Her eyes were shut, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip.The movement of her hand under her skirt was obvious now that I looked, but from anywhere ...ore than a few feet away I doubt anyone would have seen. Her eyes opened a little, looking in my direction, then opened wide and her hand dropped from under her skirt.I smiled and opened the door a crack. "You nearly done?" I asked with a smirk, "I need to phone the office."She looked at me, smiled a little nervously, her face reddening slightly.. Her eyes were glazed over with pleasure, her teeth biting her lips to suppress the moans of ecstasy as I probed her, sometimes my finger as stiff as a rock, other times pliable. As she strained, about to let go, I stopped and retrieved my finger... slowly. I licked it sensuously, picked up my pencil, and returned to my papers. 'Fuck me, please,' Cheryl Smith, Professor of Ethics pleaded. I let her beg for a while, my penis straining against my trousers as it sought relief. 'Cheryl, what. We had a good support system of maids (Melissa, the cook and Padma the Maid).While Melissa lived in the largely christian village near our house in a Mumbai suburb, Padma was a Bangladeshi immigrant (though if you asked her directly, she would say she’s from kolkata) staying in a slum not too far from our house. Both maids were married and in their mid 30s. Melissa’s husband worked in a construction firm in the Gulf. Both our maids were quite disciplined in their work and punctual and. Her black, curly bush was trimmed into a narrow, inverted triangle that was small enough to hide under a bikini. The shorts dropped around her ankles, and Andrea stepped out of them daintily, still wearing her high heels. She squatted down to pick up the shorts and tossed them onto the dresser, then turned back to face me, hands on hips."Come on, honey," Andrea said. "It's okay to touch." She jutted her hips toward me, making it clear where she wanted me to touch. Obediently, I put my hand on.