weapon or toy?
The toy bag detonated a metal detector at airport security.
As long as I leave my eight, it will usually be goodinch-
Hard brass dildo-
Some people call the robot police a Kegel Trainer. -
Go home or remember to hide it in my checked baggage.
But this time, the machine will definitely beep, which means that the airport security personnel will check my most personal items and find out why.
The stern, older black woman looking at the screen backed up her belt and in X-ray.
She pointed to the screen and showed her young blonde assistant what to look.
I was in a good mood, not too close to the flight time, and found myself smiling at my companion and looking forward to a bit of dramatic fun.
The waiter asked politely, \"Is it OK if I look at this bag ? \".
\"Of course, if you really want to,\" I replied.
I look at her face as she goes through the cuffs, latex straps, eye covers, zippers
Lock bag with condom, rubber gloves and lubricating oil, zipper
Lock bag with cock ring, zipper
Wonderful spandex full lock bag for Mark Chester with a variety of needle clips, butt rest, etc
Body binding bag, elegant and soft leather scratching gloves, sharp metal dots scattered on the palm and fingers.
Her face remained 100% expressionless at all times, an impressive professional performance.
Other departing passengers passed by, picked up bags they did not violate the rules, and put all kinds of toys on the table.
There was a time when I would feel extremely embarrassed if I let anyone at Seattle airport see my sexual orientation.
But it was a wonderful weekend and I felt really good about myself, so I wasn\'t embarrassed at all, just wondering what it was like when airport security came over from a stranger\'s sexual kit.
I mean, she didn\'t even wear gloves.
How did she know if I had washed the latex and finally found what she wanted ---
I know what she will get sooner or later. -
My elastic six little whips.
Inch metal handle.
She proudly placed it on the carpeted little counter and was glad her search had been successful. (
At this time, the eyebrows of some passing passengers began to rise. )
My friend transferred her weight from 1 feet to another.
I really don\'t know her very well, and I don\'t know if she likes the show or feels uncomfortable.
I took my camera with me, but I didn\'t realize until later that I should have taken a picture of the whole scene.
\"You can\'t hold this on the plane,\" the security guard said clearly, looking firmly into my eyes.
\"Why not ? \" I asked innocently.
\"It\'s a weapon,\" she told me . \".
I turned my eyes over for the dramatic effect.
\"It\'s not a weapon,\" I objected bitterly. \"It\'s a toy.
\"She continued to look into my eyes, neither humorous nor angry ---
Like I said, professional.
\"No matter what, you can\'t take it on the plane.
\"I would love to take another step forward, but I realized it was getting closer and closer to the departure time.
The principle of reality.
I didn\'t say, \"What are you afraid of, I\'ll rush into the cockpit and tell the pilot to fly to Havana or I\'ll hit his naughty naked ass\", I don\'t say, \"You\'re afraid I\'ll hit a flight attendant and her (or him)
He/she would beg to hijack the plane, \"I said,\" OK, what should I do then? \"I was told that I could bring the whip back to the ticket counter and have them check it out as separate luggage.
\"Sometimes they do it, sometimes they don\'t,\" she warned . \".
I picked up the bag and then the whip.
Her face softened for the first time.
She really won\'t object to me when I travel with a whip.
\"Tell them that the security guard says you can\'t accept it on the plane,\" she said . \".
This should help.
\"I thank her for her advice.
In the heart of Seattle airport, hundreds of people were very familiar with the whip, which gave me quite a bit of cognitive disorder.
The eyebrows of some passengers must have stood up now;
I turned on the TV in a Pavlov style and I was in public and I started to worry about what to do if they didn\'t check the whip.
I remember Betty Dowson, author of one-on-one sex, and the masturbated lady trying to take her robotic police on the plane and detonate an airport metal detector.
The security guard also called it a weapon and confiscated it on the spot.
I also began to wonder if I would miss my flight.
I put aside all the feelings of conflict and forced myself to be productive.
My friend said that if I was late for boarding, she would go to the gate and save me a seat.
I fold the tail of the whip along the handle so I can take it to the ticket counter without scaring too many people.
There was a long line at the ticket counter, but I went to the front to interrupt and explained that my plane was about to leave and I needed to check something that the security department wouldn\'t let me fly.
When she entered someone else\'s flight information into the computer, the conductor asked, \"What is this ? \".
\"This is a whip,\" I said . \"of-
In fact, show her with it.
The conductor stopped typing, looked at the whip, looked at me, and looked at the whip.
She said to herself, \"I won\'t ask . \"
\"I will tell you everything you want to know . \"
\"It\'s okay,\" she refused. A college-
There is a older lady on the counter who is filling out a form.
She has a warm (Maybe know)
Although she pretended not to pay attention to what had happened, she had a smile on her face.
I caught her eye and when the conductor went to get a plastic luggage bag for my whip, we exchanged smiles.
I put the whip on the counter affectionately.
It turned into a lovely black and silver
Life in the background of white paint.
Several people waiting in line are checking out, more curious than disturbing.
The drama of the absurd has evolved into sex education: well-dressed, polite
Very loud and quiet
It looks like the man is checking his whip.
It\'s called normalization.
The young lady filled out her form.
She scanned the whip neutral and alert.
I don\'t think it\'s the first whip she\'s ever seen, but who knows.
I looked at all the people and felt the whole airport--
Passenger, ticket inspector, security guard--
At least in part because I refuse to own it in any other way, it gives me the benefit of doubt.
I\'m not embarrassed, I\'m not apologetic, it determines the moment and tells everyone how to respond.
I think it\'s strange.
It is a feeling of liberation, a feeling of coming out, a feeling of refusing to make mistakes.
When the agent came back, she opened the plastic bag for me and waited for me to put the whip in.
Maybe she doesn\'t want to touch the whip, maybe she doesn\'t want to risk breaking the whip.
My feeling is that she asked me to put the whip on myself because she understood that it was a special thing, a personal thing.
Education evolved into ceremony.
I carefully stuffed the whip into the bag as if to say, yes, this is what I want to respect most.
Writing my name and address on the luggage tag became a kind of affirmation: This whip really belongs to me;
This is my name. This is my address.
The agent affixed the label to the bag, pulled the rope up, tied the rope with a few ropes, as if to reassure me that the rope was safe and would not open.
She gently placed the bag on the conveyor belt that moved behind her.
I watched it lose my mind and I couldn\'t see it.
\"When you pick up your luggage, don\'t forget this is a plastic bag,\" she said as I started to leave . \".
We all laughed when I looked at her.
\"Don\'t worry,\" I said.
\"I will not forget.