That sound you heard…
…was NOT the sound of a glass buttplug falling out of my ass onto the stone patio of the restaurant we went to last night.
But it almost was.
The night before, W had inserted the same glass plug in me and we’d happily traipsed off to the local frozen custard stand. If I recall correctly, I was wearing a skirt that night. But I never worried that it might fall out. It’s the medium size plug, not the large, but still, it felt secure and tight up there. I even masturbated in the Jeep on the way home, and my orgasm didn’t push it out, as it sometimes does. And I slept with it in almost all night, warm and snug up in its dark, musky hole.
Maybe the fact that he had ass-fucked me thoroughly after I removed the plug sometime around 4am made my ass all stretched out, so that when he inserted the same glass plug in me the next night, the damn thing practically flew out of my ass.
Or maybe there is something for not using lube after all.
Last night, because we were running late for our reservation, he offered to use lube. It does take a bit of time and work to get it in without lube, but that is his preferred method. I–eagerly–accepted his offer of lube though. That is my preferred method. But I felt it beginning to slip out before we’d even left the house. I ended up pulling it out, wiping it free of lube, and reinserting it (much to my embarrassment, as W gleefully watched the entire process.)
“I don’t think it’s going to stay,” I said.
“That’s okay, if you need me to, I’ll walk you to the bathroom with my hand on your ass, like this,” he replied. And then demonstrated how he would cup my ass to hold it inside of me. He was just kidding, of course. He couldn’t know that half an hour later he would be doing exactly that, in public.
He dropped me off at the front of the restaurant while he parked the car and I found one of our friends on the patio. But I knew I was in trouble before I’d walked twenty yards. As I stood there, chatting about kids and other vanilla topics, I felt–and swear I heard–the plop of the damn thing as it exited my body.
“Oh my god,” I said.
Our friend looked at me quizzically.
“Um…I need to use the restroom,” I finished, lamely.
Just then I saw W walking up from the parking lot and I sighed in relief–all the while eyeballing the fifty feet or so I would have to traverse to get to the restroom.
I grabbed his hand when I saw him. “I have to go to the restroom,” I whispered fiercely. He looked at me strangely, maybe thinking I was just telling him I had to go pee. “And I need your help,” I continued, waggling my eyebrows at him, trying to convey to him without words why I needed to go, all the while clenching my asscheeks together desperately.
Suddenly he raised his eyebrows and smirked. He’d suddenly got it. I could tell he was struggling not to laugh. With a grin he cupped his hand around my ass and walked me to the restroom.
Thankfully I made it there without anyone noticing and without it falling out of my pant leg and onto the stone flagstones, but I worried the whole time: what would I do if it fell to the ground and shattered? Claim the shards of glass? Or keep walking, head high, pretending I didn’t notice it?
Next time, I wear my steel plug.