Butterflies

  "Hi. I've managed to drag my boyfriend with me because I broke my finger last week," I wiggled two strapped digits, "And I was hoping you wouldn't mind if he came into the changing thingy with me to zip me up?"

  The over made-up young woman didn't even glance at my world-class fake bandage, rendering half an hour of fiddling with it a complete waste of time, "No problems. Just give us a shout if we can like help or something, alright?"

  I tried not to grimace at her accent and said a quick 'thank you' before leading Mikey into the little cubicle, hanging the two dresses on a convenient hook. I turned to my guy and gave a little chuckle.

  "Would you believe I'm as nervous as anything?"

  "Fully clothed, behind a thick curtain, in a shop with three young women in and no other guys? For some weird reason, yes I would, princess."

  It was true – weird, for sure, but true – and both us had hands that were trembling slightly as we fiddled my zipper open. When my dress dropped to the floor and I stood before Mikey in my skimpy little undies, I felt more like I was totally naked and on stage at a packed theatre. Sexgirl raised a quizzical eyebrow, seemingly as confused as I was. I was about to reach for one of the new dresses when a muffled voice reached our ears.

  "Stop complaining, Vic! It’s not too much to ask that you take an interest in your wife's welfare for once is it?" The strident female continued over the top of whatever muffled reply 'Vic' gave, coming closer to the changing cubicles, "Now just you stand out here and be ready to give me an honest and approving appraisal when I come out in this blouse."

  Mikey grinned, nervous but controlled, "Still twitchy, princess?"

  "You have no idea, buster. Trouble is I'm not sure I can do it anymore – and don't mention rooftops or Danny!"

  "I wouldn't – this is way different, Jess."

  Mikey was right. Just outside the curtain was some anonymous guy, some middle-aged sounding stranger just inches away from a sight of me in the skimpiest undies imaginable, some older guy that probably even deserved a little fun in his life to judge by the sound of his wife or partner or whoever she was... But could I do anything? How the hell was I supposed to pluck up the courage to 'stumble' and step through the curtain as Mikey and I had planned? For some reason this had become a much bigger deal than all the rooftops and Dannys in the universe... I glanced down at my near-nakedness, at the twin points of my hardened nipples, so obviously visible behind the sheer cotton of my bra, and lower to the subtle pinkness that the matching panties could not conceal. To display those sights to a stranger, an obviously male, heterosexual stranger... impossible all of a sudden. The curtain became as solid as a sheet of forged iron, as impassable as the deepest gorge, as thick and impenetrable as the world's wildest rain forest, as-

  Mikey's gentle nudge was as effective as it was unexpected. With a sound like a female mouse catching all eight of its nipples in a metal trap I squeaked and staggered, virtually falling through the flimsy curtain. I caught my balance and looked up to see the open jaw and even wider eyes of 'Vic'.

  It wasn't me, and it wasn't even Sexgirl, but I froze. Vic's eyes lowered to first my nearly exposed breasts and then lower, to my groin. As they travelled across my skin, they left a trail of superheated air, which my pussy tried to extinguish with a burst of fluid. Finally, after either four hours or four seconds, I let loose another squeak, muttered a hasty 'sorry' and dived back inside the cubicle, yanking the curtain closed behind me.

  Mikey's jaw was a slack mirror of the stunned, but now much happier, man's outside, but the look in his eyes was pure and unadulterated excitement. Any complaint that I was about to level at him melted away as his barely contained delight threatened to explode. When he pulled me to him, his mouth urgently seeking mine, kissing powerfully and deeply, the solid presence in his shorts pressing hard and needful against my belly, that contagious delight swarmed through me.

  A vision of Vic's hungry gaze flashed across my mind and I broke the tongue wrestling competition long enough to lean back a few inches, enough to glance down at my near-naked flesh, my thighs starting to tremble as the excitement within threatened to burst forth. With a groan I flung myself back into Mikey's embrace, our kissing resuming with renewed vigour.

  "I," Mikey gasped, "need you!"

  "Mmmm," I managed, half-nodding.

  "That was... god... hotter even than... than..."

  "Lucas… Brighton," I agreed, "Danny."

  We resumed the kiss, grinding against each other now, and I realised it was true. The simple, relatively tame few seconds standing there in sheer bra and panties, in front of a truly shocked, truly delighted man who I had never met before, nor was likely to ever meet again... well that was more intense, somehow, than my previous three experiments.

  It made no sense to me right then, and to a degree it makes little sense to me now – but I can't argue with my body. And here's the rub, here's the weirdest thing of all. Standing there... okay, writhing there... in Mikey's arms, me still in the skimpy garments that Vic had just been admiring – or rather the skimpy garments still covering the body that Vic had been admiring – I wanted to make love more, right then and there, than I can ever recall wanting to before. More to the point I wanted to fuck. I wanted to be fucked. I wanted Mikey's cock buried to the hilt in my moist, hot, urgent pussy. No, my cunt. Even Sexgirl was raising an eyebrow. But...

  But I was all too aware that we were in a tiny changing cubicle in a clothes shop. That any act more lascivious than the passionate kiss we were sharing now would undoubtedly lead to us being caught. And that, even though the only interruption that was likely was from a young, female shop assistant or two, I didn't want to be found that way. I loved that Mikey had somehow contrived to get me seen by the put-upon Vic (another surge of heat grew in my belly). I loved that this stranger had seen me for long enough, close enough, to have an image of me burned into his brain (another surge of moisture threatened to soak my skimpy knickers). I loved that Mikey was as excited as his belly-threatening hardness indicated (a hip-bucking grind brought a whimper from deep in my throat). I loved that I was giving lessons in how to feel passion to Sexgirl (another tremor within my belly muscles threatened the onslaught of imminent climax). But I didn't want anyone but Mikey to witness the transition from flash-flood to tsunami.

  "Let's go!" I managed to hiss through the kiss.

  "I don't care-"

  "I do! I want... I need you. But not here, okay?"

  "Oh princess, yes!"

  I broke free of his arms and grabbed the dress, fumbling and shaking my way into it, making do with one fastened button rather than three, my taped fingers making anything more thorough just too difficult and time-consuming. Covered enough to avoid arrest, I picked up my shoes and the untried-on dresses and positively bolted from the cubicle, a bemused Mikey chasing after me.

  I dumped the dresses onto a counter by the cash register, muttered something along the lines of 'too embarrassed now' – true for one reason, and believable for another – and dashed outside, reaching behind me for Mikey's hand, determined that I wouldn't lose my grip on the possessor of the one thing I wanted more than anything else in the world. Never has a cock been so desired, I swear.

  I looked about frantically until I spotted the sign for the car park, before setting off at a trot.

  I love my guy with an intensity that scares me sometimes, but in the ten minutes that followed our exit from the dress shop, my feelings for him sky-rocketed as he got us to the car, exited the car park at a breath-taking speed, hurled us around the one-way streets outside the shopping mall, and managed to get us to a deserted forest track before screeching to a halt in a cloud of dust.

  Mikey leaned across me, throwing open the passenger door and urged me out, one of his hands snaking up my dress to snag my knickers and haul them clumsily down as I staggered out of the vehicle. As I waited for the two or three seconds it took Mikey to join me by the side of the car, I managed to undo the one button that was holding the
dress up. Two seconds more was all it took for Mikey and me to get rid of the dress altogether and the bra underneath. By the time we managed to stumble into a grassy clearing a dozen yards or so into the trees, Mikey was as naked as me.

  "This," he panted, "Is what it's all about."

  "Love and lust, buster. Show me."

  I squealed as a firm shove sat me on my butt, my eyes momentarily level with his engorged, gorgeous cock before his hands were on my shoulders, pushing me all the way down onto the grass, his body following me. My arms, legs and heart opened wide to welcome him, desperation notwithstanding. I was impaled deliciously within a heartbeat and I swear I had never felt him so large inside me. I started to moan, laughing, drunk with desire, and then gasped as a deep insistent tremor started to thrum though my belly.

  "Oh, baby, oh, buster!"

  A half-smile matched the one eyebrow Mikey raised, "Princess? Are you... are you going to cum right now?"

  My eyes opened wide as another shudder ripped through the deep centre of me. Shock almost choked me, but I managed a weak, shuddery nod, "Oh, buster, yes!"

  Mikey's hips rocked with hard thrusts, each one cranking my passions higher, "Oh, my sweet, beautiful, sexy, princess! Oh, my Jess!"

  "Oh! Oh! OH!" I squealed and squeaked, whimpered and wailed. Then let loose a howl.

  As I gave free rein to the aural equivalent of every ounce of desire and excitement I felt, I guess we learned that we were alone in that area of the forest. Or quite possibly, I scared off every other living animal in the vicinity. Do you realise, I don't even remember exactly when Mikey exploded inside me? Although, given the mess rolling down my thighs as we wobbled out way back to the car some half an hour later, I'm pretty damned sure he exploded in copious style.

  There was a lot of lovemaking that day. A fair bit of fucking, as well. By the middle of the evening I was barely able to limp to the fridge for a cold drink, and Mikey had given up walking altogether.

  The only thing that seemed to be working at full capacity was my brain, but even that occasionally seemed to be misfiring. As well as all the physical activity, Mikey and I spent hours talking about what had happened and why such a relatively – it seemed – minor act had brought about such an extreme reaction from me.

  The concept of me being the innocent party was certainly, we agreed, a factor, as was the obvious surprise and pleasure of my 'Vic'tim – as we were thinking of him by that time. But then there was the question of whether the degree of reality in that innocence had played a part. Would I have reacted so strongly if I had deliberately stumbled out of that changing cubicle, no matter how well I played the innocent party as far as my shocked audience was concerned?

  I would have thought that it would make the world of difference, but my body kept reacting the same way to my thoughts no matter which way I played the scene. And okay, the underwear had been at the extreme end of skimpy – but I still had this nagging feeling that by wearing anything I was just strengthening the reaction, that I was making the whole incident more believably accidental... I wasn't saying that more was worse – that what I had done on the rooftop in Brighton, and with Danny, and with Lucas (good grief, talk about a growing rap sheet...) were now causes for regret, or that they were over-the-top – it was just that this softer, more innocent-seeming style of display was just as intensely pleasing for me. Ultimately, I wanted to please my guy and I derived my pleasure from his – and to judge from the soreness I felt at my groin, the simple stumble was more than adequate.

  It wasn't an epiphany as such, but I went to bed that night understanding that less could easily be more. And also, that I was going to have a lot of fun finding out exactly where lines could be drawn...

  Chapter 5

  It's all very well realising that 'less can be more', but there's always the fine line to be found – that gulf between not quite showing enough and showing just enough. Or even, too much. In the couple of weeks that followed the highly successful dress shopping trip, there was much soul-searching and ideas-seeking in the Jess-Mikey household. There was even some peripheral pleasure hunting, given that we'd enjoyed our outdoor coupling so much.

  It seemed at first that the genuinely accidental stumble in the little changing room – albeit assisted by Mikey's guiding hand – opened up a world of possibilities, but in practice we discovered that there is a fairly limited number of ways in which such 'accidental' exposure can occur. Sure, there's the ever-faithful 'delivery guy arrives earlier than expected' scenario, the 'I didn't realise anyone had arrived home here while I was changing' set-up, and any number of 'wardrobe malfunctions' that we could choose from – but oddly enough, very few, if any, of these had the 'shocked heroine' factor that I now discovered was the key to unlocking the new, higher levels of pleasure that I had experienced in front of (and shortly after) the stranger, Vic, back in the dress shop.

  Mikey and I trialled a number of attempts at the sudden, shocking loss of clothes through things like a car pulling away with my dress snagged in the door (which came closer to decapitating me than showing off my charms), collapsing changing room doors (which proved extremely unpopular with a couple of rightly-suspicious store owners), and a near fatal attempt (I exaggerate, but not by too much) at having next door's Labrador retriever grab my dress and try to run off and bury it.

  I might – should – have mentioned a few thousand times before that without Mikey, my life just wouldn't be right, and that it has been his gentle support and even gentler encouragement that has allowed me to discover and explore this new, daring side to my character. Who has, in effect, acted as midwife in the birth of Sexgirl. And it was Mikey who came up with the solution to my ever more kinky needs.

  "Princess?"

  I looked over at my guy who had been sitting at his computer for more than two hours, trawling through the more literate type of pornography, "What's up, buster? Need a fresh roll of tissues?"

  "Not just yet," Mikey's smile lit up the room and my heart, "But we both might do soon. Do you know what 'sharking' is?"

  "Unless it's something to do with dodgy loans or extreme tropical fish breeding, I can't say that I do. Neither of which do anything for me in the moist pussy stakes, by the way."

  "Remind me to show you a video about eels, later, but for now come and look at this."

  I crossed to my guy's side and looked at the monitor where a well-known rodent-related site was cued up and ready to play a video clip titled 'Street Surprises'. "So, surprise me," I told Mikey. And with a click of his mouse, he did.

  For those of you who don't already know, sharking is the practice of running up to young women in the street and yanking down their tops or pulling up their skirts and in this particular video's case, revealing as much as possible to a secretive cameraman. The majority of the clip compilation seemed to feature genuine assaults – and let's be clear, here, these were sexual assaults – and while the practice, as featured in the clip, was undoubtedly cruel and abhorrent, I felt a shiver of potential arousal. "What... exactly were you thinking, buster? I'm not so sure we could find anyone willing to take the chance of being caught or chased even if he were to be persuaded to try that on me..."

  "Some stranger wouldn't, I'm fairly sure, but you do know that I adore you don't you?"

  The cunning plan clicked, "You mean you'd play the guy assaulting me and would try to time it so that some unsuspecting stranger came to my rescue?"

  "Exactly, my smart, horny lady."

  I paused to think before nodding slowly, "Okay, but two things worry me.... First, what if some other bystander comes over all vigilante and goes after you? Or the target himself?"

  "I'll make sure that the lucky guy is alone, or alone enough, and if we pick someone not too fit looking, then there wouldn't be any chance of him chasing a young, fit guy like me."

  "Ignoring the fact that you're not exactly a teenager anymore and in the fitness stakes it's been a good few months since your last push up-"

  "I've had more
exercise in the last few months than the last few years thanks to Sexgirl," Mikey interrupted.

  "Well, okay, I'll let you off that one, but secondly, then, I get the biggest buzz of all through you witnessing everything that happens and if you're the guy in the hoodie that runs off, that's not going to happen."

  "You said it yourself," Mikey grinned, "Hoodie – I can just dash round the corner and strip it off, then come dashing back saying the guy got into a car and burned rubber or something. I'll only miss a few seconds at worst."

  I was impressed and said as much, "Very clever, my Einstein with more than kinky hair." I looked down at the sundress I was wearing, "In fact, I think that sort of genius might even have made old Albert proud."

  "You think it will work, then? Think it's the sort of thing you want to try?"

  I could feel my blood stirring, and a glance down at the front of Mikey's jeans cranked my pulse-rate a few more notches, "That," I told him, "is a yes followed by another one." I pointed to the bedroom, "Want to come and help me pick out some suitably flimsy tops?" Mikey's fingers hooked around the top of my sundress, his thumb flicking the shoulder strap down my right biceps. I shrugged the other one down and smiled, "Seems like someone is looking forward to his practice sessions."

  A sharp yank made me gasp, as my mind filled with the joy of exposure, both immediate and planned, quickly followed by another gasp as first hungry eyes and then hungry hands took in the exposed flesh.

  My only remaining concern was that we'd end up fucking in front of the stranger...

  *!*

  Rehearsals took a few days – not because we couldn't find suitable attire, but because we couldn't stop ourselves from celebrating each successful faux-assault with an all-too-real fuck. That didn't cause problems indoors, but once we took our practice sessions out onto the streets (or more often, a multi-story carpark), there were one or two near misses. Which increasingly became sources of arousal and inspiration in themselves.