I would regularly take the Mexican men some water to drink, trying not to get caught gazing at their muscular chest, then rush back inside to the bath...oom, and furiously rub my clit as I watched them through the bathroom window.I became even more adventurous by wearing just a loose fitting top and skimpy short to deliver their drinks. As I walked out to the field carrying the picture of water, the workers would tap each other on the shoulder and point in my direction. The guys would gather. He helped me to stand, waiting until my legs were steady, and then we went into the living room and sat on the sofa together.“Do you understand why I am doing this, Becky?” he asked, looking at me. I was touched by the concern on his face. He may be fucking the maid but I knew I still had his heart.I got up off the sofa and knelt down between his legs. “Yes, Master. I understand. I have neglected you and have not been a proper wife,” I said.“Well, you have a lot of history you have to work. More

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