Beauty and The Plug

When I said something about stopping though, Kim's eyes opened and she snarled at me, "If you stop now you bastard, I'll fucking kill you." She then flexed her lower body upward, forcing most of what was left deep inside her, eliciting another scream.

"Oh, God, you're splitting me apart," she screamed, "but it hurts so fucking good," before wrapping both legs around my back.

"Now FUCK ME, you beautiful son-of-a-bitch, FUCK ME, John, FUCK ME," she screamed.

So I did.

I mean I did wait and let her stretched vagina get used to me before pushing the final inch or so inside her.

I started very slowly, just pulling half-way out and then slowly pushing in again, amid a never-ending litany of moans, groans, gasps, screams and assorted four-letter expletives. Then I began slowly increasing my speed and force.

I had never heard anyone so . . . vocal . . . during sex.

I was actually wondering if the neighbors could hear and what they would think was going on.

Then my weird sense of humor almost got the best of me again and I began laughing.

"What are you laughing about, you bastard?" Kim asked, between gasps and moans.

"Just wondering if the old, fat gay guy is listening," I answered.

Kim smiled, then laughed, "I hope so. If he is, this is for him: FUCK ME JOHN, WITH YOUR MASSIVE DICK. FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME."

So I did!

I thought I'd never cum as hard as I did when Kim and I had oral sex on the veranda. By the time I finally came inside Kim now (after she had numerous orgasms of her own), I knew I was wrong.

When I came in her mouth, it was almost like a practice session, and this was the real thing. We were both drenched in sweat and screaming by the time I finished cumming inside Kim.

I just rolled Kim over on top of me, with my dick still inside her.

Within just a few minutes Kim was asleep, and I wasn't far behind her.

Kim's final words, again whispered were, "I love you John. I always have."

Almost three hours later, as it was getting dark outside, I woke up to the most incredible feeling. I looked down and Kim was kneeling between my legs with my dick inside her mouth.

I immediately thought of everything that had happened today, from the time Kim drove up nearly crying, and knew I would never get enough of her; I wanted to make love to Kim over and over and over again.

I reached down and began caressing the sides of this incredible woman's face. She looked up and I could see the beautiful smile in her eyes.

I leaned my head back against the pillow and involuntarily my head began shifting left and right. I was just about to tell Kim that I loved her too.

The dying rays of the sun were streaming through the window of the bedroom and falling directly on the nightstand . . . illuminating the wedding photo of Mary and me.

Oh My God! What have I done? This was Mary's bed. This was my bed. This was OUR bed.

I felt a wave of horror and disgust sweep over me. How could I do this to Mary? To her memory? Mary used to call Kim "her other daughter," and now I had had sex with Kim.

The effect it had on my libido was immediate. My erection deflated instantly.

Kim looked up and started to ask, "What's wrong John?" but before the words were half out of her mouth she saw me staring at my wedding photo. And must have seen the look of disgust and horror on my face.

Believe me, the look of horror and disgust were not for Kim. At that moment I didn't feel Kim had done anything wrong. I was horrified and disgusted with myself. For allowing this to happen, for profaning our marriage bed.

Truly, I felt like I had taken advantage of an innocent girl. A girl who needed help, not the lecherous pawing of her body I had allowed to take place while removing the plug.

I almost felt like I had raped Kim earlier in the day. A young, trusting girl ("I trust you completely, John" she had said) who was 10 years younger than me, and my step-daughter's best friend.

"I trust you completely, John." The words kept reverberating through my head. "I trust you completely, John."

This was how I had repaid that trust! Using her body as my personal sex toy.

"I trust you completely, John."

I heard Kim gasp as she saw the look on my face, then felt her jump off the bed. She stopped and picked up her dress from the floor and ran out the door, but not before I saw the tears streaming down her face.

I couldn't move. All I could think about was how I had betrayed everyone. I had betrayed Mary. I had betrayed Megan, by having sex with her best friend. And most of all I had betrayed Kim. Kim, who needed a friend, not some perverted old bastard who couldn't control his animal instincts.

"I trust you completely, John."

It wasn't until I heard the front door slam that I realized Kim must have thought I was blaming her.

I jumped up and ran naked through the house and outside just in time to see Kim's Mini Cooper careening wildly back and forth down my driveway.

I ran back inside and to the veranda where I put on my shorts, shirt and sandals, then ran back through the house. I was just about to go outside when I heard that little sound cell phones make when you receive a text message.

I glanced over at the couch and saw Kim's phone. I could only guess she must have gotten her purse out of the Mini Cooper before coming out to the veranda earlier in the day. And had probably taken the phone out to check her messages. Personally, I hate cell phones but knew how young people were obsessed with them.

For a minute I somehow thought Kim was sending me a text. Don't ask how Kim could have sent ME a text on HER phone, when she didn't even have her phone. I wasn't exactly being very rational at the moment.

I ran over and checked the message. Luckily Kim's phone is not password protected.

The message was from Matt, the idiot boyfriend, and this is what I read: "I've been leaving you messages for three hours you bitch. When I find you I am really going to fuck you up."

"Oh God," I thought, "If Kim goes home she has no idea what is waiting for her."

I ran outside and jumped in my SUV and left rubber as I started down my driveway. Then I had to slam on my brakes, causing the SUV to slide sideways down the drive.

Shit! I didn't know where Kim lived.

I sometimes joke with customers at work that I have a mind like a steel-trap, then add the explanation "Rusty, closed and illegal in 32 states." It always elicits a laugh, but I really do have a good memory -- usually.

I know Megan has told me in the past . . . Oh, yes, Williams Avenue in Marietta. Damn, that avenue is at least 10 miles long. What was the street address? 3425? 2435? Damn, the clock is ticking and each minute is taking Kim closer and closer to a disaster.

Finally . . . finally my brain started working. I started making my way to Williams Avenue and called my personal secretary at home, praying she was there.

Debbie had been my personal secretary for the past 10 years, and for 25 years before that she had been my Dad's secretary. We would sometimes kid her that she had been my grandfather's secretary for 30 years before that.

Debbie looked like nothing more than a typical church lady. Sweet, little ole lady that wouldn't hurt a fly and never had an improper thought in her life.

Debbie, who was in her late 50s, actually could out-drink, out-cuss and probably out-fight any two sailors or Marines I had ever known.

She answered on the second ring.

"Thank God you're home Debbie!" I started. "I've got a real emergency, possibly even a matter of life and death."

"What's wrong, John?" she asked and I could hear the concern in her voice.

"I need you to grab every phone book you can find, search the Internet, call people, but I have to know the address for Kim Peterson. She's one of Megan's friends. She is in real trouble and doesn't know it yet. She's driving home and her boyfriend just left a message on her phone that he really going to fuck her up once he finds her."

"Okay, the address is 3425 Williams Avenue, Marietta, GA 30060."

I took the phone off my ear and held it in front of me for a minute.

"How? How? How in the name of all that's holy can you know that without looking it up?" I demanded.

"John, there are times when you are even more hopeless and helpless than your father ever was," she answered. "And BELIEVE me that is saying a LOT.

"Do you think all those invoices just magically print themselves? Do you think they just fold themselves up and put themselves in envelopes? Do you think the envelopes print the address by themselves and add postage and carry themselves to the post office?

"Is that what you think, you dumb-ass ex-Marine?" she said, adding, "Kim is one of our customers. We print her business cards for her modeling business."

"Thank you Debbie," I yelled. "Remind me to give you a big, sloppy wet kiss when I see you."

"Hmmmmpf," she muttered, "You couldn't handle me on the best day of your life.

"Now get busy kicking ass and taking names, Marine. And if you need any bodies disposed of, let me know. I have lots of friends."

While we were talking I had turned onto Williams Avenue and within just a couple of minutes I found 3425. I turned into the driveway and there was Kim's Mini Cooper, and behind it was an older model Honda.

I was just getting out of my SUV when I heard a scream coming from the house.

"Kim," I thought.

I ran across the yard. Well, ran as fast as I could with my bum knee, then up the steps. The front door was closed but when I tried the handle found it wasn't locked.

I slammed the door open and it probably only took a second to bang into the wall on the inside.

It sometimes is incredible how much detail you can take in, in less than a second.

Kim was lying across the couch.

Her dress had been ripped off and she was naked.

I could tell she was going to have a black eye.

Her mouth was bleeding from a busted lip.

There was also a large bruise on her upper cheek.

Her eyes were wide open and panic stricken.

Some guy had his hands wrapped around her throat and was choking her.

As the door slammed into the wall, his head jerked around and he yelled, "Who the fuck are you?"

I started walking slowly into the house.

"Let go of her you son-of-a-bitch," I ordered. "Or do you only beat up on little women?"

He jumped up and I saw him look up at my gray hair. Matt was several inches shorter then I am, but probably weighed about the same with wide shoulders and heavily muscled arms.

"Why don't you get the fuck out of here . . . Grandpa!" he yelled.

Then the dumb-ass make the second biggest mistake of his life.

The biggest mistake of his life was touching Kim.

The second biggest mistake of his life was when he tried to touch me. He took a swing at me, which I easily blocked, then drove my fist into his stomach.

As he doubled over, I grabbed the back of his shirt and the back of his belt and drove him face first into the nearby sheetrock wall. His head made a rather impressive hole in the wall.

I had not let go yet, so I spun him around and used his speed and momentum to launch him into the air where another wall, about 12 feet away, stopped his flight.

He collapsed onto the floor, out like a light.

I ran over to Kim and was almost afraid to touch her at first as I saw up close and personal just what the son-of-a-bitch had done to her. I could also clearly make out the bruises around her neck when he had been choking her. Another minute or two . . . another minute or two and Kim would have been dead.

I began crying and trying to tell Kim how sorry I was for driving her away, for putting her into the position of getting hurt and nearly killed.

And I kept repeating, over and over without even realizing what I was saying, "I love you Kim, I love you."

Then Kim had her arms around my neck, desperately hanging on and telling me it wasn't my fault, that I had saved her life.

"It's just . . . it's just that when I saw your face back at your place . . . the absolute disgust on your face . . . I thought you hated me," she began. "Part of me wanted to stay, but part of me wanted to run."

"Hate you? Oh, God Kim, I don't hate you. I love . . ." That was enough to stop me for a minute. Did I really tell Kim I loved her? Then as I realized just how right those words were, and that I had actually been saying it for several minutes, I said it again.

"I love you Kim Peterson. Do you hear me? I love you."

Then we were both crying.

Many minutes later we had recovered enough to begin thinking about the situation we now found ourselves in.

"You need to go to the hospital," I said, "and have your face taken care of, but first I guess we need to call the police and have them arrest Matt."

"I just can't believe Matt would do that to me," Kim said. "I mean, yes, he has sometimes been a little rough, but I can't believe he would deliberately try to hurt me like this."

That was when I remembered the plug.

"Kim, this wasn't the first time he has tried to deliberately hurt you," I said, then began explaining how I had cleaned the plug while she was sleeping.

I also realized I still had the plug in one of my lower pants pockets and pulled it out and began to explain.

"He had taken a knife or saw blade and cut these little v-shaped grooves all around the plug," I showed her.

"The only reason for those is to deliberately cause pain, because he knew every time you moved even slightly, it would irritate the flesh."

As Kim realized what that meant, her eyes turned an even darker shade.

"First, I am going to get some clothes on," she said, "then I'm personally going to take care of that . . . asshole!" As she said that final word, I began to get worried. The look in her eyes and the expression on her face were starting to get scary.

I wound up carrying Matt into the bedroom and dumping him on the bed. While I was doing that Kim ran out to the garage and came back with rope and duct tape.

Then I was ordered out of the room.

Some 15 minutes later Kim's phone started beeping. It was still in my pocket. As I pulled it out, I noticed that the message was from . . . Matt?

When I began reading the message, I started smiling.

The message was addressed to all his friends, and basically said that today Matt had realized he didn't like women. In fact he hated women. He now realized that he liked guys. It went on to explain that a friend of his was going to tie him up in bed and put a butt plug in his ass. The front door was open, and the first friend to arrive at his house could remove the butt plug and put anything they wanted in his ass.

Oh, and before the friend left he was going to duct tape his mouth shut, so just ignore any attempted cries of help or pain. He really, really liked to be dominated, liked it rough and would really enjoy spanking as well.

And if his friends had any friends they wanted to invite . . . the more the merrier. The message also included the address.

Kim's phone began beeping again and now I was looking at pictures she had taken with Matt's phone. The viewpoints were from all three sides of the bed, showing Matt spread-eagled on his stomach and with the white butt plug shoved up his ass. There were even a couple of close-ups.

Kim had selected "all" on the phone, when it asked who to send the messages to, so every single one of Matt's friends would get the message and pictures.

The last thing Kim did was go to the kitchen and get a bucket of ice water and dump it over Matt to revive him. I could hear the muffled screams all the way in the living room

We ran out to my SUV and climbed in. We would pick up Kim's car later.

We had barely gotten on the highway when we saw a car slow down and turn in to Matt's driveway. Kim began laughing.

"I always thought that guy driving was secretly gay," she said. "And it looks like he brought a couple of friends with him."

Before we had gone another mile down the highway, Kim recognized another car belonging to one of Matt's friends. It was also full of guys. Some of them really BIG guys. We later heard that Matt moved to San Francisco where he changed his name to Mattie and really embraced a new lifestyle.

Kim refused to go to the hospital since such an obvious case of abuse would require a police report and investigation. After what she had done to Matt, she wanted to stay as far away from the police as she could.

I did take her to Debbie's house and Debbie called a doctor she sometimes dated. He made a house call and at first I thought he was going to try to deck me, thinking I had hurt Kim.

Kim explained everything to Debbie and the doctor, then showed them the message and pictures. Both were laughing.

While Kim was being treated, Megan sent me a text message saying they were just leaving Six Flags and she was going to spend the night at her friend's house.

She also sent a text to Kim, very worried about all the voice mails and text messages she found when they left Six Flags.

Kim told her everything was fine now, and she would tell her more tomorrow.

Kim and I finally got back to my house at about midnight. Even with the pain pills the doctor had given her, Kim was too keyed up to sleep so we wound up talking all night.

"I have loved you for years," Kim said, "Did you know that?"

I had to admit that I didn't.

Megan and Kim had been friends for years, even before Mary and I married.

"Did you ever notice how if Megan and I were in the kitchen and you walked in, I would go to the living room?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, "and if I then walked in the living room you would go upstairs to Megan's room."

"I kept waiting for you to reveal who you really are," she said. "I kept waiting for you to try to do something to me or Megan."

When I asked what she was talking about, Kim said she was going to tell me something she had never told anyone, not even her best friend Megan.

"My step-father raped me when I was 11," she said as she began to cry. "My mother was passed out drunk, he was drunk too but he came into my room and raped me."

We were already sitting side by side on the couch . . . yes, THE couch, but now I picked up Kim and held her in my arms.

"That's when I started spending so much time at Megan's, even sleeping over as often as I could. But some nights I still had to go home . . . and for three years I was raped repeatedly."

"Oh God, Kim, I am so sorry," I said and now I was beginning to cry as well. "I never knew, never suspected or I would have put a stop to it."

"I know that now," Kim said, "but back then I didn't. I was terrified. I was afraid of him . . . and I was afraid of you.

"I kept waiting to see the real you, the rapist, but all I ever saw was someone who obviously adored Mary and treated Megan, not as an unwanted step-daughter but as his own daughter.

"For nearly three years I was afraid of you, then when I finally realized I WAS seeing the real you . . . someone so gentle, so sweet, so tender with his wife and daughter . . . then I started hating you.

"Why couldn't you be MY step-father? That didn't last long. That changed the night you gave me a ride home when my step-father had his heart attack."

I remembered. Kim's mother called well after midnight and said her husband was in the hospital and asked me to take Kim home to be with her. I also knew he never recovered and had died in the hospital about a month later.

"Just as you pulled into my driveway you stopped the car and turned off the headlights and said we needed to talk. I . . . I . . . thought you were going to rape me then, that you were no different after all.

"But instead you started talking about my grades in school, and how you knew how smart I was because you had listened to me talk and you saw some of the books I read.