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o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o
o other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o
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o All works are copyrighted to the author and may not be used for o
o profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance. o
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o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o and should not be read by minors. o
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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Butterfly (M-insect)
by Anon PIXNIX Author
***
He climbed to the top of the shallow hill, found a suitable spot
under a banyan tree and sat down, facing the valley. from here, he
could see up the valley to where the hills curved slowly to the
right; the glittering trail of the river running along the bottom
of the flattened v-shape.
Nearby, he could see thousands of shades of green in the foliage;
distance gradually reduced these to a lush, verdant shade, which he
saw as the epitome of rich, vibrant life; he could imagine that
this was the sort of jungle which could suffer almost total
defoliation and regrow within two months, stronger than before.
He entertained a mild fantasy of the jungle growing through the
nearby developing city, lianas insinuating themselves in windows
and down drains, along conduits, tearing the buildings apart and
bringing the territory back to the primal state from which it had
been wrested.
He reached out idly and snapped the dry, brown end off a vine,
which dangled overhead, popped it in his mouth and chewed it. He
had no idea what it was (there were thousands of undiscovered and
unnamed plants in this area), but within a few minutes he felt the
effect which the locals had described; a loose, boneless
relaxation, a dizzy detachment from his sense of physical presence
which abruptly vanished, giving a feeling as if he had been dumped
back into his body. This was the third time he'd tried it, and this
time, he began to feel it - a definite sensation of arousal.
Smiling to himself, he undid his jeans and slid them off, followed
by his underpants, and sat in the shade of the tree, eyes closed,
with no particular impulse to masturbate towards orgasm; he was
content to sit there and enjoy the feeling. His sense of feeling
became more pronounced; he could feel the individual ridges of bark
on his back, could identify single blades of grass tickling his
side, and the feeling of the cool breeze stirring his pubic hair
was enough to make him want to spend the rest of his life there.
The sounds of insects and birds faded into the background, and for
a moment, he was suspended in a timeless pulse, in which he felt
that he was a small part of the convoluted, infinitely varied life
around him. When the feeling passed, he couldn't say how long it
had lasted; his sadness at what he saw as a return to his mundane
physical state was slightly tempered by the slowly mounting feeling
of arousal. He shifted slightly, moving from his sitting position
against the tree to lie flat on the ground, his head supported
slightly by a hummock of grassy ground, which covered one of the
tree's massive roots. He stretched; arms folded behind his head,
relishing the feeling as his erection waved in the cool air, and
began an exercise, which he'd learned from an associate, a
professional deviate in Cartagena, which involved rhythmic
contractions of the perineal muscles.
With each pulse, his cock shifted upward toward his belly, the
timing of the pulses stretching out until he was holding the
muscles clenched, his penis quivering with the effort. Slowly, he
relaxed, his penis shifting downward; he waited for the space of
six breaths and began again. He found the motion of his penis as it
dropped back wonderfully stimulating, and so he spread the timing
of the pulses until his erection was moving back and forth like a
metronome.
Growing bored with this after about ten minutes, he decided to see
how long he could keep it in one position; he carefully tensed
until it was pointing at about forty-five degrees, and then held it
there. This required a great deal of concentration, and to his
surprise, the quivering of the muscles around his groin seemed to
be slowly bringing him to a climax. As he maintained that attitude,
the feeling wavered just short of orgasm.
A tickling sensation on the head of his penis almost made him lose
his concentration. He glanced down and received a mild shock when
he saw that a large butterfly had landed. It exposed its
beautifully colored wings - which must have been at least fifteen
centimeters across - and then turned around to face him, balancing
artfully on the underside of his shaft, waving its wings slowly.
With an effort, he kept as still as possible and examined it.
From the underside, the neon colors of its wings were muted, but
still striking; its forelegs gripped the head of his penis, its
feathery antennae pointing out like a handlebar moustache, each one
dipping slightly in turn, almost as if it were slowly waggling its
eyebrows at him.
The effort involved in keeping his erection motionless diminished
slightly, and once the quivering in his muscles faded, the
butterfly seemed assured of a steady perch and it crawled forward
until its wings were held out parallel to the ground, a delicately
jeweled parasol. After being on the point of climax for the past
two minutes, he suddenly found himself having to stave off orgasm;
if he came, he'd drench the butterfly, or at the very least, make
it look for a more stable landing pad.
He closed his eyes and bit his lip with the effort; he had almost
overcome the feeling and had opened his eyes, only to see the
butterfly extend its spiral tongue and dip it into the slit at the
end of his penis, to drink the salty fluid, which had gathered in a
droplet there. The hesitant, tickling touch pushed him over the
edge, and he came, his penis jerking upwards spasmodically, drops
of come shooting up to land on his chest and belly, gradually
falling closer to his groin with each pulse.
The final spasm pushed a stream of hot white come out to run down
the top of his shaft. Amazingly, the butterfly had hung on
throughout the ride, wings waving erratically as it kept its
balance; it crawled further forward to dart its tongue into the
fluid, which was still spurting, although slower now.
He watched in amazement as it drank, occasionally arching its wings
back and then folding them down to cover the head of his penis, all
the while coiling and uncoiling its tongue.
After about two minutes of this, his erection began to subside;
possibly sensing this, the butterfly dipped both antennae in what
he imagined to be a jaunty gesture of thanks, carefully turned
around (the tickling sensation of its sharply terminated feet
almost inspiring another erection), flapped its wings twice and
departed.
He followed its path as it moved through the air, dodging drunkenly
around the branches of the banyan, until it was hidden by the
masses of foliage, which grew in collusion with the tree.
THE END