MARYUM AASAN, TELECOM BITCH – PART V – THE FOREIGNERS
I had come very close to being fired and, with my probationary period extended indefinitely, any further indiscretion would see me back at the mercy of my parents. It was critical that for the near future, I delivered on work above and beyond the call of duty. Rather than my usual 5-6 pm exit, I started to stay late an extra hour, often asking colleagues for a ride home and picking their brains. I made a strong note of toning down my office related sexual activity for a bit, after all Naila was always there to service my needs. While Haramoon was still an ally, his own position was even more tenuous. I had to find other senior level supporters. But, most immediately, I had to improve my standing in the eyes of the VP.
II
My opportunity for the latter came pretty soon. The VP’s anniversary rolled by and his wife came up from Lahore for the weekend. She had spent much of her life abroad, since their marriage, and was equally at home in local or Western attire. Just prior to 4 pm, she walked in to the office, dressed to kill in designer jeans, a frilly blouse which allowed some cleavage to show, snazzy heels and a leather jacket that framed her figure incredibly well, certainly not the kind of outfit you would ordinarily see in the country. Mr. Jameel took one look at his wife, decided he would finish things early and asked her to chat with the girls while he tidied up.
Sensing my opportunity, notably to score points with the boss, I waited for her to leave his office and repair to the conference room with Amber and Abida. “Sir, this is your first anniversary in Islamabad, why don’t you make it special?” I suggested. “I certainly hope it will be special,” he responded. “Sir, when one of my cousins had his anniversary, we decorated the whole house with flowers and made it appear like the first wedding night,” I explained, “I am sure your wife will like this sort of gesture.” The VP smiled, “it would be nice, but two problems, it will be costly and I have no time to be setting this up.” “Oh no, Sir,” I offered, “some of us were having a discussion and we would like to do this as an anniversary present to you.” “Okay Maryum, that would certainly be nice, what do you want me to do?” he asked. “Just leave us a key and beep my mobile before you leave for dinner; once we are done, I’ll beep you back and you can surprise your wife,” I took him through the process. Mr. Jameel kept a spare key in his office and was happy to hand it over to me.
Thinking fast, I had Imran, my on-again, off-again boyfriend, run over to the nearest bakery and get a suitable cake. By the time, Mr. Jameel was ready to take his wife home; I had an impromptu birthday party and all of the office folks already in the conference room. Needless to say, the VP and his wife were touched by my action and I scored significant points. Sensing that Mrs. Jameel was not taking kindly to Amber, who she thought was acting too friendly to her husband, I dropped a few hints about how Amber was usually lucky to get invited to join him for a meal, while the rest of us rarely had the opportunity. Mrs. Jameel soon built up a healthy distaste for Amber, all the time while my standing rose. I decided against saying anything bad about Abida as overkill was not needed at the time, in any case Amber was the bigger bee in my bonnet.
III
As planned, Imran and I went over to the VP’s house and did a slam bang job using flowers and tinsel to prepare a bridal chamber. We strategically spread rose petals all the way from the front door to the bedroom, suggesting a red carpet. The bedroom lights were disconnected or removed and we placed slow burn candles in many places, lighting them just as we were supposed to exit, having beeped the VP that we were done.
But the heady atmosphere was turning both of us on, and the lack of time meant that we would have to hurry to put the guest room to good use. Figuring that the couple would be at least thirty minutes away, we stripped out of our clothes quickly and jumped into the bed.
“We should have put some flowers and candles in here also,” Imran opined, and to be frank I had to agree with that. We began to kiss with gusto and soon I could feel a real moistening on my patch. Imran looked a bit lost and I inquired what was up. Apparently he could not locate the condoms I had advised him to carry. Figuring I may have one in my bag, I asked him to check there but to no avail.
“I wonder if Mr. Jameel has some in the bedroom,” he blurted out jumping out of bed, “let me go check.” I tried to pull him back but he was out of the guest room and into the master bedroom in no time. It took him a good five minutes to return, but the smile on his face meant that the search was a success. By this time, we had all but forgotten about the anniversary couple and momentarily Imran’s rubberized dick was buried in my pussy.
Just then we heard the front door swing open and Mr. and Mrs. Jameel walk in. The door to the guest room was closed, but the light was on and could be seen from under it. We froze in mid-fuck waiting for them to walk in on us. I could hardly breathe, though Imran’s dick was throbbing and bringing me close to release.
“Oh what a lovely job,” Mrs. Jameel exclaimed, “how did you manage?”
“It was Maryum’s idea, she has been trying to repair her image,” her husband responded, “and I must say I am impressed.”
Oh dear, I had succeeded in improving my standing and now it would all go to naught if he came into our room and saw the action going on. A small squeak left my lips and Imran quickly put his hand over my mouth. He had begun to sweat profusely too while waiting for the inevitable.
“I do need to thank her tomorrow,” she added, “or perhaps you would like to show her a nice time!” I could sense that she was ribbing him.
“Well do you want me to call her over for a three-way?” Mr. Jameel was giggling as he suggested something to his wife that I would have accepted immediately. “Now why in the world was Imran there, bad timing,” I figured, “this could have gone far!”
“Don’t you even think about it,” his wife warned him back, chuckling all the same, “let’s see if you can handle just me first!”
“I imagine you will like the bedroom even better than the lounge,” Mr. Jameel suggested, “but first, let’s get into the mood.”
I had pushed Imran away and, getting off the bed, had sided up close to the door. Imran followed me and we chanced a peek outside. Mr. Jameel was in the process of kissing and undressing his wife. While still standing in the main entrance lobby of the house, he undid and removed her blouse, tossing it onto a sofa. She sat down on an armchair and stuck a leg out to him. Not uttering a word, he undid her trousers and slowly pulled them off. Without an ounce of fat on her, she looked very tasty in a dark corset, slinky panty, lacy stockings and killer heels. She also had beautifully long legs and I was wondering if she would be bared totally while in our sights. I could audibly hear Imran’s heartbeat increasing as the drama unfolded. Mr. Jameel tossed off his shoes and began to undress, while his wife helped undo his belt. There was a squeal of protest when, after discarding his jacket, tie and trousers, he grasped her close and undid the clasps on the back of her corset while giving her a deep kiss. That piece of clothing soon dropped to the ground and his hands moved down to her panty. That was the only garment visibly covering the last vestige of her modesty, other than the stockings and heels still left on her body. Her back was well proportioned and we tensed, waiting for her to be totally nude. Instead of tackling the panty, Mr. Jameel lifted her up and put her over his shoulder. “Put me down,” his wife implored, but he insisted on carrying her into the bedroom, not allowing us to sight more than just the tops her boobs. For a second it looked like he would overbalance her and fall into the room we were in, but he righted himself by standing her up for a moment, alas with her back towards us, but allowing Imran and me a much closer view of her in near nakedness. Playfully he picked her up again and carried her into the main bedroom, unfortunately with her hands covering her breasts. An audible thump told us that they were both on the bed. We did not get to see them threadbare, but what we did see was marvelous.
“Let’s get out of here,” Imran suggested. I, however, had my hands on his cock, which had swollen significantly as he had watched Mrs. Jameel with lust in his eyes. I had to get him back on track. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me now,” I ordered him instead, turned on by the happenings in the other room. He complied without a word, obviously motivated by the vision of the boss’s wife, and soon had a nice rhythm pounding my cunt. He tensed and came, but I pulled him closer till he brought me over the edge. I had one of the most satisfying climaxes I had ever experienced. Thankfully, Imran managed to stifle my moans with a pillow over my face; any louder and he would have needed to suffocate me.
Quickly dressing, without bothering to clean up, we turned off the light and opened the door slightly. Luckily Mr. Jameel had the bedroom door nearly shut and we were able to slip into the living room undetected. Their clothes were discarded all over the room; hers were exceedingly stylish, his businesslike. By the sounds coming from inside, we could tell they were definitely having a second honeymoon.
Rather than risk discovery, we surmised it was time to leave. Much against my inquisitive nature, I reluctantly willed myself against taking a peek inside the bedroom. The key was in the front door lock. As I opened the door it creaked rather loudly. “Did you hear that?” Mrs. Jameel hissed. It took him a bit of time to get up and check, allowing us to run out, closing the door behind ourselves. He turned the handle and was surprised to see that it opened. “Did I not lock the door?” he inquired of his wife. “Guess we were having a real good time and I forgot,” he surmised as he locked it finally.
Imran and I moved out from behind his car, right in front of the main gate. Not wanting to risk any more noise we had to go over the thankfully low boundary wall. Imran had parked in front of the neighbouring house and luckily Mr. Jameel had not noticed it. Needless to say we were glad to be out in time and with a meaningful sexual episode.
IV
