Get Outta Here

I scrimmage back to the male bathroom. I must have kept my purse inside. Many people glance at me. I just ignore them and run off. On a normal summer day, the cotton shorts shouldn't feel so chilling. But today, the shivers were due to my stupidity and clumsiness.

My cotton t-shirt was just doing a bare minimum job. I wasn't wearing light colors again. Due to my hands at my back, the t-shirt had come above my navel, clearly exposing my midriff. But that didn't matter right now. I moved to the bathroom and went straight in. Damn!

I keep forgetting its a FUCKING male bathroom!

A man's peeing.
and he turns around. His eyes widen and in shock he startles. I instantly turn around. "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry mister." And I move out of the bathroom. Fuck me!

I curse myself passionately as I stand by the bathroom, waiting.
Soon,
the man makes his way out.

I offer him a weak smile as I rush into the bathroom. I go to the stall I must've been in and I open the door. I mean, I manage to with my handcuffed hands. Now now, I hadn't considered my tits to be large. And I knew they were small as well. But this incident, with my hands cuffed behind me, and my breasts pressing onto my t-shirt, I was realized that they are quite full. I mean, I had them.

I wasn't flat chested. I had tities a man could grope.

Now I really do not know why I had been thinking about this. But as I managed opening the door, I found my hand purse lying right there. Open. And god-fucking-damn! Someone had stolen things from it!