It’s more discrete so that it can be worn in public. I find myself touching it all the time. It reminds me of him.We still text each other constantl..., mainly about what I am to wear that day. He may also have certain rituals that I am to perform for him. He sends me things to research, so that I am more knowledgeable about the BDSM lifestyle. I have been journalling and I send it to him daily so that is knows if I have a question or a concern. He is a very caring person and I feel special that. If wearing goggles could help keep me from getting effectively blinded by a pitched ball, I'd damned well wear goggles.But after trying a wide variety of the things, I found that most of them would fog up, or the lenses were of unreliable quality and would negatively affect my vision.Finally, I found some thick, ugly black rubber goggles that protruded almost an inch in front of my eyes. The lenses were terrible, but I just removed the damned things entirely and stared out through the open. “See what I mean? Even the dog wants to fuck me. What is a poor girl to do?”Grandpa said, “I guess you’d better get into the barn before we change our minds.”We all laughed and ran for the barn, Laddy leading the way.Once inside the barn we played a little game of grab-ass. Grandpa and I rubbed all over Mom, squeezing her tits and ass, and running our hands up between her legs to tweak her asshole and pussy. She, in turn, grabbed us by the ass and stroked our now hardened cocks. What the hell kind of doctor can’t see the symptoms of cancer in a woman sleeping next to him night after night? Serving him breakfast? Making his dinner? Crying in his arms as the pain grew greater and greater! ‘YOU FUCKING BASTARD!’ I screamed out into the night. Clutching my backpack to my chest, I sank onto the nearest bus stop bench and sat crying. Begging the world to end. The pain to stop. Bargaining the darkness with my last breath for time to roll back to those early months when Mom.