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So I went near to her and slowly licked her pink nipple, when Sunita did not put any resistance I took her nipple and started sucking her. Now I started sucking her boobs alternatively and mauling them. Maid was just looking at us not knowing what to do. I signaled her to massage Sunita’s cunt, but she was afraid to do. So I took her hand and press her palm on Sunita’s mound. As I was playing with Sunita’s boobs, the maid too started playing with Sunita’s cunt. Now Sunita was totally in our control moaning loudly and moving her hands in my hair, shouting and telling maid to finger in her cunt. Maid lifted Sunita’s saree and started fingering her and suddenly Sunita’s back was arched and gush of water came out of her, I guess she had her big orgasm. Seeing this maid signaled me to come and fuck Sunita.So I moved in between Sunita’s white milky soft thighs and went close to my destination. Then to my surprise maid took my dick suck for a few seconds and made it wet. Then gladly guided. Just before they’d finished, Matt challenged Dave to a race on the exercise bikes – setting the tension to the same level, it was to be the first one to do five miles .Both guys pedalled ferociously but in the end it was Matt who won by a couple of hundred metres. “Not bad, old man” said Matt quietly. He had only known Dave just over a day, and wasn’t sure if he liked having the piss taken, but he needn’t have worried.“Cheeky bugger” came the reply. “I’m not used to these bikes but next time I’ll beat you by half a mile. At least.”“You’re on. And the winner gets to keep the other one’s briefs.”The lads continued their banter as they left the gym floor and made for the changing room. It was still empty. They took off their shorts, and Dave grabbed his mobile from the locker to take a picture of Matt in his jock. He was handing over the phone to Matt so he could reciprocate when they heard a discreet cough.“Would you like me to take a picture of the two of you?” asked a young man who.
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When Passepartout reached the second story he recognized at once the room which he was to inhabit, and he was well satisfied with it. Electric bells and speaking-tubes afforded communication with the lower stories, while on the mantel stood an electric clock, precisely like that in Mr. Fogg’s bedchamber, both beating the same second at the same instant. ‘That’s good, that’ll do,’ said Passepartout to himself. He suddenly observed, hung over the clock, a card which, upon inspection, proved to be a programme of the daily routine of the house. It comprised all that was required of the servant, from eight in the morning, exactly at which hour Phileas Fogg rose, till half-past eleven, when he left the house for the Reform Club—all the details of service, the tea and toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the shaving-water at thirty-seven minutes past nine, and the toilet at twenty minutes before ten. Everything was regulated and foreseen that was to be done from half-past eleven a.m..

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