Parveen Aziza - Sex Stories

Parveen Aziza

Sergei told me I was to be a hostess at a small party. But it turned out to have almost a hundred guests. Even though his Moscow penthouse was enormous, there were people everywhere. Many of the guests were young and there was an abundance of attractive Russian women who all looked like supermodels.

One of Sergei’s Russian girlfriends had dressed me the way he liked. It was very much at odds with the modest attire I had grown up with. She made me wear a green lacy bra with a matching thong and a very short black minidress with a halter neck. It was so tight, that it appeared to be painted on me. It left my back bare and displayed the backstrap and shoulder straps of my bra. She made me wear strappy stiletto sandals that made me very tall.

I saw Sergei take Jack aside as soon as he arrived. Of course, I did not know who Jack was yet, but it was impossible to miss him. He was so tall, so good-looking, my eyes were drawn to him, and I could not look away. Sergei guided him out onto the enormous balcony overlooking the main city park.

Sergei crooked his finger at me, and I came over with my head down. He put his hand on my chin and raised my face.

“Her name is Parveen Aziza Abdulayeva,” Merkulov said. “You saw her sinuous, sexy gait as she came over, Jack. She’s a natural. As you can see, her skin and figure are perfect – creamy smooth complexion with firm breasts, a tight ass, and supermodel legs that go on forever. Silky black hair out of a shampoo commercial. And ...

... her eyes! Lustrous, green pools that suck you in.”

“You’re beautiful,” Jack said, speaking to me instead of Sergei.

“Would you believe she was given to me to settle a financial debt?” Sergei said briefly. “I literally own her! And she’s still a teenager!”

When Jack did not respond, I asked Sergei, “Do you want me to kiss him?”

“Listen to her husky, bedroom voice!” he laughed. “And such a pleasing foreign accent to her Russian, part Arabic, part Southern republics. She was born into the al Sura family, desert chieftains in the Arabian Peninsula. But her mother was a Chechen slave that her father bought from human traffickers. He used her as a concubine.”

“I don’t want you to kiss me,” said Jack, again speaking to me and not to Sergei.

“Are you gay?” asked Sergei. “Any real man would kill to kiss Parveen Aziza.”

“I’m not gay,” said Jack. “Though I have nothing against gays.”

“I do, I’m not so politic,” said Sergei laughing. With his mercurial temperament, his mood changed suddenly to deadly serious. “So, Jack. You want me to help you get mining licenses in Siberia from the government.”

“A partnership,” Jack replied. “Your legal team signed on to the equity joint venture at the airport. You’ll make a lot of money.”

“If you find anything.”

“We’ll find a lot. Our geologists are certain there are rich seams there. All the data supports that view.”

“We’re legal partners, but I’m not going to shake your hand, Jack. My interests on the other side of ...