No, it's not your bag

Opening the bag, you look for your phone. Initially, you can't find it, but then you grab something that feels like it. You pull it out, but your heart sinks in horror when you realize something. It's not your phone. You look back in the bag. It's not your bag either; you see unfamiliar books and other things. The bag looks the same on the outside, but someone else must have mistaken your bag for their and taken it!

Your pulse re-quickens. Your ordeal isn't over. You **** back a sob, and settle for a pout. Why was this happening to you? The pulsing in your pussy drives you back into action and you clean up as best as you can before leaving the stall and washing your hands. You step out into the hallway, painfully aware of the dampness in your crotch and the pleasure throbbing away.

Holding the stranger's phone in your hand, you try to open it but can't; it's locked. Considering your options, you head back to the exam room to see if the other student has returned in search of their bag.