet, moistening her own dry lips. Christine looked up into her eyes to see tears streaming down her face. Madeline kissed her again and left the room saying nothing. She wondered where Shan was. Clearly she would have recovered by now? 

After a day, she found out the truth. She was amazed as well, but because immortality was a newer concept to her, she tried to rationalize what happened. She asked many questions, but to Peter, Sid and Madeline, it was still unthinkable. It had never happened. Not ever. They could not be killed, yet somehow, one of them had been. 

"We have sent Shan's body to Louis, one of our foremost medical experts. He has spent much of his life working to cure man's diseases, and also to understand our biology. Perhaps he will offer us some answers after the first ever post-mortem of one of our kind." Peter explained, quite sadly. 

Christine understood. While Peter had been elated she was alive, he considered Shan his responsibility. He had found her, helped her leave her old life behind and would have helped her start a new one. But that was no longer to be. The worst part, to Christine, was that this sequence of events was shattering his usual sense of poise and confidence. For once in his life, he didn't have all the answers or know what was around the next corner. Suddenly, everything had been called into question.

Christine spent another week in the hospital and was finally discharged, her ribs wrapped tightly. Sid went back to Sesamus to work on some security matters, he said. Christine didn't entirely believe him as he was being quite vague, but was in no position to forcefully argue. He gave her hand a squeeze, gave her a kiss on the forehead and told her to get better. Rather than heading back with him, as she expected, she left with Madeline and Peter heading back to Paris, where they were told Louis would meet with them and discuss what had happened. He apparently wanted to speak with her directly about what she saw at the moment of the attack, and Christine agreed. Louis, Christine would later discover, was already famous several lifetimes ago as Louis Pasteur. But when they arrived at his lab, he seemed only a kindly old French gentleman that got along famously with Madeline and Peter. They switched quickly to English so Christine wouldn't feel left out of the conversation.

"My dear," Louis said, "I am so sorry about your accident. Pierre...Peter has told me you are feeling a little better?"

"Yes, well enough to get out of Beirut, that's for sure. Best care in the world, my ass! My ribs are hurting. Torn cartilage apparently, but supposedly I'll be back up to speed in four to six weeks. Could I sit down?"

"Of course, my dear, my apologies. Let's go to my office."

Louis' office hadn't changed much in 150 years. It was like something out of a period film, despite the modernity of the rest of the facility. Christine laid down on an antique couch to rest, and the others gathered around her. She propped her legs up on Peter, and told them all whatever she remembered about the moment she saw the light go out of Shan's eyes. Eye, as it turned out, as the first bullet had struck her directly in the right eye and seemingly exploded from there. Two or three more shots were added for security, all on target.

"It was a very professional job." Madeline assessed. "There is no chance they were aiming for Christine. To land those shots, with that accuracy, at those speeds, just before an explosive impact. Their timing was perfect."

"Do you think everything was planned, mademoiselle? Even the placement of the shots?" Louis asked her.

"It seems so. Why?"

"I have a theory, based on my examination. That someone was performing an experiment of their own. Sid let me know about the ballistics used. Explosive rounds, for maximum damage. These would not be necessary in a "typical" assassination. Whoever was hunting this girl didn't know if they would be able to kill her. They aimed for the eye, in case the skull was impenetrable. As it turns out, they needn't have bothered. The rounds ended up exploding the skull outward from within. It took incredible force to do so, however. Likely the first shot alone was not enough."

"Ugh, this is gruesome." Christine sickly muttered.

"Yes, I'm sorry to be so clinical, but that is after all why you've come to me. And to answer the next question you're no doubt going to ask, I have spent much time thinking about why this was possible, not just what happened. I have even spoken to Didaskalos and examined the Library and my own historical medical archives for information. Again, I don't know the truth, but I have a theory."

"Of course you do, Louis. You always have a theory." Peter grimly smiled. The two men had worked together before, of course.

"Yes, always! In this case, it is rather an unsettling one. There are some things about us that have never been questioned; our resilience, and our ability to heal are two of these. I have studied both at length but have taken both for granted, until now. Yes, until now, when I am confronted with the first case of an Immortal death, ever. And what I have found is rather astonishing. Before I share my theory with you, I want to bring in one more concerned party."

Louis pressed a switch on his antique desk that had obviously been installed recently and asked that Ernesto be sent in. Peter and Madeline looked at each other with a glimmer of knowledge of where this was going. 

Ernesto was, to Christine, gorgeous. Like a Latin runway model with perfect black hair, sun kissed skin, dark eyes, and a perfect smile, he would fit the immortal mold perfectly, if he were, in fact, immortal. He smiled warmly at Christine, and introduced himself even though she was lying down. He shook hands with Peter and seemed especially happy to see Madeline again as he gave her a long hug and a kiss on each cheek.

"Peter and Madeline both know Ernesto. He is relatively young, and was discovered in the mid 1700's. With Shan...gone...he is the second youngest of us, after me of course! I contacted him immediately to test my theory. Now, Ernesto, I have enough information to reveal what I've found, and it will come as a shock to all of you, as it did to me."

"Shit. Shit!" Peter muttered, already knowing the answer to the question he had been spinning in his head.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Shan exhibited all the traits of our immortality; cellular regeneration and accelerated healing being the most prominent, but as we have all seen, she could be killed. So, too, can Ernesto. So too, can I."

Ernesto sat in a long dark silence. Whatever he fundamentally knew about himself that he had accepted over the last 250 years had just turned on its head. He asked "What does it mean?"

"It means that we will not die of our own accord, you and I, but that with enough...effort...the right situation could be found to end us. We do not have the same resilience as older Immortals. I can run some additional tests while Peter and Madeline are here to see if there is some variation over time, but I suspect that what we will find will prove this out. I used myself as a sample in this equation as well, and I believe there is a change over time."

"So your theory is what, Louis? You haven't told us that yet, though I think Peter and I have taken your meaning." Madeline said anxiously, knowing that this was a fundamental change in the hierarchy of their kind.

"My theory, mademoiselle, is that as Immortals are born over time, our blood is diluted. Each generation may thus be weaker than the last, by a small increment. I don't know if I would have survived the attack that killed your friend either. Ernesto might have, perhaps. But I know from historical record that those of us who are much older have survived far worse. So this new vulnerability is a rather new phenomenon. We would have discovered it in the next several generations. It may even be that our concept of immortality will end. That new births of our kind will be little more than long lived humans and that cellular regeneration even slows and then ceases. Perhaps in two thousand years we will be indistinguishable from mortals!"

Peter stood up and began to pace in the room. Christine and Madeline both recognized this as his natural state when he was trying to solve a puzzle or dilemma of some sort.

"We never knew because there was never a reason to doubt. Not in these many thousands of years. But someone knew. They weren't after Christine as I originally thought. They targeted Shan directly to see if she could be killed, testing a theory they already had. This is madness! Who would do such a thing, or want such a thing!? This will be a great shift in how we live, how we think of ourselves and each other. We can't let word get out, but there will be little choice once news of Shan's passing has been spread around the world. Keeping a secret used to be much easier." Peter added as an aside.

As if to reinforce the gravity of this news, Christine sat up. She looked from Peter to Madeline to Ernesto to Louis trying to see some sort of difference, but of course none was visible. But their long held belief in their own invulnerability was shattering, moment by moment. That told the tale on each of their faces. Peter was more troubled about the fallout from this news than the news itself. To him, he was still the same man he had always been. But to the others, Christine could see the difference. On Madeline's face, there was just a trace. On Ernesto's was a sudden weight. Each of them knew a truth they had once known as children, and remembered something long forgotten.

They were not eternal. They could die. They were mortal.