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Tamara

By: KerrFuffle



I know you and you know me, but you do not know it is me writing you now. You are married with kids and I am married with kids. You love them and they love you, just as I love mine and they love me. There is good sex in both marriages, but I know that you are overwhelmed by your feelings of sexual desire, just as I am.

You want to cheat and you should. You are uncommonly beautiful and you are well aware of that indisputable fact. Your face is gorgeous, just gorgeous, as you yourself see reflected in the mirror and in the faces of the men who can't hide their desire. You see them every single day of your life and you revel in their obvious recognition of your beautiful, sculptured face, your soft, flawless skin, your full, shapely lips, and your sweeping and lush hair. They get lost in your eyes, everyone of them, and you make them look at you and think about kissing you and fucking you.

Your body is too short and too heavy for your liking, but you know it does not change anything. For your chest is magnificent. Your natural breasts are massive, inviting and prominent. Men and boys stare at them a thousand times a day, and you love it each and every time. Your nipples frequently harden and you want to pinch them. You are justifiably proud of your splendid rack. Your tits and face and hair are astonishing, and nothing else matters. You are gorgeous and desirable beyond measure, and your own desire is equal to the lust you arouse.

I am not someone about whom you would have sexual thoughts. You have flirted with me the way you automatically flirt with every male you encounter, but I am not someone you would ever consider taking to bed. That is a serious misjudgment on your part.

***

We are sitting in a noisy hotel bar and you are flirting in that loud, showy way you always do, laughing too loud at your own jokes, touching my knee and my arm, aiming your tits at me, making sure I'm looking and that I know that you know that I'm looking. We're both drunk and getting drunker. We're talking about what it's like to be married for such a long time, how wild we both used to be, how much we miss screwing around whenever we felt like it. I want to encourage you to talk dirty so I ask you how much did you fuck around before you got married. You tell me in extensive detail, bragging about your exploits. We're both getting horny and increasingly shit-faced.

I ask if you've ever cheated on your husband. You say, you haven't, but that you think about it all the time. I ask you why you haven't and you say you've just held yourself back, but you wish you didn't have to. You asked me if I've ever cheated on my wife, and I say yes. You ask me to tell you when and how and I tell you in extensive detail, bragging about my exploits. I can see your nipples hardening under your blouse, which has one too many buttons unbuttoned. We order another drink and you ask me what's my favorite kind of sex and I answer that I love to eat pussy.

"That's your favorite, eating pussy? Not fucking or getting a blow job?"

"No, eating pussy. I love to stick my face in between a woman's legs and eating her out until she begs me to stop. I love French kissing and licking nipples, too, but I love to go down on a beautiful woman and swallow her up. And I am really, really good at it."

You let that sink in and show me your beautiful face. I can see your mind working, deciding whether you want to cheat for the first time with someone to whom you would not normally be sexually attracted. You want to squeeze your nipples, and you squirm a little bit and discover that your crotch is wet. I am looking at you intently to convey that I know how beautiful you are and that I am prepared to worship your body. Our heads are swimming with alcohol, and we reach agreement. You say, let's go upstairs. 

***

We fall into the elevator and you grab me and shove your tongue in my mouth. I reciprocate greedily and we make noises of desperation. I pulled your crotch into mine with both hands on your ass so you can feel my hard on. You grind your pussy into me as you grab my ass with both your hands. I grab one of your tits and you swoon a little, and we don't extricate our tongues from each other's mouths until the elevator door opens unexpectedly.

We burst into your room and fall onto your bed, you on top. My hands are in your lush and silky hair, pulling your mouth to mine. We cannot get our tongues deep enough inside each other, but we keep trying. We are whimpering with desire, and you are dry humping my rigid cock through our clothing, squirming like a teenager. I grab the back of your thighs and hump you right back. You lift your mouth to let a sound escape as electric current runs through your legs.

I flip you over and roughly grab both of your magnificent tits. There are none better, and we both acknowledge that with our urgency. You arch your back to offer them to me, to make sure I squeeze every inch. I am driving my erection into your crotch and pushing myself up on your chest. Neither of us is aware of anything else. There is more tongue kissing, more grinding, more squeezing and squirming, more noise-making, more switching back and forth of who's on top.

Eventually, you rise up and begin to unbutton your blouse. I pull your hands way so that I can do it instead. You throw your head back and stick out your chest because you can't wait to show them off. Your lovely blouse comes off in a wink and there is your bra. It is a sexy, frilly thing with lace and ribbon, but it is also a formidable harness as it would have to be to contain such massive breasts. I can see the perfect skin of both glorious mounds straining to be set free. I squeeze them appreciatively while you grind your crotch onto my zipper, as you reach around behind you to undo the clasp and escape from the straps in one continuous motion. You fleetingly ask yourself why you haven't ever done this before.

Your glorious, naked tits fall out and I take them in my open hands, feeling their weight and substance, stroking the softness of your skin and gently, ever so gently, flicking each hardened nipple with my thumbs. Your head falls forward and your rich, beautiful hair covers your handsome face, as you watch me lovingly mistreat your unspeakably beautiful breasts. You reach under and grab them yourself, lifting them up and out, your nipples sharp and stiff, as you pull my mouth onto each one. I taste them gratefully, as you crank up the intensity of rubbing our crotches together and bring yourself to a mighty orgasm. You produce a great deal of noise, encouraging me to squeeze your tits much, much harder as you seize the back of my head with both hands.

I turn you onto your back, tear open your belt buckle and forcibly remove your dress slacks, as you help by lifting your ass and extracting one leg at a time. I separate your thighs and dive into your soaking panties. I can see the shape of your cunt through the fabric and I lick roughly, as you grab my head and wrap your legs around my back. I do this for much longer than you can stand, pinching your nipples fiercely and helping you cum again. On your back, you make much more noise, and you buck and twist and jump to get out every last spasm. The bottom sheet is drenched with your fluid.

I slide both hands inside your panties, slide them down your naked legs, and immediately reposition myself at your pussy. The lips are red and puffy, the soft pubic hair is plentiful and curly, welcoming to my touch, and everything is glistening with wetness. Carefully, I apply the flat of my tongue directly to your clit, extracting a deep moan from the back of your throat, as you widen the opening of your thighs. I hold your legs securely with both of my arms, and advance on you. I increase the pressure on your clit, and slowly increase the speed of my licking, as you rock with my rhythm and your mind rockets off to who-knows-where. I am covered with your wetness, but I want you to make more, so I maintain a steady pace so that you can adjust to it and take control. I am listening and feeling for your reaction, learning what you want me to do, but never taking my tongue away. Your fingers entangle my hair and your toes curl reflexively. 

We can tell something is starting to build deep inside you. We are communicating directly through touch and taste, and we are patient, very patient. You keep guiding me and I keep licking as you instruct me, sometimes in silence, sometimes with encouraging sounds. We maintain a steady but insistent pace, and you are in charge, rolling your hips to reposition your pussy for maximum advantage, and directing my head with the tight grip of both hands. You are rocking your clit up and down, side to side, and I am responding. There is no hurry, so we take our time and your wetness becomes more plentiful, as do the sounds coming out of you. Words of one syllable are repeated and repeated, in time with my tongue stroking your wide-open pussy. I've pulled up the hood that covers your clit, which is totally open and available to the unrelenting attention of my tongue.

Your shoulders shudder and you shake your hair, as we both sense a subtle change in the seismic depths of your vagina, as if a dog perks up his ears when he thinks he hears something. Your legs stretch out and your body stiffens, and your thighs fall open wider. The muscles inside your pussy start to ripple, and you pull my face deeper inside you. I reach up and pinch your nipples quite hard, to which you respond with an affirmative guttural sound. Without realizing it, I am rocking back and forth on my toes, which are dug into the bed for leverage, driving me into you. I am fucking your cunt with my face.

Your hips are moving uncontrollably in every direction, responding to an uncontainable swell that is rising within you. You are making much too much noise - Oh! Oh! Oh! at first - and then rising to a sharp, incomprehensible song that trails off to an exhaled wisp each time. I am listening intently, paying closely attention to what you are telling me, finding ways to make the pleasure intolerable, sucking your clit into mouth, which makes your hips and torso convulse, as you expel a gasp and make it clear that I have to continue, but more so. Now you are fucking my face with your cunt. Fluid is pouring out of you, covering your ass cheeks and crack. You are conscious of nothing but your vagina.

There is nothing to be done now but endure. We have each other in our tightest grip, my face is buried between your legs, my tongue mashed onto your swollen clit and I am shaking my head violently to produce the maximum assault humanly possible. You are gratefully accepting whatever I dish out, and demanding more. Your constant squeals are interrupted by intermittent shrieks, gasping for breath in between, arching your back, pulling in my head until I can barely breathe, until the shrieks take over, unrestrained in volume and pitch, cum running down your ass, fucking your cunt with my face, fucking my face with your cunt, lifting your ass up higher and higher, overwhelmed by sensation until it becomes all-consuming, and breaks open, flooding out of you, wracking you with spasm after spasm, your noise becoming beyond the range of human hearing, grabbing your own meaty tits with both hands, pushing up well off the bed with your legs, keeping my face in your open space, as you surf a giant wave and the orgasm crashes over you and shatters you on the shore.

Our breathing heaves in rhythm for an indeterminate period of time, during which neither of us says anything. Slowly, the ripples subside until our bodies are completely slack. Your crotch, my face and the bed are completely marinated. Silence reins. I am the first to speak.

"Turn over and get on your hands and knees, with your ass in the air."

"What?"

"You heard me. Do it." You comply and I kneel behind you. "I need to rim your asshole."

"What!" 

I tell you to relax and place my hands gently on your uplifted bottom, and spread your cheeks to give me a clear view. As I expected, your little asshole is tight and clean, without blemish. I move in with my tongue, and extend an exploratory flick, which causes you to wince. You haven't done this before, but you aren't objecting.

Your asshole belongs to me, now, and we get to know each other. I hug your hips, spread your cheeks wider, and stiffen my tongue and slide it along your ass crack. You don't seem to mind. I extend my tongue to its full length and paint your hole with its flatness. You squirm and back further up into my face, so I keep licking the pucker. I put my left hand, palm open, on the flat of your lower back, and slide up your spine and across your shoulder blades. My right thumb enters your slippery pussy and you rock back and forth reflexively to slowly fuck my thumb. You wiggle your ass against my tongue. My thumb pumps your cunt, which is getting wet again. I stiffen my tongue against the hole, and reach around to grab your left breast. You are already squeezing the other one and yanking on its hardened nipple.

I have decided to fuck your asshole, knowing that you have decided to let me. Neither of us has ever done this before.

We are two clumsy amateurs, trying to insert an overly large round peg into a tightly closed round hole. We experiment with different relative positions, until I think I have solved the puzzle. Holding my cock and lifting your abdomen to adjust the angle, I shift forward and align the tip of my dick with the complex opening into your ass, and push ahead, demanding admittance. You remain stock still, the model of cooperation, knowing that it would be much too complicated if we both tried to move. When I breach the opening to the least extent, you concentrate on relaxing, inviting me to keep going, which I proceed to do. I am starting to feel the incredible tightness of your interior space, and I want you to swallow me up.

I shift my legs a bit for greater leverage and keep going, my cock leading the way. You're using your hands to spread your cheeks, anticipating there will be some pain involved in what's to come. My cock is making progress and I'm thinking that this doesn't feel much like a pussy; it is so much more physically challenging, and potentially, more physically rewarding. My hard-on is making progress, very slowing driving into you, and I have reached the point of forcing to realize the implications of your decision. You do the math inside your head and shout a loud "fuck!" to urge me to keep going. I comply.

Your synapses are firing that there is something very wrong and very exquisite going on here, and your conscious mind overrules your natural desire to defend yourself from my assault. I am halfway inside your asshole and it seems like a very long way to go. We are proceeding slowly and carefully, but unrelentingly. My prick feels as hard and as big as it has ever been, and you are squeezing your breasts unmercifully to increase the pressure coming at you from both directions. You have a fleeting thought that someday soon you will take one cock in your pussy and another in your asshole at the same time.

Your hands cup my balls with surprising gentleness under the circumstances. I complete my forced entry and we pause momentarily to celebrate our shared accomplish and prepare for what comes next. Your hips are under my control, as I push myself back and pull my prick out of your hole just a little bit. You react as if I've hit you with a cattle prod, and I slam forward to impale you again. Your face collapses onto the bed, and we both discover the meaning of the phrase "pillow biter." You widen your knees on the mattress, and settle in to receive the pounding you hope I'm about to deliver.

We now know how to do this, and I can pull out further so I can drive correspondingly deeper into the muscles of your rectum. I have become the beast you want me to be, and you provide the muffled noise that confirms that the pain and the pleasure have become inseparable. You submit and control at the same time. I am a mechanical device attached to the vice of your internal organ. Our pace quickens of its own accord, as do your biting sharp chirps and squeals, and your hands reach out behind you to rest on my ass and softly reinforce the pistoning of my hips.

This goes on for who knows how long, until I begin to realize that it can't go on forever. I am pumping in and out of you much faster than I can sustain, and I imagine that my dick feels like it's on heroin, full of indescribable pleasure, far too acute to keep increasing, but it does, and I go along for the ride. You are down there somewhere, as you remind me with the occasional gasp, and then I race to the point of no return, trying to drive deeper and faster and faster and faster and deeper and faster, and now I am the one making all the noise as my cock explodes and lurches and the cum shoots out of me and into you and then somewhere else because there's far too much to stay in a place so tight and I am jolted by wave after wave and madly squirting with shrill high noises like a girl cumming for the first time until I collapse onto your back with my cock still buried to the hilt and driving us both to the mattress.

As we lay there watching the diminishing fireworks play inside our brains and lose ourselves in our tingling orgasms, afraid to move for fear that the cattle prod will return, we slowly regain our senses and ever so gently stroke each other's warm flesh and feel our depleted muscles.

See what you've been missing?

Tamara



Tamara was a slightly petite young woman with long soft black hair that she'd dyed a powerful red and somewhat pale smooth skin. Quick to smile but with a twist of mind that was hidden from outside observers. She lived slightly off campus in a house she shared with three other female students.

We were returning together one night, sneaking in via the kitchen after a late night movie. Giggling a bit as we'd spent more time kissing in the back and letting eager hands wander over and under each others' clothes and bodies than actually concentrating on the film. I'd been nibbling on her delicious neck and was feeling most eager to continue my nibbling further down south on her fantastic feminine form.

We wound up against a wall, her hands beneath my t-shirt and mine beneath hers. Eagerly exploring soft skin as our lips fused. I kissed her allover her neck, feeling and acting almost as a vampire as I fed on her smooth sweet skin. Getting drunk off of her scent, her taste and her moans. I turned her around to face the wall, smelling her hair and kissing her neck. Pushing my lips close to her skin as I told her how good her hair smelled to me, breathing in the scent heavily.

I was pulling up her t-shirt, pulling it up to her armpits so that I could kiss my way downwards over her spine. Lick my way downwards over her spine, listening to her moaning as I kissed her spine. Kissing my way to the edge of her jeans. My hands having wandered allover her front, caressing her bosom, her nipples between my fingers. Playing with her hard nipples. Now I let them wander down across her stomach so that could open up her jeans, taking full advantage of where they were to explore and caress her crotch as I slowly pulled down her jeans.

A woman's bottom is so often a thing of beauty and so tasty to observe that I almost find myself salivating when faced with an appetising one. As I pulled down Tamara's jeans I couldn't resist kissing and nibbling on her buttocks, giving them light love-bites. Something about feeling that part of her between my lips, between my teeth, excited me even further. Making me feel like a hungry beast, wanting to dig into his prey. I peeled her thong away to one side as I caressed her buttocks.

Licking the sides of her labia, just beyond the edges of her lower lovely lips but also just before the butt-cheeks. Teasingly putting the edge of my wet tongue close to her juicy tongue but without letting the two meet. Trying not to go insane from keeping myself from tasting what I wanted the most. Moaning she begged me not to tease her so and I relented in an instant. Gently peeling her lips apart and tasting the elixir of her cunt, dipping my tongue inside and making her moan more than ever. Overjoyed at tasting her ripe and juicy fruit.

I licked her until I couldn't't stand it any longer and stood up, my hands trembling with lust I pulled down my own pants just enough to let my almost hurting member out. So filled with excitation that it was aching to get inside of her. As a final tease I let it just brush up against her cunt, rubbing the tip with a glistening bead on the end of it against her lower lips. Caressing her blood-filled labia with my engorged staff. Teasing and torturing her as much as myself.

Dipping the tip inside of her magnificent cave I then slowly pressed home, home to the most welcoming place that any part of my anatomy has ever known. Pushing home as we both moaned almost into insanity, gripping her hips as if her cunt would squeeze me out most violently otherwise. Finally home I just stayed there a while, having reached maximum depth I paused. First to catch my breath and then to kiss her, moving my hands allover her back as I kissed at first her neck and then her as she twisted her head to meet my lips.

Slowly I started the rhythm that I could feel pulsating through my whole body, making it pulsate through Tamara as well. Gaining entrance for us both into the otherworldly palace of pleasure that can be found when two people join forces in desire. Licking a hand I then brought it down over her bush and onto her clit, her swollen sensitive bead of Love's delight. Holding variously onto her hip or around her waist with my other hand as she used both to support herself against the wall. To feel her pulsating being around my throbbing member was mind-blowing to say the least and I could feel my fingers wanting to dig into her flesh even further to claim her even more.

Pausing but briefly to kiss her deliciously sensitive neck she asked me to wait a bit and pushed away from the wall. There was a counter running at a right angle to the wall and dividing the room across it's length into a kitchen and a dining area. Starting to turn around she told me to jump up and sit on the edge of it. As she started to turn I started slipping out of her, my drowned warrior as eager as ever I still obeyed her wish. Feeling my bare buttocks on the cool counter.

She turned on me with a glint in her eyes that told me she was as close to primitive lust-driven insanity as I was and when she'd approached me for a kiss she soon raped my mouth and pulled of my t-shirt at the same time, digging her fingers into my naked back. Ending the kiss she pushed me away and told me to lie down, taking off her own t-shirt as I was leaning back. My pants got pulled off in seconds but she didn't seemed pleased that it'd taken that long as she lounged upon my groin immediately. Devouring it with her hungry hot mouth. There was something about seeing her smile and baring her teeth as she devoured my member that both frightened and excited me at the same time. Soon I was so out of it with pleasure that I was trying to dig my fingertips into the counter to hold on to sanity.

She made sure we both were completely undressed before climbing on top of me. I edged further in on the counter so I could support my feet on it as she crawled on all fours over me. Giving me a piercing look from her deep eyes, teasingly keeping her lips just out of my reach before granting me a deep devouring kiss. We were like to wanderers lost in the desert and trying to extinguish our thirsts by drinking deeply of each other. She arose, giving me a glimpse of her beautiful yet small bosom in the moonlight that was filtering in through the windows. As my hands gravitated to her breasts she gripped my member to guide it in. Smiling victoriously when she caught it and blowing us both away when she sat down on it, letting it sink in fully. My hands squeezing her bosom and hardened nipples.

She leaned down for a kiss, unable to take it slow my pelvis started to work out a rhythm of it's own. Using my bent legs to give me force to start pumping even if she didn't. Slowly pushing my groin up against her bottom. My hands caressing her back, drawing little patterns on and around her spine as we kissed more and more deeply. Ending the kiss without getting up she started to ride me more and more. Switching between giving me a penetrating gaze and closing her eyes as pleasure took over. Her hair dangling over me and caressing my own hair.

She arose and I followed her, burying my face in her small but delightful bosom. Licking her nipples and areolas as if that was the task I'd been born and bred to do and nothing else. Holding her back as if I was afraid she'd fly away at any moment. Her fingers and more and more her nails starting to dig into my exposed back. Digging into me as if she had no proof that this was real other than the resistance offered to her by my skin and that she'ld only know it had happened tomorrow by seeing the marks she'ld leave on my back. Her marks of ownership over me. We were grinding at it as we lost ourselves in each other.

Suddenly she pushed me down and her rhythm started to become more furious, like a raging bull. My pelvis did all it could to match and help and with my hands on her hips I helped her to ride me even harder, trying to thrust as far as I could up into her at every attempt. Feeling a desire to thrust so deep into her that I'ld see my tip at the bottom of her mouth as if that would've been possible. Groping her rear with my hands now and then. She was shaking on top of me, getting lost in lust. Thinking about it afterwards it seemed like a miracle that no one of her house-mates came down to investigate our loud moaning or even just to watch us.

She rested a bit, slowing down and leaning down for a kiss, burying my face in her face, her lips, her hair. The deep kiss awakening my sense of humour I gave her a suggestion after it. Suggesting a change of setting and position, suggesting that we move onto the dinner table. Laughingly we kissed again. She jumped off of me and led the way holding my hand. Sliding off the counter I felt like I could barely walk as my pelvis had taken such a pounding. My legs feeling weak.

She climbed on top of it first, leaning forwards on all fours and shaking her tush at me to tempt me. I hardly needed the added incentive as I climbed on up after her. Kneeling behind her I let my member rest for a while between her buttocks. Lying there all covered in her juices. I started rubbing it against her for a while, just rubbing it against her skin. Moaning she begged me to put it in, I was too weak to resist for long. Sliding it in for the third time I just knew that it was now or never.

With a steady grip on her hips I forced myself to go slow at first, but she soon egged me on to go faster and harder. Soon pumping away in a more and more frantic rhythm. Beads of sweat were rolling down along my spine as I thrust onwards. Risking a brief caress of her skin I could feel that she was equally wet with exertion. Going faster and harder I could feel the tingling sensations along the spine, my legs wanting to go rigid despite it being impossible in that position. She got more and more unstable in her hold on the table although I guess I both stabilised and destabilised her. She'd had to place one of her hands on her clit and at times she moved it even further back to grip and massage my sack rather roughly, which was good in a way as had she done it more sensitively and teasingly then I'ld probably have come right then and there.

Leaning back a little I was pulling her towards me, pulling her close and pushing her away. I could feel myself getting the anticipatory twitches and after biting my lip constantly for half-a-minute or a minute or so (it felt like an aeon anyhow) I forced myself to ask her where she was. She just moaned uncontrollably in response and she'd been arching her back every so often for quite a while. Shuddering and shaking as if equipped with an internal vibrator. I could feel her hand on her clit getting more and more frantic, a feverish pace.

Going at it like a steam engine about to blow from too much pressure which is a good description of how I felt as well it soon became impossible to keep control. Soon sensing those signals which cannot be ignored nor averted once felt. Two humans going mad from lust and passion and the explosive pent-up pressure those had created when mixed. I just felt myself loose myself, keeping at it obsessively as more and more of my body went absolutely rigid with the cramps that comes before. Feeling her cunt starting to pulsate like an animal around my member. Moving as I could never stop as she was shaking to bits in my hands.

Trying to plunge myself deeper and deeper in each time as if I was trying to put all of me inside of her when I'ld come. I kept thrusting as I felt the first little load go and then I just lost it. She'd gone rigid with her back arch and shaking like in some kind of fit mere seconds before. Screaming out the release of pleasure-built pressure. I kept thrusting, stopping was never an option, as I emptied myself off of every drop, using her to milk myself out of everything. My spine alive as if I was being struck with lightning again and again. My whole body stiff as it expelled every last little drop of my load. Each drop pumped out of my staff felt in every little nerve of my body. Shaking as if in a fit as I freed myself from pent-up pressure.

Unable to stand up or even kneel afterwards I collapsed onto her and then next to her on the table. Both of us lying there spooning and panting as the world was slowly starting to stop spinning. Dizzily feeding each other weak kisses to regain strength and reaffirm love. Slowly, slowly regaining enough strength to weakly caress each others' sweaty skin with light touches. After a while sliding off the table onto unsteady legs. Wiping off the surfaces used a little to remove some evidence before gathering up our crumpled clothing and heading upstairs to her bedroom for sleep. Walking with our arms around each others' waists up the stairs, supporting each other and exchanging light kisses. Fondling and cuddling throughout the night until sleep took hold of our tired and satisfied bodies...

Waking up the next day in her bed I soon realised a few things. For one that Tamara was absolutely beautiful when she slept. Secondly that the people she shared the house with didn't think much of privacy as I was awakened by one of them coming into her room and rummaging around a bit. Thirdly, that Tamara was most assuredly the one of all of them that looked the best naked...



Tamara & Mr. Ivanov: First Time



As preface, see first story, Tamara & Mr. Ivanov: The Seduction

* * * * *

"Tamara, we are going straight to Saks. I will buy you any shoes you like, no matter the cost, even two or three or however many pairs if you cannot make up your mind quickly. However, you will leave the stockings to me. Then I will bring you to my home and fuck you like a madman."

I was fastening my seatbelt when he said that, and fumbled with the buckle so that the strap escaped my hand.

"Let me. Do calm down, darling. We are only going shopping."

He laughed heartily and quickly pinched one of my breasts before taking hold of the gear stick. I felt my clit swell immediately but I also felt confused and started to giggle, something I rarely do. 

Once more, my mind was emptied but for a single word. Fuck".

* * * * *

One of the salesmen, in a Russian accent, greeted Mr. Ivanov. I couldn't help blushing at the way the man looked at me, slowly and deliberately, top to toe and back again, all indecorously minded.

"Ah, Sergei, I am glad you are here. This is my precious niece, Tamara. Bring us, please, your best selection of evening shoes, and—something special. You know what I like."

I had fun trying on such expensive shoes. I even enjoyed modeling them for my uncle, and walking about in front of the mirror, where I noticed Sergei and several other men about the area ogling me with a shared enthusiasm. I felt amazingly desirable, and pleased at the eroticism of the whole scene. I nearly pranced back to Mr. Ivanov. 

"Darling, I was certain you would take to exhibiting yourself for me, but not quite so naturally and publicly. How you continue to please me. I am certain Sergei would love a whiff of your pussy. Spread your legs and let him get closer when he fits the next pair on your feet."

Blushing again, barely able to keep from giggling, I did as he requested. I discovered the unique satisfaction of the tease.

"Ivanov, with your permission—your niece has such delicate feet for her stature, feet about which Pushkin might have written poetry. Ah, this style enhances her instep, yes? I am so painfully envious of these shoes."

Instinctively, I lifted my foot roughly out of his hands. I felt repulsed by his familiarity and overt lewdness. When the he inhaled deeply at the moment the stiletto heel scratched his palm, I laughed derisively. Mr. Ivanov laughed too and whispered into my ear.

"My dear, you are the highlight of the pervert's day, perhaps his week, or month. How amusing. Do enjoy the power of your sex. Always take advantage of it, especially with me."

I chose a pair of black satin t-straps, not too high. He chose a pair of dark-red, suede ankle boots with four-inch heels. 

A woman behind the lingerie counter also recognized Mr. Ivanov, and spoke a Russian greeting.

"Madame Kokhlova, how lovely to see you. My niece needs stockings for a dance, and other occasions. You understand. Give us a nice variety, an even dozen. Garters too."

As with Sergei, I knew the Russian lady did not believe I was Mr. Ivanov's niece. That excited me too. She treated me like a princess, though, and I began to act like one.

"You will keep the boots at my home, they are only for fucking. When you wear them out, or I get bored with them, we will go shopping again."

He laughed as I felt the heat return to my cheeks. The sound of the word, fucking, hard and vulgar, embarrassed me. But again, I understood more. I knew he saw it. I began to wonder how very much more there was yet to discover about my body, about myself.

* * * * *

I stood at the foot of his bed, which had been stripped of everything but the fitted white sheet. A shiver raced down my spine when he told me there would be blood, that he wanted to see the stains clearly.

I was naked but for thigh-gartered, sheer black stockings and my new ankle boots. My nipples were puckered, my legs tense, but I held myself erect, glad finally for the good posture I'd been taught as a young girl. I was anxious, afraid, excited, and had never felt so tall and proud.

He walked in still fully dressed but barefoot, smiling and speaking Russian. 'Dirty' Russian, I could tell. It made me relax a little, and smile back.

"My dear, you are ravishing, enticing, perfect. Now, sit on the edge and lie back, like with the table. Lift your arms over your head. Don't be so nervous—though I must admit it contributes to my desire—I have your pleasure in mind, but deflowering must needs be somewhat painful. I cannot tell you how much, perhaps very little, but no matter—I assure you it does no harm, will not last, and soon enough becomes a lost memory, the pain, that is."

He repeated the previous afternoon's play with my nipples—the sucking, pulling and letting go—but this time his left hand caressed my belly, my hips, my pussy. His fingers proved as expert as his lips and tongue. I felt as if there were some alien creature between my legs, a little squid, a thing that mated with my cunt as if created for that purpose. 

"I love your heat and wetness, dearest. Let me tell you what I am going to do. First, I will bring you to satisfaction, especially to have you as lubricated as possible, to make the penetration easier. I will penetrate you instantly, ram fast and hard without respite or mercy, until I finish. Then, I will comfort you, hold you, kiss and caress you like a little girl. Time permitting, we might return to more mutually satisfying play. More fucking, Tamarushka, more fucking!"

Fucking. He seemed to adore me, had waited years for me, but he stuck to 'fucking'. I realized 'making love' would not be proffered—fucking would be the operative word between us. Still, I merely loved the discovery of myself and my sexuality, and the real pleasure this 'old' man knew how to create with me. He made me feel like a grown woman, made me believe I was beautiful and alluring. And, he would fuck me like a madman, a great madman—an artist.

He took off his trousers and shorts, and I had my first view of his cock, of any cock. I laughed out of anxiety and self-consciousness.

"I'm sorry. I'm nervous, and I've never seen a man's, his—."

"Cock. Don't apologize, dear. Say it. Say, cock."

Cock—I love the word.

He pulled the foreskin further back, unsheathing nearly all the smooth purple head.

"My cock is only at half-staff, my darling. Not bad, eh? Just so you know, I am above average in length, but nothing abnormal, nothing to fear. See the little bead of white cream at the tip? It is a prelude, if you will. Ah, I have an idea. Help me a little."

He crawled on the bed next to me and aimed his penis at my face, pulling back the foreskin again, holding the shaft in his hand so that the head was nearly touching my mouth. I gasped again but could not take my eyes away from the little monster.

"Lick the head, Tamarushka. It will taste like nothing, just a drop of dew. Now wrap your lips around it and try to poke the little eye with the tip of your tongue. Yes, yes. Lovely, my girl, lovely."

It felt strange, unseemly—so completely foreign, new to me. I'd done nothing more than rub Brad's penis through his jeans. I had not thought yet of looking at it, or touching it, let alone putting it to my mouth.

"You're so gentle, my darling. It won't break. Poke it hard, slap it with your lovely pink tongue."

We both laughed and he pinched a nipple with his free hand, several times until I moaned.

"Look, Tamara. See how you've made it grow."

I gasped (yet again). It seemed nearly twice as long, and fatter than any sausage I'd ever seen. It had one especially large vein running nearly the length of it in a crooked line. Another translucent drop of white appeared. Somehow I began to feel calm.

He tapped all over my face with his cock, making me laugh as he spoke Russian again, made the words sound as lascivious as what he was doing. I was surprised at the softness of the head's skin, silky really. I wanted to kiss it more, lick it all round, caress my face with it. I felt calmer still.

He lay alongside me and kissed me, fucked my mouth with his tongue really, while returning his tentacle-hand to my pussy, concentrating finally on my clitoris, making me scream out my orgasm, call uselessly to god for mercy.

"Oh god, that's enough. I can't bear it, stop, stop, please god."

He rose quickly and stood between my legs, continuing to fondle and tickle me down from my climax, talking sweet-sounding Russian all the while. I closed my eyes, stretching my arms as if awakening from one of my dreams, only this time very satisfied and content, happy even. 

It happened without warning. In an instant his cock stabbed into me with a shocking ferocity. I screamed piercingly, in a hot electric pain, then groaned and began to weep as he pumped in and out of me without mercy. I could not say a word, not even 'stop'.

"Look at me, Tamara!"

His voice shocked me out of myself. I witnessed his face in seeming pain. He grunted deeply, half-coughed, sputtered Russian words, rolled back his eyes and moaned as if in agony. I thought of scenes from horror films, the faces of terrified actors being tortured or killed. I felt his cock spasm deep within me, then a warm liquid leaking out of my cunt, dribbling down to my ass and the sheet. The sounds faded and his face softened. He sighed a bit, grunt-coughed a few more times, then eased out of me and lay beside me, whispering sweetly in Russian. I realized my pain was gone.

"Now you are my whore, Tamara—my exquisite tsarina-whore."

Whore—I love that word too.

"I am your empress-whore, your very, very, very serene highness of a whore."

He yelled his laughter and moved me up to lie fully on the bed, kissed my face all over and tickled my belly and ribcage. We exhausted ourselves laughing. 

"Tamara, my darling, we shall have the most wonderful times, you and I. 

"Let me get the duvet, we will rest a little in each other's arms. I will bathe you, and if you want, pleasure you again—so you know everything is fine. Perhaps we fuck again, perhaps not. All is well, Tamara. All is well.

"Now, take off your shoes."

* * * * *

More to come. 



Tamara & Mr. Ivanov: The Seduction



"Tamara, darling, when is your mother getting home?"

"In an hour, Mr. Ivanov, the usual time. As soon as I finish these dishes I start supper. You know that."

Mr. Ivanov was an old family friend. My mother trusted him to look out for me after school, even though I was a senior now. Still, he's been good to us since Father died when I was twelve. He takes us out to dinner, brings flowers once a week, and sometimes helps pay a bill, or 'loans' my mother money. He promised my father he'd see me through high school, even help me with college.

Mr. Ivanov's in his fifties, and actually rather good looking—for an older man. He's very pale, jokes that he's a real 'white' Russian, and has very dark blue eyes like lapis lazuli, and distinguished looking, slightly graying black hair. Even my friends think he's handsome, for a grownup. He's lean and very tall, six feet four. I'm five-ten, and enjoy feeling a 'normal' height with him.

After my father died, I started to have dreams about Mr. Ivanov in a way that bothered me. Even though I knew I couldn't control what I dreamed, I began to feel strange, nervous around him, especially when he kept me company in the kitchen because that's where my dreams always took place.

Typically, he comes up from behind while I'm at the sink or fridge, and rubs against me, up and down, back and forth. He blows on my neck or kisses it and I shiver and sigh, but I keep scrubbing the big soup pot (it's always that big pot) or holding onto the fridge door. He speaks in Russian and though I don't understand it, and it can't really be Russian because I don't speak it, I know what he's saying—and it's not nice. 

In the dream he doesn't do more than hold me and talk, or try to kiss me, but I become very aroused and always wake up frustrated and anxious, yet full of wonder about the man. And about myself.

* * * * *

I've never managed to retain the feelings of my dreams. I touch myself and wriggle about my bed, but end up only more frustrated. But—this evening it happened. My dreams came to life. 

Mr. Ivanov came up behind me just as I finished rinsing the last teacup. He leaned into my back and reached over my shoulders to take hold of my breasts, bending down to blow softly, warmly, on my neck, behind my ears. He licked and nibbled at each lobe and blew on them to make me shiver.

It all seemed to happen as if in slow motion. I felt as if I were in one of my dreams but for his imposing erection above my ass—it curved against my spine, its base at the small of my back. His hands moved slowly all round my breasts, lightly but firm of purpose. Though I did nothing, simply stood still, I knew he could feel my hesitation, my stiffened posture.

"Tamara, let me do this. Please. Don't speak, don't do anything. Let me touch you. Let me give you pleasure."

Honestly, I didn't know what to say—or do—but I felt my crotch become damp, so I willed myself not to let him know how I felt. His breath seemed to make me quiver all over, as if little waves were moving under my skin. I felt my nipples tingle and get hard. I had to work at keeping still and quiet, but I could not control my rapid breathing. 

He went under my shirt, quickly pulled my bra over my breasts and started rubbing my nipples, lightly, circling them as if his fingertips were feathers. I don't know why, but I tried to hold my breath.

"Darling, your breasts are marvelous. I knew they would feel like this, I have studied them for years, watched them grow from little nubs to this. How I used to dream of kissing those newly budding pips when you barely reached my chest, and now my hands cannot hold them fully. Good lord, your nipples are large, and so stiff—like a real woman's. You may just be eighteen, but your body and its responses are far beyond your youth—my lovely Tamarushka."

He took each nipple between a big thumb and finger, squeezed a little, pulled out fast, then let go. He did this several times and finally I could not help myself—I actually squealed, yelped aloud, like a frightened puppy.

"Oh, god, please. Stop, Mr. Ivanov. Please, oh god... god... god."

But I didn't want him to stop, and he knew it.

He squeezed, pulled and pinched a few more times, groaning low into my ear, leaning his erection more forcefully against my spine. With each letting go of my nipples, my pussy throbbed, quickly soaking my panties through. I felt the heat between my legs, caught my scent rising up. He caught it too.

"Yes, darling girl, that's your cunt. That strong, beautiful odor is your sex, the desire I have imagined and dreamed about for years. Let me touch it. Let me look at it, taste it."

I could only moan my consent, my confused lust, yet I was frightened when he said taste it. I'd never imagined such a thing. Even in that moment I could not think what he really meant. Was it just a way of talking to women? Why would he want to even look at it? 

He turned me around and pulled off my t-shirt, released my bra. Instantly I remembered the way he used to help mother put me to bed, how one night she told him to wait until I'd changed into my nightgown before coming into my room. I began to feel embarrassed then, but I did not know why. Now I wonder when his desires began. Did I know it, did I begin to want him then, at such a young age? Did I begin to fashion my dreams that long ago?

"Look at you. What a goddess you are—my own sweet tsaritza—I know you will be delicious."

He led me out to the dining-room table, lifted me easily and laid me out flat on my back. With his right hand, he clasped my nearest breast and squeezed round so that a dome of it was squeezed upwards. He bent over and took the little hill into his mouth. It felt as if a big fish had latched onto it, his mouth was so warm and wet, his tongue dancing on my nipple. His thick lips opened wider and I thought he was trying to take my whole breast in his mouth, but he sucked hard, pulled up fast, and released my nipple the way he'd done with his thumb and finger. 

He repeated the sucking and release, endlessly it seemed, while pulling and rubbing my other nipple with his left hand. I was moaning intensely now, and groaning 'oh god' and other tired words and unintelligible phrases. The pulsing in my cunt accelerated and my legs involuntarily stiffened, my toes curled under.

"Stop, I'm going to faint. Oh, god, help me. Stop, stop. What's happening? God, stop."

It makes me laugh now to think of my illiterate and blasphemous lust.

"Tamara, I want you totally, but there isn't time for me to take you properly."

He paused, seemingly unsure for a moment. I became anxious that he really was going to stop.

"My dear, I do know you are virgin."

Virgin. I was stunned at the sound of the word. I shut my eyes tight. How could he know that? How could he presume? I was an American girl of eighteen with no father. I lived in North Hollywood. I'd had two real boyfriends. He knew that, he'd met them. Brad and I had been dating nearly three months now. I felt like crying. 

"Darling, what is it?" 

I opened my eyes and looked into my seducer's eyes for the first time since he'd come up behind me. I was lost to him in that moment.

"Yes, Mr. Ivanov, I am a virgin."

Then I burst into tears.

"Shush, shush. My sweet Tamarushka. Do not be shy. Do not be embarrassed. You are virgin, yes, but you are ripe—for me, for life. I am now completely certain you are ready. You trust me, yes? Breathe now, slow. Be still. We continue."

I trembled, trying to relax my body. I looked into his glittering eyes and smiled.

"Good, good, my beauty. Now—I am going to satisfy you quickly, my dear. You will experience something truly wonderful, like magic."

He undid my jeans, pulled them off along with my wet panties, and placed me so that my pelvis was at the table's edge. He knelt on the floor and put a leg over each shoulder. I could feel his breath as he neared my crotch with his face. 

I suddenly realized I was completely naked and laid out on the dining-room table, Mr. Ivanov's head was between my legs, and my mother was due home in thirty minutes. I felt trapped and perfectly vulnerable. It excited me.

"Bless you, my sweet, bless you for not shaving. I know it's the fashion, but I prefer a big natural bush. The thick hair holds your scent, your great wetness. You are already nearly soaked. I will drink you full up."

He breathed heavily a few times then plunged in.

I kept up my incoherent moans and pleas while Mr. Ivanov ate me out. That's what it's called I now know, but while it happened I knew nothing, simply felt as I'd never felt before except in my dreams—beyond my dreams. I can remember the moment I stopped thinking.

I clasped my mouth tightly with both hands to keep from screaming, and would have bucked myself off the table if my thighs had not been held so firmly. My entire body shuddered for what seemed a small eternity of sheer heat and pleasure that was near pain for its intensity. I felt my clitoris pulsating to implosion beneath the tip of his tongue. I did scream, behind my palm, over and over until the pleasure-pain began to ebb.

"Darling, your capacity for sexual joy has exceeded my imaginings. Our time is nearly up, so I shall bring you out a little more, then you must get dressed for your mother's arrival."

He continued with tender laps at my cunt—licks and kisses only. I felt my pleasure recede, then flow again, recede, flow, and die finally with the last tender buss to the swollen lips of my vulva.

* * * * *

"Mr. Ivanov, you are always generous, but why Champagne tonight?"

Mother and I were treated to a celebratory dinner that evening, supposedly for good news on a new business deal. That was his excuse for my not having started our supper.

"Mrs. Larin, it's my pleasure to share my good fortune with you and your darling daughter. Please, both of you—drink, eat."

He looked directly at me while filling my glass. 

"Let us each look forward to life's near delights."

My fear returned suddenly so that I could feel my cheeks begin to redden, and had to look away. I could barely swallow a few bites. I drank slowly, afraid of losing the slightest bit of control. I could not look across the table at Mr. Ivanov and actually began to wonder what I should call him now, even mother did not use his first name after all these years. I wondered if mother had the slightest hint about us, about me, but I also knew I did not really care.

He and mother spoke as usual, of old times, their mutual friends and the old Russia. When they become nostalgic, they always revert to Russian. I was grateful to not understand. I sipped my Champagne and began to feel warm and relaxed, despite myself.

"Tamara, sweetheart, I have to work very late tomorrow so our dear friend is going to take you shopping for new shoes for the Winter Festival dance. Mr. Ivanov has offered to get you the shoes of your dreams. He will pick you up at school, so don't dawdle with your friends, be outside at two-thirty sharp." 

My dreams? Oh, mother, if you only knew.

* * * * *

To Be Continued