Chapter Seven
First-Person: Michael
Once again, I plunged my hands in the soapy water and manipulated the mesh of her soiled hose between my fingers in order to make them clean and serviceable once more.
It was still a chore I had yet to come to terms with.
Me?
Michael Wilson?
Handwashing a Pakistani girl’s f*****g smalls?
What the s**t was I allowing myself to come and why was I simply going along with it?
An image from not a minute before sprang into my head and supplied shame to accompany a part-answer to the latter.
How could it not?
Especially when that image consisted of me pressing my nose to the gusset of her unwashed panties with one hand and taking deep breaths as, with my free hand, I caressed the raging c**k threatening to bust free of my jeans.
What in f**k’s name w
