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Stockholm Story, Part 4

When there is another guy who hasn't got laid for a while, there will be trouble.
As some of you know "Stockholm Story" is half true and half fiction. I had great fun writing this chapter, because a lot of things mentioned here are based on experience, and even though they were confusing to me back then, now they just bring me a dirty smile.


Names of days changed but the quality of sex never. There must be something in seduction and climax similar to a drug. After a while, you can't do without. My eyes shone on every Azem's hint about the evening plans, afternoon plans, morning plans... anything what concerned the lovemaking. I lived in wonderful conditions with a man that turned me on in every possible way and I thought if that was a life of a golddigger , I could even be one. Not many things are equally delightful as starting a day in a bath tub with bubbles, glass of champagne, and legs of your lover embracing yours. I admit sex with him was often rough, but the feeling how he lost himself in me simply drove me crazy. It wasn't any other way on that morning in the bathroom. He leaned on the tub's side, hugged my back to his stomach and poked me from behind so hard that the water splashed all over. One of the champagne glasses smashed on the floor's marble and the other fell in the tub. The heat literally flooded me from head to toes when Azem rubbed my clit in the billows.

"Today you'll try some underwater sucking," he proposed as he already pushed me down on his dick.

I've never tried it, but it was so much fun. I've always liked swimming, diving... everything underwater! You can imagine how it feels to hold the air in your lungs, close your eyes and suck a big, clean tool in your mouth. Well, definition of breathtaking! Warm waves I produced around his testicles made him come quite early. Not like he planned to keep me underwater forever anyway. I emerged exhausted, but happy. Wetted mascara ran down my rosy cheeks and the eye-shadows were almost gone. I swallowed a fair share of semen with a bit of soap tasting bubbles. We hugged for a while, before it was too cold for us.

Work waited, but so did the mess in the bathroom. I didn't rush to clean it up, and I guess I looked puzzled enough, because Azem calmed me down,

"I have a house keeper who comes twice a week. I think it's today. And if it's not today, we'll take care of this in the evening. Let's go to work now."

He also had some stuff to do in the city on that day, which stuff exactly it was, I was always afraid to ask. I watched some tennis matches and wrote a brief report urged by desire. An unkind surprised awaited me back home. I rang the bell with a heartbeat to throw myself at Azem (my favorite activity without a doubt). Instead, it was Muli who opened, and he didn't look particularly happy with my sight. A smile froze across my face.

"Who left this mess in the bathroom?"  He asked before I even entered.

"Well, I was with your cousin," I sneaked between his arm and the door frame.

"But you are a woman, and not him. Don't act a dirty cunt. You know what's your job to do now."

What's the matter? Is it okay he just visits us and dictates me what to do?

"Look, I am a guest in this house just like you are. You are even more familiar with this apartment. Why won't you try to make me feel comfortable?"

I sought salvation in Azem's eyes. He stood by the wall, not bothered.

"You wanted to live with an Albanian guy? You take a cloth and you clean it up. Later you will make a dinner. You need a training, because so far you are fairly useless."

Muli lit a cigarette. I didn't even know where the cloths were, to be honest.

"Do you need a special invitation?"

"Oh fuck you!" I shouted and ran to the bedroom and slammed the door.

I had a heart in my throat when I sat behind the bed (Why did I do this? Did I think I'd remain undetected?). All this happened in front of Azem's eyes and he didn't even react! I heard the floor rumbled as Azem rushed toward the bedroom.

"Natalia, we need to talk."

I came over on shaky legs. In fact, I never swear, so even I was under the spell of my nasty words from a minute ago. Azem looked again like that guy who scared me so much at the airport, and nothing close to the sweet caring lover I got to know afterwards. Muli was right behind him. I've read enough in the papers about Albanian men treating their females as servants who always must obey, but one never believes before the self-experience. Fortunately, Azem's hand must have still hurt enough after the incident at the disco, so he saved my sexy face a punch, even though his face expression indicated otherwise. He struggled to take a deep breath and finally spoke up,

"It's a thing between you and him. I don't want fights between you two. You know he is like my brother, and you; well, you are not only a random girl to me. I am off to the gym and when I am back, you must be friends."

One, two, three; he was gone. Friends with Muli ? Excuse me? With that person who stared at me in disgust and who did everything to make me feel awkward? If I wondered what psychical pressure was, then I got a pure picture. I stood like stoned. No way I could even let out any sound in his presence when he scanned my body up and down.

"Come on kiddo, we both screw up," Muli poked my arm in a friendly gesture. "Let's prepare him a dinner. We don't want him to be angry at both of us."

" Ehm , I can't cook, as you already know," I stammered.

"I can't cook either. Though, I think it takes a big brain to spoil pasta with a sausage."

Fine. I even didn't know you had to put pasta into a boiling water until Muli told me. "Twenty and ignorant", that sounded even as sexy as "Sixteen and legal" or "Eighteen and horny". Muli must have seen I was all in shivers, because he became really nice to me. He asked about my studies and told me I must have been an idiot, because I wanted to dump my law studies and focus full time on journalism. Apparently he graduated in French Literature ( geez , I'd never guess!) because during communist regime in Albania they lacked French teachers and a few highschool students who were the best in French were forced to study that course without even asking them what they thought of that idea! Apparently Muli was a big hater of that language.

"It's for girls, gays and metrosexual ," he muttered checking how's the pasta.

" Awww , no way! French is the most sexy language in the world! I react to it like Gomez from Addams Family!"

Muli laughed his ass out and asked me,

"Can you say something in French?"

" Uhhh ... just... voulez - vous coucher avec moi?"

"You ask me to give you an answer?"

Muli laughed again. Me too. Yet it was fun. I felt relaxed enough to excuse about leaving the bathroom dirty and I explained I was told about a house keeper coming twice a week.

"A servant? No. He forces all his cum bags to work." Muli gave a detailed answer. "But you are of course more than a sperm bag. You are a Polish princess with her hands stuck to her elbows only to be kissed."

It was painfully true. I couldn't cook, sew, wash, iron to save my life. I felt like a useless piece of rubbish. I looked at my pretty hands nevertheless. They were untouched by the hard work. The skin was fresh and soft like a rose.

"Yeah, kissable," I estimated.

I didn't have to repeat before I had a sudden admirer at my feet kissing my tiny hands with grace. A huge shiver made my body tense within the second. How awkward...

"I must check the sausage..."

"It's boned."

Oh, gosh...

"The sausage on the pan," I continued as I escaped from his hands and stood up from the table and moved to the cooker.

"Yeah, sure... I will cook the pasta."

We stood next to each other by the cooker for several minutes in silence. This was the way we succeed in impossible, which was spoiling a simple dish by overcooking pasta and burning the sausage. The first thing Azem did after trying it was throwing everything into the dust bin.

" Awwww !" Muli and I scowled with laughter.

Later guys talked in Albanian by the table in the living room, and I went to the couch to watch sports on TV. Some English phrases I incidentally caught in the conversation were disturbing.

"I was telling her, her tits are not real."

"Of course they are real," Azem shrugged.

"No, no shit way mate."

"Quit questioning it. You know I don't like fake girls..." Azem got really pissed.

"I don't know..." Muli played on his nerves.

"Natalia, put that fucking blouse down and show him."

My eyes turned into the question marks.

"Show him; he's pissing me off."

I knew what Muli wanted and the more I was surprised Azem so easily lost his grip. Full of the darkest thoughts I unbuttoned my blouse and came up straight in front of Muli's face. My breasts barely fit in the red DD bra. It was a sort of a push-up.

"They look good, but I still don't know..." Muli gazed in my eyes, not my breasts, without a shadow of shame.

"Touch them yourself." Azem resigned. He didn't even look in our direction.

Muli slowly ran his finger between my boobies and then attempted to cup them. They were bigger than his hands though. Despite of my common sense, I moaned. He closed his eyes and swallowed saliva. Yes, it was going further than we all wanted. I broke up the touch and buttoned my shirt back. I came up to Azem and kneeled in front of him, with a face of a lost kitten. He caressed my forehead and gave me fingers to suck them off. He smiled. Things weren't that bad. I bet he wanted to show off with the girl he had, especially knowing, like he said, I was in Muli's type. Guys can have some silly guy-game between them. I wasn't experienced in that matter, but I could feel introducing a third person into something that works fine is just wrong. I didn't neglect to share my thoughts when Muli already left.

It was a fine evening in Azem's office in his casino. It was the first time I've ever entered the casino, because I was still too young. Of course, on that day nobody checked my passport.

"Do you have a restaurant here? I'm hungry," I grumbled.

"You should have eaten that shit you cooked. Here you are."

Azem gave me a lollipop. Having nothing better to do, I sucked the lollipop and kissed my lover in turns. I had some funny clothes on me; could well be a naughty schoolgirl outfit. I felt like a young secretary having her practise in that place. Azem printed my boobies and ass on the copy machine and then seated me on the desk and fucked till I begged for mercy. We were half in clothes, given the circumstances. First we clinched in a hug so he could keep a finger on my mouth to remind me of silence, and then I kept my legs on his shoulders. I guess it gave the deepest penetration ever possible. He held my ankles in his hands spreading my legs wide open. I scratched his expensive, wooden desk in climax. Casino was full in the evening and there were many people behind the door who wanted to speak to Azem . Obviously they had to wait. He finished me as I rocked him on his boss' chair. I screamed inside his mouth. His big package filled my pussy and his fingers eagerly grabbed my asshole under my girly skirt and a red g-string. I don't know if I was loud or not... I only heard a buzz... I bounced around losing my senses, especially the common sense. This time cum hit the back side of my skirt. My clothes weren't too lucky that week.

"Tomorrow is your last day in Stockholm," Azem noticed as he hugged me even more. "Would you mind if Muli watched us having sex?"

"Oh..." I muttered. No good could come of this. I knew it.

"I am absolutely fine with it. He needs a blast. He likes you."

"I know that he likes me and this is why I don't like this idea. You're a poker pro, but I am not your card to play mind games with other people."

"Come on Natalia, don't be silly. I talked this over with Muli for a few days. We both want it. Have you never had such fantasy? Never wanted to be with two guys? You can touch his cock and I will be not jealous. You saying yes to that idea will make everyone happy."

"Okay, if it makes everyone happy, then... yes."

If it made everyone happy and why it didn't, you will read in the next part. Sorry for the cliffhanger.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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