I had another task to complete before the weekend was over. I had to try to give myself an orgasm (tentacle not required.) If that meant in bed, where I was comfortable, or in a truck stop bathroom on the way home because I hadn’t managed the attempt before I left Kansas, so be it. But I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
I was traveling to visit family, so my alone time was limited, thus making playing with the tentacle or myself challenging – and all that much more fun for the illicit nature of it. I liked stealing moments away to play and think about him, to take the quick snap, before “normal” life resumed. But working myself up to an orgasm in that environment, or even finding the space/time to feel comfortable enough to attempt it, was going to be challenging of a whole different order. I really didn’t want to be diddling myself in the women’s room of the Flying J while some woman in the next stall told little Johnny to be sure to wipe all the poop off his bottom (true story.) So I had a plan.
Sunday morning, in the shower. We were getting up early to get a good start on the 8 1/2 hour drive, I’d have a long shower in the morning, invite the Tentacle in, and we’d have a play date in his natural element.
Ever hear the phrase, “best laid plans”? Yeah…mine didn’t quite work out. We woke an hour and half late and my time in the shower was cut very short. I had enough time to take the picture and make a half-hearted attempt at working myself up to something resembling the build-up to an orgasm, before there was a pounding on the door telling me it was time to go.
Thankfully, my aborted attempt was accepted, and no truckstop diddling was required.
And I did get to play again with the Tentacle, after I got home…