Today I learned that my husband didn’t know I’ve been wearing buttplugs out in public for the past 18 years. It’s not something I hide. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it.
He knows I love it when he plays with my ass. Hell, I love it when I play with my own ass. There is legit something in my ass at some point almost every single day. He knows this as well. Or so I thought.
He came home from work and we were talking about our days. I sat down on one of our kitchen barstools and my plug clunked on the wood surface. He kinda smirked and said, “Oh, you’re wearing your buttplug again?”. I nodded and we continued our conversation.
He finished getting dinner prepped. I was about to head out to pick the kids up from their extracurriculars. He looked up from the stove and asked if I was going out plugged. My response, “Well, duh?”. He looked genuinely shocked. He asked if I ever wore my buttplug around the kids. My response? “All the fucking time.”