Irkutsk Ch. 08

Day 4, No 3: The clothes that weren't

I felt the gentlest of touches on my lips and opened my eyes to see Yulia just an inch or two away. She held her hand out and helped me out of bed. She looked quizzically at Maria, who appeared asleep but whose hands were both jammed tightly between her legs. Yulia rolled her eyes at me. I decided to say nothing.

She led me out of the room and into a huge gymnasium with an Olympic sized pool. Several ladies were swimming or using various exercise machines, and Yulia took me to a walking machine being used by a tall slim lady wearing skin tight cutoff jeans and a white crop-top singlet that was just as form-fitting.

This was Slava and I must do whatever she said. Yulia transferred the hand that she was holding to Slava and walked off without a backwards glance. I looked at Slava and decided this was another lady who could have enslaved me without any force. Her denim cut-offs were so short that about six inches of pocket hung down the front of each thigh, and the hemline of the material rose from bunching between her legs in the middle (not that I was looking) to high on her hips on the outside.

Slava wanted me to spot her weightlifting, and moved over to a weight bench. She lay down on it and I stood at the head end. I was worried that she might lift weights that were too heavy for me to control, but either she was in a "low weight, many reps" part of her routine, or she was being kind to me. What I did notice was that all the ladies around were looking at me, some openly, but mostly surreptitiously.

Slava worked at the weights for twenty minutes and then moved to a walking machine. She told me she had been a walking champion and needed me to check her action to ensure she wasn't lifting.

Asking me to judge such a difficult technical point seemed a bit silly as I had sometimes watched walking events at Olympics and athletics championships and had never been able to work out what was legal and what wasn't. (To be honest I had thought the judges were similarly confused.) But I was a slave and I decided just to do my best. In any case watching her legs wasn't a great suffering - I had had lots of practice looking at the legs of beautiful women throughout my life, usually a little sadly as they hadn't generally been en route to my bed.

As I watched I noticed that her clothes were even more form fitting that I had first thought, and then it struck me - they were coloured skin. Slava was naked!

The folds of denim bunching between her legs were actually her labia! That created an entirely different picture, watching a beautiful woman who looked at first to be dressed but was actually completely naked and on show, with unexpected but familiar colouring.

It is always fascinating watching a lovely naked woman do anything - or nothing - but this was a new concept to me. I was hypnotised. After about half an hour of walking she asked me to go for a walk with her around the complex. I walked with her out of the gym and she showed me some of the unusual features of the underground construction. It was very distracting wandering around with a gorgeous woman who was both naked and dressed at the same time. Watching her body move was simply entrancing.

Eventually I asked her, "Your clothes; the paint. Why? Does it smudge? How does it feel?"

She responded "I'm an exhibitionist and it means I can get around naked in public without people calling the authorities - usually. Even when people notice most don't seem to worry. And if I get bored with it, or cold, I just put on clothes and I'm just like everyone else. No it doesn't smudge because it's not paint. It is tattooed on. I feel completely naked when I forget about the tattooing, but when I am showing off it feels so sexy, I have sometimes had a quiet orgasm in a crowd where no-one knows I am undressed. All the ladies know about it and were waiting to see when you'd notice."

"Didn't it hurt?" I asked.

She told me that it had hurt more than she could have imagined around her erogenous zones, but she had been able to sublimate the pain into sexual feelings and dreamed masochistic dreams. She had actually orgasmed at some stages during the process.

She said the pain had been well worth it anyway. I told her that it looked extremely sexy for a dozen different reasons, starting with the fact that skin-tight clothes are always sexy on a beautiful woman and these were as skin-tight as you could ever get. And that the thought of making love with a woman who was wearing jeans at the time was simply mind-blowing.

She approached very close, put her arm around my neck and gently blew in my ear, whispering "Well, you're about to learn what itfeelslike." With her other hand she took mine and put it on her breast. I closed my eyes for a moment and enjoyed the feel of a beautiful woman's breast, and with the added thrill that she was rubbing my hand over her nipple.

After a few seconds of this I opened my eyes and watched my hand slightly squeezing on the breast. She had small high breasts without any sag at all, which helped maintain the image that she was clothed. The sight of my hand on her "crop-top", while feeling naked skin under the hand is hard to describe, but it was certainly a special pleasure.

Then she took my hand and put it down between her legs. This was even more surreal. She was literally dripping wet. When I looked closely there were now dribbles of moisture beading and ready to fall, and she was slick over the entire area, but the colouring was such that the denim look still kept its matt appearance. She took my hand away and placed it around her waist and then lifted a second arm around my neck.

"There's just one thing missing - I need you inside me. However, I'm not that much of an exhibitionist, I want this in private." She led me across the large empty room and through a doorway into a small room with a low single bed in the middle and a plain cupboard against a wall.

"Don't do anything. Just stand there." She placed her hands on the sides of my head and started kissing me. I put my arms around her and pulled her close, but she broke away and said louder: "Don't do anything. Just stand there." She returned to what she had been doing. It felt odd just standing there fully dressed with my arms by my sides, with a beautiful naked woman (and without actually looking at her tattoos I now thought of her as naked) and not responding at all. Well, not responding consciously; I am sure my heart rate was up and one part of me was very definitely responding.

Then she started undressing me, scattering my clothes around the room. When she came to undo my pants she knew I was erect, and placed her hand on it through the pants and looked up at me, saying, "Is this mine?"

I told her it was and continued standing there with my arms still at my sides. She struggled with my belt and I moved to help, but again she broke away and said: "Don't do anything. Just stand there." Yes, I'm a slow learner, but I was gradually picking this up.

Back to standing there, arms at my sides. She finally managed the belt, and then the buttons and zip, and pulled everything down exposing me. She grabbed the most convenient handle and backed up, pulling me after her, with my pants around my ankles hindering my steps.

Then she sat on the bed, and ran her hands up and down my pulsing length, leaning forward and examining it closely for a while. I watched her tongue, just the tip visible in her half-opened mouth, unconsciously mirroring the motion of her hands. She asked me if they were all like this. I told her that they all vary in many ways, but this was the only one I've ever seen up close.

She thought for a while about that, nodding slowly. "Well, I like this one" she replied, and pulled the skin back firmly until the glans was tight and shining. "Does this hurt?" she asked.

"No, not unless you pull it much harder, and even then there are some times when I won't mind." I responded.

She bent right down and took my shoes off, lifting one foot at a time. I had to put a hand on her shoulder to keep my balance, but clearly that was permitted. Then she lifted my feet again to unhook them from my pants, and I was standing naked before her feeling a little as if I were exposed and she were not, despite her nakedness. She stood up, swapped places and pushed me to a sitting position on the bed, then laid me back, swinging my legs up onto the bed.

Then she started a detailed exploration of the front of my body starting with my feet. Each part she checked and then gave a peck of a kiss. As she slowly moved up my body she omitted just one part. After checking each my nipples she gave them a quick nip instead of a kiss. And then after checking my scalp she returned just a few inches lower and returned to kissing me. I had learned my lesson and allowed her to do what she wanted without responding.

Eventually, after about ten minutes she looked downwards, then back at me. "Do you mind this?" she asked.

A little cheekily I responded "Does it matter?"

She told me it didn't matter, I was going to be used regardless. However, I was her slave and I must answer her question. So I told her I didn't mind it and was enjoying her attentions.

Without further delay she simply lifted one long lithe leg over me and impaled herself on me, right up to the hilt. It was so quick that I have no idea whether her hymen had been intact or not, but it felt wonderful. I kept myself under rigid control and managed to restrain myself from thrusting upwards.

She sat there, both hands on my chest and with her legs dangling either side of the bed, gently moving her hips around, as if to feel what I felt like inside her. It certainly felt wonderful from inside! However, for the present I was even more aware of the sight of a clothed woman astride me, her denim shorts apparently penetrated by me.

As she swayed around I watched her pure white breasts and nipples react to her movement, swaying very gently from side to side. Then she leaned forwards and touched them against my chest. I watched them move down onto me with fascination. There was nothing else in the world as I saw her crop top moving up and down my chest and felt two naked breasts lightly brushing against me.

Then for a while I lost sight of her breasts as she leaned down and kissed me very hard, gently swaying her body against me from her toes caressing my ankles, all along her body to her hands on the sides of my head. It felt as if I was being massaged by a squadron of angels, but it was just one very sexy lady.

Then she suddenly got up off me, took my hand and guided me off the bed, and then bent over the bed facing away from me and said "Now!" I could see the firm round globes of her buttocks covered in blue denim and the sewing on the seams, including the slightly irregular seam down the middle.

I was enjoying the sight, until I was brought back to my duties by her. I said now!"

I didn't need telling a third time. I stepped up behind her and slid smoothly and easily all the way into her. I reached around her with my left hand to play with her vulva, while with my right hand I started teasing her nipple. She tilted her head back so she was facing almost towards me - it still amazed me how flexible these ladies were - and hissed at me "Don't be gentle, attack me!"

I worked her harder and again she turned, sideways this time, looked straight in my face and said the other ladies had told her that if she wanted I would cause her intense pain, and so I decided to give her something to think about. I squeezed both her nipple and her clitoris as hard as I could between finger and thumb, while thrusting hard into her from behind, bracing my hand against her so she could not slide away.

I looked up and realised she had arranged this so that I had a large mirror facing me, and for a few seconds I could see both her white crop top and her blue jeans twisting and distorting in my hand.

This was interrupted, however, by a low moan heralding her collapse, apparently lifeless, onto the bed with her legs spread obscenely apart. I was caught by surprise and fell on top of her, causing me to thrust even deeper into her and pressing my hands harder against their respective erogenous zones. I thought she was hurt, so I lifted myself off her and leaned over her head to see if she was breathing.

I could see her closed eyes flickering rapidly, while saliva was running out of her half-open mouth onto the bedclothes. I think she might have stopped breathing for a moment, but then she started panting as if she was out of breath. Every sudden expiration caused a little spray of saliva to appear, and with every inspiration the tip of her tongue would poke out. Slowly she turned onto her side, facing me, and both of her hands gradually moved between her legs.

Then she started humping against her hands, and drools of fluid started dripping off her wrists onto the bed. The moaning started again, rhythmically with her breathing, and then developed into unclear syllables. After a while I realised she was saying my name: "Mich - ael; Mich - ael; Mich - ael" over and over again. After a few minutes more she fell over onto her back, and her legs parted until she was lying on her back on the bed and her legs here hanging one off each side of the bed. And still her hips were humping hard up against her hands.

She was now calling out my name loud and clear, still in time with her movements. By now I had become merely an audience for her sexy performance. I didn't mind though. Even though I knew she was naked it was still hard to put aside the thought that she was wearing cut-off jeans and a crop top.

After what seemed like ages she suddenly opened her eyes and looked at me. "Now!" she said again. There didn't seem to be much doubt about what she meant, and I grabbed her hands with one of mine and lifted them firmly over her head. I thrust three fingers of my other hand deep and hard into her unhesitatingly, then pulled them out and tasted them. I repeated the action but then smeared the rich thick juice over her face.

Then I gave her what she really wanted, hard and fast. I didn't think she would mind after her mindless orgasms if I had one of my own. It didn't matter anyway as she resumed her thrusting movements, suggesting she was still - or just possibly again - off in her sexual dream.

But then when I was very close myself, she suddenly rolled me over onto my back, sat her drenched denim pussy onto my face, and swallowed me whole, sucking hard at the same time. It was now my turn to give out a low moan as she stole what felt like a week's supply of my seed and continued sucking as if to try for next week's supply. Unbelievably she succeeded, although with a much reduced quantity, as I came a second time in less than a minute. Without warning she switched ends, and impaled herself back onto me without ceremony while her face, flushed and dripping, appeared in front of me.

An enormous grin slowly spread over on her face and she proclaimed "Gotcha again! How often does that happen?" I suddenly felt, well, drained, but I managed to answer that I had never come twice in such quick succession before.

The grin widened even more, and she said brightly: "well, a third time would be unheard of then eh?" The face disappeared, and the other end returned. Despite my lassitude, I decided she deserved some reward for her work, and went straight for the clitoris again, but this time with my teeth behind my lips. I was able to get a good pressure onto her, and I think I managed another orgasm out of her quite quickly, but it didn't change her focus on getting number three out of me.

I felt one finger, then a second, slide into me and attack my prostate, while she sucked on me like a demon. I lost all awareness of her sitting on me, and my entire consciousness went to my throbbing centre deep in her throat. I felt as if someone could have chopped my head off and I wouldn't have noticed.

I could feel my third orgasm boiling slowly, inexorably, out of me, and in a minute (or perhaps a year - I had lost all sense of time) it disappeared deep into the throat of this wonderful, sexy lady. The last I knew before consciousness finally left me was a triumphant-sounding laugh from her.

........

Slowly I became aware of warmth upon me. I didn't even know what "me" was yet - all I was aware of was the warmth. It was comforting, just comforting. As I focused on this warmth, I started to notice it had a cadence, a cadence I found comforting and familiar. As my awareness developed, I could detect that this moving warmth had a location, a place which seemed like a nucleus. Once I understood the concept of location, I realised that the nucleus of this warmth was surrounded by places of slightly lesser, but still pleasant, temperature. I was able to home in on some secondary centres of warmth. I tried to count them, but could not think of the number after "one".

That seemed to make things difficult, but I couldn't work out why. I picked one of these secondary centres and thought about it. There was movement - no, rubbing, - as well as the warmth, and that too was enjoyable.

Then something else. Something completely different. It was not warmth, or movement, it triggered something entirely different. It was not touching me, so how did I know about it? There seemed to be a sequence here, but for someone who could right now only count to one, the sequence was impossible to distinguish. My capacity to understand was almost zero, so what about my capacity to feel? Not feel as a tactile sense, just "feel" as in experiencing if not understanding.

Suddenly this new sense made sense. It was sound! I was hearing! "Mich - ael". What did that mean? It sounded - somehow belonging. As if it were for me.

And again "Mich - ael". It was for me. That was me. "Michael. Do you like this?"

Yes, I did like it, but how to convey that information? Then something else, entirely different yet again. Something in front of me. A strange glow. It triggered a physical reaction in me, which increased the glow a hundredfold and made me shut my eyes.

Eyes! I was seeing. And Michael was me, and someone was speaking to me. And then I thought back to the first, most basic sensation.

Touch. Something warm and nice moving against me. I opened my eyes again and blinked.

That was Slava. Astride me again and gently moving her hips against me. But she was dressed...oh, yes, I remembered - those tattoos.

I tried to work out how long this had been happening, and the only answer I could come to was that she had been doing that since the beginning of time, or maybe longer.

"Michael. Are you with me?"

I looked up and smiled. "How long have you been doing that?"

Slava looked at me with an unusual mixture of bliss and puzzlement on her face. I suddenly had the weird thought that I might have had that same expression on my face only a few moments ago.

She stopped her movement on me, tilted her head sideways, thought for a second and replied, "I don't know. It's as if I was born here. I feel as if I've been here since the dawn of time.

Long enough to..." And she suddenly pressed hard against me with an intense look on her face. "...get there again ... oh, and again." She was more lucid now. "I just woke up a few seconds ago, and I was already doing this. You came back to me only a few seconds later.

How did you do that to me? I never knew sex could be like that. You're a magician."

I knew I was not going to orgasm again for a long while after what she had done to me - whenever that was.

I lifted her off me and laid her next to me. I kissed her brow and told her that whatever miracles I had performed on her, she had also performed on me. I was tired and sated. Happy and relaxed. She lay next to me with a beatific smile on her face, her eyes closed and one hand on my hip. I hugged her close, and returned to sleep. I was back to zero senses, but I still felt. Felt...happy.