Beauty and The Plug

Instead, I somehow rinsed off the cloth and began removing the soap from her incredibly beautiful back, butt and thighs.

The entire time she continued to sigh and moan. She would stop occasionally and repeat, "Anything you want, John, ANYTHING."

That really wasn't helping my self-control.

Once I had most of the baby oil and soap off, I just continued to stare at this young girl's butt, completely exposed to me. It was the most perfect butt I had ever seen, and I knew I could make it mine if I now wanted.

Finally, I just shook my head and tried to speak. I was so horny it took me a couple of times just to be able to say anything.

"Now, Kim, I think you need to rest. Try to sleep."

She immediately turned around until her naked butt was in my lap, resting against my raging erection. I again could see her quick grimace when her abused butt brushed up against me.

As I looked into her face I could again see mixed emotions in her eyes. Lust? Definitely. But I could also see how tired she was. I could tell she was exhausted. The combination of the extreme pain she had suffered all morning, the effects of the prolonged massage, the multiple orgasms she had already had, plus the muscle relaxer pills had her eyes drooping.

"What about you John?" she asked, then smiled shyly. "I can feel (and she wiggled against me) that you need some . . . some relief too."

"Kim, I told you I would not take advantage of you. Actually I already feel I have taken advantage of you, but right now you need to rest, take a nap. If you still feel the same way in a couple of hours, then we can see where the rest of the afternoon takes us.

"I don't want you to feel you 'owe' me something. Friends don't take advantage of friends.

"Let's just see what the rest of the day brings, but right now I want you to sleep. Sleep, my beautiful young friend."

Kim continued to stare into my eyes, and I could see the change in emotions. Yes, there was still some lust mixed in with the exhaustion, but I could also see amazement that I was turning down her offer. It was a situation that could easily have provoked anger, but I sensed no anger, rather something that looked like . . . a deeper emotion?

After several minutes, Kim leaned over and put her head against my chest.

"Okay, John, I am suddenly very, very tired," she said, then leaned back until she was looking into my eyes again. "But after I wake up . . . you are going DOWN, Mister."

Then she shyly laughed, "Actually, after I wake up . . . I am going down. Down on you! And that is just for starters."

Kim put her head back against my shoulders and within just a few minutes was sound asleep.

I continued to hold this beautiful young woman for several more minutes, and kept hearing in my mind her final sleep-filled words to me, whispered softly, just before oblivion claimed her.

"I love you John," was her final comment to me.

I finally eased her down on her back on the couch. Her dress was still pulled up above her hips and I could now see all of her lower body. I already knew, from having massaged her clit, that she was completely smooth, but to now see her nakedness in front of me caused another jolt through my penis.

I could already have been inside her I thought to myself. In fact, I could take her now and I knew she wouldn't have complained.

Instead, I pulled the dress down, then went and found a small blanket and covered her up.

I know that most guys reading this would be thinking, "What a wuss!"

"He could have had a fantastic piece of pussy, and a fantastic piece of ass, and he turned it down," would probably be what they are thinking.

For most of the women reading this, they would probably be thinking "What a gentleman. How noble not to take advantage of a woman at a time like this."

Hell -- you are both wrong.

It didn't have anything to do with being a wuss, or being a gentleman or being noble.

Even now, some 10 minutes after Kim was asleep, I still had the hardest hard-on I think I have ever had.

Earlier I said that I had stared at Kim when she came over to visit Megan. Actually that might not be strong enough a word.

I have a heated, in-ground pool behind the house. My wife died about a year and a half ago, and for the first year Kim and Megan both moved in after they graduated from college. Kim moved out about six months ago, but during that first year the two beautiful girls had used the pool every day -- summer or winter. Megan still lived in the house with me.

They both wore bikinis that would be barely legal on a public beach. And some that probably would be illegal.

The fact is . . . I didn't just stare at Kim (and yes, Megan too). I admit I lusted after them both. And would sometimes fantasize as well.

I have lost count of the number of times I would be fantasizing about one or the other . . . sometimes both . . . and wake up from a wet dream and have to change my underwear.

Kim still came over to the house two or three times a week -- and she and Megan still used the pool every time she came over.

Having lusted after Kim for so long, and today have given her a massage and using my fingers in both her pussy and butt to give her multiple orgasms, I knew that if Kim had even touched me once . . . I would probably have cum immediately. I was that turned on. When she wiggled her butt against me it was all I could do to hold off.

Cumming all over her, 10 seconds after she touched me? That was my fear today.

When . . . or if . . . but, based on comments to me just now, probably when we made love, I wanted it to last longer than 10 seconds.

I immediately headed for my shower since I was still sweaty and stinky from having mowed my lawn that morning, and while in the shower I took care of the immediate problem I had. Just thinking about Kim while in the shower . . . Wow! Yes, I lasted a little longer than 10 seconds . . . but not by much.

After the shower I went back into the living room and grabbed the towels, washcloths, bucket of now cold water . . . and the butt plug. I admit I was very curious why the plug had caused Kim such extreme pain.

After cleaning and examining the plug I understood. And was filled with rage. If I could have gotten my hands on Kim's boyfriend at that moment . . . I could easily have killed him with my bare hands.

I don't think I have ever been so mad in my life before.

I knew I had to calm down. I had already put on a nice pair of shorts and a t-shirt, so I grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and tried to make myself calm down. First, however, I slipped the butt plug into one of the pockets of the cargo shorts.

I suppose at some point I need to introduce myself. I mean you already know my name, John Carpenter, and that I spent three years in the Marines, but there is a lot more to tell.

First though, you need to understand a couple of things about me and my family. You might want to write some of this down -- there may be a test later.

Some people simply are genetically predisposed to grey hair. That is definitely the truth in my family. By the time each of my older brothers graduated from their respective high schools they were already losing some hair on top, and most of what was left was turning grey.

That also applies to me. There is nothing I could do about it, and the thought of coloring my hair was ridiculous.

The second thing you need to know about my family is that my two older brothers are 15 and 10 years older than I am.

My childhood nickname, given to me by my oldest brother was "Dent." That is short for accident, and a name I really hated.

My mother always said I wasn't an accident. I might have been unplanned, but the truly nicest things in life are the ones that are complete surprises. So stuff it up your ass, Jack and Sam!

When I was born, my father was 45, and my mother was 38. Again, just as in the case of my premature greying hair, my father's age will come into play in a few minutes.

My great-grandfather started Carpenter Printing Company in Marietta, Georgia on October 29, 1929. That date also happens to coincide with the beginning of The Great Depression.

Somehow he kept the business going, and by the time the country was recovering in 1941 the business was becoming moderately successful.

Real success began after World War II started. It didn't take long for the military to realize they needed more plants dedicated to building bombers, so when Bell Industries built a plant in Marietta (The Bell Bomber plant which was the forerunner of the massive Lockheed plant), my great-grandfather was one of the few printers in the area capable of handling all their printing.

My grandfather had joined the Marines on December 8, 1941 (the day after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor), and after the war began working at the printing company. My father had received his draft notice during the Vietnam War, and instead enlisted in the Marines.

After serving two tours in 'Nam, he also returned home and joined the family business.

By the time both of my brothers graduated from high school, it was obvious neither was interested in printing as a way of making a living.

Jack is now a very successful attorney, and Sam is a surgeon. From my earlier comments you might have the impression the three of us didn't get along. Nothing could be further from the truth. We tease each other non-stop. I call Jack an "ambulance-chaser" and say he is the "black sheep" of the family because he is an attorney. Sam is "the local butcher." And yes, both still call me "Dent."

All three of us know, however, that the others would do anything for each other.

I was the only one interested in the printing company. In fact I loved everything about printing.

Everyone knew that I would be the fourth-generation Carpenter to take over the business.

First though, I wanted to spend a few years in the military, and since it was by now almost a family tradition, I enlisted in the Marines. A large part of the reason I joined the military was because neither of my older brothers had. If it wasn't good enough for them, then it WAS good enough for me.

After I received my medical discharge from the Marines, I joined the family business as well. In point of fact, I had literally grown up in the business and could run any of the presses well before my teenage years.

A few months after my discharge I was at work when this really attractive woman stopped by to get some business cards printed. Back then, it was only a few months after one of the surgeries on my knee, so I was using a cane to get around.

I took the order, then told her they would be ready the following Monday (she brought the order in on Thursday).

She immediately said she needed the cards by that afternoon, or at the latest, very early the next morning since she had to go out of town on a business meeting. I then explained that we weren't a quick copy place, and that it would take at least a couple of days.

I have to admit that I was more than just a little smitten with this young lady. I was guessing she was a couple of years older than me, but didn't think that would really matter.

When she offered to pay double, I made a deal with her. If . . . IF . . . I could have the cards printed by that afternoon, then she agreed to go out with me that night.

We actually flirted with each other the entire time she was in the printing company.

When she came back, the cards were ready and Mary and I went to a very nice restaurant that night. I found out that Mary was a sales rep with a large pharmaceutical company. She had been with the company two years.

I was doing the math in my head. I knew she had graduated from Georgia Tech, so that would have made her about 22 when she graduated. Two years with the drug company, so now she would be 24. Perfect. I was 22, but because of the grey and thinning hair most people thought I was much older than that.

I am sure the cane I was then using probably added some to my perceived age.

During the course of our conversation at the printing company we had already exchanged names, and when I told her mine, she asked if I owned the company.

I had explained that my great-grandfather had started the company, then my grandfather ran it, and after him, my father. I also told her that Dad had already reached retirement age and although he still came in a couple of days a week, I was now running the business.

I really didn't think about the fact that Mary might also be doing some mental math in her head as well, trying to guess how old I was.

We had a great time at dinner, and we actually kissed. I mean it was just barely touching our lips together, but it was wonderful.

The following Tuesday (after she was back from her weekend business trip) we had dinner again, and this time we kissed a little longer, before parting for the evening.

During the first two dates, she had insisted on meeting at the restaurant, and I really didn't think anything about it.

During our third dinner date (on Thursday of that week), I could tell something was bothering her.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I haven't been completely honest John," she answered.

"The fact is, I really like you, but was afraid to tell you the truth. Usually, anytime I tell a guy that I am a single mom, they panic and start running," she said, almost in tears. "I have a daughter."

I immediately reached over and took both her hands in mine.

"You don't ever have to worry about my running, Mary," I assured her. "As you said, the fact is I really, really like you too.

"In fact, I'll prove to you that I'll never run," I added, then reached down to where my cane was lying on the floor. Then I handed her my cane.

"See, now I can't run even if I wanted to . . . and believe me, I don't want to."

Mary started laughing and crying. And that night we did a lot of kissing!

The next day (Friday), Mary called me at work and asked if I wanted to meet her daughter, Megan.

I, of course, said yes. I have had to meet a few parents in my time, but this was the first time I would ever have to meet a daughter. During my lunch break I actually drove over to Toys R Us, and picked up a small stuffed animal I thought would be appropriate for a young girl aged anywhere from two to possibly five years old.

Mary had never said, and I had forgotten to ask exactly how old her daughter was, but assuming Mary was two years older than me, and I am guessing had probably been in college when she had her, I came up with the first estimate of two or three. Yes, I might have been off a year, or even possibly two, but felt the small stuffed animal would still be appropriate even if she was as old as five.

Little did I know!!!!

Mary said the simplest thing would be for her to come by the printing company, and I could follow her in my vehicle.

When we drove up in her yard, I was a little surprised there were no other vehicles there.

Mary had mentioned that her mother stayed with Megan while Mary worked. I was soon to find out what she had actually said was that her mom stayed with Megan while Mary was working late, or out of town.

I know that some woman somewhere will immediately say this just proves that men don't really listen to women. Hey, I was a little distracted. Mary was about 5'7" and I guessed around 125 pounds. Very slim and slender, with long blonde hair and silver gray eyes with little gold flecks in them. The kind of eyes that seemed to be bottomless, that you could just fall into and never climb out again. Very, very distracting eyes.

"Are Megan and your mom not here yet?" I asked, when we both got out of our vehicles.

Mary looked very surprised, and said, "No, she only stays here if I am going to be out of town, or working very, very late. Other than that, Megan looks after herself."

Now I was the one who was very surprised. What kind of mom would let a two or three year old, even possibly a five year old stay by herself?

When we walked into the house, I got one of the biggest shocks of my life.

I was expecting a toddler . . . I got a teenager.

Well . . . technically I was to find out a 12-year-old, but close enough.

When I found out how old Megan was, I sort of just exploded at Mary with: "Good God, did YOU get pregnant when you were 12!"

Mary flushed red, then replied with some heat in her voice: "What on earth are you talking about? I had Megan when I was 20."

"Twenty? Twenty? That's impossible!" I answered back, a little testily. "I know you are a few years older than me, but that would make you 32!"

"Older than you? Older than you?" she shot back. "You are the one with grey hair and you said your father had already reached retirement age. That should make you in your late 30s or early 40s."

"You thought I was in my late 30s??? Or even worse, early 40s???" I answered, much quieter than before. "Oh crap Mary. I thought you were around 24 or 25. I mean you said you had worked for your company two years, and I assumed you had probably just graduated from college which, I thought, would make you 24 or 25. I also guessed Megan would be two or three."

"Yes, I have worked for my present company two years. I worked for my former company eight years before that. Uhh, just how old are you John?" Mary asked, very quietly also.

"Well, I'm 22," I finally answered, and Mary's face turned white as if she had seen a ghost.

The entire time we had been talking, Megan's head was snapping back and forth between us, almost like she was watching a tennis match.

I heard this unusual noise, and when I turned to look at Megan she was laughing so hard she was doubled over.

Mary and I just stared at her, until she had finally recovered enough to talk.

"You thought I was two or three, and you thought Mom was 24 or 25," she said, beginning to laugh again, "and Mom thought you were in your late 30s, but actually you are just 22. You both are NUTS! The two of you are better than any comedy on television."

The complete absurdity of the situation finally hit Mary and me and the next thing we knew we were laughing our heads off as well.

"Oh, I can't wait to tell my friends my mom is dating, and probably making out with someone 10 years younger than she is," Megan said.

"Megan Elizabeth Smith," Mary warned her daughter, before blurting out "if you even tell a single soul that I've dated or kissed a guy 10 years younger than me you will be grounded until you are 21!"

"So you have kissed?" Megan asked, starting to laugh again. "Way to go Mom! I didn't think you had kissed anyone this century."

Now I was the one who was almost bent double with laughter as Mary flushed bright red again and glared harder and harder at me.

"Who I kiss, or in what century I have kissed them is none of your business Megan," she began before turning to me. "And I seriously suggest you stop laughing NOW, unless you want me to turn you over my knee and give you a spanking -- child!"

"Well," I answered, wiping the tears from my eyes, "my parents always said I should listen to and respect my elders, so Yes Ma'am."

That REALLY earned me a glare from Mary, but Megan was now almost convulsing with laughter.

"Yes Ma'am, yes Ma'am," she chortled.

Mary was now glaring at both of us.

"You know, depending on how this first meeting went, I was going to suggest we all go out to a nice Italian restaurant tonight," she said. "Now, since both of you are acting like you are about eight years old maybe we should go to Chuck E Cheese?"

And that is where we ended up, and all three of us spent hours playing the different games and earning tickets from those games which we used to buy Megan a very large stuffed animal. And more than once or twice that night Megan caught Mary and me exchanging a quick kiss.

And more than once or twice Megan gave me a hug, and even an occasional kiss on the cheek. When we weren't playing games, it would be difficult to say which one I was holding hands with the most.