Every time a bell rings…

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This afternoon at Madame S the cute gayboy behind the counter paused while ringing me up, furrowed his brow, looked at the register.

His uber-sexy, vintage-slip wearing coworker looked over his shoulder at the computer: Clit. Clit bell.

He: Uh…

She: It’s a bell. For your clit.

He: Oh! For my clit!

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