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Wife’s panty secret revealed

Posted: February 6, 2014 3:46 p.m.
Updated: February 7, 2014 5:00 a.m.


It’s been more than 25 years since it occurred, so finally I can tell you a secret:

The woman whose panties fell down was Wife Nancy.

What’s that, you say?

Simple story. A family member recently called to my attention a column I had written back in 1988. I read it, and I couldn’t help laughing. Back then, a quarter century ago, I was circumspect about revealing the victim, but now I can let the truth out. I figure if our marriage has made it this long, one more story won't hurt.

And here’s what happened, just as I told it to you back then: 

This woman from Camden -- I can’t tell you her name -- would have a conniption fit if she knew I was going to tell thousands of readers about how her panties embarrassed her.

This woman is middle-aged and is one of those people who dresses neatly, speaks intelligently and always strives to have every hair in place.

The day in question began innocently enough. What she did when she got up was, she put her panties on. There’s not anything unusual about that, I suppose, but apparently this pair of panties was not one of her newest pairs.

I don’t know what color these panties were or whether they had any lace or other adornments on them. I don’t even know which of the two broad categories of panties -- bikini-style or grannie-style -- these panties fell into.

About mid-afternoon, this woman went to Food Lion to pick up a couple of items. She was just finishing up when the elastic in her panties snapped. Apparently -- as I’ve already explained, I got this second-hand -- the panties had only one elastic band around the waist, and when it popped, gravity took over.

The woman immediately felt her panties begin to slide down. She could feel from the rate of descent that she was in trouble, and she knew there was a pretty good chance those panties were going to wind up below her skirt and around her ankles.

She knew that if that happened, she’d have to choose her plan of escape carefully; either she’d have to try to shuffle out of the store with the panties around her ankles and hope that nobody would notice, or she’d have to step out of the panties and put them in her pocketbook or her grocery bag, or maybe even leave them lying on the floor, which would certainly puzzle the manager of Food Lion when he happened to find them.

By the time the woman got her cart rolled into the check-out counter, she knew she was in big-time trouble. With every step, the wayward panties had slipped another inch or two, and now they were at about mid-thigh level. The elastic around each leg hole was old and stretched, too, and wasn’t sufficient to keep the panties up.

With her small bag of groceries, this woman headed for the door. She knew that if she didn’t do something to stop the slide, her panties were going to fall all the way. She was near tears.

What the woman did was hold her legs far apart, as if she were walking down a narrow path which was blocked by a stump and she was forced to straddle-walk the stump. This created stress on the panties and slowed their rate of descent.

Her car was about 100 feet from the Food Lion door. A hundred feet may not seem like a long distance when your panties are not about to fall down around your ankles in a public parking lot, but to this woman, the distance appeared to be about halfway to Montana.

Step by step, she shuffled and straddle-walked. It was taking her quite a while to negotiate the hundred feet. Halfway to her car, the panties had sunk to knee level. She bowed her head and prayed as fervently as she ever had before.

By the time she reached her car, the woman’s heart was racing. The panties were still not visible below her skirt. She prayed again.

With the panties at mid-calf level, she knew she couldn’t lift her right leg into the car and keep the left one on the ground, so she just sort of fell into the driver’s seat as if she had fainted. She quickly gathered her knees together and pulled both legs into the car just as the panties dropped around her ankles.

I guess what happened next is that the woman sort of leaned on the steering wheel in relief for a few moments, sort of like you do when you almost have a wreck and then you realize what could have happened and you pull off the road and your heart races madly for a few minutes.

She leaned down and pulled the panties from around her ankles. Then she drove home and rested for the remainder of the afternoon, and that’s the end of the panty story.



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