Where did I leave my vibrator?

By Odeon Black
Please note this article contains adult content and language.

Where did I leave my vibrator?  Well as it happened, my vibrator was eventually found, but I will get to that later.  First, let me give you the back-story.  My girlfriend (we will call her Becky) and I had always liked traveling.  We would travel any chance we got.  It was so great to get away from the dull drum of every day existence.  To go someplace where no one knows your name, or cares.  You are just a visitor or tourist, there to have fun.  My disability would often get lost in the dancing, sun, drinks and my favorite, sex.  This was and continues to be an escape, a place to simply be a sexual gimp with a hard-on for life.

One of our exciting trips took us to the Bahamas, fabulous beaches, great drinks, and so many foods made with conch.  There was deep fried conch, stewed, sautéed, boiled and the ever-popular sandwich.  The hotel was filled with tourist, clean and surprisingly wheelchair accessible; given it was over 10 years ago. Becky and I could not wait to check-in and get to our room, flying always frustrated us, but also made us very horny.
If you think flying with a power chair is hard now you should have flown 10 or 15 years ago.

We check-in to the hotel and race to the room, the door swings open and the clothes drop like heavy raindrops in a storm.  She tears off my t-shirt, and I rip the three buttons that hold her skimpy shirt together, off with my teeth.  The smell of sea salt wafting in through the window and the scent of sweat fills the room.  Then we remember, we brought a new sex toy; a 7 inch pink vibrator.  It was an average size I suppose, made of silicone and took two AA batteries.  We also, brought a bottle of lube and of course condoms to our mini-soirée.  She unwrapped the vibe and we worked it until the batteries died.  I held it in my mouth, my splint, and she held it in every position imaginable.  All our hotel neighbors heard was, “Oh my God, I love this Vibe”, “that’s my vibe”, “nothing better than your tongue and the vibe”.  Yes, four days and three nights of lube filled, condom smacking, pink vibrations.

Well, on the last day we pack and are ready to go; but we cannot find the pink vibe. We must have searched the whole entire room.  We came to the conclusion that maybe the maid took it or accidentally fell in the garbage can.  We had to go or miss the plane. We left wondering where it was?   We arrived at the airport and rushed to security.  They had a system where they run your carry-on baggage and suitcases through the X-ray machines, while one stands there.

We wait for our bags to go through, as the line behind us gets longer.  The Security officer, in standard white shirt, shorts an official Bahamian hat, begins his review.  One carry-on goes through, and then another, and finally the suitcase has a turn. As it is starting to come out the other end the officer stop the conveyer belt, and backs up the suitcase, he yells to the other guard.  “There is a long metal object in here!” at the same time Becky remembers where she put the vibrator.  She packed it in the suitcase first,  “so she would not forget it”.  She leans close to me and says,  “oh my god, I hate that vibe”, that’s not my vibe”, “how embarrassing”.

Now everybody is looking at us.  We have become microbes under a microscope of possible wrongdoing, passenger curiosity and Security guard indiscretions.  Yikes!
The guard slowly but methodically un-zippered the suitcase as two others watched, Becky, turned a beet red as they lifted the flap and felt around for the “long metal object.”  Yes.  His expression said it all when his hands clutched what could only feel like a worn down silicone cock.  As he “pulled-it-out”, the other guards simultaneously looked up at the young girl and her “friend” in the wheelchair.  Becky looked mortified, horrified, she was not into the “vibe”, right now.  I shrugged.

The guards quickly threw the vibe back, zipped the suitcase and yelled, next!  I was so glad we were not next.