A Morning Adventure

I took the morning off from work because I'm expecting a delivery of furniture between 10:30 and 12:30. We've just moved, and I've been surrounded by clutter for the last few days, including piles of ___'s underwear, shoes, and various other fantasy-inducing ultra-feminine items. I've been holding it together quite well, mainly from the fatigue of lugging heavy boxes and furniture, but every now and then something catches my eye, and I briefly speculate about putting on something girly.

I crawled into bed last night completely free of such thoughts. As I drifted off to sleep, I nearly jolted awake remembering that I would have the morning mostly to myself! I immediately began to fantasize about wearing stockings, or maybe ___'s fishnet tights. I'd have her entire wardrobe at my disposal. I fell asleep thinking about some of her more elaborate lingerie.

While I stayed in bed watching her get ready, I was eager to get into something -- anything! -- feminine. I wanted to slip into the black and pink silk nightie she had under her pillow. I wanted to steal a pair of her panties. I controlled myself, and waited patiently for her to leave. Then I calmly took care of some business while having a leisurely breakfast.

Unfortunately, I realized then that I had a quick errand to run, and that I had better do it well before the delivery arrives. But I didn't want to lose time I could have otherwise spent feminizing myself. The best solution, I realized, would be to put on some lingerie, and hide it with my regular clothes as I ran my errand. This would satisfy my craving, and it would give me the added thrill of secretly running around town in frilly panties.

With heart aflutter, I retired to the bedroom, carefully picking through piles of clothes, in search for ___'s black bustier, matching panties, and stockings. I was eager to feel stockings on my legs, and I wanted a feminine treat, and this is the most outrageously feminine outfit I could think of. I chuckled as I put on my own jeans and t-shirt, luxuriating in the sensation of my legs in stockings and garters. I didn't bother with socks, for an added thrill.

Within 10 minutes, I had accomplished my mission, and returned home completely undetected. I could now frolic around to my heart's content for an hour or so until the delivery arrived.

Naturally, I couldn't do this without proper shoes, so I rummaged through a box where I knew I could find the one pair of ___'s shoes I can actually squeeze my feet into. As I sat down near the front door to buckle the sandal strap of the first shoe around my ankles, I heard voices outside. I dismissed them, thinking they must be neighbors, and certainly not the deliverymen I was expecting to show up more than an hour later. As I was working my way into the other shoe, there was a knock on the door.

Panicked, I shouted to please give me a minute. Twice. With one shoe on, I hopped into the bedroom, desperate to divest myself of this embarrassing outfit. There was no way I could remove the shoes, stockings, and corset in any reasonable amount of time. There was no way I would let anyone catch the slightest hint of me like this. The only way was to put on my jeans and t-shirt again, with a loose sweater to avoid showing bra straps and cups through the shirt. But there was one more problem: my stockinged feet.

Since I had no time (nor desire, truly) to unhook the stockings from the garters, my feet were obviously in black hose. This would surely be most obvious to the deliverymen. I needed to hide my feet somehow. Amazingly, it took me an agonizing 5 seconds or so to think of putting on socks. When the idea finally occurred to me, I realized that I had no idea where my socks were. I was panicking, knowing that the deliverymen were waiting at the door. Then it came to me: while I had no idea which pile contained my socks, I remembered that some recently laundered ones sat on a chair, right by the front entrance. But that would also be suicidal. As I calmed myself down, I noticed a pair in a laundry basket, and coolly put them on.

The men dropped off my furniture, oblivious to the secrets I share with Victoria. They were an hour early, and caught me quite literally with my pants down. Within ten minutes of moving boxes around and a polite amount of small talk, they left.

I had dodged a bullet. As an added bonus, I now had the rest of the morning to play dress-up. I practically tore off my man clothes, and put the sexy sandals back on as soon as they were gone. Then I put on a gorgeous little skirt and strutted around for a while. I like to prolong my pleasure by doing mundane things around the house en femme. I write this now wearing the same outfit described above. Perhaps there will be more.

Have I learned nothing from my adventure this morning?