5 comments/ 48229 views/ 12 favorites Doing the Sheikh's Homework By: mughalpunjabi Graduate School is tough and is a place where one should be going due to aptitude and personal conviction, particularly when attempting to secure a professional degree like an MBA. I met Sheikh Hamed al Sagri, in my finance class, during the second semester. Hamed was in his mid-thirties and was attending the school courtesy of the Saudi Arabian government's program of providing support to qualified nationals to study abroad. He, however, did not appear to be all that smart and some digging on my part revealed that he was the son of a leading business tycoon and the nephew of one the ministers in the King's Council, which would be qualification enough in most countries. Hamed was in a fix with the coursework and assignments. He needed help badly and I was the solution to his woes, given that I was doing pretty well in class and was also a fellow international student, having come from Pakistan myself. At first he just needed some assistance with understanding the lectures, text and assignments, mostly because his English was certainly below par. As time progressed, it became evident that he was never going to get through on his own abilities. One day he invited me to dinner with his family, whereby I discovered he was in the US with his wife. Hamed, lived in a lovely suite in an exclusive building, and also had a full time staff including cook, servants and driver, all imported from India. I was expecting a guys-only event, but was pleasantly surprised when a twenty something long haired, fair skinned, doe eyed beauty, wearing a stylish mid-length dress and sharp heels joined us. "I would like to introduce Mrs. Hamed al Sagri," my host announced, "and Jameela this is my colleague and friend, Sikander Abbas from Pakistan." I learnt that she was from Jordan and he had met her while on a holiday in Amman. I was even more surprised when having shaken hands with me (a distinct no-no in Saudi), she then proceeded to settle down on the sofa to join the conversation. Dinner was an opulent affair with foods from Saudi, Lebanon and India on the menu. A typical Saudi host, Hamed ate with gusto and made sure I was stuffed. I had a hard time keeping myself from ogling my hostess. As we waited for coffee, Jameela spoke directly to me, "Hamed is so happy that you are in his class. Without your help he would be lost. He had such a hard time during the first semester and if his grades do not improve he will lose face with his father in Saudi." "It can't be that bad," I replied, "he must be smart enough to be here, and I have no issues with giving him some help now and then." "Sikander, there is no way I am going to understand Finance and do the assignments and projects," Hamed confessed, "I need is someone to do these on my behalf." "Surely you are not suggesting that I help you cheat?" I queried my host. "Sikander, all he needs is a decent GPA to go back with honour to the family business, he is not going to be stealing anyone's opportunity in this country," Jameela responded. "In fact Sikander, should you find yourself generous enough to help me in this time of need, I am sure I could make it worth your while now and later," Hamed added. "And how would you do that?" I asked. "I will gladly pay you for each quiz, test and assignment that you do on my behalf, with this Honor Code they have here, you can do it all at home," he continued. I certainly could use the funds and since he was not going to be competing with me, I reluctantly agreed to go along. And I certainly had liked the looks of Jameela; helping Hamed would mean I may have more opportunity to get to know her. II I left the al-Sagri's quite happy about our arrangement. Since it was a nice evening, I decided to walk home. About 10 minutes down the road, I realized I had left my jacket at their house. Since I had not walked too far, I decided to return and collect the same, no sense in having Hamed seeing my off the rack garment. As I neared their door to ring the bell, I heard a slap and a muffled scream from the side window. Curious as to what was happening, I went round to the side and peered in through the living room window. Jameela was bent over in front of a large sofa, which stood a few feet away from the window where I was, with her hands stretched out on top. There was a growing redness on her face and tears were rolling down her cheeks. She was also stark naked, except for her heels and stockings, her pert breasts hanging down. She certainly had a figure to die for. Hamed was ramming his dick into her rectum from behind, keeping up a merciless rhythm. Even worse, the servants of the house were standing at the side, eyes lowered, and he was yelling at them for something. Every so often he slapped her hard on her ass or back, bringing squeals from the poor girl. Jameela continued to sob and thankfully Hamed soon shot his load into her. Pulling out roughly, he wiped his prick with her dress which he picked off the ground. Pushing her on to the sofa, he left her to cry and went to the cloak room. None of the staff moved or lifted a finger to help his wife. I had never seen something so degrading in my life. Returning to the front door, I reluctantly rang the bell. I was surprised when it was opened by Jameela, who despite the hammering she had just taken, looked tasty in the dress she had quickly thrown on. That it had numerous rips in it was obvious, but we both acted as if nothing had happened. "I am sorry Mrs. Al Sagri, I forgot my jacket," I explained, "could I please get it?" Within seconds a servant had retrieved it and handed it over. The door closed behind me and no further words left my mouth or anyone else's. I could not believe that I had seen a man abuse his wife in such a bad way, yet I figured it was best if I minded my own business, I had heard that Saudis had peculiar manners as far as their women were concerned. III In no time at all, I went from doing Hamed's work in Finance class to every course that he took. In fact, he made a point of taking the same courses as I did over the last two semesters. I made sure that he passed with a decent mark, but kept enough of a difference in our answers to not arouse any suspicion. I ended up near the top of the graduating class, but had trouble getting a position in the US, given my student visa. It seemed as if Hamed's whole clan showed up for the graduation ceremony. He was delighted as this confirmed him as a qualified male member of the family. Interestingly, since the dinner I had not seen his wife and none of the clan women appeared at the ceremony either. Degree in hand, Hamed came up and hugged me as if I was a long lost brother. "Sikander, I would not have had the grades, to show my relatives that I had brains, if you had not helped me," he squeezed even more. "Excuse me Hamed, will you not introduce your friend to me," I heard a voice behind me. "Sikander, I would like you to meet my father, Sheikh Rasheed al Sagri, the head of our clan and the family business," I was introduced to a handsome, 50-ish gentlemen in a sharp Saville Row suit. "Father, Sikander has been a great help to me at school, I hope he will stay in touch," Hamed commented. "Well, I am glad you had a smart friend, your cousin Imad at Texas A&M barely got through with a C average. No one is attending his graduation," the Sheikh said, then added, "young man, if we can ever be of service, don't hesitate to call," handing me a business card with about 15 titles on it. IV I stayed on in the US, hoping to land a position, but the recessionary times meant that as a student visa holder, I had little hope of a career except in food service establishments. A few months of inactivity caused my accumulated wealth to dwindle to almost nothing. I began to think seriously about returning to Pakistan, and even decided to pack away some of my things. In the process of sorting my belongings, I ran across the senior Sheikh's card. Well, he had offered to help. I penned a letter to him and popped it into the mail. A week later I was back home in Pakistan. The folks were happy to see me back but the fact that I had returned with a big degree and no job weighed heavily on everyone. Shortly after returning home, I received a phone call from Hamed, who had heard about my letter from his dad. "My friend, you will be welcome in Riyadh," he enthusiastically advised me, "a visa and a job contract will be with you within the month." "Thanks, but what position am I getting, with whom and what sort of money," I stammered. "Oh, I am sure you will be very happy with the arrangements," Hamed asserted, "let me know when you get the stuff and are ready to come over." The news certainly lifted everyone's spirits. My dad had also worked in the Middle East and the prospect of tax free earning rang well with him. The package arrived. I was offered the position of Commercial Manager, within the business unit that Hamed now headed. I was to be paid nearly $80,000 annually, plus residence, transport and other expatriate benefits. With this sort of money, I would make back all the expenditure on my education in the US within 1 year. V I arrived in Riyadh at the end of September and was shown to my already furnished house, a fair sized 3-bedroom bungalow within a large compound. I learnt that this was one of the annex houses attached to Hamed's residence. While most of the senior management lived in other compounds, Hamed had arranged this for me as we were friends. The vehicle was a nice roomy American sedan. I soon discovered that a female servant and a driver had also been assigned to me, both of whom were from Sri Lanka, and were married to each other. The Company HQ was an opulent affair in the central business district. Hamed was in a 20th floor corner suite and I was given a sizable office one floor down. My first surprise was to note that my secretary was an Indian guy, and that there were no females in sight. In fact, since arriving in Riyadh I had not seen many women. "Sikander, it is so good to have you here," Hamed beamed joyfully, "now I can let you handle things and I can take my overdue holiday." "But Hamed, you just got here a month or so ago," I protested, "You are not going to run off just yet?" "Oh but I am, my friend, I am getting married next Thursday," he dropped a bombshell, "and my loving wife and I will be off to our honeymoon on Saturday." "But you are already married to Jameela?" I was shocked. "Yes, but this is Saudi Arabia and I have to act as is expected of me," he explained, "and Jameela is not my only wife, I was already married once before I met her! In fact, most of my peers have four wives, so I am still catching up!" "And where will your wives now go?" I inquired. "My friend, in this country you do not ask a Saudi about the whereabouts of his female family members, particularly his wives," he added in a slightly terse tone, "but since you are new in Saudi, I forgive you. Jameela and my first wife, Layla, also live in the house; they each have their wing and come to me on occasion." I took the advice to heart and fortified myself to be running the business during his absence, however long it would be. I figured I had less than a week to learn the ins and outs of the operation and went to it with gusto. Sixteen hour days were the norm for the week and then the wedding came. VI The wedding was an unbelievable affair, but the segregated Saudi environment meant that I saw no females at all. Hamed and his newest wife escaped as soon as they could and went off to a honeymoon somewhere in the South Pacific. Hamed latest wife was the cousin of one of his friends. Apparently Hamed's sister had recently been married to the same friend. I was left to handle things in his absence. Leaving work the day after the newlyweds had departed, my driver advised that he had been asked to help with Mrs. Hamed's shopping and he might not be able to drive me to lunch. The day went off as usual and, though I simply worked through lunch, I continued to 8 pm, my usual sign off time. Surprisingly, my driver had not yet come back. I called for him and, after a moment of hesitation, he told me he was on his way and that I should come on down to the front of the building in fifteen minutes. When he arrived, I was surprised when he motioned me to the front seat. I got in and noticed that there was a burqa clad Saudi lady in the back. "Excuse me," I stammered, "I did not know someone was going to be with us." "Relax Sikander," a voice came from the covered form, "its Jameela. How do you like Riyadh?" My mind went straight back to the last time I had seen her in her glorious nudity. Having not had any female interaction since coming to Saudi, my dick got hard just from the fact that one was sitting some three feet away! "Hi Jameela," I responded, "how come you are here?" "Well you know Hamed is out with his new darling," she complained, "I was drowning my sorrows spending his money." "And how much did you spend?" I inquired. "Enough to give him a headache, but not so much to bankrupt him," she replied with relish. "What happened to your driver and car?" I asked, knowing that a fleet was available. "Oh many of the wedding guests came from overseas and the entire staff was given to them while they are here in Saudi," Jameela explained. We arrived back at our compound and since the car was loaded with her things, she let me off first. "It was good to see you Sikander," she bade me goodbye, "have you seen the pool behind your place?" "Really, there is a pool?" I was not aware. "Yes, just behind the hedge at your back door, you should feel free to use it, none of us ever does," she emphasized. Jameela drove away and I was left with a severe case of blue balls. What the hell, I needed to cool off; perhaps the pool was a good idea. VII I could not believe there was a near Olympic size pool just on the other side of the hedge. The water was clean and inviting. A few pieces of furniture were strewn about. At one side were a changing room and a kitchen. The fridge held every conceivable form of beverage, alcoholic or otherwise. The cabinets inside the kitchen were stocked with an extensive array of snacks. Placing a large can of Fosters on one of the tables by the pool, I dove in to the welcoming water. Though tepid, it was still very refreshing and I began to slowly swim from one end to the other. I had perhaps been swimming for about 15 minutes, when I felt that someone else was about. I looked up from the pool to see Jameela standing by the side still in her burqa. This time her face was uncovered and she gave me a nice smile. "Well I see you take good advice, Sikander," she said, "mind if I join you?" The burqa was off in a split second. Beneath she wore the slightest pink and yellow bikini, which hid nothing at all of her awesome figure. Diving into the pool, she was by my side within a moment. "The water's lovely," she chirped. "But not so much as the mermaid in it," I complimented her. "So did you get some good exercise?" Jameela queried me. "Not really, I was just lounging around," was my honest answer. "How would you like to race me to the other end and back?" she probed. Sensing my hesitation, she upped the ante a bit. "Tell you what, if you get there and back faster than I do, I will remove my top, but if you don't, you will lose your shorts," she cajoled. We shook hands and lined up at one end. "Go," she yelled and we were off. I reached the end and turned, only to find she was already headed back. I swam like crazy and somehow managed to reach the starting point a split second ahead of her. "Good race," she said, untying the bikini top and flinging it at me, "but I bet you cannot beat me again." She had perky breasts which, while on the small side for Arab females, looked quite tasty all the same. "And what if I do?" I questioned. "Oh, I will lose the bikini bottom also," she promised. Once again we were off and I was keen to win a second time. I was, however, surprised when she easily beat me by two lengths. "How did you do that?" I was surprised. "I used to be on the Jordanian women's swim team, I let you win the first time," she confessed, indicating she wanted my shorts. As I went over to the steps to remove the shorts, she swam by and hooking her fingers inside yanked them off. She pushed back at my midsection and I sat down on the steps at the shallow end. Jameela clasped my cock and slowly started to move her hand up and down on it. While I was still processing the information, she closed her mouth over my manhood and began to lick and suck with gusto. While it was not the world's greatest blow job, the lack of recent sexual activity certainly made it feel first rate. Before long, I was ready to explode. Jameela pulled me back into the water as my sperm spouted all around us. Still holding on to my cock, Jameela bit on my ear and whispered, "that's because I cheated in our race, you should try to size up your competition better before taking a challenge!" She swam to the other end and motioned to me to come over. I followed in a blink and she handed me her bikini bottom. I reached out for her and she willingly melted into my arms. We kissed deeply, our tongues intertwining with expectation. My brain kept interfering with warning messages, but my cock and lips were in no mood to listen. I was on the verge of screwing my boss's wife. Worse I was about to screw my friend's wife, the guy who had got me the job. Oh fuck it; she had already had my dick in her mouth, and without much thought for her husband's feelings!! Serves him right for abusing her, I rationalized. VIII Jameela shimmied up the pool ladder and grabbed a towel. I followed and she indicated that I should collect all the clothes from the pool area. Tossing the towel to me, she walked around the bush, into my house, to the bedroom and on to my bed, still soaking wet. I could not believe that the dream I had been repressing since the night I had met her was now coming true. "Dry me off," she commanded and I responded by rubbing the towel over every inch of her body till no droplets of water were visible. The move from the humid pool area to the air conditioned room had tightened her body and her tits were erect as could be. Tossing the towel aside, I climbed on top and resumed kissing her luscious lips, while squeezing her boobs and running my fingers through her mane. Jameela began to moan softly and guided my fingers to her pelvic area. Slowly, I began to probe her insides with my fingers, first one, then two and finally a third. As I picked up speed, the sounds from her increased in intensity. She came with a mighty sigh and lay back, tears coming from her eyes. "Why are you crying, Jameela, is it something I did?" I asked sympathetically. "No, you are the solution, the trouble is Hamed, who is out screwing his new toy," she whimpered, "it won't last long, he'll want another and another soon enough." "I am sorry, I thought that he did love you very much, but was bound by tribal customs," I responded. "Did you think he loved me when you saw him violating me in front of the staff the night you came for dinner?" she shot back. "What," I exclaimed, "how did you know I saw what he did?" "I noticed a movement through the window, while he was abusing me," she explained, "and when I saw your jacket still on the other sofa, I knew it was you. You did make it clear when you showed up a few minutes after he finished." "I had no idea he was going to treat you like that," I was on the defensive. "It's okay, that is his way of demonstrating his manhood and superiority over the staff and me," Jameela continued. Doing the Sheikh's Homework "You mean he does that sort of stuff fairly often?" I was disgusted. "Not all the time, but once in a while he gets angry at something and takes it out on Layla or me," she added, "and at such time he wants the staff to watch and understand. It makes him feel manly, reduces us to nothing and makes them feel like shit." "Why do you put up with this?" I asked. "Because as a Saudi wife, I am truly his possession, I have few rights of my own," she clarified, "I was a strong willed Jordanian girl when I met him, he has tried his best to break my spirit. Tell me did you get turned on when you saw me being screwed?" "I thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever laid my eyes upon, and I did not believe he was behaving so badly," I confessed. Jameela began to sob and I caressed her closer. My cock was already strained to the extreme and she gladly opened her legs and allowed me inside of her. We lay together, enjoying the feeling of each others' body. I slowly established a rhythm with my thrusting and withdrawing and she responded with gusto. As I neared my climax, I realized I had no protection and tried to pull out. Instead she grabbed me harder and I emptied my load into her willing pussy. "Jameela, that was not a good idea, what if you get pregnant?" I complained. "I don't think I will, since I just finished my period, but even if I do, Hamed will be delighted he is a father, since I have yet to give him a child," Jameela put me at ease. Disengaging herself, Jameela covered herself with the burqa. Giving me one last kiss and grabbing the bikini, so as to perhaps not leave any evidence of her visit to my residence, she exited to the pool and back to her wing in the main house. I was left with mixed feelings: elation at having made love to a virtual goddess, guilt at having fucked my friend's wife. I wondered if this would be the end of things and if would see her again. I had no clue as to the amount of homework I was going to be doing on the Sheikh's behalf from now on. IX The next few days in the office were tough; the nights alone at home were absolute misery. I had no word from Jameela and wondered if I had dreamed the entire episode up. Hamed had decided he was having a really good time and had extended his honeymoon by another month. A servant from the main house arrived one evening and advised that I was needed to greet some guests that had arrived for Hamed. Since I was deputizing for him at the office this did not seem like an unreasonable request. I let the servant take me to the main reception room in the house. It was bigger than my whole residence and decorated garishly. The visitors were an American businessman from California and his two Saudi partners. The American had arrived in Riyadh based on an earlier appointment with Hamed and was not exactly pleased that his host had decided to stand him up. The Saudis, who were related to Hamed in some manner, however, tried their best to keep his anger contained. I learned that Frank was planning to help Hamed put up a cosmetics and skincare factory in Saudi. Apparently the idea had come from Hamed's wife and he had warmed to it. I was pleasantly surprised when I heard a female's voice from behind a curtain on one of the doors. "Welcome to Riyadh sir, I am sorry my husband is away at the moment, but I am certain I can talk on his behalf," she said. I had not heard the voice before. "Mr. Sikander, we have not met before, I am the Sheikh's senior wife, may I take the liberty of also welcoming you to our country and home," she added. "Madame, the pleasure is all mine," I replied, wondering where Jameela was. For the best part of two hours, we discussed modalities of the proposed factory, without so much as a sight of our hostess. Frank was having a hard time concentrating, since he was being plied with bourbon at a fast clip. The meeting ended at about 11 p.m. and we were ushered in to the dining lounge. This could have easily housed a small Airbus aircraft. The food was spectacular as expected. But what caught our eyes more were the partially dressed Filipino and Moroccan girls who served us. Frank was wondering if he could cop a feel, but I politely suggested that without the host's express permission he may be risking too much. I figured he would get back to the hotel and wank off, there being no other outlet for him to dip his wick into that night. Thankfully the meal concluded just after midnight and the visitors were sent on their way. As I collected my things to get back to my residence, I heard the voice again, "thank you Mr. Sikander, my husband will be happy with the way you handled his esteemed guests." Expressing my thanks, I headed back home, wondering what sort of woman the first wife was. She certainly sounded educated and confident. I figured she was the daughter of some senior Saudi diplomat or businessman. It would not be possible for a normal Saudi female to be so involved in complex business affairs. X Tired, but intrigued by my mysterious hostess, I entered my house. Jameela was standing there in a miniskirt and heels, looking tastier than anything I had ever had in my life. "Hello there, did you miss me?" she teased. "I had hoped to see you at dinner, but you were not there," I responded. "You talked with Layla, did you find her exciting?" I sensed some hostility. "I am not the sort of guy to get turned on by a voice," I lied. "I was getting so jealous hearing you talk to her," she admitted. "Why, it was a strictly hands off, segregated sort of environment," I protested, "and we talked business only." Jameela pushed me on to a sofa and seated herself in my lap. Slowly she began gyrating on my cock. I was already erect at the sight of her and could not take the teasing too long. I carried her over to the dining table, placed her hands on it, pulled her panties down and bent her over. Jameela squealed with delight as I lifted her dress and lined my dick with her pussy. "Do you want to fuck me like Hamed did?" she taunted. "Did you not find that humiliating?" I questioned. "Actually, after a few episodes I got used to the treatment and did not mind that others were watching; so he treats me badly on occasion, but at least he is fucking me and not his new toy!" she spat. I needed no further encouragement and ran into the cloakroom to get a bottle of cream. Jameela was still bent over the table waiting to be skewered when I returned. I rubbed the lubricant on my penis and her rectum. Tossing the cream aside, I plunged my dick into her backside. She choked back a scream, but tightened her cheeks around my pole. I brutally assaulted her back side and she took the worst I could dish out with pleasure. She implored me to hit her, but that was something I could not bring myself to do, given that she was such a perfect creature. I did not want the act to end, but friction trumped me and I flooded her backside with my juice. Jameela pushed my cock out, fixed her dress, gave me a quick peck on the mouth and ran out the door with a till we meet again look. I certainly could not wait to sample the goods again. XI I was relieved when Hamed finally got back. He had extended the leave once more and had been away for the best part of three months. Luckily there had been no major issues in his absence and I could proudly turn command back over to him. Hamed was delighted that things had been well in his absence and playfully suggested he was keen on a trip to Brazil in the near future. Ordinarily I would have protested. But with things going nicely with Jameela, who dropped in every few days to get serviced, and I liked the new arrangement just fine. The new wife was given her own wing at the big house. I learned that she was also the daughter of one of his father's Saudi friends, thus explaining the exchange of females between the two families. Hamed obviously seemed taken by her and was frequently late to work or not in at all. I had not seen Jameela since he returned but was looking forward to her point of view on the new resident in the house. I figured I would be less involved with running the show with the boss back. In fact, I was now spending much more time explaining things to Hamed and then handling issues as they came up. The guy was acting like a total puppy. I learnt that the reason for his great joy was that he was trying hard to get a son. Apparently he had a daughter with Layla and no kids with Jameela. So, in typical medieval fashion, a son from the new wife would elevate him within the clan. The good thing about this was that the big Sheikh had been impressed by the way I kept things running and had given me a hefty salary increase and bonus. XII I received a message on my cell phone indicating that I would be having a visitor that night. Jameela had been sending me these messages off and on. Then at times she would surprise me by just showing up unexpectedly, but welcome all the same. I made sure I had everything all tied down and, after a quick dinner at one of the fine restaurants in the city, made my way home. As per practice, I had given the driver and maid the day off and they had plans to visit some of their friends in the city. The lights were already dimmed in the main lounge and dining area. I noted a trail of fashionable women's clothes on the ground leading to the bedroom. By habit, I removed most of my vestments and walked in to the chamber. Surprisingly, the room was pitch dark, though I could see a female form lying nude on the bed. "Hi Jameela," I greeted her, "how come everything is so dark?" She lifted a finger to her lips to indicate I should be silent and lay back with her legs open wide, expecting me to drive my point home. I needed no further invitation and was on and in her within a split second. She grabbed me with gusto and I pumped her with all my force. She bucked and yelped more than usual, but I figured she was enjoying the sex after nearly two weeks of abstinence. I released a torrent of sperm into her and relaxed. "Thank you Sikander," a voice I had only heard once before said. In a second, I was off her and had turned on the light. Lying next to me, with a huge smile on her face, was a very good looking woman in her late twenties or early thirties. As typical of most Arab females, she had long black tresses that came down to her waist and large eyes. "Hi I am Layla," she introduced herself, "I am so happy to finally meet you in person." "But Madame, what are you doing here? This is really not the right thing to do," I was lost for words. "Its okay, I know you were expecting Jameela, you two have been enjoying yourselves for quite a while, haven't you?" she inquired. "Yes I was and you seem to know we have been making love on occasion," I replied. "Don't kid yourself, she is just fucking you, Jameela does not even make love to Hamed!" she laughed. "She was planning to come to you, but for some reason Hamed decided he wanted to sleep with her tonight," she explained, "which meant that he would not visit me for at least another week because his younger wives would wear him out. I just figured I might as well find out for myself the reason for the joy in Jameela's life." "But Madame, what are you going to do now?" I begged. "I have no intention of telling my husband about you," she calmed me down, "as long as I can get some action once in a while. And please do not call me Madame, it makes me sound cheap, I do know what Madame means in some Western contexts. I would be very happy if you would call me by my name." "But how did you know about Jameela and me, and why would you be here instead of turning us in?" I was puzzled. "I sensed Jameela was very tense the night you came to the house to meet the American. I watched for her and saw that she came to you that night," Layla explained, "the reason I have no cause to tell my husband is simple; he just uses Jameela and me as receptacles for his semen and very rarely, meanwhile he runs around everywhere having a good time." "But why me, surely there would be others around?" I inquired. "I am not comfortable having sex with drivers and servants as so many of my friends do when their husbands are away," she said, "but a man who competently stands in for my husband at work is surely one that can do his work at home too!" "I want you to help me gain position in the eyes of my family," she continued, "Hamed is unable to bear children of his own, and I need you to conceive a son for him." "But Layla, you do have a daughter," I was in shock. "Yes, I do, but the father is not Hamed, but an Iraqi youth I met in London before I was married and had a short affair with," she opened up, "since the child came about 7 months after I was married, Hamed was happy to be the father. You may not know I was educated in the UK while my father was in the Saudi embassy there" "That explains a great deal, but what convinces you that I will be able to help and what will Jameela think of this arrangement," I probed. "There is every chance that Jameela is also looking to get impregnated and why would you turn down two beautiful ladies in this sort of country?" she was convincing. I was not sure that Jameela would like the new arrangement or had her own axe to grind. Still to reject these ladies could mean leaving Saudi and entering job uncertainty. Layla's hand was on my cock, slowly stimulating it. She did have very sizable breasts and a fuller figure than Jameela. Layla certainly was a beauty in her own right. The friction helped me regain my erection. Forcing me back on my back, she climbed on top and inserted my cock into herself. For someone married many years and with one child, she was pleasingly tight. She moved up and down my shaft, moaning constantly as she fucked me. I was in awe of her luscious breasts and propped myself up to suck on them. Layla now lay back and pulled me on top. I came mightily and she hung on tight till she felt every drop of my sperm enter her. Just like Jameela, Layla also exited in the darkest hour to return to her wing in the house. I could not believe that I was now fucking two of Hamed's three wives. Talk of being stuck between a rock and a hard place. I was scared witless that things would end up the wrong way, yet I was not keen to be stuck without prospects elsewhere. XIII Jameela was not too happy about the new arrangement, but at the same time was unable to alter the new ground realities. On the other hand, she now had an ally in Layla, potentially against the third wife. The risk of screwing with any of his wives was bad enough with Hamed out of the country. With him around, this was further magnified. Where things should have cooled down between the three of us, the fact that they were vying for my attention made both keener to share my bed. Thankfully they appeared to have come to some sort of understanding and during any given week I would get no more than a visit from either of them. Layla was open to confess they were also trying to get into Hamed's bed every so often, so that he could be convinced of his fatherhood should they have a child. Being the Saudi male that he was, the possibility of shooting blanks would never have occurred to him or any of his male family members. With their undeclared competition on, I was the beneficiary of a fashion parade, the likes of which I had never seen before. Jameela dressed to show her long legs and slim body to great effect. Bikinis and miniskirts were the norm. Layla made sure her boobs and hair always looked inviting. Her preference was for western style ball gowns with plunging necklines. Layla was very single minded in getting pregnant and vaginal sex was the staple in our relationship. Jameela was much more open to other possibilities and I enjoyed the warmth of her mouth and the tightness of her rectum around my dick many times. XIV "Sikander we are going to San Francisco next week," Hamed announced, "do you have your US visa?" Following the meeting at the house with the American visitor, things had progressed with regards to the plan for the factory. Frank had invited Hamed to visit his HQ, and since summer had commenced, it was quite normal to take the family along. And California was always a favorite haunt for visiting rich Arabs. Between the wives, the servants and ourselves, we had a traveling party of nearly 20 persons. The staff was seated in the first two rows of the economy section. The rest of us filled the left side of the First Class Section. The three wives showed up in burqas and I found it difficult figuring out who each person was. Hamed sat down in an aisle seat, with one wife next to the window. The other two wives sat right behind them. I was in the third row and did not have anyone taking the adjacent seat. It would have been convenient to take the direct Saudia flight from Riyadh to New York. However, Hamed did not like the no-alcohol policy on that airline. Instead we were traveling in style on Lufthansa and would be connecting to San Francisco via Frankfurt. For the best part of an hour I kept wondering about the seating order of the wives. As the snacks trolley came by, the three ladies headed off to the restrooms. I began to enjoy my meal and drinks. Hamed decided to come by and chat with me, rather than sitting alone. The fine cuisine, strong drink and rarefied cabin pressure got us finely soused. "Sikander, it is good you have come along," Hamed said, "my first wife was quite impressed by the way you handled our American friend when he came over, and she suggested that since you do know Frank, you could help in the negotiations with him." That explained why I was along on this trip, rather than handling things in Riyadh while he was away. "But Hamed, I do not have the details," I tried to weasel out. "I figured that, so I have prepared a briefing folder that you can read," he replied, "also since the project was Layla's idea, she will be joining you for the meeting with Frank. It would be good if we got together before the meeting and ironed out our position." About an hour and a half after the three ladies had vanished, they reappeared. Jameela was wearing a blue silk Chinese dress, with deep slits or either side displaying her legs magnificently. Layla was dressed in nice leather pants, with a cashmere sweater and scarf around her neck. The third lady decided to come in wearing designer jeans, a midriff baring T-shirt, fashionable heeled boots and a spectacular smile. The other male first class passengers all looked at them appreciatively; the female ones wondered which planet the beauties came from. Noting they were back, Hamed introduced me, "Jameela you know Sikander from Texas, Sikander this is my first wife Layla, and with her is my new wife, Maya. Maya was perhaps the same age as Jameela, but had the smile of a model. Hamed could certainly pick them well. Of course, I greeted them all politely, not indicating at all that I knew Jameela and Layla pretty well indeed. I prayed that none of them wanted or expected to be inducted into the Mile High Club. Thankfully Frankfurt arrived before any of them had that thought! Hamed handed me the promised folder as we waited in the First Class lounge, and studying the documents kept me occupied. The ladies were too tired on the next leg and we arrived at our destination without any undue demands on my person. Somehow they all managed to change into another stunning array of outfits before leaving the aircraft. We checked into our all-suite hotel, where half a floor was dedicated to our group. All three of the wives had separate rooms and, for the night, Hamed joined Layla. The staff were divided into a further 5 suites and I had one that was opposite those of the three wives. After the long journey, it was heavenly to get to a nice bed. Doing the Sheikh's Homework XV I was in a deep sleep when a pounding on the door woke me. It took a while to gather my wits and inquire who was there. "Sikander, its me, open up," I heard Hamed's voice. Opening the door, I let him in. He went straight to the mini bar and poured himself a stiff drink. Sitting down a sofa he complained, "these wives of mine are driving me crazy!" "Why, what happened?" I asked. "Layla is angry that I bought Maya some jewelry in Frankfurt," he explained, "and Jameela just found out also." "But you bought things for them all," I reminded him. "Yes, but the other two think I am paying too much attention to the new wife," he went on. "Well she is exceedingly beautiful, and this would make others jealous," I responded. "Why you don't think Layla and Jameela are pretty?" he shot back. "No they are gorgeous, you are a lucky man," I stammered. "Well, I don't think I can go to that meeting day after with Layla coming along," he replied, "she will be in a bad mood and might spoil the deal." "So why don't you go own your own?" I suggested. "This entire project was her idea and I have not taken much interest. It is important she goes, and really I am not needed. My friend, I would be most grateful if you went with her, you already know Frank," he begged me. XVI Hamed's geography was somewhat rusty or he never bothered to check details on the meeting. Frank's office was not in San Francisco, but in San Diego! Layla and I were booked on an Air Cal flight to San Diego. The rest of the group planned to drive down a day later to hook up with us in Disneyland. Hamed gave me some last minute directions and waited by the hotel limousine that would take us to the airport. Layla appeared in a professional business suit, but with a blouse that plunged quite spectacularly. She was not wearing a bra and her nipples were easily discernable through the sheer white fabric. As she sat down in the car, I noted that the skirt rode up nicely to reveal much of her legs and thighs. I knew what was in store for me later. We were in San Diego in just about an hour and were soon at Frank's offices near Balboa Park. As arranged a nice luxury car had been ready for us at the Avis counter. San Diego was considerably warmer than Frisco and Layla had already dispensed with the jacket. Frank's eyes nearly popped out when he greeted us. Hamed's file had given me all the information necessary to conduct the meeting. Layla, however, took charge from the outset and controlled the tempo and the content with ease. After all, the project was her idea and she seemed possessed to bring it to fruition. Faced with her determination and beauty, Frank agreed to virtually every demand from our side. We concluded the meeting with a light lunch and he left us after giving us some tips on the sights to see in San Diego. Layla was keen on seeing the Pacific Ocean up close. Frank had mentioned some of the nicer beaches, and told us that Black's was a swimsuit optional site. Located at La Jolla, close to the UCSD campus, the beach fronted on to sizable cliffs and was supposedly not too crowded on a week day. Sure enough, there was plenty of open space and not as many people opting out of swimsuits as one would have expected. We had to park a fair distance away and the walk down had us sweating. Layla had put on a pair of shorts and sandals that she had retrieved from one of her cases. I had not been as smart and made the trek down as I was, minus the jacket and tie. Reaching a relatively empty spot, Layla parked her handbag there and kicking off the slippers ran to the water. Clearly it met with her approval as she returned with a smile on her face. "There now I have been in the Pacific," she beamed, "are you coming?" "I didn't bring a swimsuit Layla, or a towel," I tried to excuse myself. "It is a swimsuit optional beach, isn't it," she teasingly reminded me. "Yes, but I am not in the mood," I was hoping she would drop the matter. "Okay, but I am going in," she declared, dropping the shorts and blouse, "come join me won't you." As she ran off to the ocean in only the skimpiest of panties, her ample breasts jiggling, I could sense the attention of many of the other beach goers suddenly moved in our direction. After stewing in the sun for about 5 minutes, I removed all but my boxers and joined her in the surf. Layla was not as accomplished a swimmer as Jameela, and having gone too far out found the undertow too strong. Luckily I was around to bring her back in to a more manageable depth. For the first time since we met, she gave me the most heartfelt deep kiss, more out of gratitude for saving her life than for sleeping with her. Having accomplished her goal of a dip in the ocean, we headed to our hotel. XVII We took in a few more sights and found a nice hotel in Anaheim. I took the precaution of securing two rooms, though we both knew that one of them would be used lightly at best. It would look very awkward if I submitted an account for only one room. To be on the safe side, I ordered a proper dinner for two to my room, and had a light meal sent to hers. The food arrived and was nicely laid out. I had ordered a variety of light dishes, fruits and snacks. A couple of nice bottles of wine and liqueurs finished the arrangement. A few minutes after wards, I heard a knock on my door. Layla stood there holding a cheese burger and a plate of fries in her hand. "You order in a royal meal," she said showing me the sandwich, "while I am to eat McDonald's." I admonished her and took the fast food plate out of her hand, "not after I have got all this nice stuff for us." Layla had simply slipped on a bathrobe and slippers and come over without any make up. She looked divine and I seated her on the sofa, in front of the table holding the food. Since I figured we were not going outside, I had also opted to use the hotel's bathrobe. Sitting aside her, I loosened her belt so to reveal most of her breasts and also to ensure her legs were bare and visible. I poured wine and she took an appreciative swallow. Placing some finger foods and sliced fruit on a plate, I began to slowly feed her bit by bit. She caught on and began to put a morsel in my mouth every so often. I upped the ante by rubbing some sweet cream on her breasts and licking it off. Layla was up to the sport and, dipping her finger into the strawberry sauce that accompanied the cheesecake on the table, she left a trail around my now erect penis. For the first time since we had been intimate, Layla took my cock into her mouth and began to suck with gusto. I was in heaven as she put up a near professional performance. Under the relentless assault of her tongue, my resolve melted and I was impressed that she swallowed down every drop of sperm. "Layla, that was fantastic," I complimented her, "where did you learn to do that?" "Jameela and I found some dirty videos in Hamed's things and I learned by watching the actors in it," she explained. For once in my life I was believer in video based learning! We picked at the food a bit longer, but knew our hunger was for something entirely different. In no time, she was threadbare and soon we hugged under the quilt. We had the unique opportunity to spend the whole night together, without fear of discovery and both wanted to explore each other as best as we could. Rolling me onto my back, Layla climbed on top and inserted my rapidly regenerating cock into her. I had never before seen her without any adornment or makeup; I wondered why she even needed it. Her already sizable breasts seemed somehow fuller and she kept bending down to let me have a bite or suck on them. Suddenly tears welled up in her eyes and she lay down on me, still impaled. "Layla, what's wrong?" I asked with concern. "Jameela is so lucky," she told me, "she may be pregnant. If she has a boy and I don't, I will lose my place in the household." That explained why I had seen much less of Jameela in the past few days than normal and why she had not worried about my going off with Layla. "But Layla there is no way to tell when you can get pregnant. At least we know for sure that there was no problem with Jameela," I consoled her. "Help me Sikander, make love to me, give me a child," she begged. Turning over, so we were in the missionary position, I began to grind at her. As the tempo increased, she grabbed me harder. We climaxed together and lay spent, in each others' arms, till we were ready to go again a few hours later. XVIII "Sikander, you did great," Hamed was excited at the news of the agreement with Frank. "Not me, the real effort was from Layla," I was gracious. "Maybe so, but you have to get back to Riyadh and put the plans into effect so we can build the plant," he advised me. The family had congregated in Disneyland, and my holiday was coming to a quick end. "You are booked to return tomorrow evening," Hamed continued, "we will be back in a few weeks, I am sure you can handle things quite well." I was okay with returning to Riyadh. The only issue was that the ladies would remain in California. Oh well, I did need to focus on the planning and execution of the project and it was better that there were no distractions about. Both Layla and Jameela paid me a short visit on my last night, one right after midnight, the other at around 4 a.m. Jameela had used a home kit to discover she was pregnant, but had not advised her husband yet. She was due to see a doctor in a few days. I wondered if I was having my last "thank you" fuck with her. Layla was more loving in her farewell and said that she would miss me. It was tough to get back to the sweltering desert and particularly the odd unisex nature of the business environment in Saudi. Nevertheless the demands of the project meant that I was soon deep into work and with no hindrances, things moved at a good clip. XIX "Sikander, my good buddy, how are you?" Hamed sounded ecstatic. "Great, when are you coming back?" I was happy to hear from him after a news blackout of nearly two weeks. "We are returning on Thursday," he advised, "and I have really good news." "Good we need you back," I responded, "but what's the good news." "Coming to California has certainly charged my batteries," he was sounding bubbly, "Layla, Jameela and Maya are all pregnant, my dad was right I need to be away on holiday more often!" The news regarding the first two wives did not surprise me too much, given that I knew exactly what each lady had in mind. I wondered if this, however, meant that my trysts with the two beauties were a thing of the past. However, I wondered how Maya had managed to get pregnant; perhaps the vacation had truly cured Hamed's ills. XX Ten days later the entire group was back in Riyadh and the big house appeared to be hopping with life. There certainly seemed to be more servants on hand and both the elder wives had their cars and drivers restored. Hope as I may, neither Layla nor Jameela made an appearance at my residence. Hamed was on Cloud Nine. His inability to add to the "daughter" he had was causing distress from the clan. While the extended family could not tell for sure if there was a male child on the way, at least they were off his back for the next few months, and with three attempts in process, at least one would likely work in his favour! Luckily after some time, the house resumed its normal dozy sort of atmosphere. Hamed, faced with the prospect of being the father of a male heir, now began to take more interest in the work and we often did not sign off till well past the late evening prayer. He also started to get more involved in the cosmetics project and decided to meet Frank in Europe concerning equipment procurement and raw material buying. This trip would take him two to three weeks. A couple of days after he left, I received a message on my mobile to expect a visit. I was excited that Jameela would be finally coming over for a visit. Though she was confirmed pregnant, it was still early days and we could still have enjoyable sex. I looked forward to the evening and made sure that I was back by 10 p.m. "Hello Sikander, I don't think you were expecting me," Maya was seated in my bedroom, wearing a nice negligee, with little on underneath. I was stunned and searched for something to say. "You need to right the wrong you have done to me," she added. "I am sorry, I don't believe I have harmed you in any way," I protested. "Actually by impregnating both Layla and Jameela, you have put me into a serious bind," she told me. "But Hamed told me you are pregnant also," was my response. "Do you think I had a choice in what to say once those two became pregnant?" she questioned me. "I know you are the father of both their children," she continued, "I forced the answer out of them and they have confessed." I was terrified that my life was in serious danger at this moment. I had knocked up two of my employer's wives and that too in his house. "So are you going to tell Hamed?" I whispered. Her answer left me in no doubt as to how much of the Sheikh's homework I had ended up doing, and just because he had been failing finance class. "Don't worry; Hamed is gone for at least two weeks," she said, "that is the amount of time you have to make sure that I am as pregnant as his other wives!!!"