Au Revoir, Sunita – and Hello Again

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It was dark; there was a deep blue haze that infused the room, a foggy atmosphere surrounded me with the ghostly pallor streaming in through the window. It was like a blue moon thrusting its rays through the cloudy haze all around. I lay on a bed of satin sheets and pillows and rags, long lengths of fabric strewn across the surface. The only sound was a raspy breathing that seemed to struggle out of my chest.

I felt the warmth of a steamy body, full and voluptuous against my skin. I tried to turn myself from lying on my side, tried to get fresh air into my nostrils instead of the choking sensation as my mouth and nose buried into the pit of the woman’s arm. I could smell the musky odour and the wispy curls of her hair against my face as I struggled to pull away.

Even as I wanted to place my hands against her torso and push, I became aware of how powerless I was. My brain tried to will my body but I lay in a paralytic stupor, my face buried deep in the hairy and sweat drenched armpit of the woman; I felt the huge naked breasts push against my chest; I felt a vicious grip around my swollen penis. But I could not move; not because I was held down by any physical force. I was just unable to take control of my muscles or send neural messages to my limbs.

I wasn’t sure if my eyes were open or not. There was a blue darkness that I was aware of and I thought I saw the tinged body of a large woman with amazonian breasts and hair that flowed long and wild. I thought I could see the full structure of this being, the flat belly below her boobs and the thick black triangle of her lush pubic hair. I felt I could also see her from the rear, perfectly contoured hips that swelled from a narrow waist. The deep crack of her buttocks.

My brain struggled to decipher the impossibility of feeling this body flush against my own and yet being able to view it from afar, and from back and front simultaneously. But then the musky odour once again overtook all my senses, overpowering me with a wanton desire. I saw myself push my tongue out against the lush axillary hair of her armpit but could not feel any sensation on my mouth or lips. The confusion built up and began to strangle me as I lay immobile.

The blue fog swirled all around me as the woman stirred, raising herself above me while I continued to lie on my side. Her heavy haunches straddled my hip and I felt a dank wetness on the side of my thigh. Instinctively I wanted to turn on my back so I could look up into her face but despite a strenuous attempt to push myself, I lay motionless on the bed. I knew I was naked because I could feel the silken texture of my bedding; I could feel the long tendrils of the woman’s hair as they brushed delicately across my back.

I felt her hand stroke my cock and then pull on the manhood. I felt a stirring in my groin as she yanked the staff. Somehow I knew I was growing thicker and longer as she continued to tug at the stiffness using both her hands. It grew larger than my normal eight-inch erection; with each outward stroke as though she was milking teats, I felt myself get larger and larger although I could not see it with my eyes.

The woman then got off the bed and knelt on the ground beside me; still on my side, I was now facing her. But her face was curtained off by the long strands of hair that draped down from her head. Like a cascading black waterfall, her hair flowed in breezy waves down to the ground, covering her face, her breasts and stomach. She still had my penis in her hand and I thought I saw her hold the now foot-long rod straight out from my pelvis.

She pulled the fiery hot length of my organ towards her chest, pushing the tip through the curtain of her dark mane till it touched her breast. With the foreskin pushed back, she rubbed the glans against an erect nipple. Then pressing my cock hard against her breasts, she stroked from her left to her right teat and back. This went on for a while as my staff continued to grow. I thought it had reached maybe 18 inches now and the thickness was almost like her upper arms.

The intensity of strikingly blue ambient lighting increased, and I felt a frightening heat suffuse my body. I thought I heard the deep rumble of thunder in the distance and felt, or saw, flashes of a strobe-like electricity pulsating in the room. And then there was a warm wetness that enveloped my cock, starting at the tip and then seeping along the entire length all the way to the base of my shaft. I felt my cock grow in diameter and the wetness seemed like a molten lava around the entire circumference of skin.

Visions of the woman flashed across my brain; huge breasts mangling my head, muscular naked thighs clamping my body, wet forested pubic undergrowth scrubbing my sensitive skin, thick ropes of pitch-black hair twisted and entwined around my penis like tentacles, her fingers piercing my mouth as they swam across my tongue, her hands cupping my oversized testicles and rolling them together, her mouth ravishing my anus and perineum.

Suddenly, casino siteleri the thunder was real. The sharp flashes of lightening that seemed to scorch my body ripped through my consciousness. I was beginning to explode as the woman devoured every erogenous zone in my anatomy. In fact I was ejaculating at the instant that my eyes opened and I raised my torso off the bed. I was drenched in a cold sweat, the heat having completely dissipated.

My T-shirt was soggy with perspiration as I lowered my legs to the ground, sitting on the sofa in my living room. Outside it was almost dark, the sky was clouded in deep shades of cumulus grey. I was breathing hard, my mouth open as I rubbed my eyes to clear out the nightmarish visions that still lingered. Lightening ripped through the sky and lit up the room in electric flashes as dark clouds floated over Hanoi’s Westlake outside.

I lowered my hands to my thighs and gingerly felt my still tumescent phallus. The lounge pants I wore was wet around the groin on account of the semen that I had obviously discharged at the tumultuous climax of my dream/nightmare.

Although I hadn’t seen the face in my dream, and the body proportions were somewhat exaggerated, I knew who she was. It had been more than two years since I last saw her. Touched her. Made love to her. My Sunita.

As I’ve mentioned earlier, I am executive head for the Asian Region of a French engineering conglomerate with my regional headquarters in New Delhi, India. However, for the last couple of years I have shifted my base to Hanoi, Vietnam. I hadn’t intended staying this long but a number of factors – mostly professional, but some personal – have led me to extend my stay here. Of course I travel frequently not only to India but also to the various other countries where we have Country General Managers reporting to me.

In Delhi, I still maintain my residence and my office; and staff at both. On the number of visits that I have made to Delhi over the last couple of years, I have almost always stayed at the hotel where our regional headquarters is housed. On one occasion when I needed to be there over a weekend, I had stayed at my house. Unfortunately, my housekeeper – Sunita – had gone to visit her sister-in-law and since I hadn’t alerted her to my arrival, I decided not to trouble her over the weekend.

Truth be told, I was a little skeptical about calling Sunita on that visit. I wasn’t confident about being able to handle the meeting with her after what had been many months, even though I was desperate to hold her in my arms again. But leaving her had been traumatic ( for both of us.

Now, as the fog cleared from my brain and I sat dazed on the sofa in my lakeside apartment, I knew I had to go to India. But this Friday evening I had another social commitment. I got up, walked to my bathroom, threw my t-shirt and cum-sodden lounge pants into the laundry basket in the corner and had a scalding hot shower, followed by a bone-chilling cold 30 seconds. Donning my underwear and a fresh t-shirt, I got a pair of denims from my wardrobe and slipped into them.

Over the next half hour, I managed to get a business class air ticket online from Hanoi to Bangkok for Sunday morning, with a connecting flight to Delhi in the evening. I sent an email to my secretary in Delhi informing her of my plans, and telling her to ensure that Bahadur, my driver, and Sunita, my housemaid, were informed. I also typed out some instructions for various others at the Delhi office. Then at 7:30 pm, the doorbell rang.

Within the next 20 minutes, I had 12 colleagues from the Hanoi office and a couple from Korea pouring into the house and out of the rain. There was a lot of excitement and the party got underway pretty soon. Many of them had visited before, and some were familiar with my bar, the music system, the kitchen, the fridge. I wasn’t allowed to do anything so I got myself a bourbon from the bar, threw in some ice cubes and a splash of water, and settled down in the corner of a sofa while the others prepared their drinks.

When everyone had a drink in their hands, my marketing head clapped for attention while someone turned down the music. Pearl Nguyen was a short feisty buxom woman who commanded attention around the office and outside. She raised her glass and talked about me having been a fantastic boss and a great leader and other such embarrassing platitudes. In fact, the Vietnam office had done a great job over the last few years, bagging a number of Japanese and Korean contracts. They were a great bunch of people, very hard working, and now they wanted to party.

After Pearl had spoken for a few minutes, someone quietly walked to the stereo system and began to raise the volume steadily till she got the message and shut up! With one final Cheers! we all shouted “M?t hai ba dzô!” and then the living room got noisy as the drinks flowed, humongous quantities of finger foods went around, smokers stepped canlı casino out into the balcony, the music changed from quiet jazz to rambunctious Vietnamese pop.

I moved around and circulated with my team, answered questions, inquired about their families and sometimes their work, joked with them, back-slapped a few of the guys, and generally had fun. I saw Nguyet a couple of times as she too moved from group to group.

Nguyet, as you may know, is my Chief of Staff and head of business development at the Hanoi office. She is my closest confidante at the office and extremely valuable to the Vietnamese operations of our firm. She is also my lover. I have often referred to her as “my Vietnamese secretary”; she’s anything but that. When my personal assistant left, Nguyet took over the responsibility of overseeing all my interactions, as well as my personal requirements at office. She used her own staff and I didn’t feel the loss of my secretary at all. At least not in office.

Since then Nguyet and I have developed a very close personal relationship. But it had been a number of weeks now that we had had any time together. The last time we made love, in fact, was when I returned from a business trip to Japan ( almost two months ago.

Now, as the party was at its zenith, Nguyet and her business manager from our Seoul office sat huddled with me in a corner, thrashing out some details of a presentation they were making in South Korea next week. I gave them some inputs and then my mind began to drift. I lost myself staring at Nguyet’s lips as them moved in conversation with our colleague. She had touched them up with rouge, rather unusually. Her one piece black cocktail dress had a deep circular neckline that revealed the top of her chest; also the lacy edge of her bra and their skin coloured straps.

She sat opposite me in a cushioned armchair with her knees modestly held together, the hem of her dress a couple of inches above her knees. I stared at those soft smooth legs, her calves tapering to delicate ankles and feet that slipped in to shiny black leather Jimmy Choos with three inch heels. As my eyes devoured her, they rose from her feet to her knees, and then up past her flat stomach to the cleavage between her breasts. Above her torso, her dainty neck held the most exotic oriental face, the beauty somehow enhanced in the dull golden ambient lamplight that suffused the room.

As she continued her animated conversation with Jae-Bong, our Korean visitor, I lowered my eyes from her face to her knees again, taking in the few inches of skin where the hem of her black skirt had slithered up. She reached forward to a round centre table and picked up her wine glass which was still half full with the Chateau Margaux she was drinking. As she leaned back into her chair, her knees parted and I got a glimpse of the secretive darkness between her thighs. She lifted one knee over the other, crossing her legs, but not before I saw her filigreed panties.

I was getting turned on now, my mind going back to our night at the Hanoi Sheraton hotel almost eight weeks ago. It had been a long time. My skin began to prickle, my groin seemed to be sweating in the deep confines of my denims. She uncrossed her legs again, allowing me the briefest possible flash of her thighs. Was she aware of what was going on in mind? Is it possible that she felt the heat as well?

I got up from my comfortable corner on the couch, walked over to the bar and started pouring myself another bourbon. One of our young trainee recruits came up and offered to help but I asked him what he was drinking instead. A little bashfully, he said he was having beer so I opened the fridge, took out a Corona, stuck a wedge of lemon into the mouth of the bottle and handed it to him. I started a conversation with him, trying to make him feel at ease, as I strolled out towards the balcony.

I lit a cigarette, offered one to the lad which he refused, and gazed out at the night sky over the lakes. It was cool; the storm had blown over but there was just a slight drizzle, each raindrop acting as a prism as they broke up the light from the lamppost across the street in front. One of the office girls came and took away the intern with her, apparently to help clean up the kitchen. The party was beginning to wrap up.

I finished my cigarette standing alone on the balcony, peering through the rain to the flickering lights on the opposite bank of the lake. Sounds of farewell and goodnight filtered out of my living room, and then I heard someone ask “Where’s the boss?” I walked back in and began a round of more back slaps, air kisses, handshakes, and generally responding to all the “thank you”s. The average level of inebriation and jollity was fairly high amongst this wonderful crowd.

As the Grab, Uber and Mai Lin taxis began to arrive downstairs, people started to drift out of the apartment. Someone asked where Ms Nguyet was, and someone else responded kaçak casino that she had left ten minutes earlier. That surprised me because she hadn’t come and said bye; I thought maybe she had to rush and couldn’t spot me while I was outside on the balcony. In any case, I was certain she would call on the following day, Saturday.

When the last of the party people slipped into her shoes at the door and got into the elevator, I poured myself another Jack Daniels and walked out on to the balcony again, sliding the door shut behind me. The air felt very cool and fresh outside. Holding my drink, I turned my back to the lake, leaning against the railing. It was dark outside, and the living room had a couple of shaded table lamps on. Almost all the dishes and glasses had been washed and put back to their racks and shelves.

Standing outside, I could see all through to the far end of the apartment down the corridor that had rooms along its length. From the dark recesses of the far end, I saw her emerge. She had obviously locked herself in the guest bedroom and waited for everyone to leave. She was barefoot now, walking along the passageway, her body sheathed in the black cocktail dress as her hips swayed delicately. She stopped at the entrance way and pushed open the door softly; I assumed to check if all the shoes had disappeared. Most visitors remove their footwear before stepping into houses.

Pulling the entrance door shut, she walked towards the living room. She turned towards the bar, found the bottle of Chateau Margaux and poured a glass that she extracted from the racks which contained all my stemware. She took a delicate sip and sat in the middle on the three-seater sofa, placing the glass on the table in front. I wasn’t sure if she knew I was in the balcony, or whether she thought I had gone downstairs to see off the guests.

The lights from the table lamps cast a golden glow on Nguyet’s face. She leaned back, shut her eyes, raised her feet on to the centre table and seemed in a zen space of her own. Her breasts looked full as they heaved with every peaceful breath she took. The cleavage was deep and dark as her bra pushed up her boobs. Her dress was half way up her thighs which were only slightly parted, desperately inviting. I took a large sip of my bourbon and went inside.

Nguyet opened her eyes when she heard the door slide along its rail. Looking at me, she smiled her most beatific smile. Her teeth glinted as the wet lips parted. She didn’t seem surprised so maybe she knew I had been in the balcony all along. Leaving the door open, I took two steps to the sofa and sat down next to her. Neither of us said a word. I could feel the warmth emanate from her body, contrasting with the coolness of the outside. She turned her face towards mine, kissed me gently on the cheek, and got up to shut the apartment entrance door.

Walking back, she fluffed out her jet black hair and let the ends bounce over her shoulders before reaching somewhere near her armpits; longer than I had seen it before. She sat down again next to me, leaving no space between our bodies. I turned to her and found her mouth with my lips, wrapped my arms around her, and kissed her hard for about a minute. There was a raw carnal desire that had built up in both of us over the course of the evening.

She raised her hand and palmed the back of my neck, her fingers running deep into the curls of my slightly overgrown hair, pulling my head harder against her. Her lips parted and she snaked her tongue into my mouth. I pulled my arm out from behind her and found the swell of her breasts with my hand, running them gently across the black fabric of her dress. Nguyet moaned as her mouth opened wide to fully envelop my lips, her fingers clutching at my hair.

I continued to run my palm over the smooth polyester dress that snugly covered her tits, feeling the edges of her brassiere cups. My fingertips found the hard nubs of her nipples and I played with the protrusions, letting the nylon of her bra graze against the sensitive orbs and aureoles that were hidden underneath. Our kisses were getting more fiery and passionate, my tongue deep inside her mouth sashayed all across the dark moistness.

I pressed her bosom a little roughly without intending to do so, occasionally pinching her swollen nipples. I then used the palm of my hand to nestle her cheek briefly, letting my fingers stray across her neck and chest, feeling the extra warmth in her cleavage. Then, lowering my hand down to her knees, I clutched for a second or two before feeling the outside length of her thigh as she raised it to rest partially on mine.

We still faced each other, our waist twisted inwards towards one another as we sat on the sofa, lips locked. I slid my palm along the smooth exterior of her thigh, pushing the hem of her dress upwards till I reached her hip. I kept caressing her now bare skin till she raised her right thigh and half draped it over my denim clad legs, exposing more of her hip. My hands slid behind her and I felt the contour of one arse cheek. I kept caressing her along the entire length from buttock to behind the knee, stroking deftly with the fingers of my left hand. My right was trapped between her neck and the sofa backrest.

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