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A light cooling drizzle started to come down; it got faster and harder and we started to run to find shelter. Luckily there was a little shack just off the fairway. As we ran I saw you look over at my breasts. They bounced up and down as I took deep breaths. The rain was dripping off my now messy soaked hair, down my face, down my chin towards my boobs. In the shack, it was warm and muggy but dry. I sat down on a bench that was inside and unbuttoned a few buttons of my shirt in order to wipe away the droplets of the cool rain. As I did so, I was startled by the noise of someone approaching. I tried to quickly button up my shirt but, in my haste, I did the reverse and slightly opened up more to reveal the soft curves of my breasts. “What’s going on in here?” a voice said with laughter. I must have looked funny and shocked when I looked up and saw who was standing there. “You're late,” you said. Your friend replied in laughter, “No looks like I'm just in time.” You must have called him. .I thought of hiding it after it arrived by Fedex but realized the follyof trying. She would know. She was tracing the shipment's progress onher computer and had told me it would arrive that day. So.... I put iton the hall table and waited for her to arrive that evening. I had totake the day off to await its arrival -- like holding the axe for theheadsman. Whoopee!!Two weeks later.........I wore the GPS belt daily. No one noticed it and I got used to wearingit, but Sandy continued to snap and snarl at me, and worst of all... nosex. I was reduced to masturbation. Happily the belt did not precludethat modest personal satisfaction or indeed the satisfaction derivedfrom a rectal vibrator. Day after day I would arrive home after work,masturbate, watch TV, read the paper, review the mail, and wait forSandy to come in after her day was done. The days grew longer as herwork days lengthened. She came home later and later, giving me ampletime for personal entertainment.To my regret.
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