Venus Butterfly

“Millie, would you be kind enough to return these books to the stacks for me,” asked Mr. Davis. Mr. Davis was wheelchair bound, he came in and read nearly every day and he often asked me to replace the books he’d chosen for the day.

I’m the librarian at our city library, my name tag reads, “Millicent Prentiss, Head Librarian,” I’ve been with the library for twenty-one years, since I graduated with a degree in library science. I love books and I love my work, all I ever wanted was to write but, alas, not the necessary talent, so I indulge my passion for literature by being a servant to it.

If ever there was a person one could look at and say, “Librarian,” it’s me. I’m on the short side, only five two, I’m a bit pudgy, I try to watch my diet but sometimes it’s a losing proposition, I weigh one hundred and forty-two pounds. My mousy brown hair is done up in a bun and my glasses are not in the least stylish. Today, I’m attired in a gray skirt and a white blouse, I look like what I am, a librarian.

It’s the end of the day; I lock up and drive home, it’s Friday and I’m looking forward to the weekend; Tommy, my husband will already be there.

How I got Tommy, why he proposed to me, married me is one of my life’s great mysteries.

Tommy’s everything I’m not, five ten, with a trim muscular body, he has raven black hair, and a devilish smile, he reminds me of Johnny Depp in his “Pirates of the Caribbean” role.

He greets me at the door with a hug and a kiss, “I missed you Millie,” he whispers to me as he guides me to the table.

On the table is a Spanish cheese plate with cured Manchego, sultry Roncal, smoked Idiazabál, blue Cabrales, savory Ibores and creamy Garrotxa cheeses. Glasses of amontillado sherry are already poured.

Oh, he’s catering to me this evening, one of my favorites, my guilty pleasures, tapas; he’s giving me a tapas party.

Tommy pulled out my chair and seated me. He took out the bun, letting my hair fall then massaged my shoulders.

I sighed as my muscles relaxed and cooed when he kissed my throat, God Tommy could make me feel beautiful and loved.

I noticed that on the counter were three bottles of wine, two in ice buckets the third a red that didn’t require chilling.

Tommy fed me a bit of the cheese then sat; we finished and drained our sherry glasses.

From the refrigerator Tommy brought marinated olives and piquillo peppers, from the oven he laid out asparagus wrapped in Serrano ham, albondigas –little meatballs and gambas al ajillo-sautéed shrimp.

He poured each of two glasses of wine, a red, Clos de l’ Obac, to enjoy with the meat dishes and a white, Selección de Añada Albariño to accompany the seafood.

Tapas are fun food, a little of this, a little of that, a sip of wine following each nibble, I can’t imagine a more romantic meal.

For dessert he presented me with my favorite, Tiramisu, not Spanish but delish, he poured us each a flute of Cava, a Spanish sparkling wine.

After we’d finished he led me upstairs. Our bedroom door was closed; he stopped me, kissed me, “Tonight’s for you Millie,” as he opened the door and led me in.

The room’s transformed, Tommy’s picture of Eden, it’s lit with candles, large scented candles, attar of roses to excite the senses.

Tommy stepped into the bathroom and started the water running in the tub then he came back to me.

He took my glasses off and set them on the dresser.

Tommy unbuttoned my blouse and removed it; he unfastened my brassiere, lowered it off my shoulders and kissed each of my breasts then unfastened my skirt and let it fall to the floor.

He knelt and removed my shoes then he kissed me thought my panties, just brushing his lips against me. He lowered my panties and lifted first on foot then the other, freeing me feet. He stood and led me to the tub.

The same attar of roses aroma was carried upward with the steam, he helped me in.

Tommy bathed me, rinsed the soap from my body and assisted me from the bath.

With a big fluffy Turkish towel he dried me and walked me to the bed. The comforter was already turned down. He laid me on the sheet, it was pleasantly warm, he’d put the electric blanket on a low setting under the sheet.

“I’m going to give you a massage now Millie,” he said as he took up the bottle of rose scented body lotion.

He warmed the lotion in the palms of his hands then started at the bottoms of my feet, light circular motions, I could feel the tension flowing from me, I sighed, it was the most sensual of experiences.

Up my lower legs, over my thighs, he massaged me with light feathery strokes. He talked to me throughout; telling me what he was doing, asking for direction.

As he stroked my thighs he crooned, “Does this feel nice Millie, am I giving you pleasure? Would you like me to go harder, softer, what does my beautiful lady want?”

When he’d finished my thighs I thought certainly he’d touch me. No, he took my hands and with the same light circular strokes he’d used on my feet he massaged my palms then up my arms to my shoulders, still talking in a soothing voice, telling me how much he loves me, how he adores my body and my mind, how I am his woman and the love of his life.

When he caressed my chest, he circled my breasts, almost but not quite touching my nipples. My breasts were swollen and sensitive, my nipples hard as pebbles and he wouldn’t touch them, I wanted to feel his hands on me.

He continued down, along my sides, over my tummy and down as far as my abdomen, God when he pressed me there I thought I was going to have an orgasm, my uterus contracted, my vagina was lubricating, I was as aroused as I’d ever been and he hadn’t touched an erogenous zone. His gentle touch made me feel like my entire skin was an erogenous area, I was flushed and warm, blood was migrating to my labia and clitoris, my sexual organs were engorged, hot swollen and waiting.

All I could think was take me Tommy take me.

My legs were spread, awaiting him. Instead, he lifted them and slid his left leg under mine.

He’d picked up a tube from the night stand, it was KY Warming Jelly, he squeezed some on his fingers and laid his right leg over my tummy.

“I think you’ll like this Sweetheart,” he said as he slid his left hand under my bottom and placed his thumb at the throat of my vagina, not penetrating me, just holding me.

With the fingers of his right hand he slid my clitoral hood back. Exposing my swollen clit, he gently brushed the tip. Light feathery flicks, barely making contact, I was panting with desire, my orgasm was building and he stopped, he stroked along my vulva and teased my labia, just the tip of his fingers in contact with me, holding me on the edge.

“Am I making you feel good Millie, does my baby like?”

Oh yeah, his baby felt good, God, he’d taken me to the brink three, four, five times, his baby lost count. My contractions would start, clutching my uterus, constricting my vagina and anus; again and again he did it to me, for me.

Tommy’d never played in my bottom and I’d never encouraged it; I’m a conservative gal, a mousy librarian, I’d never given it a thought as a place to take pleasure. I really only knew of one function for it and I wiped when that was accomplished.

I was wrong, woefully wrong. Tommy had a finger resting against my anus, not pushing, just resting with the slightest pressure. Tommy hadn’t stuck his finger in me, my contractions, each time he took me to the edge, my contractions had sucked it in, pulled it into me; for the first time I knew I was sensitive there, it nearly took my breath away, I writhed my hips trying to work it deeper into me.

But then, he was back at my clit, feathering my pearl, teasing me, God my guts were clenching, I couldn’t take any more.

“Tommy, please, please, God man you’re driving me crazy, please let me.”

“Baby’s ready,” he teased as he applied just the slightest more intensity to my clitoris.

I exploded, damn, I felt like a porn star, I gushed, I shot, I’d never done that in my life, I’m a conservative librarian for Christ’s sake, we have our orgasms with a little shiver, not this time, I contracted, reloading then discharging, my girl cum soaked Tommy’s hand, my thighs, the sheet, my cunt was molten, yes, I thought, that hideous word but none other seemed apt, my cunt flowed, hot slick liquid, the redolence of me filled the room overpowering the scent of roses. Tommy’s finger was still in me, he pumped it a couple of times and pulled it out.

He lay down beside me and held me. I’d love to tell you about the fantastic mating that followed but, unfortunately, I can’t. He’d held me at the cusp of release for nearly an hour, the combination of the rich food, the wine, my bath and my arousal had exhausted me, I fell asleep in his arms.

I was first up the next morning, it was a new day in more ways than one, I felt like a new woman. Any one who had been treated like I’d been last night had to feel euphoric. From mousy librarian to sex Goddess, that’s how he’d made me feel. I wanted to do something special for my Tommy.

I thought, I’ll fix him a special breakfast, maybe eggs Benedict. Then I thought, that’s what Millicent Prentiss, mousy librarian would do. I wiped and got up; I’d been taking care of my morning ablations while I thought. I walked to the door and looked at him.

I’d never even considered doing it, but I wasn’t Millicent, librarian, I was Millie the sexpot, blame him, he made me feel that way.

I was still naked; I don’t remember ever having awakened nude before but it felt right. I crawled under the covers, Tommy’s member was semi-erect, I changed that. I’d never even kissed one before, I changed that; I took him in my mouth and sucked, bobbing up and down, getting him rigid. I licked his turgid shaft, I tickled his little hole. I, at least theoretically knew how to do this, my little secret was, I liked the erotica of the nineteenth century. Real writers, writers with talent wrote passionate stories, explicit stories and, as a lover of books I’d read dozens of them. Now they weren’t just prose, my mind, recalling what I’d read used them as instruction manuals.

Tommy came awake, he wanted to say something, he tried but all he could get out was, “Oh God yessssss.”

Yeah, I’d done some reading on the male anatomy, I knew what and where the prostate gland is. I penetrated his bottom, stroked his little walnut and deep throated him as far as a gal with no practical experience can. It seemed to be more than enough, he came, he didn’t even warn me but that really was of no never mind, I was staying where I was anyhow.

“Oh baby, Goddam,” he panted. He was holding my head, pumping my mouth and pouring spurt after spurt of his scalding jizz into my mouth. I’d love to say I swallowed all of it; I didn’t, it was leaking out both sides of my mouth, running down and pooling at the tip of my chin.

As he softened I turned him loose and looked up at him, I gave him my sexiest smile then used the sheet to wipe my chin; Oh well, I was learning, librarians don’t become sex Goddesses over night.

“Let’s go have some eggs Benedict and mimosas,” I said as I rolled off the bed.

He got up and went to the bathroom, I snuck in behind him, he was just starting to pee when I reached around him and grabbed his cock rasping, “Can I hold this for you?”

He let me; it was an intimacy I wouldn’t have even considered twenty-four hours ago.

We put on robes and slippers, nothing underneath and went down stairs. I fixed the eggs Benedict, Tommy got the champagne and orange juice and we sat down to breakfast.

“That was some wake-up call you gave me this morning,” he started our conversation.

“Well I hope so, but I can’t pay you back for what you did to me last night, I’ve got to tell you Tommy, I want to do things I’ve never done, feel things I’ve never felt; I don’t know if I want to do what we did last night again, it was almost too intense but it gave me feeling, awakened feelings that I’m not gonna lose.”

“Tell me, tell me how you feel?”

“God, how do you explain a transformation; ok, I’ll try.”

“Tommy, I know you love me, I’ll confess, I’ve never understood why, you’re a handsome guy and I’m me, Plain Jane, the conservative librarian. You treat me like a princess and I’ve never felt I deserved it, your attention and your love. Tommy, I can see me in a mirror, I’m short, chunky and plain yet you still love me. But last night, you made me feel something different, different about me, Millicent. I felt like the most beautiful, the most adored woman on the planet and Tommy you made me feel that way. Oh God Tommy, I feel like I’m melting inside just talking, what you did for me, why do you love me?”

We’d finished our breakfast and were enjoying what, I guess was breakfast dessert, I’d made coffee, fresh ground Jamaican Blue Mountain that I kept for very, very special occasions and I’d split a cherry cheese Danish, Tommy’d taken his last bite, he had a tiny bit of the sugar glaze on his lip. He swirled his tongue and licked it off

“Baby, let’s go back upstairs, I want to hold you and I want you to hold me if we’re gonna have a real serious talk.”

In the bedroom we dropped our robes and, naked, we climbed into bed. We held each other, my face was buried on Tommy’s chest, his head was on my shoulder, he started,