From: richh@netcom.com (richh) Newsgroups: alt.butt.harp,alt.sex.stories Subject: RICHH: BUTT HARP & MCDONALD'S STORY Message-ID: Date: 16 Jul 92 07:21:36 GMT Article-I.D.: netcom.qj-mdj-.richh Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d ALWAYS USED TO HATE HARPS... I stayed up in Ithaca the summer after my sophomore year because I wanted to pick up some more language credits. Took a six credit French class. There was a coed in the class--a Jewish, sorority girl whom I'd heard vague rumors about. They said she'd scored 1600 on her SAT's; that she was an exhibitionist who would compete in contests at fraternity parties to see which girl would raise her skirt the highest; that she would X an then go through guys like potato chips; that she had a big collection of sex toys that she would loan out to her sorority sisters on occasion; that sort of thing. After about the first week or so of classes, we ended up sitting next to each other. There were about 15 students in the class and we all sat around one large rectangular table. The girl, Molly, almost always wore short denim skirts and, if it wasn't too hot, white stockings. She was a slender, waif-like brunette, nearly flat-chested, and sexy as all hell. Class met twice a day--before and after lunch, and it was brutally enervating. One day, during the second week, Molly wrote "I'm sooo bored" in her notebook and slid it over until it nudged mine. I wrote "Ditto" and then she leaned her leg against mine. I rested my hand just above her knee. She wrote, "Higher." I moved it up just past her stocking and pinch the soft, bare skin there. "Keep going," she wrote. I cupped my hand right over her panties and pressed into the cleft. She wrote, "Gasp." So I settled into a rhythm rubbing back and forth over her pubic bone, and on each downstroke trying to work more and more material into her. She kept writing--in pencil--her handwriting getting more and more erratic; degenerating from words to pictures to arrows finally to symbols which could only have been some sort of private code. She parted her legs wider and wrote "There! There! I'm, I'm--" then she broke the point of her pencil against her notebook. And so the summer went. Twice a day we would do this. One afternoon, as we started she wrote "Take my panties off. I have a surprise." She pressed her hands down against her chair and raised herself up a few inches. I slid her panties down past her knees. She pulled one foot through and then spread her thighs. As soon as I touched her, her breathing changed and she wrote, "It won't take long now. Feel inside." She was already very wet and soft. I slid in my middle finger as far as I could and I hit something hard and round and felt a "clink". She wrote "Ben Wa balls. I've been juicy all day." I kept my finger pressed up against the one ball and started spinning it while my thumb strummed over her clit. "Wicked" she wrote. "Wicked." She came after at most two minutes and then wrote, "Come by my sorority tonight. I've got another surprise." I showed up just after dinner. There were only about fifteen girls staying there over the summer and Molly met me and quickly dragged me up to her room. "Get undressed," she said. "What's the surprise?" "You'll see," she said, "Just take off your clothes. I'll be right back." And she ran out of her room and headed down the hall. I stripped down to my underwear and started poking through her clothes. She had two drawers of lingerie, each with about ten potpourris in them. When I heard her footsteps coming back I closed the drawers up and sat on the bed. "All right, Mol, what's the plan?" She started stepping out of her shoes and took off her shirt right away. She wasn't completely flat-chested, and her nipples stood out prominently. She slipped out of her skirt and let her panties drop to the floor and stepped out of them. "Well," she said. "Ready?" I stood up and pulled off my underwear as well. "I take it that means yes," she said and went into her closet. I could hear her open up a trunk. She returned in a few seconds. "All right. Get down on your hands and knees." "What's in your hand?" "You'll see. Trust me." "Lemme see it." She opened up her hand to reveal what looked like two Ben Wa balls connected by about a foot of wire. "Great," I said, rubbing my neck. "A garrote. Great. I can hardly wait." She walked over and put one hand around my wrists and her fist between my shoulderblades. "C'mon, hands and knees. And it's called a butt-harp. You'll like it. I promise." I complied and soon I felt her pushing one of the balls up into me. "No lube?" "It dampens it. Just relax," Then she dropped to all fours as well, slide the other ball into her and crawled away from me until the wire was taut. She reached back and gave the wire a little pluck. I started to laugh. "What's so funny?" "Look at us." "Wait. It gets better." As I reached back and started plucking at the wire myself, Molly yelled, "Kelly..." I heard someone run to Molly's door. I looked back; the door opened and in walked one of Molly's sorority sisters, a buxom Irish redhead with freckles all over her shoulders and upper arms. She was carrying a violin bow. "Hi. You're Rich?" she asked. "Um, yup." "I was in your Shakespeare class. I've never quite seen you like this before..." "Very funny, very funny." "Do it," said Molly. Kelly knelt between us and started drawing the bow back and forth across the wire. I started laughing again but it felt really good. "Faster, ooh," said Molly. "Play some Paganinni." "No. No caprices. We don't want Rich to have a messy accident. Maybe the Bach violin concerto..." I was moaning and my breathing was short and choppy. Molly said. "Wow. I wish I had a prostate." "Turn over," said Kelly. We both did and the wire was an inch or two off the ground, her thighs over mine. As Kelly ran the bow over the wire with her left hand, she stuck two fingers in her mouth then ran them over Molly's clit. "Oooh, so hard," said Kelly. "Feels like a marble." I had never felt anything so excruciatingly pleasurable and I curled my fingers into the rug. "You're going to come aren't you, Rich?" said Kelly, who then slipped her thumb way into Molly and pinched at her clit with her first two fingers. "Ooooh," said Molly. "I'm gonna come. Ooooh. Nice..." Kelly increased her finger activity and I pushed my penis forward, until it pointed away from me. "Prepare for splashdown, Mol," said Kelly, who stopped with the bow for a second and scooped a drop of precum off of me and tasted it. "Mmmm, salty." That did it. I heard it land on Molly's stomach. Kelly slid it down and rubbed it into Molly. I sat up, butt-harp still in place and said, "Where the hell did you get *that*?!" "My brother brought it back from Singapore. He's in the army." "Man." SPECIAL *WHAT*??!! After the harp episode, Molly and I began to see each other more and more. She really was quite the exhibitionist, and loved nothing more than doing it with her door open a crack, or by the window, or best of all, in public. Earlier that year, her sorority had compiled some kind of scoring system for the various places the sisters might have sex in(For example, the Sigma Chi pool was worth one point[too easy] while the Straight Reading Room in the undergrad library was somewhere around 50). Molly was extremely inventive and would sometimes call at four in the morning and say nothing more than "statue of Ezra Cornell in 20", or "Bell Tower. I got a key. Hurry." After the summer session ended there was a gap of a week or so until the fall term. I had to pick up some stuff at my house so I replaced a flat on my '72 Duster and Molly came back with me. It was a four-hour drive or so and we had no radio so Molly put her feet up on the dash and amused herself as we drove, ignoring the truckers who honked their horns as I passed. About an hour from Philly, Molly took off her skirt altogether, laid it in her lap, pulled a tiny scissors out of her purse, and starting cutting into it. "What are you doing?" "Oh, nothing. How much longer?" "An hour." "Let's stop and get something to eat before we hit your house, okay?" "There's a Mc'Donald's..." "Perfect." "Drive-thru?" "Nah. I want to get out of the car. All sticky in here." No comment. We'd started out way early, and the McDonald's we pulled into had just opened for the day. "You gonna get dressed?" She pulled her skirt back on, then arched up and slid off her panties and put them in the glove. "Look," she said, "there's a slit on each hip, and one in back. She moved around to show me and I slid in my right hand to test. "Ok, how many points is a McDonald's worth?" "In the bathroom, 10. At a table, 100. In line it's off the chart." It was clear which one she was going for. "How much money do you have?" "I pulled a hundred out of the machine last night." She opened up the wallet in her bag. "Cool, I got fifty. Ready?" she asked, and slid a hand up my jeans leg. "Yup, let's go." Inside, the place was near-empty, except for the three, acne- marked high school guys and the two girls behind the counter. The guys stopped what they were doing and came around to check out Molly. She walked up to the register on the far right and said, "We've got a pretty big order, okay?" "Uh, sure." "25 Egg McMuffins, 25 Bacon egg and cheese, no bacon on 12 of them, ketchup on the others--" "You can put on your own ketch--" "Oh, but I want you to." I slid my left hand in through the left hip opening. "Please?" "Uh, okay. It'll take awhile." "Can we have a couple of coffees now?" "Sure." He showed the order to the others and they snapped into action. The coffees arrived and we both burned our tongues. "Go ahead," said Molly, "Put it in." "Gimme a sec," I said and started kissing the back of her neck. "Mmmm," she said, and arched and pushed back against me. "Do it." I unbuttoned and slid in easily. Her modified skirt was working. The two girls in the back had noticed that we had started kissing and were whispering to each other. They giggled and the boys went over and huddled with them. "Ooooh," whispered Molly, and started fishing through her bag. I upped the tempo. She pulled out a pen and slid it up under her t-shirt which she pulled taut, and wrote a little mark over each nipple. Odd, I thought. But even more odd was when one of the kids came out from the back and just *had* to replace all the trashcan bags at seven in the morning, even though they were all clearly empty. "Slow down," whispered Molly, "this is fun. Slow down." So I just pushed up behind her and stopped, and put my hands on the counter. The trashbag kid had reported back to his friends and they were all laughing and turning red. "Excuse me, said Molly, somehow locating her voice, to the geekiest-looking of the boys there, "could you give me a hand with something?" "Uh, sure." He geeked his way over. "What do you need?" She pulled her shirt taut and motioned with her chin. I've got these awful marks on my shirt. Could you bring a cup of icewater and a few napkins?" "Comin' right up." "Thanks. You're sweet." He swallowed and we saw his adam's-apple jiggle noticeably, cartoon-like, and he geeked away. He came back with the cup and said, "Here y'go." Molly said, Do you think you could help?" She dipped a napkin into the icewater and started rubbing hard over her right nipple. It didn't seem to affect the stain at all. "You do the other one, okay Sugar?" The girls were giggling fiercely over by the microwave and the other boys were trying to concentrate on our order but kept looking up. "C'mon," said Molly, as I started moving again, "rub the stain out." He dipped a napkin into the water and gave the mark over her left nipple three very quick, cursory rubs. Then, he breathed. "I see the problem," I said, taking Molly's napkin and rubbing it on the inside of her shirt, "The mark's on the *inside*. Try like this. See, it's coming right out." "I--I--" the boy said, shaking noticeably. "Oh, all right," said Molly, "gimme that thing." And she took his napkin and wiped it on the pen mark herself. We heard the boy who was making the McMuffins say, "What're you, nuts, man? You had it. It was right there." Molly let go of her shirt and when it settled itself there was a big blue blur over each of her nipples, which were clearly visible, the material of the shirt being almost transparent when wet. Two men walked into the store, and I stopped moving and pushed up right behind Molly again. They were thirtyish, good-looking, outfitted in denim, an earring in each of their right ears. They looked over at us and moved into the register on the far left. "Sorry, said the geeky boy, "this register isn't open." The men walked to the middle one. It was closed too. So they headed towards us. We did this ridiculous hop-shimmy to move as far to the right as we could. "Breeders," said the one to the other, as they got their food and headed out. "And I thought *we* were bad..." "We *are*," said the first one, and they left in hysterics. "Order's up!" called out one of the girls in the back. "It *is* to go, right?" said the best-looking boy. "Yeah," said Molly, but can I have one of the Egg McMuffins *now*? Please?" "Sure," and he handed her one. She unwrapped it and pulled it below the counter, out of sight of all the kids, who were now openly staring. "Oh," said Molly, and shivered slightly. Half a minute or so later, she brought the sandwich back up to her mouth and took a bite. I stepped back and buttoned my pants back up. "Hey," said Molly, licking the corners of her mouth, "Good sandwich. You guys eat em." And we left money and headed out to the car. Molly ran back in by herself, grabbed a handful of napkins from a dispenser and came back to the car. The first thing my mom said was, "What's so funny?" RICHH