#24113 - Steve. Ping was quiet so must be sleeping on, so I carried the basket of washing out to the front courtyard and hung it on hangers on the drying frame; unusually for a man, especially a foreign man living here, I had no qualms about doing such a job, inviting laughs from many of my neighbours if they happened to see me doing such a ‘woman’s job’. My left hand now went down, long enough to reach to her knee and slide up her thigh, fingers trailing nails and inducing trembles and goose-bumps in her skin, then just continued up under her skirt, almost unsurprised when I encountered wetness oozing around a bare pussy.
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