Later that morning Sarah got ready to go home. She grabbed hold of me and without a moment's thought dropped me in her handbag, muttering something about me being sticky with her lover'scum and needing cleaning before she could wear me again. I fell to the bottom of Sarah's handbag and once again was shut in the dark. I hated being in here. It was dusty and I was sticky. The two did not make for a good match as all the grime stuck to me. I really would need her to clean me now.
At length her bag opened again and she dropped something else into it: a pair of her knickers. They landed with the crotch of them on my face. They were covered in cum. It felt vile.
Finally I felt a swaying movement as if she had picked her bag up and we were on the move. Her getting home, removing me from her bag and cleaning me up could not come soon enough. I also found another strange feeling creeping over me. It was a yearning. A desire to be worn. I was feeling the need to be on a wrist. I was a watch. I was supposed to be worn on a wrist. It felt like this was what now mattered to me.