Chapter 7

Chris came running upstairs behind me. He was laughing at how awkward I looked when running naked. I am sure my ass cheeks were clapping as I high stepped up the stairs. How do I know exactly why he was laughing? He told me all about it, which only made him laugh more.

My tits were bouncing, and my ass was flapping up the stairs. I know this because although I could feel my body moving in awkward ways, Christian provided a helpful commentary for me. He wasn’t intentionally being mean, but he felt the need to share his observations as I moved and that only made him laugh more.

I knew I had a smile on my face too, but I didn’t really know why. For some reason, I was just really happy, even though I was running through the house in my birthday suit with a plug in my butt. I suspected it may have been an involuntary reaction to how surreal and humiliating the entire scenario had been tonight. A part of me was deeply ashamed but right now I was laughing it off.

I knew one thing for sure. Kendrick would be the next one to head for bed. I was so horny I’d screw the bedpost if we had one. I would fuck him so hard that his cock would probably be sore for a day and I wanted him to punish my pussy just as hard. Our lovemaking was typically pretty gentle and vanilla but lately we’d been humping like newlyweds learning each other’s bodies for the first time.

I went into Christian’s room and he followed a moment later, already pulling off his shirt as if he had no qualms about being topless in front of me. He tossed it on his desk chair and then kicked off his shoes. What I didn’t expect was for him to slip off his pants too. Compared to me, he had no shame. He really had no second thoughts about me seeing him in his boxers. He just pulled back his comforter and slid between the sheets, as cool as a cucumber.

I fussed with his covers like I had done a million times in the past, tucking him in. It seemed like something I hadn’t done in forever and it gave me a warm feeling to be doing it again. I never for a moment thought that my breasts would almost contact his face when I reached over him. Usually, I would have been fully dressed complete with a bra holding things firm and in place. I almost jerked away when I felt his hot breath. I’d been clumsy.

“What story are you going to tell me, mom?” Chris asked as he had every night until a couple of years ago.

In the past, I’d told him something that had happened at work, making it into a story he could relate to. Now I drew a blank. I was no longer a working mom.

“Tell me the story of your butt plug? He suggested showing once more his fascination for the sex toy.

I couldn’t really blame him. He’d just followed me down the hall, watching it sway in my butt as I moved.

“I want to see it, too,” he added.

“I showed it to you last night,” I reminded him, although I was reminded of Kendrick’s instruction to let him see it any time he asked and I knew I would. I just felt I needed to make him work for it.

“No, I want to see the whole thing. Just take it out and show me. Please?” He sounded so young when he begged like he used to. Only this time it was different. It was an adult sex toy, not a cheesy magic trick like I used to do for him at bedtime or one of the samples from my sales kit. This was a toy that had spent hours in my butt.

“I don’t think so, Chris. Not that,” I promised I’d show him some other time but he wasn’t going to accept that. “It’s part of the deal, mom. You always give me a lesson at bedtime. It’s our thing,” he argued.

He was right, too. I’d never tucked him in without something like that. He just didn’t seem to grasp how humiliating it’d be for me. I nodded in defeat then straightened up and turned towards the door, telling him I’d be right back.

“Where are you going, mom? Just take it out here and show me!” He insisted, an edge of anger in his voice that stopped me in my tracks. How could he be getting angry at me? I was going to take it out, clean it and show him. “I don’t care if it’s got a little poop on it. It’s just poop. I expect that,” he insisted he wanted to understand everything, including how it went in and came out.

An unbidden memory came to me from when he was about three. He’d insisted on seeing me change my tampon and I’d shown him, not thinking anything of it at the time. Still, he wasn’t three anymore. He didn’t shower with me like he had back then, either! Had I really become a prude since my youngest hit puberty? No. I was simply being more discreet, I assured myself.

“Honey, it’s a very private thing,” I tried to explain while standing there naked.

“You are ashamed!” Chris accused me.

Of course I was ashamed! I just couldn’t tell Chris that. Was it any more shameful than being naked in front of him? Of him seeing me tied to a chair? Of him knowing there was an artificial cock substitute jammed up my tailpipe?

So, defeated, I squatted down with my legs spread as little as I could and angled so he wouldn’t have to see my vagina and I pushed while gripping the base of the plug and pulling on the flange at the same time. It didn’t want to come out at first and I grunted, which made him giggle.

Humiliation washed over me as I pushed with my pelvis and pulled with my fingers, unable to completely mute my exertion. Eventually the plug slid free. It was still coated in the lube I’d used and there was hardly a trace of poop, which was a small comfort despite his assurances that he didn’t care about seeing poop.

“It’s smaller than I thought,” was Chris’ first reaction. I was tempted to say it FELT like I’d had a Cadillac up there but I chose instead to stay quiet and blush. I did manage a nod to show I’d heard him.

“Why is it so short? I thought it’d need to be a whole lot longer to make it stay. It looks like a single baby carrot compared to a dinner plate,” he observed, adding that my bottom was like the dinner plate and the carrot was like the butt plug.

I probably could have said that the length wasn’t the important feature of a butt plug but rather the way the shape tapered before the flange, to keep it tight against my sphincter. How to explain that to that to a boy who’s also a son, though?

“It doesn’t need to be long, Christian,” I assured him, wimping out on a full explanation at first. Chris didn’t push for more right away.

“So tell me the butt plug story now?” He insisted instead.

I told him the story of getting it and while glossing over the details and other components of our bet, I explained how and why I’d chosen that particular plug from the adult store, which at Christian’s insistence, led to me having to admit there are much longer ones available too. I tried to act nonchalant about my first use and Jessica’s involvement with removing it, but I was otherwise very open about how it felt inside me.

I even admitted that this one was better than the second one I’d purchased yesterday. I’d gone back to the adult store and purchased a smaller one, thinking it might be better for everyday use but I’d quickly discovered a backward step was not at all as satisfying. I certainly hadn’t intended to set myself up for Christian’s next question.

“So it turns you on to use it?” He asked. I could never have asked another person that question myself, afraid of being given a straight answer. Chris didn’t seem at all embarrassed. He was just inquisitive. I didn’t think he could even imagine that his mother COULD get turned on, much less asking if a sex toy could cause it.

I was raised in an era where parents just magically had kids. There was no thought given to what made a parent horny. This conversation was surreal alright.

“It feels nice,” I admitted shyly. “Sort of like a very filling meal,” I tried to put my answer into terms he could understand and I figured his dinner plate analogy had worked despite the embarrassment of that particular mental picture.

“Can I try it?” He asked.

I wanted to scream an emphatic NO and tell him his dad would be horrified at the very question. Instead I suggested that he should wait a few years until his body had finished growing. He accepted my decision more easily than I’d expected.

Then he asked to at least see me put it back in. I didn’t know what to do. I’d been holding the plug in my hand for nearly ten minutes. What was I supposed to say to a request like that? To me, it was tantamount to a request to watch me and his father make love.

“I can’t do that, Chris! It’d be too much!” I said quietly.

“Why? You took it out for me and you won’t let me put it back in you myself, so the least you could do is let me watch you put it back in, yourself!”

I’d misunderstood Chris. I’d thought he wanted to put the butt plug in his own bottom. But putting it in me was just about as bad. I tried explaining there’d be nothing to see. I tried explaining to him that putting it in was exactly the same as taking it out even though since the first time, that was no longer true. This morning I’d stood bottomless in front of the mirror, bent at the waist and watched my reflection as it slipped in. It’d been highly erotic but I couldn’t tell Chris that.

“You just want to see my pooper,” I accused Chris, trying to shame him into denying it.

“Well yeah. Like a before and after,” he agreed shamelessly, oblivious to my attempt at manipulation. “Come on mom, don’t be such a prude. You’d do it for dad, so why not me too?” He asked.

Because to me, it’s a very private, sexual act that gets me wound up, I was tempted to say. Of course I didn’t. I couldn’t. But I HAD done it for Kendrick. I’d felt his approval when I’d done it for him and I’d instantly gotten horny.

I didn’t need Christian’s approval. Or did I? Would doing it in front of Chris provide the same naughty, extremely erotic sensations in my pussy? Would it generate the same feelings in me that my bets with Jessica, Jane and Elizabeth had? Part of me didn’t want to know. Another part of me imagined Jessica calling me a chicken for refusing. That part won. Besides, if my son was man enough to ask, who was I to refuse?

My hand was visibly shaking when I bent at the waist so he could see my butt hole. I had a clear picture in my head of what he was seeing. My butt hole is kind of cute and in a way, I was quite proud of it. That didn’t make my task easier though. Without the mirror to guide me, I had to stab around three or four times to get the tip lined up with my entrance. I imagined Chris holding his breath as he watched.

Eventually the tip slid past my opening and I felt the cone shape forcing my back door open more and more. I pressed in as hard as I could, biting my lip and ignoring the discomfort. I just wanted that beast back in place so I could call my demonstration complete. It was as humiliating as it was arousing.

I even considered rubbing my clitoris a little with my free hand. Chris would probably not have seen me do it and it would have produced some amazing sensations but I just couldn’t because Chris MIGHT have seen. It felt like I was bent over for ten minutes before I felt the telltale lessening of pressure that told me the plug was finally in. I’d really only been bent over three or four minutes.

Still when I straightened up, the plug did it’s normal thing inside me and I was instantly more than ready to go get Kendrick, insisting that it was our bedtime too, then let him have his way with me.

I was a bundle of raw nerves when I wished Chris a good night, kissed his forehead and left his room, still naked. Hell, the whole family had seen me now, I told myself, heading downstairs instead of to my bedroom to get a robe.

The next day I awoke wanting revenge on Jessica. She wasn’t interested in giving me the satisfaction of everyone having a laugh at her expense. I admit that morning at breakfast I couldn’t look anyone in the eye. I expected them to ask questions about why I had done the bet, but no one did. They almost seemed to have forgotten all about it.

After breakfast I suggested that Jessica spend time in the chair like I had and we could wait to see who was willing to untie her. Jessica could be goofy and flirty but she was no fool. “Lame, mom. Let’s do something else.”

At least she was open to a bet. I was glad I had my foot in the door. You could probably see the dirty wheels spinning in my head as I tried to come up with other daring bets. My suggestions were pretty intense compared to what we had done so far but not to Jessica. She passed on all of them.

I admit that my bets were mostly dares to expose our tits around the house. I wasn’t prepared to take things out of the house again after the tennis debacle. We had made total spectacles of ourselves. I had fucked the shit out of Kendrick that night though, so I definitely had a wild side that I was suppressing.

Jessica wanted to go to Walmart or the mall and make some stranger’s day by flashing her tits or even more. If my daughter wasn’t such a willing partner in crime, things may not have progressed as quickly as they had. I was still hesitant about involving strangers in our dares. They were an unknown variable. At least with my family, I knew they had already seen me naked and knew why we were doing what we did.

I didn’t want to admit it at the time but a part of me was scared most of all of having to explain to a total stranger, why I was doing something humiliating and be perfectly honest with them.

I should have known better than to make bets with an exhibitionist like Jessica though. She had no such qualms. “Okay, be a fuddy duddy. I doubt anyone would be shocked if we dressed like whores at Walmart anyway,” she teased.

I whispered for her to keep her voice down while we made the bets. I had never involved the family in planning the bets and that was before they’d become sexual.

“It’s enough that they are going to see the bet go down. Why do you still care if they hear us now, too?” She asked in a snarky voice.

I didn’t answer her. That frustrated Jessica more but she didn’t make a big deal out of pressing the issue with me. “Okay, how about a race?” She suggested we run laps around the property. I knew there was no way I’d win a race against Jessica but she’d at least suggested the seed of a bet I could agree to.

Of course I tried to counter that the backyard was at least mostly private but she clucked like a chicken and insisted that’d hardly be a challenge at all. It didn’t take her long to get me to agree to laps around the outside of the house although I still wasn’t ready to accept an actual bet on something she was clearly more suited to winning.

To be clear, I’d reluctantly accepted the idea of laps just so Jessica would stop lambasting me for being too conservative. I justified things by telling myself it wasn’t exactly ‘going out in public’, but it still involved being buck naked outdoors. I just needed to negotiate a bet that wouldn’t disadvantage me.

“You are young, athletic and long legged. You’d whip my ass,” I guffawed, expecting to use her agreement to that statement, as a stepping stone to redirect the bet. Instead I was the one who was swayed.

“Oh, you have such a lack of imagination, Mom!” Jessica explained her bet like she’d read it out of a book. It was clearly defined.

We’d both be naked with the exception of three strategically placed silver strips of duct tape. They would be small enough to cover our nipples and slit. “Technically, you will be street legal. At least, for Mardi Gras,” she giggled. She failed to mention that our entire ass crack would be exposed.

The handicap to the race was that we’d each have to balance one of my butt plugs on our head. We could fast-walk but not jog or run. If we dropped it, we would have to stop and pick it up. We’d do four laps in total and the winner would be the one first one to ring the door-bell. I felt that with those restrictions, I had more than a fighting chance of winning. In fact, a lot more than a fighting chance.

The loser was going to run two more laps with that butt plug in her ass and the duct tape removed completely. “You can haul ass because you won’t have to balance anything on your head,” she assured me, already convinced I’d lose.

The bet seemed pretty far out but fair to me. There would be no keeping this a secret from the family while we prepared. Danny was at football practice but everyone else was home. Kendrick kissed me and sang lines from the old Ray Stevens song, “Oh yeah, they call him the streak!”

He explained there had been a whole movement in the 1970s that streaked around college campuses. I must have missed that on the news.

I was still too nervous to actually undress in the presence of my children but Jessica had no such qualms about her siblings seeing her shuck her bra and panties in the living room. When I came out of the bathroom nude, she’d already applied the duct tape to her nipples and groin.

Kendrick took it upon himself to officiate the race by counting us off. “On your marks, get set, go!”

There we were, looking like total idiots. We were completely nude except for precarious little strips of glistening duct tape in the bright sun of a Saturday morning. Our quiet little suburb would never expect two women to be rounding the corners of their yard balancing butt plugs on their heads.

I tried to power walk but I ended up losing the butt plug every time. Jessica managed to keep her balance. Slow and steady wins the race.

I wondered if Jane was watching from her windows. I wondered if she would call us amateurs at the dare game business or be impressed with our commitment. I expected at any moment to see an old man watering his lawn or a car round the corner. They would certainly be shocked!

For all intents and purposes, we looked naked. There was no doubting that as the sweat dripped down my chest. I could feel myself getting wetter on the second lap. “Don’t give up, Mom! There is no second prize. There is only a winner and a loser!”

Those words echoed in my head. I was determined to make her eat them. I quickened my pace and took longer strides. It was a good thing I had duct tape on my nipples because they were distended and hard while the adrenaline pumped through my veins.

I suppose it was wishful thinking to imagine we could do this in broad daylight and not pick up at least one looky-loo. Mr. Johnson, our neighbor to the left, was out in his yard. He waved at us on both the third and fourth laps. Jessica waved back but under her breath, called him a creepy old pervert. I was too mortified to acknowledge him at all.

He stood there and smiled as we turned our backs on him to finish the fourth and final lap. I was sure he had a perfect view of our completely bare asses.

Jessica eventually beat me by barely three steps and was the first one to ring the doorbell. She then tried to open the front door but found it locked. She pounded on it hard. “C’mon Kristina, this isn’t funny!” she demanded. At least I had the satisfaction of watching Jessica get nervous, imagining that we’d be spending the day outside like this while locked out of our house.

There’s just something about being naked and embarrassed that is offset by seeing someone else naked and embarrassed too. I was huddled with only duct tape covering my bits and pieces but I could fully appreciate Jessica’s angst. You could say I savored it, despite being in the same boat as she.

“Say, ‘Pretty Please Princess’,” Kristina giggled on the other side of the locked door.

“I’ll say foot RIGHT up your fat ass when I get back inside, Princess Kristina!” Jessica snapped.

“Nope,” Kristina teased back, not intimidated by her sister.

It was Kendrick who unlocked the door for us despite my youngest daughter’s wishes.

I was surprised that Jessica was only teasing Kristina and didn’t try to get even with her. She was more interested in watching me take two ‘laps of shame’ without duct tape and the butt plug in my ass.

This was the first time I had to insert the butt plug in front of almost my entire family. This was the new plug. It was bright purple with a little tickler for the clit and a larger end for the anus. I could have been wearing it wrong, like in reverse - maybe the larger plug was supposed to go in the pussy while the pinky-shaped prong went into the asshole, I still don’t really know.

I looked my husband in the eye while I fidgeted and worked the big end into my butt. I was too ashamed to wet it or use any lotion. Chris offered to help but I told him that I had it.

I insisted they promise not to lock the front door before going to the backyard to start my run. Kendrick counted me off and I got started on a fast jog. My heart was already racing from the excitement before I took my first step.

It would have been a quick dash around the hedges and the four walls of our large house however, Mr. Johnson had moved from the safety of observing from his yard to get a better view of this new development. I was surprised to see his kindly face when I came around the side of the house and nearly tripped over the garden hose. He could see my now completely exposed nipples bouncing and uncovered, they seemed to be even more erect than ever.

“What ya doing, Mrs. Mason?” he asked in a slow southern accent that seemed to compress and slow time.

How could I answer that? I was running around, as naked as a jaybird with a plug in my butt. What did it LOOK like I was doing outside on a Saturday morning, naked? Gardening?

Still, I didn’t want to answer him. Sarcasm would have worked, but I was too embarrassed to use it. So instead, I smiled like an idiot and didn’t offer any answer at all. I know it was cowardly, but I really had no decent explanation for an indecent activity. I am sure he was enjoying the view and simply curious.

He certainly wasn’t outraged so I probably should have answered him. He could have become angry at being ignored or have called the cops and told them this was indecent exposure. In hindsight, I think he was too busy enjoying the show though.

My face was flushing red as I dashed around the front of the house on the second lap. I summoned the briefest of explanations. “Can’t talk, lost a bet! Have to run,” I panted out.

When I got inside and told Kendrick what had happened, he chastised me. “It’s very annoying when you don’t answer questions,” he reminded me yet again.

Kristina rolled her eyes and called her dad’s words an understatement.

“I did! I told him I couldn’t talk and had to run,” I repeated. I was still panting and covered in a sheen of sweat. I hadn’t removed my butt plug or moved to get dressed. There seemed to be no point.

“You didn’t answer his question. He wanted to know WHY you were doing what you were doing. You just told him WHAT you were doing and he could see that for himself.”

Kendrick insisted that I walk back outside with him and explain myself to the neighbor. My husband was polite but insistent. He was so forceful about it that I didn’t think to protest.