Cats Don’t Do the Dishes, Part One
Craftsmate had been asking about my plug a lot in the past week or so when I got the text about what to do when I came to his room. I had arranged to hang out with him and mess around a bit that lazy Sunday afternoon, but I had never received instructions like this from him before.
He had said that I should come over to his place, strip down immediately once I had gotten through the door and let myself into his bedroom. I considered that I was fine with the idea of doing this, even if it was madly blush-inducing. I even got a little ballsy and put my plug in.
As I was getting ready to go, I stole a glance into the mirror and saw the blush burn in my cheeks. Walking over to Craftsmate’s place, I got so anxious I had to put my headphones in and play music to distract myself. I was sure people could see right through my blush, though I knew it was a completely ludicrous assumption to make that blushing girl equals plugged ass.
When I reached his place, I set my backpack down and took a look around. His roommates weren’t home and the shades of the living area were drawn. I stripped down to everything but my panties, walked into the kitchen and had a glass of water. Steeling myself, I walked over to the door to his bedroom and pulled it open.