Now He Is My Boyfriend
I walked to my car, watching my phone, not where I was walking. I tripped over an object, a piece of construction material, twisted my ankle and fell on my ass, unladylike. The man walking towards me saw up my dress and saw I wasn't wearing panties. He smiled, and helped me up, but had to support me to my car. It was my right ankle, and I held my dress down so he wouldn't get another look at my nookie.
I couldn't drive. And he knew it. He drove me to the Urgent care, who sent me to get an X-ray. With no panties, I was at a disadvantage, wherever I sat I had to hold my dress down, and the technicians, and my friendly driver, seeing nothing but my ankle. At the radiology, my X-ray ruled out a fracture, back to the doctor. But, I asked my friendly driver to stop at Target and run in and buy me some panties. What he brought me, on purpose, were young girl briefs in a six pack. Pick, purple, pink, orange?
He stood guard, but my ankle made it impossible, so I had to ask him to get the panties past my ankle, with his eyes closed. He winked, the bastard. On the way to the doctor, presuming he had experience, I asked him how he rated my nookie. He felt, that some things like beauty, were best measured on what was on the inside.
The doctor had a wheelchair for him to wheel me in, wearing the pink girl panties. The doctor, a man of experience, looked at the X-ray and bandaged my ankle, gave me some pain and an anti-inflammatory. My driver took me to the CVS, home to put me up, elevated. He said that the pink panties favored me. He heated water, got me a mug of tea.
It was several weeks later, before I walked out with him limping but walking, those pink panties in his picket, he won them off me playing poker. I don't cover my nookie before him, I gave him a warm moist reception, in gratitude for looking after me. I sort of decided, on my own, not that he didn't tell me, that going commando at my age is a bit silly.
