Butterfly

Info Anne Summer
13 Dec. '17
Butterfly

I very nearly let my sex-life slip away by sheer personal neglect. The beautiful butterfly that I have become emerged from the chrysalis of my fat, dowdy body. If I can do it, so can anyone and I can absolutely recommend having the tattoo!

 

I hope that you enjoy this short romance. I want you get turned on as much by reading it as I did by writing it.

An author is lonely in their craft. Please take time out to post a review, because your opinion is all that I have to lean on!

 

If you enjoy ‘Butterfly’ then you will surely also enjoy my full length novel in the ‘Under Plain Wrapper’ series – it is entitled ‘I, Punter’


Anne

‘Butterfly’

The story of my life is that I married young, had two children followed by a divorce. I am now 44, my daughter is in a relationship and my son has gone off for his gap year so I am now living on my own. I have a job and I am comfortably solvent. But I am feeling a bit down and dowdy.

This vibe must have got through to my cousin Melanie because we text each other regularly, sometimes email if there’s a bit more to say. Which resulted in her turning up unannounced one evening with a bottle of wine in her hand. Never one to beat about the bush and once the first glass had been consumed, she broached the matter she had come about.

“Cathy, you are obviously feeling a bit low. Now that you’re on your own and all.”

“Well, you…”

“Yes, I do know so I’ve come over to see what I can do to perk you up, and more than just a bit!”

I emptied my glass and held it out for her to refill. “What did you have in mind, then?”

She grinned conspiratorially. “You need a complete makeover, like they do with houses in that dreadful television programme!”

“No thanks, Melanie, I’m quite happy as I am, thank you! Apart from needing my hair done and I’ve booked that already.” (I should add that Melanie is as stunningly beautiful as I am not.)

“Well, actually, as a birthday present (it was nowhere near my birthday), I have booked you a preliminary Health & Beauty Assessment at a very special clinic I have used in the past. Not Harley Street but every bit as good, I can assure you!”

“Melanie! This isn’t my scene!”

“Cathy, promise me you’ll give it a go.” She handed me the card. ‘Dreamland Health & Beauty Clinic’. “Just book an appointment. Takes about two hours – ask for Dr Ralph Stevens.”

We finished the bottle. I agreed.

So on the following Monday morning, showered and shiny, I presented myself at Dreamland Health & Beauty, wondering what I had let myself in for. I had checked out their website and it seemed they did the lot – boob jobs, facelifts, botox injections – even tattoos. And Dr R Stevens was the top man. Heaven knows what it cost, but then Melanie isn’t hard up and she has a rich, if distant husband.

The place was glistening in a chrome plated, hygienic sort of way, as was the receptionist, a very beautiful, neatly uniformed twenty-something year old blonde with a ‘Colgate’ smile. She ushered me into Dr Stevens’ consulting room without delay, “they had been expecting me” she explained. He was (I guessed) about my age, tall, lean, dark haired, sharp features softened slightly by a neat goatee beard, immaculately turned out in a dark business suit. He rose from behind his desk to greet me, a sharp appraising stare but with a twinkle in his eyes. They were green.

He shook my hand, ushered me into a chair and sat down, taking up a clipboard and a folder with my name printed on it. “Good morning – Cathy – may I call you by your firstname? I am Ralph.” He smiled. “We know Melanie – glancing at the folder – your cousin and we are pleased to have the opportunity to help you too.” (I made a mental note of the ‘too’). This is just a preliminary chat, then I’m going to pass you on to our Healthcare Nurse to do height and weight, blood pressure and that sort of thing. Including blood and urine samples, I’m afraid” – he winced for me! “So let me hear your thoughts, your wants and hoped for outcomes.”

Which took me aback, because somehow I had expected him to tell me, so I stammered somewhat to a reply. “I need to lose some weight and maybe get my varicose veins done.”

“Oh, yes” he leaned forward and made a tent with his hands, elbows on his desk “we can do all those things but more I want to know about your feelings and your ambitions, desires” he lingered on the word and his eyes locked disconcertingly into mine. “This is not impertinence, Cathy, we need to know what outcomes you seek so that we can tailor your treatment plan accordingly.”

I was still on the back foot and lost for reply so he continued. “For example if you just want to smarten yourself up a bit then you hardly need us. We are here to help you achieve your social and”, he paused, “sexual needs, in which case there is a lot more may need to be done.”

I was even further on the back foot now, I hadn’t expected anything so personal and frankly embarrassing. “Can I ask you” he continued into my disconcerted fumbling for words “do you seek to find a partner and want to look better for that reason?”

Well, no, I didn’t. My marriage experiences had been enough and I had been relieved when we split up. I wanted to live my own life, on my own terms even if I was a bit dowdy and sometimes a bit bored, just coasting along. “I’m not interested in a serious relationship” I replied cautiously.

“Which means that you could be interested in a less than serious one”, pausing meaningfully, “or more than one, maybe several.” His green eyes twinkled with a hint of amusement.

This was getting out of hand, I thought. “Dr Stevens”, I looked him firmly in the eye “I think that this conversation has gone far enough.”

He leaned back in his chair, clearly not at all put out. “I hadn’t intended to make you feel uncomfortable, Cathy. I’m going to pass you on to the nurse now but you might give some thought to these matters before we meet again – which will be when all the test results have come through, normally by this time next week. My staff will organise an appointment with you.”

 

The medical was thorough and detailed. The nurse sent me to a cubicle to strip naked, then wear a white cotton towelling dressing gown and slippers before being weighed, measured (height and vital statistics), tested for temperature, blood pressure and pulse (hooked up to a monitor). Following this I was made to remove the gown and stand on a stool to have my legs photographed, and while she was at it, my whole body, especially my breasts and finally from behind while bending to touch my toes (though she didn’t say why!). Finally, the blood test and a dribble of urine which was all I seemed to be able to manage.

I emailed Melanie. “This Dr Stevens started making suggestive remarks. I had to ask him to stop. I’m not sure what to think or whether I want to go back.”

Her reply was simply “Trust him!” sent as a text, implying that she didn’t want to elaborate. So I made a return appointment.

 

The same office and the same man with the same green, twinkling eyes. He greeted me cordially, sat behind his desk and I noticed that my folder was a lot thicker than it had been before. “I have the Healthcare Nurse’s report and the first thing is to congratulate you on your overall good health.” He smiled encouragingly and I smiled back, wondering if I was finding this man to be attractive, while at the same time retaining a level of suspicion despite Melanie’s plea to trust him. “Now, there are plenty of essentially cosmetic issues for me to discuss with you.” He switched on a data projector, clicked on a handheld remote and I appeared almost life-size in the nude, in profile on a wall-mounted screen. “You don’t need me to tell you that you are two stones overweight, but I need to advise you that your overall muscle tone is soft.” I grimaced in self disgust. There is something awful about coming face to face with your imperfections and mine were being displayed to what I perceived to be gross disadvantage. To my increasing discomfiture, he showed several more pictures of me standing at different angles. I noticed dimples in my buttocks that I had been unaware of.

“Next, of course are your varicose veins which are very commonplace in the population.” He changed the view to my legs. “They look worse than they are and will yield nicely to laser treatment. Should be well-nigh invisible afterwards.” Another click on the remote focussed in on my breasts. “You have some unevenness there, nipples out of line, some size variation. Nothing really bad but we can make them nicely pert and any size you choose, within reason, of course” he grinned and those green eyes continued to sparkle. Before I could do more than squirm slightly the view had moved on to my face. “You’ve got an attractive face, the double chin will disappear when you lose weight and the bags under your eyes will tend to tighten a bit – and they hide if you wear glasses. We can do a minor procedure if you wanted and you’d be pleased with the result.” The next click dramatically changed the view to my bum, taken when I had been bending. I reddened even more than I was already blushing with embarrassment. “You might benefit from a bit of labial realignment but we would need a closer examination in order to decide.” He switched off the projector. “So that’s about it!” He leaned back with a smile, a bit smug, I thought.

“I could never afford those things, even if I wanted to. But thanks for telling me the hard truth” I added with more than a touch of sarcasm, though it was only in defence against my surging embarrassment. He paused for some seconds, eyes half closed before responding. “Let me make you an offer then, Cathy”, now looking me very directly in the eyes. “Come back to me here when you have lost two stones in weight and got back your muscle tone and I will have your veins done for free!” When we’ve reached this point I will renew the discussion we had last time and which you found to be difficult. Even so” and his stare became even more pointed, “you came back, which must mean that you are not disinterested!”

 

His words followed me through the next ten weeks during which time I religiously followed the diet sheet he had given me and went for increasingly long cycle rides in the lengthening evenings of an exuberant Springtime. Especially while cycling, which I found to be exhilarating and my mind could freewheel along with the bike, recalling his green eyes and his smooth voice, the unrepentant probing into my desires. It came to me gradually and almost against my will that he had been guiding me in the direction of sexual adventure. And did I fancy him? The question moved into certainty as I stood on my bathroom scales and I was just two pounds short of the target. Yes, I fancied him, with a belly-tightening urgency that actually took me by surprise. ‘Of course’, I thought ‘it is the done thing for women to fancy their therapist. Quite normal!’

The appointment was for 5pm on Friday (‘sorry she couldn’t fit me in sooner, they are a bit busy just now’) and I took the afternoon off work to prepare for it. My wardrobe mirror showed a much fitter, leaner and more supple me. My double chin had gone completely but so had quite a lot of my breasts, only what was left was firmer and a better shape. I was pleased with myself and, yes, I wanted to impress him. I showered and dressed in a smart two-piece suit, primped up my hair and took the bus, thinking that maybe I should have cycled there only I would be sweaty and dishevelled on arrival and that would never do!

The receptionist ushered me into his surgery, not the office. He was dressed in a white coat and a stethoscope hung around his neck. Those wonderful green eyes twinkled and held mine for a little longer than was strictly necessary. “I’m delighted that you came back, Cathy. You look very good and I’m sure you feel very good too!”

“I did exactly as you prescribed and I took up cycling. I’ve not felt so good in a long time and I have you to thank for that.”

“And your cousin Melanie, don’t forget. But you must congratulate yourself, you’ve made a lifestyle change for the better. So I need to confirm your progress.” He directed me to a screened off corner of the surgery. “Please undress and put on the gown you’ll find there and lie down on the couch. I’m going to close up – my receptionist finishes at 5pm.”

‘So I was alone with him!’ My hands trembled as I unbuttoned my skirt and blouse. My naked body felt deliciously cool against the fabric of the gown. I climbed on to the couch, lay back against the headrest and felt a frisson of delighted anticipation flutter over me. I was here to seduce him and I knew that he was equally here to seduce me. I hadn’t had sex for such a long time!

He came back into the room, drew up a chair and sat beside me. I melted under those green eyes and he knew it. “First, under your eyes”, he ran his finger under each in turn. “We will do these at the same time as your veins, at no extra cost, a very minor procedure as I said before but the result will be to your liking. Please sit up now.” He reached forward and opened the coat, exposing my breasts. It hung on my shoulders and I wriggled slightly to make it fall away so that I was now naked to the waist and fully open to him. His hand traced the outline of my left breast and I tingled in response to every place he touched. He ran his fingers underneath, then cupping me in his hand, his palm caressing the nipple which instantly went up hard into a point. His voice had gone softer and I could see that he was visibly breathing more heavily. “You would benefit from going up two cup sizes and a little more emphasis on the left side to make you just about perfect. We can do that later. Now lie back again.” I could smell his closeness and the look in those wonderful eyes had taken on a more urgent glint. He ran his hand down, brushing against my belly. “I want to examine your labia”. His fingers probed inside my thighs, prompting me to open my legs. He began to massage me under my mound of venus, his strong fingers rubbing against my clitoris which had swelled in delightful erotic response, sending waves of pleasure through me.

“You like this don’t you? What do you think about when you are doing it to yourself?”

“You!” I gasped. “I think about you doing it to me!” His fingers continued to stroke me inside then push firmly into the entrance to my vagina, rubbing deliciously against me inside and causing me to lift myself up against him. It seemed almost the work of a moment then for him to step out of his clothes at the same time as I sat up, spread my legs wide apart and gratefully took his swollen manhood in my hands and led him inside me. I was by now oozing wet with my love juices and he penetrated easily, deeply and now his pubic bone was pressing up against me. I moaned out loud as he began steadily to thrust himself back and forth inside me, wrapping my legs around his back and my arms around his shoulders, crying out my joyful abandon. Surging waves of sensation spread all over my body until a huge, shuddering orgasm such as I had never before experienced sundered me, my vagina clamped on to him, squeezing him to ejaculation and taking me there a second time along with his repeated spurts of semen, a harvest gathered and cuddled deep inside my womb. We relaxed against each other until he slackened and eventually slipped out in a juicy, slippery spreading flow of our mingled love juices.

After which he made me coffee and fed me chocolates and relaxed me under the gentle glow in those incredible eyes of his. “Will you come back on Monday?” We now have much more to talk about but not just now. I will take you home.”

I lay in bed that night reliving every moment of our lovemaking, remembering his lithe, muscular body, the smell of him, the fine down of hair on his chest, the deep fire he had lit in my vagina. I wondered what other pleasures he might have for me when we met again. He had texted me to tell me to come at 5.30 after the receptionist had gone. I replied ‘mad for you. Can’t wait.’ His reply ‘nor me. I will teach you how to make love.’ My reply ‘you already have’. His reply ‘we have just begun’. My reply ‘I want to know everything.’ His reply ‘you must give yourself utterly.’ My reply ‘my body is yours. utterly.’ And I meant it. He could do anything he wanted with me and I would love him the more for it.

On Saturday a special delivery parcel came. He had pinned a note inside it. ‘These are for you to wear for me when you come on Monday. The day will be warm and so I want you to wear only this coat and nothing else underneath’. I shook out a knee-length lightweight silk garment, from which tumbled a small box with another note. ‘These are love-eggs. Wear them inside you when you come’. Inside the box, two green and black eggs, the same size as chicken eggs, joined together and having a short length of cord integrated into one end. They were heavy and wobbled mysteriously. A tube of lubricant accompanied them.

I tried on the coat. It was very pleasant against my skin, almost erotic and it just about covered me. The thought of wearing just this on its own on the bus was almost terrifying but that is what he was asking of me. The love-eggs were something else. I lubricated them generously and pushed them up into my vagina so that only the cord hung outside. It was a distinctly pleasant sensation but when I started walking about they moved inside me, gently massaging me within and that drove me wild. I went for a walk across the park and back and my legs were trembling by the time I returned and I was ready for sex. Only he wasn’t there so I fantasised about him and massaged my clitoris into a frenzy of sensation and an orgasm that would have to do until Monday.

And Monday came and my insides began to churn with want for him. I left work earlier than usual, cycled home in a sweat, showered myself, dried off and inserted my love eggs, feeling a shiver of pleasure as they made the double journey deep inside my vagina. I donned the silk coat, looked at myself in the mirror, alarmed at how visible my nipples, teased into tingling protuberance by the love eggs had become through the thin fabric. I texted him ‘I’m on my way’. He replied almost at once ‘I’m ready for you.’ I replied ‘I’m wearing the eggs. Wow!’ He replied ‘I will pull them out with my teeth.’ I replied ‘yes, oh yes please!’

The journey was an erotic experience in its own right. The bus was quite crowded and I was pushed into contact with others, feeling almost as though I was naked among strangers and at the same time the ever wobbling eggs inside me reminding me of his long fingers massaging the walls of my vagina. I was decidedly trembling by the time I reached the door of the Practice where he was waiting for me, dressed only in a gown. I almost literally fell into his arms in the open doorway, his arm went around my waist and he pulled me to him, closing the door and then embracing me, lifting me bodily off the floor, carrying me through into, not his surgery but a fully equipped bed-sitting room cum study. The bed was a double one.

He set me down on my feet, discarded his gown, then pulled my coat over my head and threw it into a corner. At once, he fell to his knees on a thick floormat, pulled me to him, buried his face between my legs and next I felt the pull against my vagina as it reluctantly let my love-eggs go and he, as promised, drew them out with his teeth. He looked up, smiling, put one into his mouth and sucked my juices from it, then put it aside and his face back, his tongue probing inside my labia, making me gasp at the sheer delight of it. I wriggled my legs apart as he put his hands up and pressed me open with his thumbs, lapping at my juices then fastening his lips on to my clitoris. I leaned down on to him, my hands twining in his hair, now crooning with pleasure as he stimulated what I thought to be everything down there. Only then he put his hands on my hips and turned me around, my feet and legs twisting to accommodate the movement, and his hands were parting my bottom cheeks, his tongue licking between my labia and my anus which contracted in a spasm of the purest sexual stimulation. I felt his cheeks rubbing between mine as he worked with his tongue to drive me to a peak of ecstasy, then my legs were shaking so much that I had to lie down on the bed. He rolled me over face down, then pulled me up by the hips and I felt him enter me from behind, going deep up into my vagina, his hands around me, fingers pressing into me from the front. Once he was fully inside me, he became gentle, thrusting slowly fully forward and back, the head of his penis not quite coming out all the way, though I could feel the wider part opening me just that bit more then gliding deliciously against the top of my vagina somewhere just under the neck of my womb. I went into an entranced state of sensory pleasure which is beyond words to describe and he kept me there for such a wonderfully long time. Eventually, he withdrew altogether leaving my open vagina still aching for him and turned me around to face him. I took his wonderful, hot manhood in my hand and squeezed him gently until the little eye at the end opened and a bead of milky liquid oozed out. I knew what I had to do, leaned forward and licked it off, savouring his taste, then drew the head of him in between my lips, loving him with my tongue and rubbing my teeth over him until he let out a deep groan of pleasure. I wanted to make him come, but he pulled back, gripped my shoulders and pushed me down on to the bed, entered me with one powerful thrust, to which I responded with equal force, lifting up against him and we both climaxed almost immediately and together.

After which we lay cuddled together until we became drowsy, I think that I briefly went to sleep while a surprisingly large damp patch spread underneath me. I became aware that he had got up and gone next door, returning with an opened bottle of champagne and two glasses which we sat side by side to drink, leaning against each other. He said “Congratulations, Cathy on your initiation, so far!” the first words he had spoken during that wonderful evening. “You are a pure female sexual animal! You love it, don’t you!”

I nodded, kissed the side of his neck. “My initiation so far?” I asked softly, my voice sultry with desire for more. He fixed me with those wonderful green eyes, but they were serious now. “Let me return to the question I put to you the first time we met. Which was whether you want a relationship, a lover or do you want more than that?”

“I want you!” I said. “You can have me, Cathy, but be aware that there are others in my life.” He knew exactly the effect his words on me would be and moved on quickly “Neither of us want you to start pining for me because I am not your partner – I am your therapist – and lover, that’s as maybe!”

“Do you seduce all your clients then?” I asked tartly. “Only the ones I think have it in them to become butterflies”, the twinkle returned to his eyes “and I think you are one of those!”

“Butterflies? I am to become a butterfly? What do you mean?”

He clinked his glass against mine and drained it. “Drink up, Cathy! This is decision time for you – here and now. The question is, do you go from here back to your old life and find yourself a partner or do you trust me to take you forward to complete sexual empowerment. The choice is yours, no pressure either way but I need an answer.”

Sometimes you just say ‘yes’, especially if you’ve just consumed half a bottle of champagne! I said “Yes!” ‘Melanie said to trust him. I just have!’
 

“Time for your tattoo, then!” he grinned “We must go into my surgery. By the way, I am an expert tattooist, you can trust me to do a good job.” He led me by the hand to his couch, had me lie face down over a pile of pillows with my bottom up and my legs apart and then began to rub his fingers inside my bottom cheeks in a highly erotic and rousing way. I was so sensitive down there, it was delicious and when he inserted the well-lubricated love-eggs into my anus it was simply heaven! He pushed them in so gently, yet firmly that my muscles just relaxed to receive the double pulse of their entry, then he brought them back and forth until I began to moan softly with this new and incredible delight. The tattooing took two hours. Every time he thought that I was becoming bored he serviced me anew with the eggs until, finally, he said it was finished. He took out the love-eggs and before I could react, I felt his hot, throbbing manhood thrusting into me in their place, going far up inside until his abdomen was pressing up against my cheeks and the tender places where his tattooing needles had marked me. I wouldn’t have believed I could reach orgasm like that or that it would be so incredibly sensuous, I fainted when he finally ejaculated, feeling those warm, deep spurts and the rippling pulses down his shaft as my anal muscles clamped on to him.

 

We went out to a nearby restaurant, only a few steps away from the Practice. I dressed in my silk coat and nothing underneath except a pair of his boxer shorts with a wad of tissues inside to catch the fluids gently draining out of my various openings. My whole pelvic floor region was a delicate, yet deliciously throbbing mass and I was unable to do more than totter the few steps, leaning on his arm. There was an additional soreness from the tattooing as I sat down.

He had chosen a discreet corner alcove for us, poured a glass of wine for me before leaning confidentially close to my ear. “How do you feel, Cathy?” I made a bit of a face. “My bum is hurting about ten times more than it did the first day I rode a bike, but all the same it feels wonderful!”

“Cathy, I drink to you. Welcome, butterfly to your new world!” He explained to me, now that there was no going back that the butterfly tattoo gave me access to a secret website along with all the other butterflies and the highly selected men who could contact me there. I could use it as often as I wished and I did not have to accept any assignation if I did not wish to. He would explain to me later how to set up my own personal page once I was established on it, which would be after I had had my boob job and other procedures done. It was my privilege, he explained to have any such enhancements free now that I was a butterfly! What he omitted to mention was that his beautifully tattooed butterfly with its wings curving over my lower buttocks and its body actually being just my anal crack was a direct statement, and indeed invitation to any future sexual encounter that I was available that way. Which I thought was just fine!
 

It was a few weeks later, when I had been through all this and my body looked gorgeous, I thought, that I asked Melanie to come over. I had exchanged a few texts with her, enough that she had a shrewd idea of what had transpired but now it was time to meet up. She was astounded at the transformation in me and I congratulated her too on her delightful appearance. She was so beautiful, self assured and sparkly!

“Well” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “let me see this mysterious tattoo of yours!” I obligingly lowered my pants and knickers and she solemnly ran her hands over my buttocks, causing me to give a slight quiver as she pushed my cheeks open for a closer look. “It is very beautiful” she said, then turned me around, turned her back to me and lifted her skirt. She was wearing just a tight leather thong, which set off the butterfly wings spreading out over her bottom to erotic perfection. They were exactly the same as mine!
 

I’ve written other short stories under this series, namely, ‘Hotel’ and ‘Kickstart’ which you can enjoy for free on Smashwords.


 

Love you, dear reader for enjoying my work

Anne

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