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’ Joe Miller was a large, elderly, red-faced man in a drab short-coat with a bludgeon sticking out of one pocket, red muffler round his neck, florid...weskit and knee-breeches. He strode about the stage, behind the flickering row of gas-lights, told a string of jokes and then sang The Bailiff’s Daughter of Islington with frequent interruptions for cockney patter. His jokes, delivered in a droll manner, in a loud, raucous voice, were very raw. Many of them passed me by, but the whole audience,. I follow your instructions to a tee. Heading strait for the bathroom, bag deep in my purse, I reach in and open it, discovering the butt plug you so dutifully warned me of. Along with it is a small tube of lube, I recognize the gesture of compassion and sigh gratefully. The plug is huge much larger that I am used to. I know I must not fail again. Once was enough for me. I open the lube applying a generous amount to the toy as well as my fingers. I get myself as well started as possible.. More

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