She Takes a Coach to the City

Sona waited on the other side of the gate at the end of the long path that led to her secluded home. She had to admit, if she closed her eyes and pretended like she wasn't about to go into the city in the nude, this was kind of nice.

The road that ran past her house was shaded by large trees, which kept things nice and cool, but some patches of the sun's warmth still slipped though, which felt relaxing on her skin. The wind blew gently, tousling her hair, the blue strands tickling her.

The faint clopping of hooves on cobble stone snapped her out her reverie. The coach was coming. Sona had taken this coach probably hundreds of times. The same driver had taken her into the city for years. And she was about to face him totally bare. Her heart started to spasm and flutter.

The coach pulled up in front of her and the horse slowed to a stop, neighing. The driver, a sweet older man with glasses, peered down at Sona from his driver's seat. Sona wanted to curl up into a ball, hide what she could behind her tiny hand bag. Instead, she just stood there, eyes wide and limbs frozen.

“Well I'll be,” The driver breather and adjusted his glasses. “When the other drivers at the station told me that you'd...well, I though they were pulling my leg!” He chuckled. Sona didn't move. “Pardon me,” He coughed nervously. “Where are my manners. Good morning, Miss Buvelle, you look...”

His mouth hung for a moment, and Sona finally smiled sheepishly. He was a nice man, always a gentleman, complementing Sona's hair and dresses. His wife had died a few years ago and Sona always felt like their silent time together helped ease his loneliness.

“Well, you're new outfit is quite bold.” The driver laughed. “But quite flattering, if you don't mind me saying.” He coughed again, and Sona fidgeted. His complement felt sincere to Sona. Unlike other people who talked lasciviously about her body when they thought she couldn't hear, his though she looked good naked. It compliment boosted what little confidence she had. “Are you still going to the city?” He asked, and Sona nodded hesitantly. “Well, hop in, miss.”

With carefully practiced movements, Sona, opened the door to the coach cabin and stepped inside, no small feat in heels. She placed her towel down on the seat cushion and sat, crossing her legs daintily. The coach lurched forward and began it's journey to the city. Occasionally, her neighbors would join her on the trip. Sona prayed that wouldn't happen today, so she could enjoy the last few minutes of privacy for the day.

The coach rumbled over every uneven stone of the road, sending Sona and her breasts bouncing inside the cabin. She was used to her breasts being mostly unsupported, but the wild movements caused by the violent shakes of the coach were new and unpleasant. Even her thin, blue, strapless dress offered enough support to keep her breasts from moving too wildly.

Sona clasped and arm over her breasts. Not out of a desire for modesty, but to keep them from moving to much. Sighing, she looked out the window as the city approached, and a spike of fear coursed though her.

[Contributions are welcome and encouraged. Feel free to continue this thread in your own way, or start a new one.]