From Russia with Lust

Angel, my favourite among the house girls, strutted off the runway with her boobs bouncing beautifully and only a dollar of mine in her garter. Back before I lost my job, it would've been at least a ten. She smiled at me as though she didn't mind, and she was replaced by Honey, who headed straight for the suits sitting on the other side of the cat-walk. I was watching her lovely ass gyrate when someone sat down beside me and asked, "Buy a lady a drink?"

"Sorry," I said, before I recognised the voice, then turned around. Mia had been a dancer herself years ago, before she married the boss. He died smiling in '91; I'd never heard whose bed it was in, but it wasn't hers. She was pushing forty, which made her about my age, but still looked stunning. Her hair was still black, her face unlined, her body spectacular, creamy cleavage reminded me of a wishing well; every time I saw it, I had an incredible urge to throw money into it and then dive in to retrieve it. "Sorry, Mia," I repeated, even more sincerely. "Wish I could, but my unemployment insurance runs out next week."

She nodded. "Want me to buy you a drink, then?" I blinked. "Come on," she said. "In my office; my private stock."

Slightly dazed, I followed her. The room was sparsely furnished, but decorated with autographed photos and pin-ups of some of the most delectable double-D dancers in the business. As soon as I closed the door behind me, she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a large bottle of single malt Scotch, two glasses, and two manila folders. "Make yourself comfortable," she urged, opening the bottle. "You really that hard-up, Mike?"

"'Fraid so. I may not be here for a while."

"That'd be a shame. You're not just a good customer, you're a nice guy. And we've got some great shows coming here in the next few months - Tiffany Towers, Christy Canyon, Lovette..." She handed me one of the folders, which contained photos of these women and more. I gulped at the Scotch, scared that I was about to start salivating. I could feel my eight-inch rod stiffening, and Mia seemed to be encouraging this, sitting on her desk in a position that showed her cleavage and her legs to their best advantage. "Would five thousand help?"

I stared, and then remembered that Mia had also worked in the porno business. "I'm not doing any movies," I said. "Not that I'm not flattered, of course..."

"Nothing like that," she said, smiling. "I just need a small favour. How long have you been divorced?"

"Ten years - no, eleven, now. Why?"

"Ever thought of getting married again?" I shrugged. "I won't waste your time. Some friends of mine in the movie business are trying to get a few women from Europe over here to work; unfortunately, the government doesn't want to give green cards for strippers and porno stars. This is Nastya; she's done some movies, which I can lend you..." She opened the other folder, and handed it to me. Nastya looked to be about twenty, a cute blonde with the biggest, firmest pairs of real boobs I'd ever seen: 'good lungs', as my father would have said.

"Five thousand up-front," she said, "and speaking of up-front payments..." I looked up from the photo, reluctantly at first, and saw Mia unzip her little black dress and unfasten her bra, showing me two huge, soft, brown-nippled gazongas; they swayed hypnotically as she walked towards me, and suddenly one of them was bumping against my mouth and demanding entrance. The wonderful female taste and smell was better than hours of mere watching, and I felt my cock stiffen until it threatened to rip my trousers. I began sucking and nibbling on her gorgeous nipples, feeling them swell and harden under my tongue until they felt as big as shot glasses. She liberated my rigid dick from my pants, and stroked it gently. I pulled my face out from her bust for long enough to ask, "Russian?"

"No," she said, fondling my balls. "We've got all afternoon."

"I mean, is the girl Russian?"

Mia pushed one of her tits up to her face and slowly licked the fat hard nipple. "Uh-huh. I remember you telling me you'd been to Moscow," she said, between licks. "That's one reason I thought of you - that, and the fact that you're a nice guy who needs the cash. Now, where was I?" She squeezed her sweet fuckable funbags around my throbbing cock, forming a wonderful warm tunnel. I'd titfucked girls before, of course, but I hadn't gotten laid in weeks and it was hard to concentrate on not cumming. A moment later I was spurting jism all over Mia's smiling face and beautiful boobs. She grinned, and began licking it off, washing it down with the Scotch.

"So," she said. "Are you interested?"

"Can I meet her first?" I asked, as I collapsed back into the chair.

"Sure," she said, slowly licking my cock and balls clean. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll hit it off..."

* * *

Three weeks later, after the bar had closed for the night, I was sitting in Mia's chair again, but this time it was the lovely Nastya kneeling in front of me, her lips around the base of my cock while her talented tongue licked along the length and Mia filled my mouth with her delicious DDs. Then Mia took over sucking my dick while I feasted on Nastya's fantastic funbags; they were as enormous as they'd looked in the photos, and wrapped around my face they seemed as big as beachballs, almost completely covering her chest. When I was nearly delirious with lust, the two women finished stripping me and laid me on the floor. Nastya crouched over me with her pretty blonde pussy only inches from my face, then wrapped her tits around my cock and went to work on my balls with her tongue and lips. Mia knelt beside her, and slowly inserted one finger into Nastya's snatch, another into her own. Suddenly, the air was full with the scent of hot sweet pussyjuice as the finger in Nastya's cunt was transferred up to Mia's mouth, while the finger from hers went into mine. Then she stroked Nastya's cunt until it opened like a flower and the clit became erect. I licked Nastya's honey from Mia's fingers, then went direct to the source. While we were sixty-nining, I heard Mia say, "Well, I'd better leave the two of you to get acquainted," and walk out. Nastya rolled off me and whimpered that she needed to be fucked; she rolled a condom onto my cock and guided it into her pussy, wrapped her legs around me, and pushed my head back down to her boobs. She came twice more before I did, and we lay there exhausted for a few minutes.

"You're very good; you could do that for a living," she said, in her thick accent.

"No, thanks." I looked up from her tits long enough to see that she was smiling, her face and neck still pink from post-orgasmic flush.

"Do you want to marry me?"

I laughed. "In this country, the man always asks. Will you marry me?"

"Okay. Where do you want to go for a honeymoon?"

* * *

To my amazement, she was at least half-serious about the honeymoon. We went from the registry office to a reception attended by scores of people from the porno business; the bridesmaids, including Mia and Angel, put on a floor show that turned into an orgy about one a.m., and while I was the first to fuck the bride, I wasn't the last. Then we went to a hotel, with Mia's friends footing the bill for everything, and spent two days sleeping and screwing with no-one watching. Then she moved in; while she spent a lot of time on the road or in LA, she paid her share of the rent and always managed to be home when Immigration called, and we got to know each other pretty well despite everything. I even took her to a few ball games, before her face became too famous, and she sometimes brought home some of her female co-stars to share with me. After nearly a year of unemployment, I accepted a job as secretary of her fan club, mailing out copies of her videos and posters and... well, you get the idea. When she wasn't around, I watched her videos and went to the bar a lot.

It was a crazy life, sort of a part-time marriage, with most of the best of both worlds. The sex was fantastic, even though it always made me feel like I was performing - for Immigration, for Candid Camera, or whatever. Knowing that you're fucking a pussy or pair of boobs that million of other men fantasize about fucking is one thing; knowing that dozens of other men have fucked them is quite another, though I know I'm not the only guy alive to know that feeling. Anyway, I stopped watching the movies she did with other men. She wasn't doing many of them any more, anyway; dancing paid better, even though that meant she was away even more often. Sometimes, when she wasn't there, the set-up would worry me - but then she'd come home, strip off, pull me into the shower with her and ask me to wash her boobs, and I'd end up sucking and fucking them and not caring about much else until she left again.

Then, one day, everything changed.

* * *

For a starter, I had a real job again; it paid better than the fan club routine, but I'd forgotten how tiring work could be. So I wasn't happy when I came home and Nastya asked me to drive to the airport to pick someone up. We'd been married for nearly two years and I was expecting her to divorce me soon, so we didn't talk much as I drove her there. The girl we met there was a big-boobed babe, as I expected, blonde like Nastya and about the same height, but with a very different style - quiet, reserved, almost shy. "This is Lyuba," Nastya explained. "My best friend; we went to school together." That was the last English I heard until we reached home and Lyuba, exhausted, collapsed on the couch and went immediately to sleep.

"Did Mia's friends bring her over, too?" I asked, as we undressed for bed.

"No, I did," my wife said. "She'll only be here for two weeks, on a tourist visa. She works as a nurse in Moscow."

"Does she know what you do?"

"Of course. I asked her a few times if she wanted a job as a dancer, but she refused, even though it pays better and she'd spend less time on her feet... but she gets stage fright and is horribly camera-shy. And she's an old-fashioned girl, only likes one man at a time and isn't interested in women. Anyway, she was always smarter than I was, except when it came to languages. And men, I guess; she kept trusting the wrong ones." I was about to ask another question, but she closed my mouth with a kiss, and then more firmly with a nipple. Then she pushed me backwards onto the bed and rubbed her boobs along my body until she reached my crotch. She tittyfucked me until I was rock-hard, pausing occasionally to suck my cock and play with her hard nipples, then climbed on top of me and rode me to ecstasy. I pulled her down towards me so I could fondle and suck her boobs, but she held them just out of reach, occasionally licking her nipples to tease me just that little bit more; only after she'd come once did she smother me with those soft sweet succulent stupendous breasts.

* * *

I woke hard the next morning, alone in a bed that still smelled strongly of sex, and heard the shower running in the en-suite. I walked in a minute later to see Nastya standing there drying her hair, and decided to pay her back for the teasing the night before. I knelt before her and nuzzled her blonde bush while reaching up to tweak her nipples and fondle her boobs. She squealed something in Russian, and leaned back against the cupboard while I started licking her clit. It swelled, becoming as hard as her nipples, and her pussy-lips parted and turned a brighter shade of pink. I was so engrossed that I barely noticed that she tasted even sweeter than usual, or that her breasts felt firmer and smoother and her nipples tighter. It was only when she dropped the towel and beamed down at me that I realised that it wasn't Nastya I was pleasuring, but Lyuba. I scrambled to my feet and tried remembering the Russian I'd learnt for my trip to Europe, and she dropped to her knees and ran her tongue up the length of my rigid cock before attempting to swallow it whole. She lacked Nastya's expertise (I would later tell her she sucked with an accent, which she thought hilarious), but had all of her enthusiasm. Possibly more; Nastya had seen bigger cocks than mine at closer quarters, but Lyuba hadn't, and she certainly made a meal of it. When I was as hard as I can ever remember being, she stopped her greedy sucking, stood, then turned her back to me and bent over the cabinet. Her pussy seemed to smile at me, her clit beckoned, her pretty little asshole winked, and without a second thought, I slid my cock inside her.

Her snatch was much tighter than Nastya's, and the head of my cock hit her g-spot on the first thrust, causing her to gasp with joy. She grabbed my hands and held them to her boobs, which filled my hands as though they were made for each other, and after a few seconds we hit a rhythm that suited us both perfectly. The fuck seemed to last forever, and obliterated everything else from our senses; she came more often than I could count, and when I finally erupted inside her, I felt so incredibly good that I didn't want to move. That's when I looked in the mirror, and saw Nastya standing in the doorway.

Her face was bright red; I thought at first that she was angry, and then realised that she was laughing. "I hoped you two would like each other," she said, in Russian. "Anyway, I have to go to work. I'll see you tonight." Then she patted me on the ass, and added softly, "Where do you want to go for a divorce?"

* * *

Immigration was more than a little suspicious when I became engaged to Lyuba so soon after divorcing her friend, but we soon convinced them that we were serious. Nastya and Mia arranged everything, and the bridesmaids repeated the floor show from my previous wedding reception. This time, however, I was the only one to fuck the bride.

We go to see Nastya's show whenever she's in town. She sends us copies of her videos as they come out, and Lyuba sends her ours for her private consumption. Seems she's not so camera-shy, after all.