The Butterfly Parlour Ch. 04

"Oh, now you decide to join us..." I muttered disapprovingly under my breath, staring down at my semi-erect cock. It still wasn't of any impressive length or girth, but it would have been nice for it to show some willingness last night when Kirsty had been making all that effort. I thought back to the sight of her sucking on my limp cock... the sensation of her licking my asshole... and my cock was standing at full attention. "We've got to work on this, buddy," I sighed, before putting the panties back down and deciding to make my way to the shower. Despite knowing Kirsty lived alone in this flat, I stepped out of her bedroom cautiously in case any landlord or engineer had decided to let themselves in for maintenance or whatever. Finding the hallway deserted, I briefly looked down towards the kitchen where the washing machine was speedily spinning my clothes into freshness, then wandered across into the bathroom opposite Kirsty's bedroom. It was a small but reasonably spacious bathroom, with a toilet, a sink with a mirrored cabinet above it, a heated towel rack on which lay the promised cream towel, and a bath/shower combination along one side. Immediately I understood what Kirsty had meant in her note about 'the toys' - dotted about the room were a multitude of sex toys that were in the process of drying off after being cleaned, wipes and pump bottles of lube also populating some of the shelf space. There were your typical slim vibrators, a couple of butt plugs, a douche, a set of anal beads, and then a collection of rather large and realistic dildos, all rendered in dark skin tones and all far closer to Marcus in similarity than me. The rest of the bathroom was taken up by a plethora of shower and beauty products - I'd never seen so many pink bottles in one place before.

I stepped into the shower and quickly identified what was shampoo and conditioner amongst the mess of pore cleansers, hair removal cream, body butter, and who knows what else. Stepping clear of the shower head, I turned it on and was almost instantly greeted by a delightful steam of warm water cascading down. I allowed myself to enjoy the shower, washing away any sticky trace of last night's endeavours and massaging my scalp with the strawberry-scented hair products. I helped myself to a bit of bubblegum body wash to clean under my arms and around my cock and butt, then rinsed it all off and stepped out onto a bathmat to dry myself with the plush, warm towel Kirsty had thoughtfully provided. With how well prepared she was, I wondered whether she'd been planning all this out long before last night - or, thinking more cynically, how many times she'd done this before with others...

Dried off, I placed the towel back on the rack and stepped back across to Kirsty's bedroom. I took advantage of a discarded hairdryer and brush to dry and untangle my thick locks of blonde hair, then approached the clothes Kirsty had selected once more. Even if the washing machine finished soon, my clothes would still be sodden for far too long for me to wear them to see Abbie... I thought to myself as I held up the polka-dot panties again. Maybe I cancelled the coffee with Abbie? No, that wouldn't be fair to do last minute, I sighed - besides, I wanted to see Abbie and update her all about yesterday anyway. Sighing, I stepped into the panties and shimmied them up my legs until they came to rest on my hips, the wonderfully soft fabric cupping tight against my penis and testicles. Each movement in them made me shiver with arousal - how did girls wear these all day long? I found myself thinking. They felt so much more comfy than any underwear I'd worn before, and although they were tight against my skin the delicacy of the material didn't make it feel constricting. My cock stirred into life once more, and I blushed fiercely as a tiny tent formed in the front of the panties, the little bow rising up as the fabric stretched.

"Stop it," I muttered in embarrassment. What sort of guy was I to get turned on by wearing women's underwear? I supposed they were Kirsty's panties, and the sensation was very pleasurable, but it still didn't feel right. The rest of the clothing, whilst surprisingly (and worryingly) comfortable, wasn't half as arousing - and once the panties were covered out of sight I managed to better control the arousal they imbued as well. Despite the differences in our bodies Kirsty's clothes fit me relatively well, with just a bit of bagginess in the backside of the jeans being the only real issue. In a way it was reassuring that people wouldn't immediately recognise I was wearing someone else's clothing, but on the other hand it was pretty embarrassing to realise a woman's clothes could fit me so well. I caught sight of myself in the mirror on Kirsty's dressing table and blushed - with my hair being a bit long for a guy and my androgynous looks, I felt I could easily be mistaken for a girl. Oh well, I thought to myself - it's only a quick bus trip to the hospital and then Abbie's going to be the only one to really see me like this before I go home to get changed. Taking a deep breath, I put my phone, keys and wallet into the pockets of the jeans - finding them nowhere near as deep as the pockets I was used to, and struggling a little to find space for everything - then went to the hall, slipped my shoes back on, and stepped outside. The door swung shut behind me, locking automatically and leaving me no choice but to move forwards.

***

"What are you wearing?" Abbie asked in shock, her jaw dropping as she caught sight of me waiting outside the Costa in the hospital's main reception. I turned to face her, already blushing and urging her to keep her voice down. Abbie herself was dressed in her student nurse uniform - a flattering white tunic-style dress with light blue trim that ended just above her bare knees and black plimsoll shoes. Her blonde hair was up in a messy bun and her blue-green eyes were wide with surprise, her false eyelashes and dusky eyeshadow making them pop out even more than usual.

"Shhh!" I hastily replied, gesturing to be quiet as she came in closer. "Look, I was over at Kirsty's last night and when I woke up she'd left a note saying she'd put my dirty clothes in the wash. These are her clothes!" I hissed.

"David, you dark horse!" Abbie gasped, smiling as she looked me up and down. "I knew you were staying at Kirsty's because she texted me last night to say you were going back to hers - I assumed because you'd got dangerously drunk last night at Rocco's. I mean you still might have done - were your clothes dirty because you vommed on them?" She smirked playfully. I shook my head. "David!" she gasped again, her smile broadening and slapping me on my shoulder. "Come on, let's get in the queue before the lunch rush gets here - I want to hear all the juicy details..." We joined a relatively short queue of people mostly wearing scrubs or other forms of hospital uniform and before long had reached the barista - a half-asleep young white guy with patchy facial hair interspersed with spots.

"What would you like?" he asked, uninterested.

"I'll have a tropical mango bubble frappé please," Abbie answered, "and are you a limp white, David?" I snapped to attention.

"A what, sorry?" I asked, feeling another blush rising in my cheeks.

"A flat white? That's what you usually have, isn't it?" asked Abbie, her brow furrowing slightly. "Are you a bit tired this morning after your endeavours, hmm?" she winked. I nodded in response, shrugging awkwardly. I never really deviated from my usual order, and should have known Abbie would have said 'a flat white' - but for some reason my brain was convinced she'd said 'a limp white'. I chalked it up to my experience last night still playing fresh on my mind.

"I'll get this," I said, trying to prise my wallet from the tiny pockets on Kirsty's jeans, but Abbie beat me to it, plucking her phone from her dress pocket.

"No worries, I want to use my app for the points anyway," Abbie insisted, tapping her phone against the scanner, taking a brief look at her messages, then pocketing her phone gracefully. "Thanks," she smiled brightly as the barista brought us our drinks, passing the mango frappé to Abbie keenly and sliding the flat white to me with somewhat less enthusiasm. Drinks in hand, we found a table for two in one of the corners, out of the way and as private as possible in a busy hospital coffee shop. I dropped down into a chair, feeling the silky cotton of Kirsty's panties caress my butt and burrow slightly up between my cheeks. Abbie sat opposite, sipping her frappé briefly before leaning in close with a conspiratorial look on her face. "Tell me everything," she urged. "Did you have sex with Kirsty?"

"Abbie!" I exclaimed. We were close, but we'd never discussed this sort of thing before. In fairness, we'd never been in this situation before either. "A gentleman doesn't tell..." I mumbled in response.

"Oh come on, Kirsty'll tell me anyway - you did, didn't you? Is she the first girl you've had sex with?" Abbie beamed happily. "Oh, I'm so pleased for you! Kirsty's lovely, I bet she was so sweet with you," she continued.

"Well, yes and no," I sighed, rubbing my arm awkwardly. "I suppose... we slept together, but we didn't actually have sex - if that makes sense. I was a little... nervous, shall we say?"

"Performance anxiety," Abbie nodded. "Happens all the time. Can't count the number of guys I've had at my other place of business who struggle when they're presented with a gorgeous lady in the flesh."

"Gorgeous lady? Who's that then?" I teased, and Abbie stuck her tongue out at me.

"Oh shut up, limp dick," she teased back, but by the look on my face Abbie immediately knew she'd gone too far. "Sorry, that was meant as a joke. Too soon, isn't it? It's been a long morning, I didn't mean anything by it. The patient in room three's been perving on me all morning. I'm going to have to ask Jasmine to shift me around this afternoon or I swear I'm going to thump him. Honestly, you get more respect from the clients at the parlour than some of the patients here. Horrible old leches, I can tell you. The old women aren't always that much better, to tell you the truth - always commenting on 'how these girls dress these days - they're like street walkers, not nurses'. If only they knew, eh?" Abbie rolled her eyes, smiling softly.

"Is that the same Jasmine who introduced you to the parlour in the first place?" I asked curiously.

"Yup! She's one of the ward sisters now - done very well for herself, works very hard. She really watches out for you, too, and she's great at helping us students get sign offs for skills and whatnot," Abbie nodded, then shook her head. "But I'm not here to talk about work. So you and Kirsty did the session with this Marcus bloke, then went for a date at Rocco's, then went home to hers and had sex - that's such a wild evening! I'd have never thought you had it in you, David! Did he pay you the thousand pounds?"

"He did," I nodded, making a mental note to swing by the parlour later and collect the envelope. Some of the confusion and conflicting feelings about last night were beginning to fade away, soothed by a good night's sleep and Abbie's excited praise.

"Well? Was it just a matter of watching him and Kirsty have sex? Did he ask you to do anything else - anything weird?" Abbie pressed on, sipping at her frappé as she enquired. I took a sip of my own flat white - still a bit too hot for me - and shrugged.

"Pretty much," I nodded, noting the slight disappointment in Abbie's face. "I know, I was expecting there to be some catch too," I added, "but all he wanted me to do was sit there and watch - not saying anything, not doing anything, not-"

"Not what?" Abbie asked, noticing my hesitation.

"Not masturbating," I muttered quietly.

"Oh, really? Some guys like that sort of thing," Abbie shrugged. "Fair enough, I suppose. And I take it you were able to do all of that okay, then? You didn't feel tempted to touch yourself at all?" she added with a slight smirk.

"Abbie!" I exclaimed again. I knew this was something she was more comfortable talking about than I was, but I was still unprepared for such a frank conversation with the older cousin I'd always envisioned as the 'innocent, girl next door' type. "No, I didn't touch myself," I insisted.

"That's not what I asked," Abbie smirked again. "I imagine watching a hot girl like Kirsty getting pleasured would have been very hard to watch without wanting to feel pleasure yourself..." she trailed off. "I've heard Marcus is very good in the bedroom too, so I can hardly imagine their sex was in any way tame. I bet it was quite a sight to see, actually..."

"Well, yeah," I admitted, sipping my coffee again in an attempt to avoid speaking. "It was hot. Kirsty's very beautiful..."

"Aww, you're so sweet! You've got the biggest crush on her, haven't you?" Abbie smiled. "Honestly, well done for making it through a session watching your crush getting railed by a black guy with his huge cock - not all guys would have been able to stomach it," Abbie explained, raising her eyebrows.

"How do you know he's got a huge cock?" I hissed, lowering my voice as a couple of pharmacists walked past. "Did Kirsty tell you?"

"Kirsty's told me nothing yet," Abbie replied, "but Marcus is black - of course he's going to have a huge cock. All black guys have big cocks, David - hence the term 'big black cock', or 'BBC'. 'Once you go black, you'll never go back?' Surely you've heard that?"

"Well yes, but it's just something in porn, isn't it? Not real life?" I asked uncomfortably, fidgeting in my seat but only serving to reinforce the sensation that I was wearing women's underwear. My cock was annoyingly alert again, stirring in Kirsty's panties as if competing for the world record for most inappropriate times to be erect/flaccid in a 24 hour period. "It's just something made up to... well, to... to... sell porn, right?" I asked again, less certain.

"Maybe there's times when it's exaggerated in porn - pairing tiny girls with big guys, flattering camera angles, etc. - fine, I'll grant you that," Abbie sighed, "but it's not just in porn, I promise you. Every black guy who's come to me at the parlour has been hung - like, at least eight inches and thick. You ask any of the girls and they'll tell you it's the black guys who win on cock size every single time." Kirsty's words from last night rang in my mind once more: 'Ask any girl at the parlour and they'll tell you black guys have bigger dicks.' It was sounding uncomfortably true with every passing moment.

"It's not all about cock size though, is it?" I asked, shuddering at the fact I was even asking my cousin such a question.

"It's a lot about cock size," Abbie shrugged, sipping her drink. "Skill, masculinity, confidence, passion... that just adds together to make the perfect guy. Black guys score highly on all fronts in my experience, that's all. I don't know why you're getting so worried about this all, though David - Marcus paid Kirsty to sleep with him. She chose to sleep with you."

"Yeah, but now I don't know if it was out of pity," I wailed quietly, fighting back my upset and frustration. "She was saying the same sort of things about black guys at Rocco's - it sounded like she had a preference for them..."

"So? She might prefer black guys," Abbie said plainly. "I certainly do. You're missing the key point here though, David - she chose to sleep with you. I don't want to have to say it again, please..." I hesitated, taking in Abbie's words that were in part comfort about Kirsty and in part shock at how casually my darling cousin Abbie had stated a clear preference for black men. Had it always been this way? Or had her preference developed since working at the Butterfly Parlour? I suppose it didn't matter, but now I couldn't shake the image of Marcus - or someone like him - pounding away at Abbie's pussy just like he had with Kirsty, shooting his thick load of cum deep inside her. That in turn made me think of licking Kirsty's pussy, which whilst delightful was tarred by the worry I'd been licking up some of Marcus' cum in the process. To add insult to injury, my cock was rock hard in Kirsty's panties as all these thoughts collapsed down on top of me.

"Yeah, I guess..." I trailed off miserably. Everything had seemed so rosy last night in Kirsty's arms, but my anxiety and doubts were dragging me back down again. Maybe it would be worthwhile arranging an appointment with my GP to discuss therapy or medication...

"Look, just don't overthink it, okay? I know what you're like for worrying about things, David - which is one of the reasons I'd told Chelsea not to tell you about Marcus' offer in the first place. I didn't think it would go well, but she convinced me you ought to at least know about it. I'm honestly surprised you went through with it - I didn't think you'd have the confidence, but clearly you were hard up on cash enough to do it..." Abbie sighed, finishing her frappé. "Look, I've got to get back to work soon. Be happy about this development with Kirsty, okay? Just... take it as it goes. Enjoy it. How was it left with Marcus, anyway? Did he say he wanted to do it again or anything like that? Or was he happy just doing it once?"

"Okay," I nodded, knowing Abbie was right - though it was interesting to hear she hadn't wanted Chelsea to tell me about Marcus' offer. Either way, I had to stop overthinking things. "Well, kind off," I stammered. "He wants to do it again, but this time... this time he's offering two thousand pounds... but I have to be naked."

"Oh," said Abbie, pausing slightly and looking me straight in the eyes. "So what are you going to do?"