Butterfly Ch. 06
Keywords: Ch., 06, Butterfly,
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This was followed by a gradual series of ever-weakening spurts that finally became nothing more than a tiny dribble. The great prick had been completely milked dry.
"What a fucking orgasm!" Astrid exclaimed, as she looked down at her own dress to see it covered with a residue of sperm.
All of us, including the now semi-revived Craig, were laughing and commenting about the event that had just transpired. For those who had never witnessed one of Craig's voluminous cumshots, it was nothing short of a revelation. He was congratulated, applauded, and was even lavished with kisses by some of the women who found his performance mesmerizing. The only one who didn't take part in the celebration was Chantal, who was still trying to remove his semen from her hair.
"I don't know what you're all so happy about," she said, annoyed. "I'm the one who got the worst of it."
"Oh, don't be a cry baby!" Lenore said. "Sperm makes good conditioner!"
Chantal didn't reply. She just mumbled something and kept rubbing the towel over her hair in an energetic fashion, determined to eradicate all traces of the sticky substance.
Sylvie proved to be a most gracious hostess, providing everyone with wet and dry towels to help remove the aftermath of Craig's lust from our bodies. After we had cleaned up, and the final vestiges of sperm removed from the floor and furniture, my aunt announced that she, Lenore, and the rest of their friends were going to dinner.
"We can drop you off on the way," she told me. "Or you can stay. But if you do, you'll have to get your own ride back. Jake is busy tonight."
"I can take her home Ms. Anjou," Craig said.
My aunt looked at me, awaiting an answer.
"You go ahead," I told her. "I'll go back with Craig."
My aunt said goodbye to Sylvie and the twins, thanking them profusely for their hospitality. Lenore and the others paid their respects as well, and then Sylvie got up to escort them out. As my aunt walked past Craig, she bent down and took his flaccid penis in her hand and gave it a few jerks. Craig gave out a little yelp.
"Two more weeks until the 'Long Shots' contest," she reminded me. "Better train him well!"
"You are definitely quite a milkable young man!" Lenore joked.
"Ha! I like that!" my aunt responded. "But he is though, isn't he?"
She lifted his penis up into his abdomen and then abruptly let it go, laughing as she watched it bounce up and down a few times before settling between his legs.
"See you in the Masturbatorium, Mr. Milkable!" she sang, as she and Lenore walked out arm in arm.
After Sylvie returned, she, the twins, and I asked Craig if he would model more of the men's swimwear for us, to which he readily agreed. I really wanted to buy him a few bikinis as a way of thanking him for the marvelous show he had put on for us, and I also wanted to see more of his wonderful cock. Julie and Juliette brought out a few dozen pairs of bikinis for him to try on and I told him to choose a few for his own. After modeling several that appealed to him, he finally settled upon the emerald-green thong and a royal-blue bikini, both of which fit him perfectly. He thanked me for the gifts and decided to keep the blue bikini on while Sylvie called to order some food from the shop next door.
"I just ordered some roast chicken," she said to Craig and I as she stood admiring him. Stay and eat with us."
"Thank you. I'd love to," I said, cheerily.
"Me too," he replied.
Julie and Juliette were thrilled to hear Craig and I were staying for dinner. I knew they were anxious for the opportunity to learn more about the Swedish boy, as was I, and they spared no effort in making him feel at home.
"You can sit at the head of the table," Julie said to him. "Do you prefer wine or soda?"
"I've had enough wine for one day," he replied. "A soda will be fine."
She smiled at him and went into the next room, which acted as a sort of makeshift kitchen. I assumed Sylvie and the girls took many of their meals here, as it was both convenient and practical when they often had to work straight through the day and sometimes well into the evening to complete a special order. During dinner I asked Sylvie why she had not chosen to expand her operation by hiring more workers.
"No, that would ruin everything," she said. "Right now we enjoy the luxury of having a very eclectic clientele. To expand the business is to destroy our uniqueness. It would be like homogenized milk."
"That makes sense, ma'm," Craig agreed. "You have a very special way of doing things and going big time wouldn't make it so special anymore."
"Precisely. We are a niche market. We do not pretend to be anything else."
Craig, I found, was very adept at fielding questions from both the twins and Sylvie herself. He answered all their inquiries in a friendly and courteous way, always self-effacing, never patronizing or boorish, his intent to please them being paramount.
Sylvie tried to push more wine upon him, but he insisted that he must remain sober for our drive home. I knew he had enjoyed the wine, and would have sampled more of it if the responsibility for getting me home safely were not up to him. His consideration was not wasted upon me.
"You are a true gentleman," I said, digging into my food.
"I don't want anything to happen to my precious cargo," he replied, looking at me straight in the eye.
As the evening wore on, our discussion took on many forms. At one point I found myself debating the usefulness of mosquitoes, the infallibility of the Pope, and the imponderable question of how the current President of the United States managed to get himself elected to a second term.
"That is easily explained," Sylvie offered, as if the solution was readily apparent. "You are a nation of primitives governed by an imbecile."
Taken aback by what I considered to be her very insensitive comment, I stopped eating and stared directly at her.
"You don't seem to like Americans very much do you?" I asked, feeling slighted.
"No, that's not true. I like some Americans."
"Which ones?"
"Oh, I don't know," she replied between mouthfuls. "There are a few."
I looked around the table. Julie and Juliette refused to meet my gaze. Craig shrugged and shoved a chicken leg in his mouth.
"Name one person," I said, determined to get her to answer my question. "I know the French people don't like Americans very much but name me one person."
She took a sip of wine and wiped her mouth, then turned to me as if she were appraising a piece of jewelry.
"The only person I can think of right now is…you. You are the only American I like."
She immediately went back to eating her dinner.
"Me?" I said. "I'm the only one?"
"Right now, yes."
I stopped eating and put my fork down in my plate.
"Well," I said, "I guess I should feel honored. But if I may ask, why do you hold my country in such low regard?"
"I hold it in such low regard because its people elect a man who believes it is his divine mission to democratize the world. What right has he to interfere with the destiny of other countries? It is shameless arrogance."
"Not all Americans think like him. Some of us feel as you do."
She kept eating and said nothing.
"There are things about your country I don't particularly like either, but I don't condemn all of you."
She laughed. "I am not as selective as you are, Holly. I am universal in my damnation of America because it is easier for me to hate all of you at once rather than to pick and choose whom I like and whom I don't like. It's too time consuming."
I couldn't tell if she was telling the truth, mocking me, making a joke, or doing all these things at the same time. As I sat there trying to discern the meaning of her statement, Craig let out a howl.
"It's too time consuming!" he roared. "That's a good one, ma'm!"
Julie and Juliette couldn't help succumbing to Craig's infectious laugh, and soon both Sylvie and I were laughing too. It certainly helped to dispel some of the tension.
"I am teasing you, my dear girl," Sylvie admitted. "But your country is sick in its soul, and I hope you will all come to your senses before it's too late."
From politics we then moved on to sex. I don't know who was the first of us to raise the topic, but I seem to recall Julie making a remark about Craig's prodigious cumshot, saying that she wished she had a video of his performance. From then on, with the wine flowing freely between Sylvie and the twins, the discussion centered upon handjobs, blowjobs, the virtues of virginity, and of course, Craig, who soon found himself preparing for another tour de force.
"Yes, I was amazed by it too," Sylvie said. "How do you manage to ejaculate like that?"
"It was all because of the drug," he replied. "Although I have none of it left in my system."
"A fringe benefit?" Sylvie asked.
"Yes, ma'm. It would appear so."
Julie giggled. "I loved it when you came in that woman's hair!"
"I didn't mean to," Craig replied, frankly. "But I wasn't the one controlling things."
The girl gave her sister an accusatory look. "Juliette did it on purpose!"
"No, I didn't," Juliette countered. "I lost my grip, that's all."
Sylvie chuckled. "With a penis like that it is easy to lose one's grip."
"And how did I know he was going to shoot that far?" Juliette added. "But is was funny just the same!"
"Right across the table and into her hair," Julie snickered. "I laughed so hard!"
"I never even saw it," Craig said. "All I was aware of was Holly and Juliette's hands on me, and this incredible sensation in my cock. You girls really milked me like crazy."
As he said this I saw him place one hand onto his crotch and he squeezed himself hard.
"I wanted to make you happy," I said to him, watching him stroke his cock through the bikini fabric.
"You did," he confessed. "It was the best handjob I've ever had. Thanks to you, too, Juliette."
Juliette smiled at him and for a moment I actually saw her blush.
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Keywords: Ch., 06, Butterfly,