But then my friend and his girlfriend started having issues. I never asked what they were, but it became apparent that something was up when she started texting me more often and about more personal things. She would ask me things like, "Are you still hooking up with that girl Carol? She doesn't even swallow!" or she'd tell me how long it's been since she'd been fucked ("It's been almost a week, I can barely go a day!"). I started to learn things about her that I never imagined, like her almost uncontrollable masturbation sessions, which she always disguised with "taking a nap" while I'd be one room away. The idea that she was making herself come less than five feet away from me was such a frustrating notion, as if some great party was going on and I mis-read the invitation and didn't show up on time. Soon, our physical hang-out sessions became almost unbearably tense. She wouldn't mention anything we'd been texting back and forth, but would frequently take long showers before class.. , a three and two zeroes, exactly: three-hundred. Suddenly I was trying to figure out how I'd gotten home into my own bed again.Then my pants were yanking off me, and my shirt was coming off my head. I felt all tangled up for a moment and kicked. I heard the slap of my foot on flesh, but I felt nothing. I had my eyes shut and it felt like my clothes were yanking themselves off of my frame, one article at a time. Soon I was naked. I just lay there groaning. The room wouldn't stop spinning.There was tickling on my body. Fingers? Feathers? No, I decided--the wings of a little butterfly fluttering over my flesh, tickling me, relaxing me, making me moan. They went everywhere and I just lay there, grinning and giggling, and moaning sometimes. Then it felt like little licks."There's a butterfly's licking me ... Feels nice. Thank you, little butterfly."Then the tickles were on my scrotum, and fluttering up my shaft, wet flickering little butterfly wings on my most sensitive part. I was hard.
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