You'll Get Used to Itbyalwayswantedto©
All characters involved in sexual situations are 18 or older.
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"You can't really see that much. They wouldn't allow it if it showed everything."
"They do! Sally saw the monitor when a lady was being screened and she said it was absolutely horrible. The poor woman would have been traumatized if she knew what they could see. Sally said she was embarrassed for her."
"Come on, you know how much Sally exaggerates."
"Maybe, but I don't think so this time. She said she'd never go through one of those scanners, ever!"
The chatter was more excited than usual. It was Mom's turn to host the weekly after-shopping party. A few of the girl's were planning an excursion to Las Vegas but some were balking given the recent news about scans and pat-downs. Unable to avoid hearing the conversation as I came down the stairs, I considered retreating but it was too late. Mrs. Johnson had seen me. I softened my steps and quickly ducked into the kitchen hoping she wouldn't put me on the spot: I was training to be a security contractor at the local airport and she knew it.
"Well, I won't do it. I'll just refuse."
"Oh, Jennifer. Then you won't be able to go."
"We should all refuse. They won't lose that much business just to get their jollies."
"They're professionals, Alice. They're not getting their jollies looking through the clothes of a bunch of middle-aged women. Anyway, if you refuse, the plane will leave without you."
"I know, I know. It's just that... it seems so... gross."
There was a mix of laughter and a general consensus that the situation was indeed distasteful. I slathered butter on the bread and added mayonnaise, hurrying in so I could make my escape before Mrs. J decided to act upon my presence downstairs and, just just as importantly, to finish before Mom came in and berated be about using butter AND mayonnaise.
"You don't have to go through the scans if you don't want to."
That was Mrs. J. Quickly, I gathered up the slices of tomato and spread them over the bread, sprinkled a liberal dose of salt and pepper, and pressed a second piece of bread on top. I didn't bother cutting the sandwiches in half. I filled a glass with orange juice, grabbed the plate, and hurried to the kitchen door, pausing to listen. I waited for the next burst of excitement to make my escape upstairs.
"I heard the pat-down is even worse than the scan," Mrs. Edelby whined.
Perfect. They were onto the pat-downs. This should provide the turmoil I needed to sneak away. I waited for Mrs. J to get involved.
"Oh no, they're not as bad as the scans," Mrs. J jumped in. "Sally said..."
I made my break, bolting through the door. My left shoulder bumped against the jamb and spun me halfway around but I managed to hang onto the plate without losing the sandwiches and didn't spill a drop of orange juice on Mom's carpet. My eyes turned into the living room as I swiveled full circle and spun, in a semi-graceful crouch, to continue up the stairs.
"Mark!" Mrs. J cried. "Mark can tell you better than Sally could. Mark, come and tell us about these scans. Come on, get in here."
I turned, straightening as I did, and looked at Mom sitting in the far corner, my eyes pleading my case, but she simply shrugged her shoulders to acknowledge the futility of resisting Mrs J. I looked forlornly at my sandwich.
"You can eat that in here. Come on, Mark. Tell these girls that the pat-downs aren't that bad, at least not as horrible as the scans. "
Mrs. J was urgently waving me into the room. I looked harder at Mom but found no savior there. I was trapped. Visibly shrinking, I made my way into the room and stood before Mrs. J and Mrs. Edelby on the couch. All six women in the room, except for Mom, started talking at once. I dipped my head and took a huge bite and looked helplessly over my shoulder at the stairs.
"Let him eat, let him eat," Mrs. J yelled.
The conversation spun away from me and I continued eating my sandwich. As it went on, I entertained the slim hope that I would be able to slip away. At one point, that hope flirted with reality. They were so animated, I actually believed I could get away. Leaving part of my sandwich uneaten, something I never did, I grabbed my glass of orange juice and slunk away. I was almost out of the room when Mrs. J bellowed.
"And where do you think you're going?"
I turned part way back but stretched my hand with the glass of orange juice out and nodded toward the kitchen door.
"You can get that later," Mrs J said. "First tell us how bad the scans really are."
"They're not that bad," I said and turned to make a quick exit.
"Not so fast," Mrs. J yelled. "Come back here and give us the goods, the real goods. Your poor mother is beside herself worrying about this."
Mom did look uncomfortable, whether about the scans or all the talk about them, I couldn't tell. I walked back into the room.
"They're really not that bad," I said, looking at Mom.
"Posh," Mrs. Edelby said. "Sally said you can see everything."
"Not everything," I responded defensively.
"They can see enough," Mrs. Yamato in her typically shy voice. She hardly ever spoke but when she did, in her typically quiet manner, everyone listened.
"See," Mrs. J said, as if no further proof was necessary. "We'll just opt for the pat-down and be on our way without anyone knowing if or how we shaved that morning."
There was an outburst of raucous laughter.
"Well," Mrs. J cried. "It's true, isn't it Mark? They can see that, can't they?"
I nodded, blushing profusely amid another bout of horrified laughter. Into the din, I tried to promote efficiency at the gate.
"But the scans are over in seconds and nobody knows you anyway. It's anonymous."
"Anonymous?" Mrs. J cried indignantly. "We're supposed to not care just because we don't know the jerk ogling the screen?" She leapt to her feet and threw her arms wide, thrusting out her breasts and cranking her pelvis forward.
Another uproar ensued. I pictured Mrs. J like that on a screen but without her clothes. Not a bad sight. I had always had a crush on Mrs. J despite her constant teasing of me since the day she first babysat me as a little boy. She was the best looking of Mom's friends. They went to the gym together, ran and cycled together, sometimes holidayed together, and of course, shopped together. They were best friends which is why Mom tolerated her good-natured abuse of me. Mom knew she actually loved me and didn't mean me any harm, and so did I, but she could be darn right embarrassing at times.
Right now, in the glow of everyone's attention, she looked pretty good. Other than Mom and Mrs. Yamato, she was the only attractive woman in the room. She had the largest breasts of the three but her hips were a little larger than Mom's and her waist not quite as narrow. Like Mom, she looked at least five years younger than she really was. I couldn't tell how old Mrs. Yamato was but she didn't look much older than her two daughters. She had a very slender figure, almost unisex, except I knew from my observations on several occasions in summers past that she had surprisingly pert breasts. I had thought of them many times at night as a side treat while I dreamed of sucking Mrs. J's Playboy-worthy set.
"Not a chance," Mrs. J stated defiantly, sitting down on the couch. "Ok, Mark. Show us that the pat-downs are no big deal."
"What?" I said, caught off guard.
"Show us, so these girls don't get all scared and cancel our trip."
I glanced at Mom, who shrugged again. Except for Mrs. Yamato, she was the quietest one in the room, as usual. It was Mrs. J's show.
"Come on, Janet. Help your son show us that it's no big deal. Let him pat you down so these scaredy cats don't drop out on us."
Mrs. J was waving Mom to get up up the way she had waved me into the room.
"I can't," Mom finally said. "I'm wearing a skirt and I won't be when we travel."
It was a weak excuse but I was relieved. I turned to make my exit.
"Not so fast, Junior," Mrs. J said. "I'm not wearing a skirt."
Mrs. J stepped over the coffee table and grabbed me before I could make my escape. It reminded me of the times she used to chase me around and pin me to the ground when I was little, holding me with the threat of tickling me to death more than actually tickling me. I was trapped and I knew it. It was best to do what she wanted as quickly and with as little objection as possible. It was the only way to get away. She pulled me around and positioned me so we were facing each other, grabbed my glass of orange juice, and set it down on the coffee table.
"Pat me down," she commanded, holding her arms out and waving her hands down the sides of her body which was clad in a form-fitting, flowered blouse and tight, black stretch pants.
The room filled with giggles. Even Mrs. Yamato tittered and Mom smiled, pushing herself higher in the corner chair and tucking her feet under her legs to get comfortable for the show. I shrugged and extended my arms to put them on Mrs. J's shoulders. I slid my hands over to her neck and back, then over and down her outer arms.
"Ohhhh, I didn't know it was romantic," one of the women said, triggering another round of titters.
I dipped under Mrs. J's hands and slipped my inside, ran up the inside of her arms to her armpits, then closed onto her sides and traced the sides of her body, being careful not to exert too much pressure — far less, in fact, than the training specified — but still registered the bulging swell of her breasts before dipping into her waist and curving out to finish on her hips. I stepped back.
"There. Do the same for the legs and that's about it," I said.
"Bullshit, Mister," Mrs. J said. "Do the rest so the girls can see the whole thing."
I withered under Mrs. J's glare and stepped forward to comply. I reached around to her back and slid my hands over her shoulders and up between her shoulder blades. I was relieved that Mom was sitting behind me to the right so she couldn't see my chest pressing against Mrs. J's boobs. The other women were watching my hands on her back but I was more aware of what was going on in front and, judging by the slight smirk on Mrs. J's face, so was she. I traced her spine through her blouse to the small of her back. She arched away from the press of my fingers, pushing her breasts into my chest. The smirk widened, and I blushed as my hands parted to slide out to Mrs. J's hips.
I dropped to a crouch and turned my head away, purportedly to pat down Mrs. J's legs, but actually to hide my reddening face. I ran my hands down the outside of Mrs. J's legs and around her ankles, slid them up the inside of her legs, then down the front and up the back. I refrained from exploring the area near her crotch as we were instructed to do in class. I stood up.
"There," I said. "Nothing to it."
"You forgot to do my bottom. The girls know about that, don't you girls?"
Mrs. J joined the other women in another round of giggles. I noticed that a tense look had replaced Mom's smile and Mrs. Yamato's greater concentration was betrayed by the tip of her tongue protruding from the corner of her mouth. I was surprised by her intense interest as I would have expected her to be looking the other way. I curled my arms around Mrs. J and put my hands at the base of her back.
"Don't be shy," she said, grabbing my forearms and pushing my hands down onto the top of her buttocks.
I pushed down, letting my hands follow the curve of Mrs. J's ample butt which was larger than Mom's but undeniably feminine. I couldn't help wishing I could do this for real and knew I would be thinking about that tonight. As my hands slipped down to cup the lower half, Mrs. J pushed her ass back to fill them. There was a collective sigh and then silence as my training kicked in and I pushed my hands between her legs before pulling them out and withdrawing along the crease between her buttocks and legs.
"Done," I said.
"Almost," Mrs. J said breathily.
"Yeah," Mrs. Edelby cried. "I saw one on the news and they even check under your breasts. It's hard to believe they do that right here in America!"
"Go ahead, Mark. Show them," Mrs. J pushed her breasts forward.
"I think we've got the idea," Mom suddenly spoke up, unfolding her legs and rising from the chair. "Remember girls, these pat-downs are done by other women. You won't be subjected to such an intimate search by young men."
"Well, that's a big disappointment," quiet, demure Mrs. Yamato's comment surprised everyone, causing a huge burst of laughter.
Mom nodded to me and I fled upstairs amid the uproar. I hit the stairs at a half run which made me immediately aware that I had an erection. I hoped it hadn't been noticeable and couldn't help wondering if some of the laughter had been at my expense.
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I finished my training by ten on Thursday morning and was sent home. I was on-call should the TSA need our company's assistance at the local airport. Mom wasn't home since she worked mornings three days a week. I had already changed into sweatpants and was just getting into an online porn video when the doorbell rang. I ran downstairs, belatedly thinking about my half-stiff pecker as I bounded down the stairs. I could see through the door's window slits that it was Mrs. J so before opening it I smoothed my palm over my front to make sure I wasn't obvious. I knew if there was any sign there Mrs. J would make a crack about it.
"Hey, Mrs. J," I cried a little too enthusiastically. "Mom's not home."
I held the door open but kept my hand on its edge, blocking her entrance. I wanted her to leave quickly so I could finish watching the video before Mom got home. It didn't do any good. Mrs. J brushed past me, my arm bouncing off her well-endowed chest as she went by.
"I never remember," she said. "Well, I'll just leave these."
She walked into the kitchen carrying some brochures, presumably about their upcoming trip. I left the door and dipped my head in frustration before following her. She tossed the brochures onto the kitchen table and turned to face me. I was about to enter the room but changed my mind and stepped back, indicating the still open door with a sweep of my arm.
"When does she get home?"
"Not for a while," I stated firmly, hoping to convince her by the strength of my statement that it wasn't worth waiting. There was a time when I ached to spend time with Mrs. J but her flirting had long since become tedious. All it did was get me worked up and I had more satisfying material for that waiting for me upstairs.
"Oh darn," Mrs. J sighed heavily, causing her breasts to rise and fall sharply under the thin sweater she was wearing.
I immediately began having second thoughts and couldn't stop my eyes from roaming down her front, over the skirt that ended four inches above her knees and the nice legs below that led to her low-heeled sandals. Mrs. J smiled, the semi-amused smile of a woman who knows she's being appreciated and is pleased by it.
Oh know, I thought. Here we go again. Now I won't get rid of her until Mom comes home.
Mrs. J started to leave, walking past me with an exaggerated, sexy walk. Looking at her ample behind moving underneath the thin skirt, I experienced a twinge of regret that she was leaving so quickly. How many times had I dreamed about standing behind that luscious ass, pulling up her skirt, and yanking her panties down? Too many, but a glance at the front of my sweat pants confirmed the dream was still alive. Maybe, after she was gone, I'd pound one off in her honor before returning to the video.
Mrs. J pushed the door closed, turned around, and leaned against it.
"So, I guess we have time then," she purred in a sexy voice, putting her hands behind herself and pushing her pelvis forward.
The skin over my whole body tightened and I found it hard to breathe.
"Time for what?" I asked, surprised I got the words around a tongue that suddenly seemed to fill my mouth.
"For you to answer a few questions?"
"About what?" I asked, unable to keep my eyes on her face as she shifted her feet.
"You know, about those pat-downs."
"Oh," I replied, nervously. "Mom will be home soon."
"I thought she wasn't coming home for a while," Mrs. J teased.
I pulled my eyes up to her face just as she met mine. I blushed and felt the tingle in my groin as well but managed with a struggle not to look down at myself, knowing I was reacting to her but unsure about whether my sweatpants showed it. I had to get rid of her soon.
"Not to worry," Mrs. J said. "It will only take a minute." She lifted one foot from the floor and held it out toward me, still leaning back against the door. "I forgot about how fussy Janet is about her floors. Can you help me with this, they're such a bother to get off." Mrs. J smiled pleadingly.
There was no reason she couldn't take her own shoe off but I ducked down to her grasp her shoe anyway. I was happy to bend over to cover my wayward genitals before they made their presence known, even through the thick sweatpants. Maybe by the time I got her shoes off, I could get myself under control. I fumbled with the straps around Mrs. J's ankles and had to hold her leg still to get the shoe off. Mrs. J offered me her other foot. Further tingles confirmed I was a failure at getting myself under control. As soon as the second sandal hit the floor, Mrs. J put her hand on my shoulders, holding me in place looking between her knees.
"I was wondering, Mark, how you guys check a woman wearing a skirt. I mean, how do you find out if a woman is hiding something under there?" To make her point, Mrs. J slipped her right hand off her shoulder and rested it on her thigh briefly before tugging the skirt up a couple of inches, lifting her knee as she did so and putting her foot against the door. I looked into the wider space between her legs and then tilted my head to look up at her.
"If a woman is wearing a dress, we push it between her legs and then proceed as if she was wearing pants, at least, the women security officers do." I looked up at her expectantly, awaiting approval of my explanation.
Mrs. J lifted her hand off my left shoulder, and pulled her skirt up even higher on her left thigh. She smiled at me and said in a skeptical voice, "Mark, Mark. Do you really think that would stop a woman who has something to hide?"
I looked up at her dumbly and she raised her eyes before glancing under her raised skirt. I tilted my head forward and looked directly between her thighs. Mrs. J was wearing knee-high stockings held up by little white straps that disappeared under her skirt.
"Do you really think a quick pat-down could reveal what's hidden under a woman's skirt?"
My attention was riveted on Mrs. J's sexy thighs, especially the soft white skin above the stockings. I had only dimly heard her question and belatedly shook my head.
"We could stuff all sorts of stuff up there."
I nodded and ducked my head closer to peek higher under her skirt, briefly rewarded with a glimpse of her white panties before I came to my senses and pulled my head back. Mrs. J had once before lifted her skirt to give me a flash of her legs but she had never held it up so I could review them at my leisure. I found it hard to speak.
"What do you think, Mark?" Mrs. J purred. "Do you think I've got anything to hide?"
Mrs. J's hands moved, pulling her skirt higher. I almost choked when her panties burst into view again, stretched tight over her pussy. Mrs. J lifted her right knee higher and pushed it outward, widening the gap between her legs and pulling the edge of her panties away from the little hollow there which allowed a few strands of pussy hair to poke through. Right then, the only thing I was aware of outside of her skirt was my cock lengthening along my own leg. Mrs. J pushed against the door with her foot, urging her pelvis forward and my nose was suddenly less than an inch from the most aromatic treat it had ever experienced. I inhaled deeply.