The man inside wearing a expensive suit, and ask if we want jobs as models.Serge and I think must be joke. But man introduce himself as talent scout.... He speaks Russian but with accent I don't not know where from. He says he is from modeling agency and is looking for new talent to model. Introduces himself as Mr. Aronoff, and asks us to stand and turn around. Looks closely at our faces. Serge has no facial hair, I am trying to grow mustache and is not doing good at it! Both of us have let. I was thirty five at the time and as mentioned earlier my wife, who prefers older men, was just weeks from her twenty-third birthday. The twins owned a network security company and had given two of the seminars I'd attended. My wife was in full flirt mode, putting her hands on their arms and laughing at something one or both of them had been saying, flouncing her hair with quick little head movements. I knew from my couple of hours with them two nights ago that the Irishmen were a lot of fun. She began to speed it up, rubbing my shaft quickly and then she slowed it down. She slid her left foot down to my balls and pressed down with my nuts under the ball of her feet and her toes. At the same time she began to rub the underside of my cock head with her toes and the ball of her right foot. She was sending me through waves of sensations as I could not stop moaning. Knowing I couldn’t speak she would playful ask, “Does this massage feel good?” Laughing she continued on, “You don’t. How was I supposed to explain these irrational fears? So instead, I sat mum observing the floorboards. ‘Nayana? What is it?’ He asked, tenderly parting the hair away from my face. ‘What are you not telling me?’ I chewed on my lower lip as Max waited patiently for some explanation. ‘May-maybe,’ I fumbled, ‘perhaps we shouldn’t be spending so much time together?’ ‘Why?’ I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at my hands, hoping that maybe I’d see some answer in the lines of my hands. Max.