<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Top on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/top/</link><description>Recent content in Top on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Fri, 26 Jul 2019 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/top/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Jen’s Predicament</title><link>/stories/2019/07/26/jens-predicament/</link><pubDate>Fri, 26 Jul 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/07/26/jens-predicament/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="jenspredicament.html"&gt;part 1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hi, all, I’m Jen. This story is a continuation from &lt;a href="jenspredicament.html"&gt;Jen’s Predicament&lt;/a&gt;. Because it drops right into the middle of a conversation, here’s a quick recap of how we got here.&lt;/strong&gt;*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I&amp;rsquo;m 26, single girl. I&amp;rsquo;ve had a thing about selfbondage since puberty. As this story takes place I was living alone in a house with a basement. I’d built a selfbondage x-frame in the basement with an electromagnet for timed release, a stand for a vibrator, computer controls for both._&lt;/strong&gt;_&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>