If I had not already been blushing, I knew I definitely was now.“So, that guy was your masseur?” Michael asked bluntly.“Yes, he was,” I replie... as I took another sip of wine.“The hot guy you ogled on the beach was your masseur?” He asked again.I had no idea what to say. I knew the questions were just beginning. I wish Philipe had not touched me while my husband was watching. It made me feel very guilty.“Yes, Philipe was my masseur," I spoke as I sipped at my wine once again.“He saw you naked?”. In theory she was supposed to do some work each day. And, looking at the numbers, she should have been able to work some, each day. There were about three hours of eating, and five hours of entertaining a little boy. Toss in eight hours of sleep, and you still have eight hours in which to work.The problem was that their foreplay typically took an hour, during which they teased and touched and talked. That inevitably led to an hour of lovemaking, followed by another hour of pillow talk.. More

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