Honestly, you go through life never realising how the most innocent of activities can be misconstrued. One off-colour joke, a tip of the hat to a pretty young lady and the next thing you know, people are crossing the road as you approach, the paperboy is boycotting your house and the postman is pushing parcels of shit through your letterbox. Luckily, I have an honest face and – touch wood – nobody has yet suspected me of anything, but it’s a fragile peace and it could be shattered at any time by the most insignificant of things.
Yesterday was a case in point. Sometimes you have to ask yourself if whatever you’re engaged in is actually appropriate at all, given the climate of fear and revulsion that stalks the land. Anyway, I was in the garden late in the afternoon. Luckily, our garden is not overlooked because I was standing there, my hands trembling, wife due home from work at any minute and I just knew she wouldn’t be happy... I reached for my youngest granddaughter's top - it came off with hardly any resistance.
Her training bra was my next big hurdle. I fumbled for it with hands shaking almost uncontrollably, gently unclipped it and unable to control myself, I watched as it fell to the floor. I thought about picking it up but it was pointless now, I was in big enough trouble as it was. Besides I hadn't much time and her short little skirt was next. A deft movement and it slid off quite easily. As I ran my hands quickly over her My Little Pony panties I could feel they were already really, really damp...
This isn't what it looks like...
I hesitated for a moment; what if I was being watched? Anyway, I thought, I'd better finish getting the rest of the washing in – it was already raining heavily and my Parkinsons really wasn't making it any easier.
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