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From Russia With Lust

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 17 Nov 2001 0 comments
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From Russia With Lust by Mike AHer stockings were midnight blue. And expensive. On special nights Mariya only wore the sheerest and the best. As she grew up in her home village of Kazan in central Russia she’d dreamed of wearing them. They would have bought a week’s food for her family then. Tonight she decided they would match her classy 3-inch stilettos. Should there be a man lucky enough to explore underneath the long black sequined evening gown she wore this Friday night to the opera, he’d find a matching silk blue French teddy trimmed with lace. Despite Glasnost, you still couldn’t get underwear of this quality in Moscow shops. But Mariya’s step-father Mikkel was a training Commander at the Nakhimov Naval Academy in Leningrad. He had contacts abroad who, when he pulled her picture from his wallet would smile and nod in understanding. To say Stephanie felt sexy this night was a serious understatement. Yes, of course dressing expensively contributed to that. Her hair had taken most of the afternoon in the hotel salon and now sported a blue bow that held her brunette locks in a pony tail at the back. Not her normal style but this was not a normal night. Tonight, Mikkel she would make you proud. Her panties looked so tempting in the mirror as she dressed for this important occasion that having stepped into them, she stood in front of the full-length mirror and rubbed the vee with her right middle finger in a familiar circular motion until the feeling between her legs became too nice to ignore. Any lady will tell you that when the urge is upon you (as the Borg would say) Resistance Is Futile. She quickly removed them and lay on the wide bed, reaching into the bedside draw for her treasured vibrator. Then she assumed her favourite position. Keeping legs together, Mariya drew her knees up towards her, crossing ankles and rocking back onto the pillows to expose her bottom to the mirrored wardrobe opposite. She could see the target framed by her stocking tops and spreading the folds of her labia with her left hand, gently guided the tip inside. With eyes tight shut, she bit her bottom lip and teased her aching hole by moving the tool in and out just an inch. But the need was so great. She wanted to feel plastic fantastic. East met West as Mariya sank the vibrator deep. It was the best feeling, the cool, white ribbing gliding inside. The fullness exquisite. Next step to paradise. Deftly, she turned the dial on the base and the vibrations began. Lowest setting. Bbbbbrrrrrrr. The background noise of Moscow traffic wafted through the billowing net curtains to mix with the sound of her passion as Mariya gently moved her plastic lover in and out of herself. Was this better than a man she asked herself? There was no question in some women’s minds, but then they were not right in their heads. It was like a great meal. Why go straight to the main course all the time when there were starters and desserts. Still.Spreading her long legs wide, Mariya splayed open her vaginal lips with her left hand and increased the vibrations with her right whilst gently peeling back the folds to expose her engorged clitoris. One upward stroke was enough. The Russian beauty exploded in orgasmic bliss. Colours swam before her closed eyes. Her bottom slid easily down as she shook, pleasurably spasming on the pale white silk sheets oiled by her own cum. “Aaaaoooooohhhhhhh”Surfacing, Mariya caught the clock-face. Oops, time to move. She jumped off the bed and after cleaning herself carefully in the bathroom, dressed and headed for the door. Stepping out of the lift into the lobby of the Hotel Intercontinental, Mariya was aware she was not the only one who recognised her sex signals. Clicking across the marble floor with diamonte handbag clasped to her bosom, she smiled at a man with his wife walking the other way. Both met her eye contact and nodded in the way that well-off people do who see style. But the man turned and watched her backside. Mariya could feel his eyes burning into her shapely bottom as she walked towards the doors. 20 minutes later and a black Zil limousine swept across wet cobbles and tramlines out of the square and into the Moscow night towards the Opera House carrying Mariya to her date. She smiled privately at the grief the western woman would give her husband in the lift. The driver had the radio on a local pop station playing Steps version of Tragedy. Very uncool. She spoke in her Ukranian clipped tones to him. He switched it off, driving in the sulky silence taxi drivers have when they don’t like you. She relaxed and used the darkness to her advantage. From an early age Mariya had realised that touching yourself was very pleasurable, free and if not always easy at least worth the effort. When the mood came upon you, it was better than conventional sex - whatever that was.The buzz of her recent orgasm had left her still flushed to the point some quick make-up had been required to hide the blush in her cheeks. Lifting the hem of her dress to explore her panties, she checked she was clean & dry. It was a short step to pushing the elastic back and slipping two fingers inside. Oh no, not here. She parted her lips and inserted the all important middle finger carefully. In. Out. Round her clitoris. Her legs went wider and she slipped down easily on the leather seat. As the feelings of wonderfulness spread and her heartbeat increased, she knew she was being a bad girl again. Mariya whimpered as she hovered at the point of no return. Should she come? The lights of the Opera House came into view and the decision was made for her. Perhaps just as well. Adjusting herself, she looked at the eyes of the taxi driver in his rear view mirror. They were black but not blank and danced between her and the road ahead. Laughter lines were unusual in these guys from her experience. It was too late to worry about what he may have seen. She stepped from the vehicle and was greeted by a lacky under a large umbrella. She handed her shawl to him in the doorway and walked into the huge reception area of the Opera House, a modern affair no doubt built with Russian mafia money. The way their government was going it could never afford to build a new place like this. She took a glass of champagne offered to her. The mixed advantages of beauty include never being alone for long. “The Prince is over there if you’re interested” said a voice at her elbow. “Hello Felix, what brings you out of the Casino”. Mariya, switching to English was genuinely suprised to see her editor in black tie, smiling. “Oh, you know culture, Mozart, gossip, free drink...” replied her boss smiling dryly. “Going for the kill?” She looked at her editor, tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Now, would I do that?” Felix examined the bubbles in his glass. “Look, I know I always say this to you, but just don’t get caught. I shall deny I knew anything”.The two stood in silence for a moment looking at the scene of milling glitterati moving up the two staircases towards the auditorium. “Don’t you always, Felix. Now shall we do it or go home and play Scrabble - or something?”Both looked at each other and knew it had to be so. Felix was gay and driven by by his latest readership figures, Mariya by her public ambition and private sex-drive that was quickly becoming more than just office gossip. Her regular wanking sessions in the upstairs filing room of the glossy magazine were more well known to selected employees than she would wish for an ambitious girl. Felix was one. “Try not to get it on the carpet” he said and melted back into the melee as she pushed forward towards the Prince of Monrovia who stood at the foot of the stairs, ignoring the hangers-on and staring into the crowd. Her partner might be minor Liberian royalty but he was also reported to be seeing someone not unconnected with Monaco - and he was a looker in that uniform. Photographs were taken at the foot of the stairs that would soon be shooting around the world in minutes. Scary.Mariya and her beau took seats in a private Box and the performance began. Opera could be entertaining but when nothing you saw or heard made sense, it was hard to stay focused. In the darkness, she squeezed her legs together, feeling the beginnings of wetness. The first half was only half way through and she was alone with a most attractive man. What the hell. She reached across and let her hand drift onto his lap. It lay there for a moment as they both watched the Diva’s entrance to Mozart’s Marriage Of Figaro. As the powdered wigs surrounded the main players & a handsome actor opened his larynx, Mariya opened the Prince’s zipper.Her long fingers slid through the material and explored the end of his cock with the tips of her blue nails. She was initially amazed that there appeared to be little reaction from him apart from a short grunt. In the darkness, she continued to explore by feel the expanding manhood, rubbing it gently up and down to the beat of the music. Then it began. She felt movement. A large right hand reached across and gently lifted her dress, fingered her suspender belt for a moment before finding the silky bullseye of her crotch. The hands were rough in texture but gentle and experienced.It brought back intense memories of her first date in a Leningrad cinema when a similar thing happened. But that was supposed to be romance. Tossing off some foreign blue-blood for a story was business. But she was also very randy and in the blacked-out theatre this spunk trumpet she was playing was making overtures to her she couldn‘t resist. Her hand gently stroked his penis in the darkness and felt his large fingers exploring her sex, gently probing and rubbing. Perhaps he liked films too. The music was getting louder and the action faster on stage as the first half built to a climax. Her legs spread wider under the dress. “Oh, owh, oooooh“. His fingers rubbed round and round the edges of her lips - then deep. Her hole was now slippery and pliable. As hard as it was for her, Mariya moved his busy right hand from her own pleasure zone to his whilst slipping her wanking hand under the hairy balls to his anus. She inserted her long index finger deep inside. It’s a place prostitutes know of. And caring wives. All men - whatever their nationality - spunk with intense pleasure at this point. Wouldn’t you? The Prince was no different. Copiously. As the chorus on stage reached their climax, so did our happy couple. The white semen shot upwards. As she felt the Prince’s erect member pumping into space, it triggered her own gooey orgasm. A left hand middle finger drove deep inside through her leaking love juice to find the trigger which began her own eruption. It seemed to rush from within her, around her love lips and then to shoot through her engorged clitoris and out into her whole being as the Prince groaned and spunked beside her. Shaking with intensity, Mariya arched up as the orgasm she needed was delivered. In the darkness of the crowded Opera House she tried to hold back a cry of blissful ecstasy and failed. Ooowwwhhhhh....” It was hidden by the orchestra own crescendo. The curtain came down and the applause erupted. In their box, the spunk showered everywhere. The Prince had obviously not come for some time and it shot in all directions. Over the edge of the box and down on Mariya’s expensive dress. The white globs mixed with her sequins as she straightened up and joined in the applause for the performers. Her partner lay on the floor of the box in disarray. It was almost a minute before the Prince could get up and join in with a kind of glassy-eyed stare only Mariya could see.Next morning she lay in just her silk teddy poring over the papers spread across the bed, examining the concert reviews. “A Triumph of Art over Avarice” said one headline. The opera critic of “Pravda“ was puzzled. “The Crown Prince Albert of Monrovia seemed so overcome by the emotion of this performance, he did not stand to applaud for several moments“.Mariya closed the paper, leaned back and replayed the moment in her mind as the spunk she had coaxed from the Prince loins last night had shot over the edge of the box into the auditorium below. Opening her vagina, she teased the clitoris from between the pink lips of her pleasure hole with one hand, touching the most sensitive area very gently whilst the other reached across for her vibrator. She closed her legs and drew her knees upwards to expose the opening between her legs to her favourite toy. 2pm Smart black business suit. Skirt two inches above the knee. Not too far but crotchless black tights underneath. Felix looked up from his computer to see her striding through the office towards him. She placed her copy on his desk.“Did you get your shots“? Mariya asked him. “Yes. I assume you did?” His gossip columnist studied her stilettoes for a moment. “I shall take that remark as a compliment, Felix?”“I think you should - as long as it didn‘t land on the carpet”. Mariya turned and opened the door. “No, just on their heads“.