His Secret Refugee

Even now, after so many months, the sight still amazed me. I stared down past my large belly and watched her luscious lips inhale my hard cock. Her eyes were on mine, eagerly seeking out signs that she was pleasing me. Willingly sucking my cock just right. Exactly as I had taught her.

I felt sweat beading on my forehead before rolling down my face to my chins where it dripped down to land on my stomach. I could hear my own laboured breathing. My eyes were glued to the sight of her head bobbing back and forth on my cock, jacking it with one hand. Just right. I felt my cum start to bubble and boil in my balls...

This had been the greatest secret of my life. Okay, if I'm to be completely honest, it was only secret in my life. I'm not accustomed to having interesting things happen to me. Not this over-50, overweight, overworked, underpaid, undersexed, under-my-wife's-thumb male of the species.

But there she was, on her knees before me, purring onto my cock, sucking my cum down her throat. My bulky frame struggled to stay upright as I leaned against the wall of the little, one-room flat. A low, throaty rumble erupting from my throat. She knew how to please me.

After having swallowed my entire load, she scooped up a few errant drops from her chin and sucked her fingers dry with a sensual little 'mmm', her eyes on mine the whole time. Seeking approval. I smiled and she smiled back. But there was something different in her eyes now. I couldn't quite place it.

Her name? Vika. 19 years old. Russian. On the skinny side, but she had gained the weight she lacked over the past three months and had filled out nicely.

As I tried to catch my breath, I wondered, as I did every single day, what the fuck she was doing with a pathetic man like me.

I had found her in the back of my mini-van, after I had returned from a business trip to Moscow. She had snuck into the van at a rest stop before I reached the Polish border, lying uncomfortably on boxes of cheap East-European jeans and polyester jogging suits that I import to Western Europe. She looked half-dead when I opened the door after hearing banging from inside, just after I drove off the ferry into Denmark.

She had been in there for three days and was hungry, thirsty and reeking of her own urine and faeces. Pale as a sheet. The very picture of a refugee, one of millions who dream of reaching the riches of Europe. After a brief flash of anger, my heart went out to her. She was just like me. Busting her ass to make a better life for herself.

I was utterly shocked to see this young woman squinting into the sudden burst of sunlight in the back of the van. When she finally focused on me, she burst into tears and kept repeating, "please, sorry... please... sorry..." in heavily-accented English. She threw her arms around me and hugged me.

"It's okay... it's okay..." I said as I gestured to her that she shouldn't be afraid.

That was three months ago and Vika is no longer afraid. I rented a cheap, one-room flat in the suburbs, bought some cheap second-hand furniture and moved her in. In my eyes it was a dump, but to her, it was the Western European paradise she had dreamt of.


All the while I kept the whole episode secret from my friends and especially my wife of 20 years, Liv. And the latter was no easy task. She kept an eagle-eye on our bank accounts, siphoning off excess savings to buy clothes, pay for countless café and restaurant visits and pay for country club memberships. Desperately trying to pretend that she was in a higher tax bracket, refusing to accept that she was merely lower middle-class white trash.

The last time my wife had spread her legs for me, Gorbachov was liberating Eastern Europe and the Berlin Wall was crumbling. We rarely spoke anymore, except when she bitched about money and ridiculed me for being so pathetic and hopeless.

My ace in the sleeve was a secret account into which I deposited money from a side job I had; importing used Russian military equipment. Only once in awhile, but I had a little nest egg which Liv couldn't get her greasy, fake-suntanned fingers on.

I spent it all on Vika. She was eternally grateful to me and did her best to show it at every opportunity, using her body to show me how much she appreciated my help.

From the word go, I did what any man would have done in the same situation. I let her.

The moment I led her into the rented flat and showed her around, she dropped to her knees in front of me. I went red in the face and felt uncomfortable. When her fingers trailed up my legs and started unzipping my trousers, any hesitation was quick to fade. My cock was the first to react, beginning to quickly swell with blood, into an erection the likes of which I hadn't seen in years.

Vika looked up at me with puppy dog eyes and a corner of her lip innocently nibbled between her lips. After I had let her get cleaned up after finding her in the back of my van, I was quick to discover how lovely she was. Strong Slavic features, brown hair that would reach her shoulders if it wasn't tied into two pigtails, slim, girlish body with two smallish orbs for breasts, crowned with hard, tiny nipples that could pierce armour when erect.

And they were erect that first day in the flat as she gently released my cock from my trousers with long, delicate fingers. She was wearing one of the jogging suits I had imported. She had tried on an adult size, but it was too large, so she chose a teenage size and the polyester clung hungrily to her slender frame. We had thrown out the clothes she was wearing in the van and had plans to buy some new ones. So I knew she wasn't wearing any underwear.

But at that moment I was rather taken by her in a much too small jogging suit. Holding my cock in one hand, she unzipped the jogging top to expose her breasts. For me. For my pleasure. It took a moment to realise it, until she started rubbing her tits, all the while looking up at me. I started to pant - I couldn't help it - it was all too much for a man like me.

My jaw dropped as her lips opened and her head moved towards my shaft. I could only see half of my own erection under my ample belly, but that was enough. When her mouth closed suckingly over my cockhead and started to move slowly back and forth on my shaft, it happened. Suddenly and without warning.

My cock erupted into her mouth. She was caught off guard, but her eyes widened in pleasant surprise as she held my cock firm and let me fill her mouth with hot sperm.

Even before the cum stopped pumping furiously out of my dick, I was apologising;

'Sorry... sorry... it's been so long...'

She merely winked at me and kept sucking every drop out of my cock. When I had spent my load and she had cleaned my cock for me, I sank down onto the floor. In exhaustion. In awe.

'You like, Mr Jensen?' Her voice was sweet as honey. Her accent delicious.

'Yes, Vika... I like...'

And that was only the first fifteen minutes of the first day in the flat. I was stunned to discover that my cock was soon rock hard once again. Just the sight of her kneeling before me on the floor, breasts jutting out of the jogging top, a little, innocent smile on her lips, was enough to get me hard.

'More, Mr Jensen?...'

Before I could reply, she had stood up and turned away from me. She forced the impossibly tight jogging pants down around her ankles and bent over the horribly upholstered chair I had bought for me, supporting herself on the arms, looking over her shoulder at me.

The sight of her firm, perfect ass was glorious. And between them was a sight that almost made me shoot another load on the floor. When I had bought her some toiletries to get cleaned up, I assumed the razor she requested would be used on her legs.

Now I could see that every pubic hair around her tight hole had been carefully shaved away into oblivion. Her swelling, pouting cunt lips glistened in the light of the single bulb in the room. Her ass swayed just a little, just enough, as she waited for me.

'You fuck... yes?'

'No, Vika... you don't have to... I don't want to take advantage...'

She interrupted me with that innocent voice and those pleading eyes.

'I want... you fuck, yes? Please... you help me so much... Now fuck...'

She nodded firmly to signal that there was only one thing to do and turned her head away so that only her ass, legs and tiny cunthole were visible to me. I struggled to my feet and padded over to her as though in a trance. Standing there for a long moment, looking down at the head of cock bobbing on every pulse of blood, only a centimetre from her hole. My breathing started to become laboured again as I hesitated.

To encourage me, she pushed her ass back a little, and my cockhead made contact with her cuntlips, forcing them apart, wetting my head with her warm - so fucking warm - cuntjuices. I groaned loudly in surprise and she squealed softly in anticipation.

There was no way back now. I placed my large, rough hands on her thin, bony hips and let my cock do what came naturally. Sliding up her impossibly tight, wet, sucking cunt.

She squealed softly again, this time rising in decibels as I entered her to the hilt.

'Da, da, da... Mr Jensen... So big... please... fuck now...'

I let the fantastic sensation of this young cunt engulfing my underused cock wash over me for a moment. This was the first cunt I had had for years, since the very unsatisfactory, gaping loose hole of a hooker in Poland two years ago. I could have stood there, like that, until the end of time.

Vika, however, had other plans. She started to rock back and forth on my dick and my own body soon followed her rhythm. My cock started sliding in and out of her hole. A little bit at a time at first, until I started gripping her hips more tightly and then bucking my own to increase the fucking motions.

No matter how long you've been out of training, such motions are never forgotten.

I could sense my orgasm after only a few thrusts, but I knew it was still a ways off this time. I wanted to make this last, not knowing if it was the last cunt I'd be inside for a while.

I felt her tiny frame squirm beneath me, her ass slamming back towards me, eager to feel my entire cock impale her. I looked down to see my belly resting on her pale ass, almost smothering her under it's bulk. Sweat flowed freely down my face as I leaned over to increase my pace, the desire to make it last overpowered by the desire to cum. To shoot hot neglected sperm deep inside this willing Russian refugee.

I gripped her hips so hard my knuckles went white and I couldn't stop myself lifting her up in the air as my cock blurred in and out of her cunthole, slick with her lubrication.

She encouraged me with rapid-fire squeals and grunts as she tried to hold onto the chair while I used her for my own, desperate need to cum.

And cum I did. My breathing stopping dead in my throat, my fat body pressing down heavily on her back, my eyes glazed and seeing nothing but the white flash of orgasm as I, with one final, definitive thrust, buried my cock inside and let loose the seed within my balls.

I froze like that, afraid I would pass out, letting my orgasm wash over me. Her willing, encouraging squeals acting as a soundtrack in my head.

I lay on the dodgy sofa in the flat afterwards, Vika beside me, head on my lap, stroking my thigh. She had bathed me after the sex, lovingly sponging me down and cleaning away the sweat and fuckjuices.

I said nothing all that time, although my head was filled with thoughts that I couldn't form into words. I wanted to tell Vika that she didn't need to thank me like this. She didn't need to pity me and fuck me. I only did what I did out of sympathy for her. Sure, there were selfish thoughts in the equation. Nothing exciting ever happened to me and this was a treat. A welcome aberration in a humdrum life. An excellent excuse not to spend time with my dreadful wife.

But those selfish thoughts were overruled by even more selfish ones. Vika had been willing to fuck me. To suck my cock. To please me. I had a sexy young thing who was eager to show me how grateful she was.

Only an idiot would pass up on that offer.

I made an irrational, sex-driven decision on that sofa. I would give it a month or so and then I would stop. And to appease my guilt, I would help her get set up in this country and maybe try and find her a job. Giving her some spending money in the meantime.

It all sounded simple and perfect.

A month passed and then another. But rather than sticking to the agreement with myself, made in the silence of my head, I couldn't let her go. I needed her. I craved her. I wanted her.

Her willingness to please hadn't diminished one bit. All I had to do was walk through the door of the rented flat and she could read exactly what I wanted on my face and was quick to provide.

What started with blowjobs and fucking her from behind while she bent prone over the back of the chair soon developed into a variety of sexual experiences.

Somewhere at the root of my soul I felt guilty that I was exploiting her. But she made it hard to stop. What do you expect? A man like me... plain as a paper bag, gone to the dogs, as dull as a rainy, winter day.... doesn't ever get the chance to have regular sex with a nubile 19 year-old. Ever. I was obsessed with her. She was good at making me feel attractive and that is no easy feat. She made me feel young again. She was a drug.

She had done up the flat a bit. A few cheap flowers in vases. A poster she had found for some rock band's upcoming concert. Her allowance didn't stretch that far, but it was enough to afford her clothes and food. Not once did she complain when I lay a small bundle of money on the table once a week.

Getting her a job was an idea that I dropped rather quickly. I soon discovered I was getting possessive. There are few men who would risk losing a warm, welcoming, tight pussy and the thought of her meeting someone else alarmed me. The thought of some other man's cock sliding into her petrified me. The thought of her squirming and squealing as another man fucked her silly... well, that made me want to vomit.

She suspected nothing as I started shadowing her when she went shopping or just strolled around town. She didn't even comment when I started to show up at irregular hours, sometimes in the middle of the night.

She just smiled with those thin lips and let me have her way with her. And in my possessiveness, I became more eager to fuck her. To ensure my hot seed was the only seed to fill her cunthole. I'd fuck her on the floor just inside the flat. I'd roll her over onto her stomach in the dark of the night, with her half-asleep, and pump my cock hard and furious until I shot my load.

She squealed and moaned as per usual. Everything was so numbingly normal that I only became more jealous.

My secret was the greatest one in my life but I was going out of my mind. I had to tell someone. I confided in my best and only friend, Eddy. Well, best friends is maybe an exaggeration, but he had been friends with my wife and I for years. Same age as me, mid-forties, but he'd never been married, preferring to have an endless flow of neglected housewives and young hookers sharing his bed.

In a way, I had always looked up to him. He was wealthier, more out-going and happier than me. No cares in the world.

In my little back garden one day, I told Eddy about Vika. I told him everything, short of where she was living, glancing constantly over shoulder to make sure my wife, Liv, wasn't heading out to us. I could see her in the kitchen window.

Eddy was shocked and amazed, to say the least.

'Holy shit, old man. I never would've guessed you had it in you!'

'Me neither. But that's the way the it is... what do I do?'

'Jealousy... never really could figure it out. Seems like a lot of wasted energy...'

'I just can't get enough of her. She's so... willing, you know? She doesn't care how I look or if I'm... overweight... and old. She just wants to please me. But I'm afraid of losing her...'

'I can understand that!', he said with a laugh. 'What about your old lady. She suspect anything?'

'Nah. I haven't said two words to her over the past few months... hell, the past few years!'

'What if SHE was screwing around on you?'

'Yeah, right. That old hole couldn't get laid in a rugby locker room.'

Eddy laughed a little bit before thinking about what I should do for a long moment. Sipping his beer in-between thoughts.

'Short of locking her in, you can't do much. Treat her nice, but if she gets out of hand, then rough her up... just a bit. Those East European women think different. They need a strong man to keep them in line. They're not like us.'

'Should I confront her?'

'Sure. Lay down the law. Threaten to withhold her allowance... is she good-looking?'

His last question caught me off-guard. I was about to reply to the affirmative, but was wary.

'Nah, not really. Plain as a paper bag. But tight as a frog's asshole...'

We laughed. I stared out into space, wondering how to handle this.

A few weeks passed without me taking any action. In fact, just talking about it with Eddy seemed to have helped. I wasn't a jealous man and I realised I was being a bit silly.

Vika hadn't noticed a thing. She spread her legs for me as always and, in fact, she seemed to be even more energetic.

One day I was lying on the sofa in her little flat and watched her ride my hard cock with her lithe body. As ever, she stared me in the eye with that sensual look on her face. Biting her lower lip coquettishly, nostrils flaring, breasts hopping and jiggling. I lay there watching her. Lost in her simple beauty and hungry sexual appetite.

I emptied my load of hot cum up inside of her and watched her scoop it out of her cunt with her fingers and stick them in her mouth, sucking them clean.

When I left the little flat that day, satiated and humming to myself, I failed to notice one important thing. If I had been in the adrenalin-driven rage I was in previously, I would have noticed that car parked on the other side of the street. A red BMW. The only red car on the street. A car I knew all too well. But instead, I just wandered off in the opposite direction, blind to the realities of the world.

A few days later, I had a pressing hard-on in my trousers as I drove down the sun-filled streets towards Vika's flat. Happy as a lark and looking forward to slipping into her tight, wet hole and watching her squirm beneath my weight.

When I entered the flat, Vika looked surprised to see me. It was only a brief look of surprise on her face, after which she quickly recovered and smiled sweetly at me.

'Hi, Vika...'

'Hello, Mr Jensen...' She sashayed over to me, wearing only a thin, polyester bathrobe, and started to unzip my trousers, her eyes widening in feigned, girlish surprise when she felt my throbbing cock through the fabric.

'What's wrong, Vika?' My tone was insecure and I felt silly for asking.

'Nothing. Nothing at all. I just not expecting you...' She shrugged and smiled and dropped to her knees, taking out my cock from my fly.

'Vika, no... I want to fuck...'

She shook her head with my cock filling her mouth to the limit. My cockhead popped out briefly as she replied, 'No... please... I want to taste...'

I was about to protest, so eager was I to force my way between her silky cunt walls, but she promptly placed my cock in her mouth again and, with urgency, she started sucking and jacking it.

There she was, on her knees before me, purring onto my cock, sucking my cum down her throat. My bulky frame struggled to stay upright as I leaned against the wall of the little, one room flat. A low, throaty rumble erupting from my throat. She knew how to please me.

But I was suddenly filled with a sense of panic. For the first time, she had not listened to me and what I wanted. She went against my wishes. I feared the worst.