It’s still relatively early in the day, but I’ve already found a fun, new way to make a fool of myself! Indulge me, as I set the scene. I may have mentioned that it’s been a bit warm lately. I decided to wear a nice, breezy skirt today, topped off with a shirt boasting a drapey, plunging neckline of gathered layers. I finished my outfit with simple, black slip-on sandals, hopped in the Goose, and headed to work. I arrived and pulled into my usual parking spot. Once I began exiting my vehicle, one of my sandaled hooves slid out from under me, propelling the sandal across the parking lot and UNDER ANOTHER PERSON’S CAR. To keep from falling, I performed a plié/stripper booty dance. I didn’t fall, but soon realized my shoe was stranded. Ever the lady, keeping my station in mind, I politely held the edges of my skirt and delicately peeked under the car. There sat my sandal, sole up, laughing hatefully. It was within reaching distance, but only from the right angle. I tried to hook the shoe by shimmying my other hoof under the car to no avail. I formulated a rough plot and before executing it, glanced at the bank of windows on my building, wondering who was inside, pointing and laughing. I managed a grin, just in case I was being filmed, and slowly sank to my knees. (If I had a nickel.) Thusly positioned, I quickly bent at the waist and retrieved the rogue sandal. I immediately noticed a layer of Abby fur on the sole of the sandal, which must have converted my shoe into a hydroplane, explaining the manner in which it shot across the parking lot. About that time, the pain of gravel and shards of glass digging into my knees started to irritate me. I pondered how I might get on my feet without looking like a trollop. I realized the situation called for speed and used a deft “one foot flat, use knee for leverage’ maneuver. Once on my feet, still bent at the waist, I looked down to discover the fabric of my lovely purple bra shimmering in the sun. The layers of my shirt had parted, revealing my heaving bosoms. Ass in the air and cleavage hanging out, I again glanced at all the windows, chuckled, and closed my shirt as best as possible. So graceful…so elegant…so Mymsie.


One Response to “Ladylike”

  1. B. Says:

    Dude, that story made me totally hard.

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