Ladies' Night at the Hungry Duck

And yet... it hadn't all been embarrassment. There had been a thrill in the air as well--an erotic, adrenaline-soaked buzz that made me feel I'd never been alive until that night. It helped having Dmitri right there next to me, practically nude himself. His size and solidity were comforting. But more than that, his look reassured me that stripping off hadn't made me pathetic or ridiculous. On the contrary, it only served to confirm my beauty, and bravery, and unquenchable spirit.

Cradling my back with one arm, and curling the other around my thighs, he lifted me effortlessly, like I was something ethereal, and not a creature of the earth. That mix of strength and tenderness took my breath away, and I melted willingly into his grasp. He held me a minute, before laying me ever so gently onto the bar. And then, kneeling below me--patiently, attentively--he gripped my ankles... elevated my legs... and slowly spread my thighs wide.

I had no will to resist it. The connection between us was so powerful, his gaze so reverent, that it felt good and proper to share this personal intimacy with him.

Or... maybe what I ought to say is that it felt good, right up to the moment when the mental bubble I occupied was shaken, and very nearly punctured.

Strange to say, but until that instant, I hadn't really noticed anyone was filming. Now, in a rush of hot panic, my gaze registered the man over Dmitri's shoulder, holding a camcorder. All at once, in my mind's eye, I was confronted with the lurid spectacle I had made of myself. Fuck! With my legs split apart this way, my genitals were laid out for everyone to see--captured on video for eternity.

In fact, watching it play out now on the monitor, I discovered it was even more graphic than I'd feared. Ever since setting foot on that bar, I'd been getting more and more aroused, whether because of the spark I had with Dmitri, or the shamelessness of getting stripped in public. Or both. Anyway, the result was that when the man opened me up, my body had responded--labia parting easily to reveal a clitoris that was plump and ruddy, and a vaginal opening that was slick and receptive. And the camera documented every bit of it, in loving detail.

After a second or two, my screen-self began to recover from her shock. With a visible gulp, she reached both hands down in an effort to cover her crotch. Far too late to do any good, of course.

I tried to remember what anxieties had been running through my mind at that moment. The web wasn't even on our radar screens in 1996, at least not in Russia. It never would have occurred to me that 25 years down the line, anyone in the world would be able to bring up my pussy on their cell-phone, any time they wanted!

Still, there'd been plenty of porn floating around. My uncle ran a video-rental, and most of his trade came from the shelf of x-rated Western bootlegs he kept under the counter. The same little clique of mobsters and officials would come by every week to rent the same tapes. I guess I figured my nude performance could end up circulating like that, through the back-alleys of Russia. As long as it didn't land in my uncle's collection, that wouldn't really be so bad.

♫ ... my eyes become large ... ♫

Dmitri caught the change in my body-language, and set to work regaining my attention. Supported by his arms, he leaned down over me to nuzzle my neck. Then unhurriedly, dreamily, he descended--skimming his lips lightly over my clavicle... pressing his face into my cleavage... His kisses were deliciously warm, and the brush of his long hair tantalized my skin, and without intending to, I found my back arching in response.

By the time he turned his efforts squarely on my breasts, they were straining impatiently to be touched. Beginning with the left, he drew the areola in between his lips, ever so softly. His tongue massaged the dense tissue beneath, and then deftly teased the nipple. After a bit, he switched to my right breast and gave it a similar treatment. I was primed to enjoy it, and very quickly, a whimper of satisfaction escaped my lips. My world was beginning to narrow again, leaving less and less room for anything else besides Dmitri and me.

It was rare for the strippers to show that much familiarity, even at the Duck. The risk was just too high: the sort of thing that brought the vice police running, truncheons at the ready. But that night, Dmitri's gamble paid off in spades. The nearness of the man, the contact of his skin on mine, the exhilarating sensations he sent jangling through my nerves--God it was like a miracle. As I lay there on the bar beneath him, knees apart, squirming giddily, I felt a hot, heady gush of wet welling up in my tract, and the excess drips trickling down my ass. And just like that, it was him and me again, alone together, impervious to the world.

Except... well, there was one thing. I still had enough self-possession to realize that we could never consummate our bond in such a public setting. And it didn't make me happy. The last few minutes had been so crammed with lust and stimulation and shameful indecency, that it had pushed me past the point of no return. I was simply desperate to have him inside me--it felt like a physical need. But I also knew it was impossible. Very soon the song would end, and I'd be returned to Gusev, empty and unfulfilled. It made me want to weep in frustration.

The boys on the bar often made a pantomime of dry-humping their consorts. It was all part of the exaggerated sexuality they performed. As he returned to kissing my neck, Dmitri seemed to have something like this in mind. The rhythmic grinding of his pelvis stoked the flames in my crotch to a fever pitch. I wrenched my thighs wider--caressing his sinewy shoulder-blades, writhing my body against his, milking the moment for all the sensation it could provide. But it still wasn't enough! Even in the midst of that frenzy, my mind cursed the insufficiency of it.

Next, though, something happened that surprised me. At a gesture from Dmitri, his pal laid some kind of gauzy scarf or throw over our midsections (a vague nod toward 'decorum' I suppose?). Then, as Dmitri's gaze continue to linger over mine, full of fondness and desire, he reached down beneath the cloth... and released his cock from the speedo.

Ohh GOD... I couldn't help gasping in shock and delight. With a single, smooth, skillful thrust, Dmitri drove himself up between my legs. Jesus Christ, he was doing it. The beautiful bastard was really doing it--he was fucking me, right there on the bar, in front of 500 goddamn fucking strangers.

OH... GOD... again he entered me. I was so slack, so warm, so dripping wet, that he met no resistance at all--simply plowing into me till he hit home, balls to the wall. My hands ranged over his back, relishing his rippling muscles and silken skin. It was glorious how we fit together; and miraculous how he made me feel...

Ohhh Dmitri... again he hammered home. I was in ecstasy. All that tension, and need, and frustrated desire--feelings which had seized hold of me with such shocking speed and urgency--were finally gaining their release. My vagina spasmed involuntarily. I was very close to losing it now, and increasingly desperate to get over the finish line.

Ohhhhh Dmitri, you're sooo... again he penetrated me. I never saw his cock, but I could feel how impressive it was. Wide and substantial, you know? Stretching out my canal in a way that was truly delicious. Being spiked on such a pole made me wriggle, made me want to dance at how it filled me. For as long as I could, I wanted to savor this bubbling rush of anticipation in my groin... building... building...

Oh god oh god oh god... YES! And at last, as he pounded me yet again, the storm broke. My back flexed and my thighs tensed, and resounding, rapturous tremors began thudding through my frame. I don't think I've ever had an orgasm like that, before or since. My eyes rolled back and I sucked in vast lungfuls of air. Lightning crackled in my mind; while my consciousness sank slowly beneath those ruddy, sparkling waves of passion and need and fulfillment...

On the video, the smile in Dmitri's eyes, and on his lips, showed that he knew full well he'd brought me to climax; and almost at once he let himself go too. I recalled how, with a final, conclusive lunge, the man had entered me as deeply as he could. And then what a thrill it had been--to feel his glutes clench... his body strain... his penis swell... and that hot, sticky torrent of seed, flooding my uterus at last.

♫ ... the more I get of you ... ♫

Later, as I watched the scene unfold, I marveled that the onlookers never realized we were actually fucking. Sure, they squealed and hooted at the show we were putting on--but they still appeared to think it was a show, and nothing more. Viewing it with older eyes, and knowing what I knew, it seemed obvious what was going on beneath that flimsy scrap of cloth. But none of the leering faces in the background showed any sign of awareness.

We copulated like that for maybe only 30 seconds or so. A blink of the eye. Yet, while it went on, it felt like eternity--like time didn't even exist. For that brief, limitless interval, I lost all capacity to think, or act. It was enough then simply to exist, and to bask in that fervent, blissful state of abandon.

But... the song would soon be over; and even in the heat of ejaculation, Dmitri kept his poise. As the final chorus began, he pulled his cock free of my sloppy, well-used tract. Hastily readjusting his speedo, he leapt to his feet--beckoning to the crowd for a fresh round of shrieks and catcalls. The sweat gleamed on his skin, and he flashed a toothy grin as he basked in their cheers.

I don't know where he got the energy. I was fully spent--lying there flat on my back, mind still humming with a satiated afterglow. But the boys weren't quite done with me yet. As the lyrics swelled one last time, they reached steady hands beneath my naked form. And then... lifting me high on their arms... they opened me up to the crowd, hauling my legs wide. I just let it happen--all pretensions to modesty vanquished. My feelings were simply too overwrought, my limbs too watery, to even try to resist.

Displaying my nude figure like a trophy, they pivoted slowly, so that everyone in the building got a long, lingering look at my pussy. And seeing myself on screen that way--lofted, spread-eagled, hopelessly exposed--I couldn't help but blush, even all these years later. The signs that I'd given myself to Dmitri appeared self-evident. You could tell by the way my folds glistened, and the lazy way my cunt gaped apart. Hell, even in the video (if you knew what to look for), you could catch the pearly gleam of Dmitri's cum slowly oozing from my hole.

The final chords of the song were fading now, and my video-self was lowered back into the arms of Dmitri alone. He cradled me tenderly, kissing my cheek, and I nestled my head against him--draping an arm around his neck as if I never wanted him to let me go.

But it couldn't last. Bounding lightly over the bar, the hunk knelt and released me into Gusev's waiting grip. The biznesman had a big, sloppy, drunken smirk on his face, as if he'd had the time of his life watching me get stripped up there. That numbskull didn't even have a clue that he'd sent his girlfriend up to be fucked by some stranger, right under his very nose!

Without ceremony, Gusev plopped my feet down on the sticky barroom floor. And that's where the video ended--frozen on a full-frontal shot of me, standing buck-naked amid a rowdy sea of humanity, while my boyfriend chortled with schoolboy humor. The expression on my face was dazed, maybe a little confused, but with a decided air of fulfilment as well. At least, that's how it appeared to me.

♫ ... gloom on the grey. ♫

I clicked off the screen, and sat there in the dark, alone with my thoughts.

I remembered what had happened after the video ended. My clothes had been nowhere to be found; and that zhopa Gusev hadn't made any effort to cover me. Nope, made me parade right through the packed bar, just like that. I imagine few women have ever suffered a walk of shame to match it. Luckily the throng was mostly female--but even so, I found myself groped by quite a few eager hands before it was over. At the door, my 'boyfriend' finally offered up his overcoat for the taxi ride home. So chivalrous. I suspect he only did that much because it was November. If it had been summer, he'd have probably made me ride home naked.

Afterwards, Gusev continued to think it had been hilarious. He enjoyed retelling the story to his pals, over and over, always making sure I was in earshot. But we weren't together that much longer. He got bored of me and I got sick of him, and soon I found an expat from Barcelona who gave me nicer things.

Anyway, within a few more years, I would leave Russia for good. Once I'd saved enough, I sewed thick packets of 100 dollar bills into my clothes, and flew to America to make my fortune.

Using every bit of that hoarded cash, I bought a dingy shoebox flat in the Bronx. It was the start of my real-estate empire. I rented it out, while living with five other Russian girls in a studio and working as a house-cleaner. Saving, saving, and pretty soon I could afford a second place, and then a little brownstone building in Brooklyn (pre-gentrification days of course). From there, I never looked back.

I hope I didn't give you the impression that Dmitri was Max's father. Not a chance! I was too smart to get knocked up--I took precautions. No, I met Max's father later, in the US. He was a retired veteran, a little older, and we had some good years together. At first I liked the stability of being with him; but our differences became too much. He was too strait-laced, I was too dramatic. It didn't work. Still, he's a good dad and I'm fond of him.

Leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes, I allowed my mind to wander freely back over all of it. Did I regret that night at the Hungry Duck? ... No, I decided, not really. It wasn't exactly a performance I was proud of, but not one I'd have wanted to miss out on either. The craziness of it, the passion, the release--it had just been so extreme. That made it an experience beyond the realm of everyday life, special somehow, despite being deeply messed-up. It was a memory I'd thought back on (and, if I'm honest, masturbated to) many times over the years, and I don't ever recall wishing it hadn't happened.

Nor has the video come back to bite me either. Once internet porn became a thing, I nosed around, and sure enough there it was. For a while, I wondered how long it would take for someone to recognize me, but as far as I know, no one ever did. Nowadays, as a New York real-estate dealer (not to mention an older and slightly more solidly-built brunette), it seems unlikely anyone ever will make the connection. But even if someone did--what would I care? I was spectacular back then. Gorgeous!

Flicking on the light-switch, I rose and went to knock on Max's door. It sounded as if he was still sulking: "What?!"

I entered. "Look Max, why don't we call a truce? I am your mother--of course I'm going to worry. But I see how it is for you too. You're young. You want to act out; you want to have fun, and do crazy things. That's how it should be at your age."

He looked up through his bangs--face deadpan, but with a hint of banter in his voice. "What would you know about it mom? You were born old."

"Ha! I might surprise you... The thing is, you should have fun, but I want you to be careful too. You know--pick your fun, be smart, protect yourself. Smoking a joint isn't going to kill you, I get that. But don't make a habit of it, right? And for heaven's sake, don't do it at school!"

"I got it mom. I already said it was stupid. But, like, I'm not going to screw things up, you know? I mean, not in a big way. I got my college apps in on time, didn't I? Plus, you're looking at employee of the month for the Bed-Stuy KFC. You don't need to worry so much--I've got some pretty good role-models, right?"

I snared him with a hug, despite his best efforts to shrink away. "I know Max. You're a good kid. As long as you use that head of yours sometimes, you'll do ok."

A grin broke out on his face at last. "So, does this mean I get my phone back?"

I cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. "How about you make it through your suspension first, bucko, and then maybe we'll talk about it."

END