After about half hour, I was on my back working my legs. When I heard the middle-aged white dude say "You're doing it wrong. " I looked up and he was ...tanding beside me. I said "What?" He repeated what he said and stooped down to push my legs showing me how far I should extend them. It felt awkward, his hands on my thigh, but I said thanks, and he walked away. I continued working out for maybe another 10 mins, then as I went to another machine. I had to pass where he was. I felt a rub on my. In came room service with fruit, cheeses and charcuterie and a case of sparkling water (which I explained was quicker and easier for the entire stay.)Tip in hand, our delivery woman took a glance around and left but not without a funny look in her eye. Following her to the door, I waited a discreet moment before double-locking it and pressing the do-not-disturb button, ensuring our privacy.I opened a bottle of vintage Krug rosé champagne (I brought six with us) and beckoned my wife and Lilly to. Tiffany gasped and then let out a soft moan. She fell back against the arm of the couch and I followed, my lips still attached to her nipple. She ran her hands through my hair (this was years ago, before I shaved my head), tightened her fingers around the entwined strandes and pressed my face hard into her chest. Without releasing her grip, she motioned me to her other nipple, which I was happy to devote attention to. As I continued my work, I let a hand drift down, under the waistband of her. But she opened her mouth.She made terrible faces as I fed them to her, though I was sure they didn't taste of anything more than oil and vinegar. But she wanted to be sure I understood how degrading it was—it was her way of thanking me.When she had swallowed the last of the carrots, I held up the apple wedge. It looked much more disgusting than the carrots, being partially covered with a kind of white foam from her orgasm, and she eyed it suspiciously before opening her mouth to receive the.