Butterflies

  Our only other problematic issue was in terms of the realism of my reaction to the 'assault' – I had to agree with Mikey's assessment of it when he pointed out that it was very unlikely that a victim of such an attack would yell at the rapidly retreating attacker's back to 'come back here and fuck me'.

  In any case, we were soon ready for our first real attempt, and the outfit of choice for me was a strapless boob tube with rather dodgy seams, over a short summery skirt and extremely skimpy panties – three items that would, if Mikey's role played out to perfection, shrink to two as he would be able to yank the top right off before sprinting away. If this worked, we had already earmarked the next item as a summer dress rigged in the same way as the boob tube – but being left in just see-through panties seemed like a natural escalation, and not something for a first attempt...

  To try to ensure that the adventure went without a hitch, we indulged in a brief couple of hours of predictive sexing – draining as much feeling from us as possible – before finally heading off to the multi-storey carpark that had provided the most frequent number of ideal backdrops during our rehearsals. And despite the energetic exercises we had undertaken, I was still quivering with anticipation when we pulled into a parking bay on the top floor.

  Mikey turned to me one he'd killed the engine, "You sure about this, princess?"

  It was a question I'd asked myself a hundred times in the previous few days, and the only variable that changed was the volume at which I said 'yes'. The scenario captured everything that was most arousing for me, including the added unknown of our victim's reaction. As Mikey set out during one of our more rabid sex sessions after a rehearsal, we couldn't even rule out that the guy and Mikey would end up fucking me somewhere in the car park if temperatures soared high enough. The very minimum that would happen is that the guy would get to see my exposed breasts, and the maximum... well, there wasn't one.

  I looked my guy in the eyes, "I'm sure. Completely. Are you?"

  Mikey smiled, took my hand and placed it in his lap, "What do you think?"

  I giggled (sorry, sometimes a girl just can't help it), and gave the prodigious bulge in his shorts a gentle squeeze, "Nothing like a demonstration in place of a word. Are we really going to do this?"

  Mikey plucked the keys from the ignition, "Oh, yes."

  In a state of shivery tension we took the lift down to the first floor – chosen because it was seldom used by shoppers (most cars here belonged to staff from the adjoining shops), and close enough to the stairs that Mikey's 'escape' would seem natural and fast enough. After that, we only had to wait for seventy-hours (or possibly about twenty minutes – time seemed a little screwy that afternoon) before the lift doors pinged open and a middle-aged gent emerged, weighed down with carrier bags full of shopping.

  I was at the opposite end of that level of the car park and immediately started to walk in the direction of the lifts, seemingly oblivious to everything except a 'phone call' I was apparently taking on my iPhone. Mikey, suitably hooded, was standing to the left of the lifts and fell into silent step behind the guy with the bags.

  The plan was that Mikey would follow behind the guy until I was within a few feet and then dash past, yank down my top and sprint for the stairs. We'd rehearsed the scene a dozen times on the very spot, let alone countless others back at home, and I was so familiar with the routine that even the surge of adrenaline I felt – slightly higher than the average tidal wave – didn't stop me yakking intently into the buzzing phone, to all intents and purposes unaware of my approaching fate.

  I somehow managed to continue feigning my indifference, even when the gap between me and bag-man had reduced to just ten feet without Mikey making his move – we'd mentally prepared for a gap of around that distance – but when there was just six foot or so between us, I began to suffer pangs of disappointment, figuring that Mikey had heard or seen something that prevented him carrying out the plan. That, though, didn't explain why he was still so close behind the stranger...

  I was almost within touching distance when Mikey sprang forward, past bagman, and his proximity, coming so soon after my pangs of disappointment, made me react in a way that could only ever be seen as genuine shock – because it was. My top was torn from me in a second and my breasts suddenly on view. With commendable bravery and ad-lib ability, Mikey stuffed the torn top in his pocket and even managed to lift the front of my skirt for long enough to get me struggling to cover my barely covered pussy, my bared boobs jiggling mere inches from the slack-jawed stranger.

  Mikey pushed between the two of us, his right hand sliding across the front of my suddenly soaked panties, before he spun away and sprinted for the stairs.

  Shocked – genuinely – I stood with my arms wide, useless phone in one hand and bag in the other before I squealed and covered my breasts with my arms. My eyes flashed up to the stranger's face where he was just reluctantly tearing his focus away from what had been – or at least felt – like the most exposed breasts ever. We were both open-mouthed, both momentarily tongue-tied – in his case, genuine shock, and in mine a mixture of both surprise (at Mikey's late movement) and a sudden need to stay shtum so that my overwhelming excitement didn't become apparent.

  Bagman glanced down at his bags and then across to where Mikey had disappeared, "I'm... I'm really very sorry I can't exactly go after him..." He swallowed, "And… er... sorry also that I... well... stared rather than doing anything practical. I... that is, if you just give me a moment to set these down," he nodded at the bags once more, "I will... that is, let's see if I can find something to help you, um, cover up."

  I somehow managed a strangled chuckle, "That's... that's okay, I understand. It was all so sudden and... well, so unexpected. I do hope it didn't offend in any way..."

  "Offend? Oh, my dear, it was hardly your fault was it? And anyway, an attractive young lady like... oh, sorry again – where are my manners? Can you pretend I never said anything like that? You must be so terribly embarrassed as it is, without me blathering about how attractive you look in your moment of despair."

  "It's okay," I nodded down at my arms, "Just... can you maybe find something...?" I glanced towards the stairs where I saw Mikey lean back into the shadows... this was going to go to plan B then, where I was apparently alone with the stranger for a few minutes... Interesting. While bagman pulled out a new t-shirt that he had apparently bought along with the rest of his shopping, I gave a cough, "I don't suppose you got a look at his face, did you? Only I was too wrapped up in my call to notice anything."

  Bagman was ripping the plastic off of the t-shirt, "I can't say I did, my dear. One minute I was struggling along with my bags and the next there's this rush of wind as he came past me and when I next focussed on anything, there were your lovely... Oh dear, sorry once again, it's just that... well-"

  "It's okay, really. That's um... very nice of you in fact. I just wish... well, obviously I wouldn't want this sort of thing to happen ever in my life, but at least it wasn't in front of some weirdo or perv or whatever."

  Bagman finally freed the t-shirt from its wrapper and offered it to me, "I just consider myself extremely lucky, huh?" Despite the trace of bravado in his comment, he was blushing to the roots of his thinning brown hair.

  It had all worked out perfectly, and if the dampness and heat I felt at my groin was anything to go by, the 'sharking-flash' was destined to occupy my favourite adventure number one spot for many weeks to come. Which didn't explain why I reached out with one hand to accept the proffered t-shirt.

  We both froze, my left breast exposed once more, and both of us gave a little gasp. I began to gabble.

  "I am so sorry," I managed, taking the t-shirt and not meeting bagman's gaze directly, "I guess..." I swallowed and gave a nervous laugh before using both hands to find the hem of the t-shirt, baring both breasts completely, "Bit late for modesty and all that, ha, ha. I really hope that you can forgive me and maybe even forget my face completely, ha?" I found myself spinning the
t-shirt's hem through my hands, suddenly unable to work out front from back.

  "Oh, my dear, please... please don't apologise at all," An undercurrent of hunger in bagman's words made me glance across and my heart skipped beat when I saw the pure admiration and lust in his eyes. He cleared his throat, blushing but determined. He glanced up at me before resuming his eager breast inspection, "You have the sort of face I would remember for a long time, but... well, your breasts are perfect and will stay in my mind forever, it's me that should be apologising, not you."

  "That... that actually makes me feel better," I told him, finally locating the back of the t-shirt and preparing to lift it over my head.

  "It does?"

  I nodded, my breasts now feeling deliberately exposed, "Uh huh, if... if anyone had to witness that, then who better than a gentleman who appreciates my misfortune?"

  "Oh, that's me alright. I mean appreciative, and... oh, my dear, you really should get that t-shirt on now..."

  "You're right," I nodded, "This is beginning to feel-"

  The sudden call from the stairs cut me short, "Hey! Okay there? What happened?"

  I clasped the t-shirt against my breasts and looked around to see Mikey approaching at a trot, "Mikey!"

  It was my cue to him to say that I had probably taken things as far as I could, or needed, and that he could be himself now, all protective and mine. He closed the gap and took me into a hug.

  "What on earth has happened here? Has he-"

  "No! Mikey, this nice man was on hand to help when I really needed it, this guy in a hoodie ripped my top off and...?"

  "Sam."

  "And Sam here was just offering me his t-shirt to help."

  Mikey gave a commendably believable sigh of relief, "Thanks, Sam. Did you see the guy’s face or anything?"

  Bagman Sam shrugged, "It happened so fast and I was, shall we say, distracted."

  Mikey gave me a squeeze, "Yeah, she has that effect on me."

  "No, I meant I was struggling with the bags and-"

  "Ignore him, Sam," I interjected, "He has a weird sense of humour. Although I think even he would have appreciated your very kind words regarding my appearance-"

  "Oh, please, dear-" Bagman Sam began, clearly suddenly alarmed at how Mikey might react to any revelations about his compliments.

  "It's okay," Mikey interrupted, "I'm just glad there was someone decent on hand in my absence. And appreciative."

  "Quite right," I agreed, "But I think it's time for us to get back to the car so I can get covered up properly – thanks to Sam, once again."

  Mikey glanced down at the t-shirt held over my breasts, "Quite apart from saying that it's unnecessary, I guess we should let everything settle back down and then try to find out what this attack was all about."

  I shook my head, "Random by the look of it. Let's just get decent and get gone." I turned to Sam, "If you give me your address then I'll drop the top back around to you when I'm done with it."

  "Normally," Sam said, scrabbling for a pen, and still very flustered, "I would say keep it, but... well, it would be nice to know that I had something that you'd... well..."

  Mikey leaned forward and put a hand on Sam's shoulder, "Don't sweat it. I know where you're coming from. As it happens, I have an old top in the car, so..." He turned back to me and plucked the t-shirt from my grasp, bringing forth another squeal as I hastily covered my breasts, "So, have the t-shirt now, and maybe a second or two more joy as a sincere thank you."

  I wriggled out of Mikey's arms and headed for the stairs, "Yes... um, thanks, Sam." I took a deep breath, turned back and dropped my left hand to my waist, raising my right in a brief wave before covering up again, my cheeks flaming. I spun and trotted for the stairs.

  Mikey caught me up two floors above, and by the fifth, he had me pinned against the cold concrete of the wall. Within three seconds, my skimpy panties were kicked into the corner to rest alongside the t-shirt, and within seven the head of his engorged cock parted my dripping pussy.

  "What... what..." I gasped, "If someone comes?"

  "Oh," panted Mikey, "They will, princess, they will."

  Half an hour later we were speeding along in the car, me in a t-shirt that my guy had found in the car for me, and Mikey in shorts and his own top. We were also sporting smiles of a size normally only seen on lottery winners and television presenters.

  "I take it, to judge from your enthusiasm on the stairs," Mikey said, "That you rather enjoyed being sharked."

  "I enjoyed being fucked, as well," Sexgirl replied on my behalf, "But yes, it was just what I wanted, needed and hoped for."

  "Is that another tick on your new experiences wish-list, then?"

  I smiled at my guy, "It's a tick on something, but I rather think that was more the first time for something new rather than something that's ticked off as being done and dusted."

  "Oh, so you liked it that much then?"

  "I can hardly deny it, can I? Didn't you, then?"

  "Princess," Mikey laughed, "I adored it. Maybe one day I'd have dragged lucky Sam along with us, but for now, that was perfection." He glanced across, "Sorry, I didn't mean that I wanted to make you do-"

  "Hey, buster, no apologies for honesty, remember? And between you and me, if that had gone on two minutes longer, it would have been me doing the dragging. I'd have hardly given him my special goodbye wave if I hadn't been so damned horny by then, would I?"

  "True," Mikey pulled up outside our place, sighing and smiling, "It's taking me ages to get used to Sexgirl, you know?"

  "Any problems with her?"

  "Not a one, princess. She's already let me experience more than I ever believed was possible. One question, though..."

  "Let me guess... Will Sexgirl enjoy another outing or two very soon?"

  Mikey laughed, "Sexy and smart as they come. No pressure, of course, but-"

  I undid my seatbelt, leaned across and kissed him, "I loved today, and I want you to shark me again real soon. Who knows? Next time I might wear the dress rather than a top." I opened the car door and slipped out, letting the t-shirt ride up to expose my butt and my pussy before leaning back inside and wrinkling my nose at Mikey, "And, buster, I wasn't joking about what might have happened if that had gone on in the car park for a couple of minutes longer..." I made a dash for the house.

  We barely managed to get the front door closed before we were naked and fucking like wild cats. I can't exactly remember what was said, word for word, but I seem to recall promising my guy – and myself – that our next outing would be only a couple of days away. And, boy, was it...

  Chapter 6

  Of all the things that Sexgirl had already experimented with, the shark attack was the one that stuck in my mind the hardest. Or the best. Or the most... oh, I'm sure you get the picture. And it wasn't just for me, either – Mikey was absolutely rampant in the two days after we had acted out our new roles in the multi-storey car park. In fact, it was after yet another wild sex session when the subject of the next 'outing' received some attention.

  "So," Mikey managed, panting hard in the wake of the small tsunami he had unleashed deep within my belly, "Are you ready for another attack?"

  I nodded, sweat dribbling into my left eye, "Ready and oh so very willing. And," I added with a grin, "I'm also ready to switch from the boob tube to the sun dress."

  Mikey's eyes widened, partly out of surprise and partly, no doubt, out of anticipation, "You mean, you'll wear the little dress and just knickers underneath?"

  "Yep. Skimpy ones at that."

  "So, I get to dash up and rip off the dress and leave you-"

  "Almost completely naked," I finished for him, "And I will be so terribly distraught, won't I?"

  "Oh, princess, you are an absolute..."

  "Slut?" I wriggled at the feel of a faint twitch inside me.

  "That wasn't the word I was going to use," Mikey rotated his hips, "Because you'll look like such an unlucky, innocent victim..."

  "I c
an tell there's a 'but' there, buster."

  "Oh yes, princess. There's a 'but' – you'll look so innocent and unlucky, but we both know you'll be making those skimpy panties all wet with the excitement you'll be feeling to be exposed like that to a total stranger, right?"

  I bucked my hips gently, "You really think I'll get that excited?"

  "I do, princess, I do. Don't you?"

  "Not me, buster..." I moaned as the stiffening inside me continued apace, "But I guarantee that Sexgirl will be in danger of climaxing on the spot."

  The following morning, we set off for the multi-story, content in the knowledge that we had practiced the routine more than enough times, and fresh from the memory of the look on the stranger's face earlier in the week – good ol' Sam. I was dressed (if that's the right word') in a doctored sun-dress over the sheerest white lace knickers I possessed, and not a stitch else. Mikey was in shorts and a t-shirt, with the hooded sweatshirt that would be his initial disguise as my shark attacker laid over the back of the driving seat. We were both also wearing a thin sheen of sweat.

  After we parked on the fifth floor and had made our way down to the first where we would try to repeat our success of a few days before, I was as jumpy and edgy as ever, and everything felt just like the first time all over again. Maybe it was the fact that it was a brand new stranger who would get to see my predicament, or maybe it was the thought of being left in such a public place in no more than the tiny panties that were clinging to me... but I was almost quivering with anticipation. I had already discovered that less is more, but it was getting to the point where nothing was almost enough!

  The wait for a suitable 'victim' seemed to last forever – certainly far longer than when we had targeted Sam – and with every minute that passed, my self-control levels seemed to diminish. By the time Mikey gave me a frantic 'now' gesture, I was half-tempted to start playing right there and then – and such was my distraction that it took me a few seconds before I realised that the game was starting for real.

  I looked up to see a guy picking up a raft of carrier bags having just got out of the lift. He was a lot like Sam had been – middle-aged, burdened down, and seemingly oblivious to the woman in the sundress who had just started to walk towards him. And equally oblivious to the man who started to shadow his movements from behind.