Continued from Mrs Johnson Gets Extra Detention...
Debbie Johnson had woken in a better mood than recently. Tim walking away from their last photoshoot had upset her more than she expected, or wanted to. She'd done all that had been asked of her, even going the extra mile with the dildo, but seemingly Tim hadn't been impressed. She couldn't understand why it was letting her bother her, why was she pining after her nineteen-year-old neighbour?
She was in a better mood because it was her birthday. Forty years old at last. An age that most women would hate to admit to being, but Debbie had decided this was the time to put her past, or more definitively her cheating ex-husband, behind her and look to her future. Although she admitted to herself that she was very flattered about Tim's interest in her, she put it down to not having sex with anyone else since her husband left. He was a passing fad. She had to make him her past too.
It would prove a little tricky that weekend though, as Denise and Ian, Tim's parents and her closest friends, had decided to throw a birthday party for her. She just hoped Tim was on his best behaviour and didn't try anything with so many people about.
Saturday evening arrived, Debbie had been ready for around half an hour but was waiting until quite a few guests had arrived, she didn't want to appear too keen and be the first there, although she'd offered to help set up Denise had told her no, it was her party and they'd sort everything out.
She went in and noticed a few familiar faces, some of the teachers from her school were there. Denise hugged her and told her she'd emailed the school to invite them. Debbie went to the kitchen where she bumped into someone and turning to apologise realised it was Dave, the school caretaker. She had to suppress a gasp, she'd only ever seen him around the school in his dirty boiler suit, and he stood there before her in a grunge t-shirt and ripped jeans, his hair slicked back and almost as long as hers was. He looked very different and younger than his 35 years.
She had a fleeting conversation with him, before telling him she needed to mingle. She wandered out into the garden where some of the guests were smoking or just enjoying the last of the evening sun. Debbie felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Tim. He handed her a small gift bag and an envelope.
"I'd probably open the present when you get home if I was you, but you can open the card now," he told her. "I'm not going to cause trouble, it is your party after all," he continued.
Debbie opened the card, and read the verse. It was elegantly written, not the kind of verse a nineteen-year-old would normally pick. Tim has simply written Happy Birthday on the card. Debbie thanked him but was now bemused as to what the present could be.
She didn't see him again all evening but did notice Dave a couple of times looking in her direction. She waved and smiled. It was a little funny that they worked in the same building, but this was the most she'd probably ever acknowledged him.
The party ended, and Debbie having thanked the hosts, returned home with her presents. She put them down by her kitchen table and thought she'd leave them to open tomorrow now, as she wanted to shower and go to bed. As she was putting down the bags and wrapped presents, she saw the small gift bag from Tim. A feeling of intrigue came over her. What could it be that he'd told her to wait until she returned home before opening?
"Looking at one present now won't hurt," she thought to herself and picked up the bag. She undid the tied ribbon, and the bag contained a smallish box. She removed the box and noticed it was covered in wrapping paper. She ripped off the paper, and let out a loud gasp. Tim had bought her a buttplug!
She took it out of the box, her mind racing. It was very pretty she thought, silver metal about three inches long, and the end was a pink love heart crystal jewel, which glistened in the light. What she couldn't get her head around was why Tim would have bought it for her.
She noticed a folded piece of paper in the gift bag, took it out and unfolded it, and noticed it was written on.
"I hope you like the present, I'm hoping you'll wear it for our next photo session. This will be our last one, I promise, and it will also be just us two. I wasn't as keen on watching you by the pool with the others as I thought I would be. No isn't an option, I will send you details this week sometime. Tim," it read.
Debbie's disappointment at having to do another photoshoot was overshadowed by the feeling of the buttplug in her hand. He had said it was the last one, however, so at least hopefully she'd not have to worry about him blackmailing her anymore.
She put the plug to her mouth and licked around it, absent-mindedly tweaking at her nipples as she did so, and unbuttoning her blouse. She bought herself back to life when her hand wandered to her moist pussy. Shower, she thought. She raced upstairs, discarding clothes as she went up the stairs. By the time she reached the bathroom she was wearing only pantyhose, and her panties under them. She turned on the showerhead, went to pull down her panties and decided not to, climbing into the shower. Her nylon clad legs soon became wet as the water washed over her, and her hand rubbed over the gusset.
Debbie put the buttplug down on a shelf and reaching between her legs ripped a hole from front to back, exposing her pussy and arsehole, except for those damn panties. In haste to get upstairs, she hadn't removed them, and to do so now she'd have to remove the soaking wet tights too. She couldn't be bothered, thinking she'd have to make do with pushing them aside.
