Connie was waiting for me at the outdoor cafe in front of Big Museum. The first thing I noticed was that she didn't have a handbag so much as a piece of luggage, lurking next to her chair like a medium-sized dog. She'd settled in comfortably, sipping a large latte, wearing sunglasses and a large smile. Clearly, the anticipation of an afternoon spent indoors on this lovely summer day seemed to please her a great deal.
I realised immediately why she hadn't wanted to wait for me inside - the dog-sized bag. The serious uniformed security staff at the entrance would probably have raised an eyebrow or two at the contents during bag search. Although, come to think about it, if you search bags for a living in London, chances are you've pretty much seen everything already. A couple of silicone dildos and a bit of bondage tape couldn't be the worst of it. Even at a museum.
"So what do you have in there?" I asked when I sat down next to her under the umbrella, discreetly stroking her thigh.
"I brought lunch," she smiled cheerfully, pointing at the plastic bag at her feet. "And fun stuff," pointing at her handbag.
"Want to go inside, see what the security guards say when they look in your bag to make sure you're not a terrorist?"
"Why not? I can just see the Daily Mail headline: 'Suburban Adulteress Caught in the War on Terror.'"
"Good point." We kept well away from the entrance.
A remarkably short while later, I was sliding her translucent pink knickers down her thighs. She stretched out and wiggled her bottom against the mattress. And just as I delicately traced the length of her labia with the tip of my tongue, relishing the ticklish anticipation of having her in my mouth, I felt a giggle coming on.
Connie spread her legs further, wanting my tongue on her clit...
The giggle kept pushing its way up out of the pit of my stomach. I had my face between the legs of a beautiful woman purring with horny appetite, and I couldn't concentrate. The thought kept accosting me: Her roomy handbag being unpacked by a squad of grim-faced security guards, a burly man with latex gloves, pulling a thick, long pink dildo out of it, his eyes trailing longingly along the bulging veins of the shaft...
It escaped, this giggle. It just had to get out.
If there's one thing worse than laughing in someone's face, it's laughing in the face of their genitals. Particularly in a state of arousal.
"What?" She wasn't exactly pleased.
I looked up from in between her thighs. "Sorry, I just couldn't help thinking about the War on Terror..."
She started laughing.
"You wouldn't happen to have a huge pink dildo with you?" I had to ask.
I realised immediately why she hadn't wanted to wait for me inside - the dog-sized bag. The serious uniformed security staff at the entrance would probably have raised an eyebrow or two at the contents during bag search. Although, come to think about it, if you search bags for a living in London, chances are you've pretty much seen everything already. A couple of silicone dildos and a bit of bondage tape couldn't be the worst of it. Even at a museum.
"So what do you have in there?" I asked when I sat down next to her under the umbrella, discreetly stroking her thigh.
"I brought lunch," she smiled cheerfully, pointing at the plastic bag at her feet. "And fun stuff," pointing at her handbag.
"Want to go inside, see what the security guards say when they look in your bag to make sure you're not a terrorist?"
"Why not? I can just see the Daily Mail headline: 'Suburban Adulteress Caught in the War on Terror.'"
"Good point." We kept well away from the entrance.
A remarkably short while later, I was sliding her translucent pink knickers down her thighs. She stretched out and wiggled her bottom against the mattress. And just as I delicately traced the length of her labia with the tip of my tongue, relishing the ticklish anticipation of having her in my mouth, I felt a giggle coming on.
Connie spread her legs further, wanting my tongue on her clit...
The giggle kept pushing its way up out of the pit of my stomach. I had my face between the legs of a beautiful woman purring with horny appetite, and I couldn't concentrate. The thought kept accosting me: Her roomy handbag being unpacked by a squad of grim-faced security guards, a burly man with latex gloves, pulling a thick, long pink dildo out of it, his eyes trailing longingly along the bulging veins of the shaft...
It escaped, this giggle. It just had to get out.
If there's one thing worse than laughing in someone's face, it's laughing in the face of their genitals. Particularly in a state of arousal.
"What?" She wasn't exactly pleased.
I looked up from in between her thighs. "Sorry, I just couldn't help thinking about the War on Terror..."
She started laughing.
"You wouldn't happen to have a huge pink dildo with you?" I had to ask.
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9 comments:
Oddly enough, only today I was wandering through an exhibit of Bernini's sculptures. No security screening though, more's the pity...
I once had the indignity of having my handbag (read large rucksack) spread all over a table at Gatwick. Who'd have thought anyone could have so many lipsticks and stray tampons. Fortunately my battery-operated toothbrush didn't even raise an eyebrow :)
Having my handbag content spread out in full view of everyone at airports security became a speciality of mine.
Unfortunately, one will never get used to having one's underwear scrutinised by a man in a uniform. There must be a time and place for this, but Stansted at 6am is definitely not right. Neither museums I guess...
Having ones handbag searched and emptied infront of preying eyes(especially men) can be the funniest and yet biggest turn on known!
But I have to agree, a little laugh would of escaped my lips too!
xx
i imagine the discovery would be akin to the fear of the doctor noticing my perfectly smooth pudenda - guilt and a thrill altogether. Hopefully any self-respecting security guard would pass one through the door with just a secret smile and a gratuitous wink!
Laughing in the face of perfectly good pussy? I hope you made up for it...
My bag was searched on my way out to Amsterdam. To the securities embarassment I happily how the contents worked; flogger, sound (Mon?), shackles, spreader bar, wicked thigh high boots and a corset or two. I laughed even more when he asked me what the final, small object was,'an umbrella, in case it rains!'
Reading through the comments on this post is great fun. So many women are terrified of having their handbags searched, but for kinksters it mostly seems like an opportunity to flash a glimpse of their secret pursuits, turning the prying eyes into complicit voyeurs.
And let's face it, kinky people often have a thing for uniforms:)
That said, I'm sure that 6am at Stansted is pretty much anyone's low point, erotically speaking. Yes, Lilith, that means you need to take later flights if you are to enjoy your trip though security to the fullest extent.
Messalina, the last time I checked, a sound (when used as a sextoy and not to gauge the depth of waterways) is a slender steel bar with bumps, which is slid down the urethra of an erect cock to make for one hell of a handjob. I hope you were not trying to carry this in your hand luggage.
Isa, I frequently laugh in bed with the woman in question. She has a way of dropping witticisms when she's horny.
Laughing is good.
Laughing and pointing is bad.
And having had occassion to perform the odd search here and there, I can say that finding sex toys isn't that unusual.
Although I'm still trying to figure the guy that brought a frighteningly large purple double-header with him when he walked into a local bank branch and announced a robbery.
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