A long, slow drip of moisture rolls down my inner thigh. I shift, self-conscious. I stand in a check-out line at the grocery store. Sir has said that wearing a toy while running errands is his pleasure today.

It has been a while since I have been sent out with a toy. My muscles are weak. I am having a difficult time keeping it, uhm, contained.

With each movement, I swallow a little gasp. The toy keeps raking over my G-spot, providing a constant distraction. I gather my groceries and make my escape; scurrying home. Quickly and carefully has taken on new meaning.

I make it home. I lean against the front door and pull out the toy. One hell of a challenge.


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