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Message-ID: <27628asstr$975399019@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: AimTwoPlease <aimtwoplease@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Butterfly Wings (MF) by AimTwoPlease
Date: Tue, 28 Nov 2000 03:10:19 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Butterfly Wings
  by AimTwoPlease

I knew Michelle in college, at a time when I was a virgin and her
virginity was less obvious to me.  After all the years that have
passed, I have forgotten exactly how we'd met.  We shared a class.  It
might have been then.  Or we might have shared a study table at the
Undergraduate Library.  Though I never fucked her, there is still a
story that can be told.

I was never much attracted to big tits, and Michelle definitely had big
tits.  It's not that big tits offended me.  I just never had a
preference.  Big, small, medium.  Tits were fun.  Nipples were fun.
The real action, however, was further south.  That's where my attention
was headed.

Michelle seemed happier than most of our contemporaries to have me play
with her boobs.  I imagine she was proud of them and was pleased to
have them available for an admirer.  Hers were sensitive, too.  Large
as a grapefruit and firm, topped with surprisingly small dark nipples
that got hard quickly and stayed that way.  I'd touch, I'd nuzzle.  I'd
have her stripped to the waist in her bed and slather my tongue in wet
circles and suck on those perky little nubbins.  She'd whimper and moan
and grind the crotch of her blue jeans against my pants leg, and if we
had enough time without her roommate appearing and if I was patient
enough, I could bring her to a state that even in my limited experience
I was fairly confident was an orgasm.

Hers weren't the first naked breasts I'd touched, and her pussy wasn't
the first naked pussy I'd touched, either.  We progressed to that, of
course.  If anything, I was the cautious one.  Michelle had never
really denied me anything, once I got the nerve to try for it.  She
wasn't aggressive herself, but she was open and welcoming to whatever
my hands and mouth seemed interested.

Once I finally got a hand into her pants, I wondered why it had taken
me so long to get there.  Maybe Michelle wondered the same thing.
Naked boobs soon became naked everything -- for both of us -- and when
circumstances permitted, we'd find ourselves wrapped around each other,
writhing and rubbing, necking and nuzzling.  She'd still climax with my
mouth on her boobs and grinding her crotch against my leg, but now it
was an open, warm and juicy pussy that was having its way with my bare
upper leg.

Which brings me to my second remarkable discovery, the first being
Michelle's sizeable and delectably sensitive tits: the fleshy butterfly-
wing flaps of her inner labia.  Even though hers was only the third
pussy I had encountered, up close and personal, it was obvious to me
that her pussylips were extraordinary.

I was entranced.  I was charmed by the larger-than-life exoticness of
those labia.  If I'd met Michelle a few years later, I'd have known
much better how to play with her body.  And she'd most likely have been
more comfortably playful, too.  As it was, we did the best we could do
at the time.

Lucky for the both of us, Michelle was my first taste of cunnilingus.
I couldn't get enough of it.  Though it spelled the end to her orgasms
from me sucking on her nipples, it was the beginning of her orgasms
from me sucking on her pussy.  Licking, sucking, nibbling.  I tried it
all.  Thick, meaty outer labia.  A tiny clit that was buried away
behind mysterious folds of pink flesh.  And those butterfly wings that
begged me to flap around with my tongue and inhale, one by one, between
my pursed lips.

As it turned out, neither of us could get enough.  We'd tumble into bed
and I'd strip off her clothes, playing with each newly exposed body
part in turn, and when she was naked I would pop out of bed, shuck my
own clothes, and quickly rejoin her warm skin on the sheets.  I'd say
hello to her boobs, then it would be farewell as I moved down her belly
and greeted her pussy.

Michelle would wrap her legs around my neck and twist her fingers in my
hair and squirm her swollen vulva at my busy mouth until her first
orgasm rocketed through her body, accompanied by the most marvelous
high-pitched vocal squeak and trembling ripples of her abdominal
muscles.  That would leave her body limp and her juices flowing, and I
would softly nuzzle her breasts and her neck while she recharged.  My
erection, meanwhile, would be an insistent, leaking reminder against
her thigh.

Her second orgasm would be slower in its arrival, though certainly no
less intense when it did appear, complete with hyperventilating panting
and throaty moans and incoherent appeals to her deity.  By this time
her labia would be a deep red in color, and her juices and my saliva
would be everywhere -- pubic hair, inner thighs, even wandering
trickles between her ass cheeks.

Why didn't we ever fuck?  It was a time when pregnancy was a very real
concern, when girls still anguished over whether or not to go all the
way, when buying a condom meant having to directly ask the disapproving
pharmacist at the neighborhood drug store, when the Pill was just
beginning to show its promise of permitting more casual sex.  I tried,
once or twice, but Michelle asked me to stop, and I didn't want to
spoil what we had by insisting.

All I know is that Michelle and I usually ended the evening in the
Missionary Position, our moist and very wide-opened eyes locked
together, and with my excruciatingly stiff erection stroking pass after
pass between those butterfly wings.  Best of all, Michelle would reach
her hands between her legs and hold those wings wide with her
fingertips to cradle my cock in her sweet valley.  And right before I
came, even without me having to warn her I was near, I'd feel her wrap
those wings nearly all the way around my shaft and hold them against my
cock with the gentle pressure of her fingertips, all the better to
embrace me when I began to pulse.

Our relationship didn't last.  I don't remember what caused the
breakup.  Years later I bumped into her at the Dallas airport.  I was
traveling on business, heading East, and Michelle was heading West to
an appointment with Disneyland.  With her was her husband, a pleasant
enough looking man with receding hair and gray eyes and a whimsical
smile, and three children.  Two boys, one girl, all in that vague range
of ten years old, plus-or-minus a few.  She still had big boobs.  We
spoke for a few minutes, and as we did I glanced from her face to her
husband's and back to hers.  I knew she still had those butterfly
wings, too.  And I wondered again what it would have been like to fuck
her.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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