In line

"Officer, I'll do it here," I said as I unzipped my jeans and pulled them down and off. I hoped my jeans wouldn't set off the alarm, as my panties were already developing a dark spot that I could just barely pull my T-shirt down over.

Unfortunately, there was yet another beep and the officer placed his husky hands on the small of my back to lead me off.

"Luna, you're already here," Kim piped up. Deep down, I probably craved the humiliation, as I simply said, "she's right, officer," and swiped my shirt up and put it on the floor.

"Oh, gross!" one of the guys pointed at my panties that were increasingly soaked; this, of course, only made me wetter as I walked through the metal detector and once again there was beeping.

Hoping that it was my bra hooks, I unhooked it and let my girls hang free. At this point my juices had soaked through my panties and were dripping down my leg, and my newly-exposed nipples quickly hardened from the cool airport air.

Again, I walked through, and again, the metal detector beeped while the agent glared at me. His annoyed expression, and everyone's stares and phones, got me so wet to the point where my panties were noticeably heavier. When I pulled them down a little, they simply plopped the rest of the way down to the ground, getting my socks all wet, too.

Disgusted (and even more aroused) at this, I put my feet up to pull my dirty socks off when I noticed on my left foot a silver-colored anklet. Screaming in agony about the irony of this whole situation (making even more people turn their heads to me), I took off the anklet, and now as naked as the day I was born I walked through the metal detector, which didn't make a single noise as I was relieved. I realized, though, that I was naked, humiliated, and exhausted from the ordeal. The TSA agent sighed as he paged a janitor to clean up my juices from the floor.