My granny had some odd ways about her, well dont we all!, one of these was the insistence that we should always keep a spare pair of knickers in ones handbag, for emergencies, like getting run over, you know because if one is run over, the first thing on your mind is going to be "ooh is my underwear clean" or maybe the paramedics on arrival might say to one another "hey bob, before we deal with the life saving, best check she has got clean underwear on!!!! It used to make me laugh when she would go on about this, but you know sometimes i did keep a spare pair in my bag, not always.
Anyways, after a nice session of anal sex, Master and i head off out for a drink and something to eat, as we are walking along, gravity starts to take effect, yeah what goes up must come down....and eww its coming down, so im clenching my ass together, walking very much...well like a duck waddling, desperately waiting to get to the nearest bar....Master finds this highly amusing..the bastard.
And its not exactly pleasant whats coming down, (do hope your not eating, dear readers), and perhaps i should have been better prepared, i knew it was inevitable at some point, but im careful not to complain because Master could decide an enema is the solution in future!
You know how some woman say once you have been in labor, all sense of dignity goes out the window, clearly they have not had a tube stuck up their ass, water poured down it, made to get on hands and knees in bath, and be watched as its expelled. I mean, i love humiliation, but i do draw the line at some things, and this is one of them, unfortunately the bastard..i mean Master, just crosses that line, perhaps i need to draw it a little bit more clearly...but i doubt that would make a difference.
Hate, hate enemas.
Anyway, get to the closest bar, rush to the ladies loo, well i wouldnt say rush, more like a fast paced waddle, clean myself up....and walllahh a clean pair of knickers are in my handbag.
Granny would be proud......well it was an emergency!