Educating Yelena Ch. 01byMan4Living©
When he first set eyes on her at the airport in Kiev, he had been entranced. They had spoken by phone for several months and exchanged photographs. He had liked the tone of her accented voice, and been pleased by the images she emailed him. He had worried though that, like so many lonely hearts on the web, she might have faked the pictures, or posted ones from ten years before. Neither of them were in the first flush of youth.
She stood there now amid the throng of shouting taxi touts, an island of calm radiance amidst the churning sea of gesticulating humanity trying to attract the business of the weary arrivals.
He was relieved that she was still there. He had left his spectacles behind in the departure lounge in London , and had been unable to see to fill out the immigration form at the passport booths. He watched helplessly as male officials in military style uniforms, and females in impossibly tight and short skirts scurried to and fro. Finally he had summoned courage to accost an official to request his assistance. The man had officiously fired questions at him and written them down with a practised air of self importance. Then, safely admitted onto Ukrainian territory Derek had stood forlornly at the baggage carousel as realisation dawned that his luggage would not be arriving any time soon. He had lost his luggage, or rather the airline had. He had then sat in a Ukrainian official's office for an hour whilst the lost luggage form was filled out with painstaking slowness and diligence, and a multitude of interruptions.
Derek was two hours beyond his flight's time of arrival before he reached the sliding doors leading into the arrivals lounge. Fear and uncertainty gripped his stomach as he realised that if she had given up waiting and gone, he would be lost without a change of clothes in a strange, exotic city whose signposts he couldn't read. But Yelena had waited, and was there now, smiling delightedly and with relief at the sight of him. All his frustrations and uncertainties melted away in a moment.
"Dahling!" she shouted exultantly at this man she was seeing in the flesh for the first time. The sea of turmoil parted, as for Moses, as her voice registered above the surrounding pandemonium, and she began to run towards him with arms outstretched. As she later told him, she had been so relieved that he had arrived at last that she had lost all inhibition. As the touts made way for her to run to him they drank in the sight of her curvaceous form in her close fitting top and skin tight jeans.
Her photographs had not been a good representation of her: they didn't do her justice. She was more beautiful and sexy in the flesh than her pictures. And the strangers around her salivated at the sight of her body leaping like a gazelle towards her paramour. Then she was on him and hugging him like a long lost relative. At first his natural diffidence held him back, then he returned her hug, which morphed into an embrace, then a passionate kiss. She clamped herself tightly against him and would have been all too aware of his instant erection as she pressed against his groin. His head swam with this mix of sensations: relief, joy, astonishment and arousal.
"Let us go", she said, "we can get taxi outside. It will be cheaper if we negotiate away from this crowd." Yelena's English was good, given that she had been studying it for just four months. She turned to lead him out of the throng which surrounded them. Again the maelstrom parted for her, no doubt to give the lascivious onlookers a better sight of her barely disguised curves.
He turned absent-mindedly to retrieve his non-existent luggage, then remembering his loss, he turned to follow her. The honour guard of touts which had parted to give her room did not include him that signal honour, and had filled in behind her retreating form, so that he had to shove his way through them to reach her. As she did so he saw one hand after another reach out and grope her bottom, or put up palms to impede her progress which just happened to alight on her breasts. She was being mauled and assaulted as men took advantage of the scrum to touch her up. He was at the same time appalled and impressed that her beauty attracted such attention and approbation.
Then they were outside and could relax a little. "What happened back there?" He asked.
"Oh, it is often like that," she replied matter of factly.
"But they were groping you!"
"That is just men doing what men do." She replied. Then she added, to his relief, "I hate it, but what can I do?"
They found a cool dude standing by a shiny vehicle and Yelena began to negotiate a more realistic price for the trip into the city than he could have got inside the terminal building. Having concluded the negotiations, the man moved off the car body and led them further into the car parking area to another car. This new automobile proposition was much older, rusty, and somewhat battered. Derek was beginning to form a view of this exotic city: airport and government officials dressed like the Red Army, touts who acted like merchants in a bazaar, and a casual, sexist attitude to women.
As Yelena prepared to get into the rear of the polski fiat Derek studied her body more closely. She was his about height with a slender torso, and straight back, pear-shaped hips, and long legs. Her hair was honey blond and hung beyond her shoulders in natural curls. The skin she exposed to the elements was smooth and flawless, and belied her mature years. As she bent down to enter the car he drank in the sight of her buttocks smooth and rounded in her stretch jeans. Had any woman looked more beautiful in the flesh?
She chattered in her fractured English as the car sped up the one motorway in the whole of Ukraine which connected Borispol airport with the city limits of Kiev. He looked at her profile as she chattered and looked all around her, as if discovering her own country for the first time. She had a slim, square face. She had large grey-blue eyes, a classically beautiful nose, and generous lips. The only concessions to age were small bags under her eyes which did nothing to detract from the overall effect. He adored her profile and drank it in as the journey progressed. She pressed her thighs hard up against his and held his hand in her lap as she spoke. Much of what she said didn't register with him as he savoured his pure joy at this encounter.
Derek had never had a good self image. Despite numerous women coming on to him over the years, they had never been the type he fancied – beautiful, aloof women who would not give him a second glance. Now he was sat next to this gorgeous creature who would outshine anyone in London's Oxford Street, and she was expressing the most intimate pleasure, through her body language, at being with him.
The hotel he had booked was a sixties tower block on Peremohy Square, overlooking a military monument. Yelena helped Derek book in although the reception staff spoke excellent English. No, he didn't have any luggage to book in (to almost imperceptibly raised eyebrows and a glance across at his beautiful local companion). They found the room on the twelfth floor and Yelena looked out across her home city, again he felt as if for the first time. She explained that this was the first time she had been inside a hotel room in the Ukraine. It was actually a suite of rooms consisting of a bedroom with double bed, a sitting room with sofa and two chairs, and a bathroom off a small interior lobby.
"This is bigger than my whole flat," she exclaimed in awe, then added "no, three flats." She had told him on Skype about her life and growing up in one room of a house her family shared with three others. They were lucky to have had a room all their own for their family of four. Another family had lived in the shared kitchen behind a curtain. Now her mother was a matriarch ruling three generations of Yelena's married sister and spouse, and two grandchildren in a three bedroomed flat, one of which doubled up as a lounge. Yelena lived in another part of the city in a one-roomed flat she shared with her adult son, Igor. Derek began to see that his casual booking of this suite of rooms must seem like a display of untold wealth to Yelena. He hoped that she didn't want him just for his money.
It was now mid-afternoon and he should shop for necessary overnight items in lieu of his luggage, which the Borispol official had told him confidently was still in London and would be sent on the flight the following day. Just next door to the hotel was a department store which from what Yelena told him he assumed to be a local equivalent of Harrods. The store was busy with shoppers examining everything but buying very little. Anything of value was protected behind glass counters or wall cabinets. There was little scope for self-service here, and Derek was glad that he had Yelena to translate for him because the shop assistants had very little understanding of English. All labels and displays were in Cyrillic script so he would have been lost without her assistance.
After depositing his shopping in the hotel they went out for a meal. The restaurant Yelena chose was evidently ancient in Kiev terms, about a hundred years old. The galleried dining areas were stocked with stuffed birds and antiquaries. There were very few diners so the service was good. They sat side by side facing into the room and again he felt her thigh touching his. The Georgian wine (the best available, she assured him) flowed and they laughed as they regaled each other with stories of their lives. He was wondering what sort of woman Yelena was; was she genuine, or a gold digger, or a high class tart? Finally, Yelena swivelled her body fully towards him on her chair and held both his hands in hers. "You know", she began, "I live with Igor in my one room flat. We don't get much free time alone. I told him I would not be back this evening so that he could entertain girlfriend. So", as she gazed deeply into his eyes and the sensation of her scrutiny travelled down inside him to his groin, "I have nowhere to go tonight. I stay with you?"
For a moment Derek looked back, searching for signs of hidden meanings in her enquiry. A myriad of thoughts flashed about inside his mind. Finally, he responded, "I have had a number of girlfriends over the years since my marriage break-up. It took me time to get to know them, and I never slept with a woman on a first date. I hope you understand?"
"Of course," said Yelena, without a pause or any sign of embarrassment. "You can sleep in bed and I will sleep on sofa."
"That wouldn't be gallant of me," said Derek, "You must have the bed, of course. That's what gentlemen do."
For moment she looked deep into his eyes as if she, too, was searching for hidden meanings. Then she smiled and pulled his hand towards her, then reached out her arms and embraced him. If this had been a mutual test, they had both passed with flying colours, and honour was satisfied.
They walked back to the hotel hand in hand. The evening was warm and balmy and the atmosphere felt very romantic.
The receptionist did not bat an eyelid as Derek asked for his room key with Yelena beside him. He had heard about businessmen and male tourists coming to Kiev to sample the local professionals. Few escorts would stay the night.
In the suite, Derek absented himself to the bathroom whilst Yelena sorted out the sleeping arrangements. He finished and went into the lounge and undressed to his underwear. He heard the adjoining door from the bed room open and Yelena's soft footsteps as she came out on her way to the bathroom. By the time he turned she was walking away from him.
He was astonished at the sight before him. Yelena wore only a white thong. She was otherwise naked. Her skin was a natural light brown. Her golden hair tumbled down her back, which was well defined from goodly proportioned shoulders down to a narrow waist. His gaze travelled down her retreating figure. She had long slim legs which broadened out into long, perfectly shaped thighs, and a generous, rounded bottom such as he had never witnessed in the flesh before. Not only had her pictures not done her justice, but her tight clothing failed to prepare him for the stunning sight of her naked body. He recalled a comment she had reported to him in a Skype conversation. She had confided that the husband of a close friend had remarked that she had the best bottom in Kiev. Derek had compared that comment with a photograph Yelena had sent him of her in a bikini, and thought it overstated. Now as he watched her hips sway as she headed for the bathroom, he understood and wholeheartedly agreed.
He stood with his back to the lobby and flicked through television channels whilst he waited for Yelena to settle herself into bed. "Derek," said a soft gentle voice from behind him. He turned, and Yelena stood by the door to the bedroom, facing him without a trace of shyness at her nakedness. "Goodnight."
She had told him how she often walked around her flat just wearing knickers, particularly in summer, although soviet flats were usually overheated throughout the winter. She would therefore be accustomed to casual nudity at home, whilst he was not.
He studied the front of her body for the first time. She had a perfect, slim frame with straight shoulders and an upright posture which accentuated the nipples in her small, pert breasts. She had a faint scar running down from her breastbone to her navel. She had told him about nearly being killed by a serious car accident. He could see that the scar did not spoil her skin, but added an additional definition to her lean chest. Her hips looked even more generous from the front. He yearned to see what lay behind that last frontier of her thong.
At last he broke the spell. "Yelena, you look fabulous. I had no idea just how gorgeous you are."
Yelena smiled back, he could see, with genuine pleasure. "It is all for my man, " she said. She had started to call him "my man" during those long Skype calls, and he had wondered just how serious she was, to say such a thing to someone she was yet to meet in the flesh. He was to learn that she meant it and that she had been certain that she loved him from their first contact by phone. But for now, he simply wondered and hoped.
"Good night, Yelena." Then she was gone and the bedroom door closed quietly behind her. For a few minutes he stood there and pondered. Then he tested the sofa. It was hard and unyielding. Finally he resolved to seize the initiative. He opened the bedroom door and entered. Yelena was lying in the centre of the bed covered by a single sheet. Her bare arms rested on top of the sheet, and for a moment he studied this tableau of her bare shoulders, and golden curls tumbled across the pillow.
"That sofa is hard," he announced, "so I think we should share the bed."
She smiled, and pulled back the sheet to reveal her body, still wearing the thong. He moved to the side of the bed and removed his top. Her eyes travelled down his torso and studied intently as he removed his underpants. His penis immediately sprung erect. She looked first at it, then up into Derek's eyes. It was neither an invitation nor a refusal; simply a speculation on what would happen next. He got onto the bed and straddled Yelena, a knee either side of her thighs. He leaned down close to her and kissed her lips. At first she lay passively receiving the first lip contact. Then she pushed her head upwards toward him to press her mouth to his, and opened it to draw in his tongue. He felt his stiff penis lying up her belly pointing toward her breasts. Then he felt her hands move under him and grasp his penis. As they French kissed and she drew his tongue deeper inside her mouth he realised that she was also inviting him to penetrate between her loins.
He moved away from her body and down the bed. He leaned up to her head to caress her cheeks with his palms. Then slid his hands down the sides of her neck and along the tops of her shoulders to the outsides of her arms. Gently he stroked down her arms to her wrists. They clasped hands and gently he lifted her arms up and pushed them back either side of her head on the pillow. Now her upper body was stretched. He lay his body prone on her and felt their flesh connect at every point along their fronts.
The silence was broken as she sighed, a note of erotic pleasure. After some more gentle but passionate kissing he began to stroke his hands down the exposed undersides of Yelena's arms pinned above her head, until he reached her armpits. Like every other part of her body he had seen thus far, her armpits were shaven and a beautiful sight. He felt her body squirm under him, he guessed, with pleasure at the tactile sensations she was experiencing. He felt a knee raised under him and stroking his balls as they dangled freely under him. The touch was enough to make them harden as he became even more fully aroused.
Now Derek began the downward journey of his palms onto Yelena's small breasts. He cupped and began gently to massage them. He felt the nipples harden, and he leaned back for a moment to admire her areolas. They were quite large circles of deep golden brown, and almost flawless. She squirmed some more under him, impatient for him to continue. He placed his hands back at her armpits and began to slide his palms down her sides towards her hips, until he encountered the sides of her thong. Grasping a strap in each hand he pulled them gently down the outsides of her thighs, stroking her legs as he progressed towards her ankles. She bent her knees up to speed up the process of losing her thong, and upon its final removal she opened her legs wide to hasten the moment of penetration she now so desperately desired.
Derek gazed at this most secret portal and was again astonished at what he saw. She was shaved. Her vagina was no ordinary slit, but a captivating canyon sided by two beautiful flaps of labial skin, and a protruding finger tip which was her clitoris, beckoning his penis to thrust inside her. The surrounding skin was dark brown, he guessed with arousal.
Yelena was indeed fully aroused and ready – no, begging silently – for Derek to enter her now and take her to a climax. He felt a pleasurable shudder through his torso at the sight of her vagina and the prospect of penetration. Her pussy was oozing a moisty milky fluid ready to lubricate his shaft. Sacrificing a lifetime practice of careful foreplay to bring his partner to full arousal, he pulled back his foreskin and pushed his member between Yelena's willing thighs. His penis sank easily and smoothly into her exquisite vagina, and he began slowly to penetrate to the full extent of his shaft then pull back, ready for the next thrust. Yelena thrust her hips up at him to capture his penis all the further inside her, and for a moment their respective bodies seem to fight against each other as each of them employed their own habitual technique to fuck their partner. Then Yelena yielded and let Derek establish a rhythmic thrusting motion, so that almost instantly she felt her orgasm building inside her and climaxing with a tingling crescendo inside her groin and around the insides of her thighs.
Yelena's body was a revelation to Derek and he needed time to get used to its feel. His technique relied on sensing his fuck partner's physical needs and attuning his technique and rhythm to bring them to orgasm. But with Yelena, he sensed, he almost missed her orgasm as it came so quickly. With relief, he could concentrate quickly now on bringing himself. Usually, he didn't come on a first coupling with a new partner because he had to concentrate on making sure he was satisfying them and learning how to satisfy them. This was a new experience: a woman who climaxed immediately. He concentrated in his mind on the sight of her naked body: her thighs, her bottom, and that giddy sight of her vagina. This was enough to bring him to a rapid climax and as he thrust even more urgently with his shaft against the walls of Yelena's vagina he heard her gasp and cry out then laugh uninhibitedly.