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Another idea for Miss Parnel
Love the story ideas so far. But maybe another one could be this...
Danielle is a counselor at a summer camp. The campers and other councilors get fed up with her usual BS. They make a bet to see if she is a natural blonde and so everybody can confirm their findings they expose her in the shower tent in front of everyone. And yes, that is stolen from MASH! LOL!
The Halftime Show -- Part 1
From the time she was 5 years old it was clear that Maria Parnell was a gifted athlete. Whether playing field hockey, lacrosse or -- as was the case this autumn -- soccer, she always excelled. Even more impressive was the fact that despite the now sixth grade Maria's talent, and notwithstanding that she played on a travel team of older seventh and eighth grade girls who easily could have resented her skills, the young prodigy was ceaselessly humble and grateful for whatever playing time she saw. Alas, Maria's mother -- Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell -- possessed neither her daughter's humility nor gratitude.
Quite to the contrary, Danielle Parnell epitomized hubris and was grateful only that her privileged life did not ordinarily subject her to having to deal with the likes of the parents of Maria's teammates -- the peasants. That said, despite her disdain for the overweight, fanny pack wearing mothers and their pathetic khaki pant and golf shirt wearing husbands, Mrs. Parnell loved the attention that the latter group of losers couldn't help but pay her and, especially, the humiliation that their ogling brought upon their wives and daughters.
The inability of the team's male spectators to avert their collective gaze from her spectacular face and body for even a second humiliated not only them (the creeps) but -- to Danielle's complete delight -- their slovenly haus frau wives, inadequate girlfriends and unkempt mothers as well. Indeed and not surprisingly given Mrs. Parnell's incredibly high opinion of herself, she delighted in the fact that the wives, daughters and girlfriends of most any man were rendered all but invisible in her presence. After all, Danielle thought, if she had to cavort with this motley collective of suburban "soccer moms," there should be no mistake that she alone among them was worthy of the World Cup.
At 45 years old, thanks to fabulous genetics and a ceaseless dedication to fitness, Danielle possessed a body that surpassed those of most women half her age. Standing only 5'3", the suburban sexpot had for her height spectacularly long and perfectly toned legs that went from her femininely muscled calves to an ass so perfect it appeared carved from marble. Her fit, trim waist gave way to a very ample bust line the pertness of which begged the question of its authenticity. The sculpted arms that descended from her well exercised shoulders played perfect accompaniment to the rest of her peerless body which she always dressed to it best advantage.
At work, as the managing partner of SmythKnight, one of the Nation's largest and most prestigious law firms that she ruled with an iron fist, Danielle wore only the highest of heels and the most fashionable suits and dresses. The lustful stares of the firm's male partners, associates and staff fueled her ego almost as much as the daggers stared by the institution's female population. Outside the office, be it while shopping, dining at her country club or attending one of her three children's sporting or other events, Danielle always dressed to impress. So it was today, as Maria's soccer team was going through its warm-ups for the Maryland State Junior High School Championship at a packed Naval Academy football stadium mere minutes from her home in Davidson, that Danielle Marie Parnell made one of her patented grand entrances.
As she emerged from a stadium tunnel onto the field -- with the express mission of either cajoling or cowing Maria's coach into starting her young daughter in the championship match -- Danielle immediately drew the attention of men and women alike. The former, almost without exception, were captivated both by her beauty and purpose while the latter, especially those mothers and sisters of Maria's teammates who with their husbands and fathers respectively would be able to watch the game from the sideline rather than relegated to the stands, stared daggers at the little tease who seemed in her lust for male attention always to get the better of them.
Resplendent in the late morning sun, Danielle strode purposefully along the field's sideline in a pair of 4.5" black, Manolo Blahnik Oceai cage heels, the silver buckles of which secured the leather straps of the towering shoes snugly across her leanly muscled calves. Reveling in the warm fall weather, the bare-legged beauty's toned legs were profiled to their best effect as they rose lithely from her fashionable footwear to just above mid-thigh where they disappeared beneath a pair of black, leather Jean-Claude Jitrois couture shorts that themselves were held tight by a gold Versace chain link belt. The spectacular nouveau hot pants -- made famous when Jada Pinkett-Smith sported them to one of her husband's recent premieres -- cupped Mrs. Parnell's hyper exercised bottom like a glove. The zipper -- located strategically in the back -- echoed the wonderful cleave that parted the exquisite cheeks of her magnificent ass.
Up top, the magnificent mother of three sported a light cashmere Burberry poncho the collar of which revealed that the nape of her supple neck, around which was tied a silk, Hermes, leopard-skin print scarf, was framed by two thin shoulder straps of the ribbed white Polo tank-top that she wore beneath the autumn cover-up. The short poncho itself reached Mrs. Parnell’s waistline in front and back but was not so long as to deprive anyone the view of her undeniably fit form. To provide the wind a plaything, Danielle's magnificent brown mane, sun kissed with artfully done blonde highlights, flowed freely. Her tanned skin was done in a complimentary natural hue and mirrored aviator shades protected her emerald eyes from the sun. In a word, she was a vision.
Shortly after her arrival on the field Mrs. Parnell spied Maria's team in a pre-game huddle around their coach -- Dr. Richard Miras, a local dentist, father to one of Maria's teammates and husband to Rachel Miras, one of Danielle's neighbors who, like most women in Davidson, she held in naught but disdain. Unfortunately for the preening narcissist, whose present intent was to cow Richard Miras into ensuring that her daughter started this important match, Danielle would be forced to "engage" with Mrs. Miras -- the Hobbit -- and some of the other team moms who now stood between the comely counselor and her goal.
"Why good afternoon Danielle," offered Rachel Miras, inwardly detesting the showy and smug prima donna standing before her but outwardly intimidated by the woman who had for so long lorded over her and the other team mothers.
"Why hello there Rachel," Danielle replied imperiously while flashing her best fake smile, "I'm just on my way to make sure your husband over there starts Maria in today's game."
"I don't think . . .," Mrs. Miras began before Danielle rudely and authoritatively cut her off.
"And you really shouldn't think dear, it's hard on you and painful for the rest of us to witness."
Satisfied as usual with her domination of Mrs. Miras, the arrogant uber-MILF surveyed the group of “mom jean” and sweatshirt wearing women before her -- a group that in addition to Rachel Miras included Emily Duncan and Katherine Wray, two other mothers whose daughters played on Maria's team. Disgusted but not surprised by the motley crew before her, Danielle rolled her gorgeous emerald eyes beneath the cover of her mirrored sunglasses and, in her classic "frenemy" manner, snidely chastised them all.
"Far be it for me to give sartorial tips to sophisticated dressers such as yourselves ladies but I would have expected -- given that this is the Maryland State Championship after all -- that you might have taken your wardrobes up a notch."
Flabbergasted even more than usual by her narcissistic neighbor's sharp rebuke, Rachel Miras managed to drop her oversized purse from which spilled the likes of any ordinary mom's weekend arsenal of emergency standby items including two clear-wrapped sandwiches, a pack of dental floss, any number of paper clips and candy wrappers and some assorted sticks of chewing gum.
"Pull yourself together there Miras,” Danielle laughed mockingly at the other woman's discombobulation before, as Rachel recovered the fallen sandwiches, going in for her characteristic kill.
"At least we know for sure why you're wearing those sweats," the preening beauty continued, "that's quite the lunch you've got there."
But before Rachel could even contemplate a response, or either of Emily or Katherine could come to the disgraced woman's aid, Mrs. Parnell had already turned on one of her very high heels and was quite purposefully making her way toward the coach.
Emily Duncan was the first to voice what all of them were thinking.
"Can you believe the nerve of that woman . . . take our wardrobes up a notch . . . maybe she should take hers down a notch."
Or maybe she should take it completely off daydreamed Katherine Wray who out loud, as the tall Tennessean's eyes stayed glued to Danielle's incredibly well exercised posterior moving away in its tight little leather shorts said, "just once I'd love to see her get hers."
"You can say that again," added Rachel, "she always manages to fluster me and I inevitably end up humiliating myself while she smugly flips her hair and marches away laughing. I'd sure like to see her be the one out of sorts for once."
"Or maybe out of those shorts for once," Emily Duncan added laughing.
* * *
Meanwhile, having just witnessed the aforementioned scene from not twenty yards down the touchline, a stunned Alex Morgan turned to an equally flummoxed Hope Solo and, in no small amount of disbelief inquired, "oh my God did that really just happen?"
The two women -- among the most famous female footballers on the planet -- were in Washington, D.C. that weekend for a friendly match between the U.S. women's national team and Brazil and, in the interest of promoting the women's game, had accepted an invitation to appear briefly at halftime of the Maryland girls under-14 State Championship match. Their presence was the reason for the Naval Academy football stadium sell-out -- nearly 25,000 young girls and their families had come to get a glimpse of the two stars.
"Oh it happened alright," replied Ms. Solo seeming more irritated by Mrs. Parnell's arrogance than Alex thought the situation warranted. "That's Danielle Parnell, the lawyer who just yesterday convinced the Players' Association to fire my lawyer -- to 'shut me up' -- and replaced him with her fancy firm. You should have seen her at the pitch -- she had those old men eating out of her well-manicured hand."
"Calm down Hope," replied her beautiful teammate, "there's nothing we can do about that today." Or was there?
* * *
"I honestly don't want to hear it," Danielle Parnell chided Richard Miras as he tried to explain why Maria Parnell would not be starting the day's game, "life is about winning Miras, not about participation and my daughter is one of the best -- if not the best -- player on this team. Why should she sit idly on the sidelines while some fat incompetent kid who just happens -- boo, hoo -- to be playing her last game, puts the championship at-risk. Just because you’re a loser doesn't mean these girls need to be."
"Please Mrs. Parnell, the girls can hear you . . . and as I said, Maria is great but she has two more years left with the team. She understands that fact and, in any event, I promise she'll start the second half today."
"Listen you little pipsqueak," Danielle sneered as she used her extraordinarily high heels to tower over the diminutive dentist, "I don't care if a bunch of entitled little brats can hear me and I don't care if you promise me that Maria will start every game next season but if she doesn't start today I'm going to tell that frumpy mess of a wife of yours how I'm constantly catching you leering at me during practices."
"But Danielle . . . please . . . you know that's not true," murmured the discomfited dentist kicking himself for ever even glancing at the vile vixen's astounding form.
"Oh isn't it you little pervert," sneered the sexy solicitor knowing, as usual, that she was about to get her way. "I guess we'll just see what the league's advisory committee has to say about that . . . unless you honestly think those fine men are going to side with you over . . . well . . . this."
And as the arrogant mother of three cocked her bejeweled hand upon her flawless leather encrusted hip, Richard Miras knew he would be changing the day's starting lineup.
"Of course, Danielle . . .," he began.
"It's Mrs. Parnell to you . . . Richard . . . or should I just call you Dick."
"I mean of course Mrs. Parnell, Maria will be starting today's game."
Self-satisfied with her latest conquest, Danielle Marie Parnell, with a little extra sway in her very sexy bottom, made her way back to the sidelines where, as the game was about to begin, she installed herself directly in front of the now seated Rachel Miras.
"Mrs. Parnell," the annoyed but always intimidated Rachel Miras began, mindful that her husband had just been cowed by the diva before her, "Danielle . . . you're . . . well . . . you're blocking my view of the game."
With characteristic disdain for Rachel Miras and her ilk, Danielle looked over her well exercised poncho covered shoulder and, raising her mirrored aviator sunglasses so as to look the shuddering Mrs. Miras directly in the eye, imperiously proclaimed, "there is nothing for you to see right now Rachel dear. Your husband has benched that daughter of yours so that Maria could start the game in her place. Maybe now would be a good time for you to dig into your delicious looking sandwiches."
Rachel Miras was at her wits' end. The domineering Danielle constantly made her look the fool and now it had happened once again. Not only that but Will Parnell, Danielle's high school aged son who had begun to take on his mother's worst traits had just showed up at the game in his Gonzaga High School shorts and crew tee-shirt and, standing next to his officious mother, further occluded Rachel's view. It's what she heard the stuck-up preppy say next though that really brought Rachel's blood to a boil.
"Nice one mom," the lanky teen smirked, "that comment about the sandwiches was priceless."
"Now, now William," his mother pretend scolded him in a stage whisper she clearly intended Rachel and the other moms to hear, "I'm sure she is doing the best she can with what God gave her."
And as mother and son alike laughed at the people they so looked down upon, Danielle got yet another chance for one of her oft desired "look at me" moments. As luck would have it, the ball had rolled off the field and settled right at the base of her booty-short encased legs. Convinced as always that every set up male eyes in the stadium was glued to her fantastic body, the perennially sexy soccer mom slowly bent at her waist to pick the ball up and then, with her sparkling white teeth gleaming in the daylight sun, coyly tossed it to the strapping young college referee who, caught up in the delicious diva's show, nearly swallowed his whistle as he handed the ball off to one of the girls to be put back into play.
Mrs. Rachel Miras had finally had enough. Her endless effort to endure Mrs. Parnell's disdain for -- in fact outright mockery of -- Rachel and the other moms coupled with Danielle's calculated mix of flirting with and mocking her hapless husband of a coach to make sure she maximized Maria’s playing time, had most definitely in Rachel's mind set the little tease up for a well-deserved fall.
The constant barrage of comments like, "oh my God, she is as out of shape as her mother" and "does everyone really need to play," combined with the arrogant MILF's stalking the sidelines like a fashion runway in her tiny shorts and heels had really raised the ire of the ordinarily quiet Rachel. That Richard and the other dads in attendance couldn't keep their eyes off the little trollop, which clearly stoked the fire of Danielle’s ego even more, was straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. Well, thought Rachel, that all ends today. But how?
The Halftime Show -- Part 2
No sooner than Rachel had asked herself that question, however, had Danielle and her son managed harmlessly to avoid yet another miskicked ball that -- not surprisingly given how her day had gone thus far -- smashed directly into the seated Rachel Miras and, as Will and his mother laughed heartily at the scene, caused Rachel's overstuffed bag to one more time dispel its contents to the ground.
As her unscathed nemesis once again bent at the waist to retrieve the ball, Rachel characteristically found herself humiliated and without a voice. To make matters worse, she came face to face with Mrs. Parnell who, still in full bend as she gathered the errant ball, couldn't resist hurling yet another insult, this time out of earshot of anyone but its intended target.
"Maybe if you stopped stuffing that fat face of yours with food Miras you'd be able to dodge a ball kicked by a child -- not to mention to regain some interest from your husband who seems almost unable to keep his eyes off me."
And then, while she remained bent over in a manner clearly intended to inspire drool and more from the stadium's assembled men, Danielle Parnell turned away from Rachel Miras -- giving the latter a clear view of her there for all to see leather short encased bottom -- and, finally standing up, rolled the ball back over to the quite evidently aroused referee. As if to add insult to injury, the lovely lawyer managed to step directly onto -- and crush -- one of Rachel's fallen sandwiches and, as the afternoon sun caught the golden zipper pull where Danielle's sexy little shorts met the base of her perfectly formed back, it reflected directly into Rachel's eyes which caused her to spill her soft drink into her sweat pants covered lap.
But in that moment, as she dabbed her wet clothing with some of the old napkins that had fallen from her bag, a providential plan came together in the mind of Rachel Miras -- a plan that would set into motion a cataclysmic shift in the balance of power between her and her longtime tormentor. As Rachel looked up at Mrs. Danielle Parnell's highly aerobicized, leather short encased bottom she focused not on what treasures her dimwitted husband and most other men imagined beneath Ms. Perfect's fancy little pants but rather on the very large golden zipper pull that held those fancy pants together. The surface from which the actual light of the sun's reflection had momentarily blinded her a moment before had --ironically -- shown her the metaphorical light of her soon to be revenge!
Reaching down into the scattered mess of her shoulder-bag's former contents, Rachel quickly seized upon a large paper clip and the half-used container of dental floss. Then, working as delicately as she could, the now driven Mrs. Miras pulled the entirety of the spooled up floss -- a good eight feet or so -- from its holder and tied one end tightly to the base of the paper clip. Bending the clip so that the floss would not slip off -- and as delicately and naturally as possible so as not to attract anyone's attention -- Rachel Miras threaded its open hook shaped end through the pull on the top of the zipper fastening the rear off Mrs. Parnell's oh so small, oh so tight little shorts. Chewing quickly an old stick of gum, Mrs. Miras used the resultant “glue” to ensure the hook did not slip off.
As the preening Danielle, completely unaware of Mrs. Miras' mischief, continued to drink in the adoration of all the men present, Rachel quite snugly tied the other end of the dental floss to a very sturdy leg of a nearby immovable picnic table upon which the team's halftime drinks and snacks had been arranged.
Although she fully intended to cause Danielle no small amount of embarrassment with her makeshift plan of sabotage, Rachel Miras never could have imagined the episode that was soon to transpire. Before that show began, however, and as the game drew ever closer to half-time, Alex Morgan and Hope Solo overheard a conversation between Mrs. Parnell and her arrogant young son that soon would cause them unknowingly to ally themselves with the up-to-now hapless Mrs. Miras.
"Hey mom," young Will inquired of his model-worthy mother, "I see that amazon Hope Solo had the nerve to show up here even after you made it clear at your meeting that she was all washed up."
"Everyone is entitled to a victory lap at the end of his or her career Will, even if one tops it off by bringing shame and disrepute to the very game that handed her life on a silver platter. I mean really, getting into a fist fight with her sister and nephew, getting arrested, thinking she should be the one to champion equal rights for women and then behaving like a baby after the team flamed out of the Olympics. The woman clearly has no shame," Danielle -- quite shameless herself -- arrogantly proclaimed.
Laughing heartily as his mother verbally dressed down the character of the bigger, younger, woman, the teenage Oedipean added his own two cents to the assault, "that's what these women get for trying to be men -- girls' professional soccer -- who is watching that nonsense anyway. And what kind of adult nephew gets beaten up by his aunt -- what a wuss."
"I'm nothing if not a champion of women," his mother confidently countered, "but in this case I have to agree. It's too bad really, that other girl with her is so pretty."
* * *
Hope Solo was incensed.
"I should just kick her ass right now," the seething star steamed to her friend, "and that snotty kid's too."
"Calm down Hope," shot back the lovely Ms. Morgan, "I'm just as pissed as you -- 'the other girl is so pretty' -- but you know as well as I do that one more misstep and you'll never play on the national team again. Let's just smile and wave at halftime -- snap some pictures with these kids -- and get out of here."
As Hope took in Alex's suggestion, perhaps more thoughtfully than usual because her teammate was not in her ordinary uniform or gym togs but rather, like Hope, in a light sun dress and heels, the keyed-up keeper began to calm down. It's just not worth it she wisely thought to herself -- fate has a way of giving the Danielle Parnell's of the world just what they deserve.
* * *
No sooner had that thought crossed the great goalie's mind than did fate indeed lend a hand. As the run of play again made its way toward where Danielle, Will and the other family members of Maria's team were watching, a very powerfully kicked ball crashed quite unceremoniously into the sixty or so cups of pre-poured cherry Gatorade that sat on the aforementioned immovable picnic table. The resultant impact showered the mother and son Parnell with a veritable torrent of the sticky, red drink as -- continuing its only slightly interrupted flight -- the miskicked ball then managed to knock Mrs. Parnell's aviator shades from her now equally startled and angered face.
"Oh my God," the stymied stunner screamed, brushing the ruby juice from her soaking Burberry frock as well as from the Hermes silk leopard skin scarf tied around her supple neck, "my poncho -- it's ruined."
Pulling the cashmere casualty over her head -- and in so doing revealing her tight, white, cotton-ribbed Polo tank top that covered but most certainly profiled her taught midsection and laid bare her tan, fit arms -- and notwithstanding her annoyance at the common haus fraus now having a laugh at the expense of her and her son -- Danielle Parnell immediately fixed her growing rage on the fat, little, snot nosed kid whose lack of athletic talent had caused her this sudden embarrassment -- Sarah Miras. It came as no surprise to Danielle that the child's overstuffed mother, still sitting right behind her, seemed to be laughing loudest of all -- the pig.
Determined despite the minor setback to bring some order to this sideline chaos Danielle Marie Parnell decided to make an example of the little brat and in so doing show her hillbilly of a mother what it means to impose some discipline on a child.
Striding purposefully in her towering heels as every man present remained transfixed by her mouthwateringly long and fit legs, Mrs. Parnell began to scold the little Cretan from a distance. What happened next would be the talk of the youth soccer league for years to come . . .
Big fan of your stories. Really like how Will has become more like his mom, and been increasingly used to exacerbate her humiliation. Keep up the good work.
|The Following User Says Thank You to timemaster6968 For This Useful Post:|
The Halftime Show -- Part 3
"Why you little brat . . .," raged the vindictive vixen as the now terrified Sharon Miras stopped dead in her tracks and the entire stadium looked on, "you wouldn't even be on that field if your loser of a father wasn't the coach -- do you hear me -- you'd be sitting there next to your overstuffed mother . . ."
But before the next breath left her lips, the length of dental floss reaching between the shiny gold zipper pull on the back of Danielle's tiny black leather shorts on the one hand and the sturdy table she had just marched past on the other, could extend no further and -- to the sweet sound of a loud ziiiiipppppp followed by an even more resounding riiiippppp -- Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell's very fashionable, very sexy, very short leather pants were torn from her incredibly trim, incredibly well toned waist before being dragged over her perfectly muscled thighs and exquisitely sculpted calves and finally coming to rest as a shredded, useless, mess at her towering high heel encased feet.
After a moment of stunned silence, and as the women in the crowd burst into hysterics and the men collectively groaned while their blood ran rapidly to their nether regions, the once imperious alpha-lawyer stood temporarily terrified in naught but her sky high heels, a very naughty and quite translucent leopard print silk micro-thong -- that left no doubt as to the firmness of her spectacular bottom -- a body hugging white ribbed tank top and her silk leopard print Hermes scarf.
"What happened to my pants," screamed the disgraced diva," oh my God . . . I've . . . I've . . . I've never been so embarrassed in my life!"
Little did Mrs. Parnell know, the real embarrassment had not yet even begun.
As her hands instinctively flew between covering the perfection that was her thong-covered ass and the translucent leopard spotted wisp of silk that was all that separated leering eyes from her completely shaved sex, Danielle's usually facile mind tried desperately to process what had just occurred. Where are my stunning sunglasses? How could my shorts have torn off? And why are these people -- these nobodies -- pointing and laughing at me -- at me! Oh my God, is Will staring at me . . . at my panties . . . and what's that lump in his shorts . . .
Despite having no answers to her own queries, Danielle's instincts told her definitively it was time to flee. But no sooner did she begin her high heeled run to safety than was the soon to be zeta-mom tripped up by the tattered shorts at her feet. As the crowd continued to howl at her humiliation, the once regal uber-milf toppled downward, only adding to the hilarity. To make matters worse -- at least for Mrs. Parnell -- in an attempt to break her fall she grabbed onto the first thing that she saw, which unfortunately for her now catatonic voyeur of a son -- but karmically spectacular for the likes of Hope Solo and Rachel Miras -- was the waistband of Will's tight black gym shorts.
In a scene that would have done Vaudeville proud, and not even a minute after she stood before the crowd as a picture of perfection -- imperiously looking down her nose at the peasants in her midst -- the town's self-appointed Queen Bee found herself on all fours staring slack jawed at the jockstrap covered raging hard-on of the son she had unwittingly teased to distraction.
"W-W-W . . . Will," stammered the undone beauty unable to avert her eyes from the forbidden fruit before her, "stop looking at my b-b-b . . . bottom."
"Mommy," squeaked the usually arrogant jock, trying to shield his quite inappropriate "excitement" from the smaller boys in the crowd who he picked on at school and the girls he had snubbed as "unworthy losers," all of whom were laughing uproariously, "mommy . . . you tore my pants off . . ."
Howling so much it hurt at what had become of the sexy, sophisticated fashionista who for so long treated her and the other soccer moms with disdain, as well as at the fate of her usually conceited but now pant-less son, Rachel Miras -- the very saboteur who began Danielle's epic downfall with a paperclip -- reached down to lend her a genuine hand. In an attempt to evade the grasp of the very woman who now intended to help her, however, Danielle permitted Mrs. Miras to inadvertently grab hold of the collar on the sexy solicitor's tank top. Unfortunately for the increasingly humiliated beauty, her unsuccessful evasive maneuver also caused Rachel Miras to lose her balance and, as the latter fell back into her waiting chair, she tore the fancy shirt from Mrs. Parnell's perfect body leaving her, still on her hands and knees, wearing only high heels and a matching thong and scarf.
Mortified by the sudden loss of her top and almost any remaining modicum of modesty -- and with her formerly imperious smirk replaced by a daffy stare -- Danielle Parnell helplessly watched as a small army of moms and daughters doubled over laughing at her. The officious and imperious know-it-all – Danielle Marie Parnell -- who had for so long looked down at them, was now displaying in a most undignified way the tight little ass with which she had ceaselessly teased their husbands and sons.
And while those husbands and sons too reveled in the sight of the nearly naked narcissist who had tirelessly mocked them with her beauty and arrogance, Danielle's own son began finally running for cover. Unfortunately for the jock wearing jerk, however, his inability to redirect his stare from his sexy mother's nearly nude form caused him to crash headlong into Alex Morgan and in so doing to begin to fall face first onto the field.
Attempting to break that fall, the ungainly teen grabbed onto the back of Ms. Morgan's flimsy yellow sundress which, to the now familiar sound of rendering fabric, was torn completely from the fabulous footballer's incredible body leaving her in a very lacy, very small white silk thong and a matching push-up bra.
As many of the boys and men in the crowd began as surreptitiously as possible to touch themselves at the sight of the two spectacular women now revealed before them -- and as the humiliated Alex Morgan attempted to shield herself with what remained of her dress -- Will Parnell, a "big man on campus" and rowing star at the exclusive Gonzaga High School, felt an incredibly powerful hand grab him by the wrist and begin to lift him to his feet. Still shocked by the loss of his shorts, and standing dumbfounded in only sneakers, socks, his jockstrap and a tee-shirt, the terrified teen found himself looking up into the steely blue eyes of one Hope Solo.
Meanwhile, as the assembled mothers taunted her with jeers of "meoooww" and "not so snooty now, are you?" Danielle Parnell struggled desperately to get back to her feet while simultaneously attempting to cover her spectacularly pert tits -- the nipples of which were now rock hard from a mix of autumn cold and abject degradation -- and her perfect leopard print thong-covered ass, the site of which had caused several men and boys to darken the fronts of their trousers.
Despite its best attempts the brilliant lawyer’s mind still couldn’t comprehend what was happening. How did she go from looking down upon these unworthy men and dominating their equally pathetic wives to a pinup fantasy for the former and a laughing stock of the latter? How could it be that just minutes ago she was adorned in the height of sophisticated fashion and now she was standing before them in only her highest heels, naughtiest panties and an Hermes scarf? And Will -- she had torn the shorts right off her athletic 18 year old son and come face-to-face with his manhood. And now that bully Hope Solo had Danielle’s little boy in her grasp. What would become of the two of them?
But before the comely counselor could process her family’s fate she was again soaked as the mirthful mothers she had so long looked down upon together poured the ice filled contents of a giant orange Gatorade container over her once perfectly coiffed hair. As Mrs. Parnell's newly messy mane stuck to her head, her normally exquisite make-up ran down her still stunned face and her pert nipples got even harder due to the sticky but ice cold drink, a chubby hand grabbed her bejeweled wrist and wrested the petrified prima donna from standing stupefied in her stilettos to lying over the unexercised knee of the very mom who had begun her undoing with a paper clip – Mrs. Rachel Miras.
In a similarly salacious scene, Hope Solo had torn the "Gonzaga Rowing" tee shirt from Will Parnell's now nearly naked body and – after marching him over to a chair mere inches from where Mrs. Miras held his mom -- begun to assert her version of equal rights.
The beginning of the end of the Will and Danielle Parnell was nigh . . .
Last edited by Chasmo; 03-18-2017 at 07:18 PM.
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