Murmansk Stone

Near the end of the night, though, I woke up with a dream that the lighter-haired one had a problem in her breast.

Waking up in the morning, I told Anna about my dream and she relayed it to the woman.

That woman's mother had died of breast cancer, so this was concerning. I got up and went over and kissed her cheek and hugged her and told her she deserved to be happy, so go to a doctor, and then stop worrying and be happy.

My expressions of kindness to her, even with my not knowing her, elicited some tears, but there was also a lot of leftover happiness from the night before so we parted on good terms.

Right after they left (and that was still early morning), I took another quick bath (for obvious reasons) and packed up. Not that I didn't trust Anna, but I did check that my camera was in my pack, and took a picture of her and myself together.

She went off to fetch the car, came back about an hour later with the backseat full of packages. Loading up some food, we set off.

The previously "some hours" trip would take half the day at least, she said. She was right.

The roads were gravel with more potholes than road, chancy looking log bridges over rivers with water boiling and roiling underneath us, moving faster than I wanted to contemplate falling into. Some parts of the road were around hilly areas, steep parts with mountainside cuts that were one lane wide and zigzag up and down slopes.

I've traveled long distances before, but mostly by plane, and the 25 mph (40 kph) drive was tiring just from the being-bounced-around perspective. We only passed one truck going the other direction, and 15 or 20 branch-off roads - this was one seriously depopulated place.

Evergreen and aspen trees, low or tall, big fields of windswept grass, wide-open marshland with mosquitoes so bad we had to roll up the windows, all of it passed by with a drama frankly without comparison in the 'modern' world (USA, Canada, Europe, etc.)

The other thing I wondered about was, where were all the people. In open grasslands like that, in the USA, there would be grain farming, cattle or buffalo or sheep or whatever, etc., and there wasn't any of that. Sure, it's cold most of the year, but I would think there would be a way to make a living out there, somehow, given some medium amount of infrastructure like PV panels and concrete house foundations.

I'm not the expert, though.

I asked Anna why her city existed, and she said, 'Always there. Very old. River makes fish. Cut logs from forest, float down river, make money. Bad people cut all forest down, now no more forest, no more money. Some sheep make wool, we knit. Soviets had rockets, I think, 'big secret' (she laughed) that was nothing but fake brick buildings to fool American satellites. What I heard, anyway."

I had to laugh, too, and said, "Potemkin Rockets."

She got an even bigger laugh and said, "You know Potemkin!? He is popular in Russia. But, bad idea. Old phrase - 'Poor neighbor, I am better. Rich neighbor, salt the garden."

"Throw salt on their garden?"

"Da, da, da. Salt them. No cabbage. They are hungry. They sell fancy stuff for little money, to buy cabbage."

"That's horrible!"

"Is very Russian."

This was a window into their psyche I didn't like very much. "What if everyone is poor?"

"Then, we have fun, we drink, sing together, make sex outside. If -- no mosquitoes."

I laughed. Maybe the mosquitoes were why people didn't live here. I wondered if the mosquitoes had any natural predators.

She said, "I think you say the word, dragonfly? Is not dragon. Is this right?"

"Yes. Any bats?"

"Bats? No bats here. I have seen bats in books. No bats."

"Probably too cold."

Her nod was beset by a grim look at the road ahead, and our conversation paused while she figured a way through the mud puddles of unknown depth.

Towards late afternoon, we got to more and more crossroads and small businesses all of a sudden, and we were in a small town with a train station. It wasn't big, but it was big enough, about the size of two houses shoved together, and certainly as sturdy as that implies.

One side of the lobby was taken up by stacked firewood, and a big franklin-type wood stove stood idle in the corner.

The ticket counter was a guy behind a desk with what looked like two old garden gates (complete with peeling paint) on both sides to keep people from walking behind him.

He was listening to a radio and reading an old book that (as I got close) I figured out was a Russian Orthodox bible.

He looked at Anna with some recognition and said some things in Russian. I got some of it. She said, "Train is tomorrow morning. You get ticket now. I pay money."

"I don't have any."

"I know this. I am telling you. Tomorrow is good?"

I nodded since anything was better than the lobby I was in.

She talked with the guy some more, they traded some rubles for a ticket from his book, I put that in my pocket.

He pointed at the clock, then held up 8 fingers and pointed at me and the floor. Then, he held up 9 fingers and made a going-zoom down the track motion. I understood perfectly.

Anna led me away and we drove to a church nearby, where we were met by two girls, younger college age maybe, maybe late high school, it was hard to tell. They helped unload the backseat into their front room, unpacked the boxes of garments, broke the cardboard boxes down to flat, put those back in the car, and Anna was set.

The mother came in from the kitchen and told us to wash, which turned out to be washing hands and faces.

Dinner (with the sun still up at 8 pm) was another delicious vegetable soup with what I took was mutton in it (one of the girls said, "Baaaaa" in a silly voice and the other one elbowed her harshly, and we all laughed).

I was led to the front room of the 2-story flat, and a bedroll laid out for me. The mother took the two girls into the kitchen to do dishes, asked if I had any dirty laundry, and I said no, thank you.

My socks were dirty, but I could wash those myself.

The man from the railroad station showed up about then, ate, and it looked like he was the husband, but then he left again. It turned out, he was the girls' father, but the mother was the mistress.

Anna had all the backstory. He had a family. Things worked differently there, with a lack of good men around. The only reason the man had been left in place was that he was both the railroad agent and the local priest. Since he was married before becoming a priest, Russian Orthodox let him still be married, but if his wife dies, he cannot re-marry. Thus, he has a mistress in case his wife dies, and everybody regards her as the new wife, again grandfathered in as a legit pre-priesthoold relationship, even if it was newer (wink, wink).

She said this like it was normal there, so I just kind of shrugged.

I asked if there was any stigma, bad feelings, social problem, whatever, with being the child of a priest who didn't marry the mother.

Anna said, "Some. The girls, probably unable marry rich man. But no rich men here. Not many men here, anywhere. The girls, could be, never marry. No new men come here. They talk about going to big city. In city, will be hungry, no place to sleep, drugs, prostitution, worry, shame, fear. Here, they have food and house and clothes and mother."

Russia's situation wasn't great. I wondered why all the excess men in China (where there was a big lack of women) didn't import Russian women, or come there to live in nice houses, though colder ones than tropical Shanghai. Anna was surprised to hear there were men in China with no wives, and I talked about the one-child policy there meaning girl-fetuses were aborted.

We agreed that was horrible.

I looked around the home. It was richly decorated with hanging rugs and thick blankets on the walls, which I took to be both heat insulation and sound control. It wasn't a big house, and had lots of furniture, but it was warm and cozy and full of character.

I used the toilet and came out to find the girls waiting to use it, wearing nightgowns.

Anna was sitting in an easy chair, wearing pajama-sweats with a logo that said, "Los Angeles Olympics 1984" on them. I had to laugh at that.

The girls took a while in the bathroom.

Anna pulled off her t-shirt and her bra, setting her breasts free with a purposeful jiggle and a smile to me, and went over to the kitchen. I followed to watch, and she took a washrag and wiped herself down in a sponge-bath way. I borrowed it for the same activity, pulling off my shirt as well.

The mother was upstairs for the night, having given us a good-night, saying, "spokoynoy nochi, schast'ya i podarkov", which Anna waved at and we let her go upstairs, shutting the door to the upstairs as she went.

"What was that?"

Just as she was answering, the bathroom door opened and the girls walked out together, so Anna cut it short and just said, "Good night, and ... happy dreams, sort of."

The girls saw us and laughed behind open palms, kind of an embarrassed action, but the taller and maybe more mature one thought about it and said, "Nyet. Ohnee khotyat boot golymi. My dohlzhnee sdelat to zhe samoye."

Anna quickly translated this and I looked at her as she did, but when i looked back, the girls had dropped their nightgowns. They each bent over and picked them up, shaking them out and folding them neatly onto the kitchen table.

One went over and pulled down the blinds on the kitchen door and locked it, and I watched her butt move with delicious flexing-curves as she did so.

Anna had translated the words as, "She said, quote, No, they want to be naked, we must being same." As soon as she finished, she looked at me, then at them, and started unbuttoning her pants.

I was wondering. "Anna, we have not made love yet. I didn't know you wanted to."

Anna shook her head. "I cannot have children. You have nice skin. I enjoy skin."

"And... them? Are the girls old enough?"

She nodded, "Oh, yes. Graduated school. We talk. They want."

"Won't being pregnant be a ... hassle? A social problem?"

"Not if you are a smart foreigner. You are smart. I talk with you. They know, also. You are not drug dealer, not alcoholic, not gay, not have tuberculosis. You are American."

I laughed, "Remember, I am 'Chinese'." I put air-quotes around that, and that was funny for everyone.

There is a Russian word that might translate to 'lie' but it's not a lie, it's 'Vranyo', like Sanyo but for lies, is the way I remembered it. I learned it early, working with them. Vranyo is a lie that you tell where the listener and you both know perfectly well is a lie. You both pretend. It is the convenient thing to say, but everyone really knows.

Sometimes vranyo is vital because life is such a sack of shit that to tell the truth about any part of it would be to admit that you live in this shithole and can't do anything about it. So, you lie, the other person pretends the lie is real, back and forth, bing-bang-boom, a wink and a nod, and the absolute promise that you will do something in exchange for something else, or that something works, or whatever, it all just keeps floating in the air like a dream bubble no one wants to pierce.

Vella, the older one, said, "I do not speak English with Mother. I understand some English. Thank you."

"You, all three, are very beautiful. I am ... wow." I made a face to show I was impressed with their beauty, since some things don't translate. They appreciated the idea, and Anna did, too.

Both girls had shaved their pubic hair but not their legs ("mother will know") but it was just part of the oddity of being there and I ran with it, pulling off my pants, and watching them pick them up.

As soon as I took off my socks, Petra took them to the sink and started soaping them up, rinsing them off, etc.

Vella knelt in front of me and pulled down my underwear, carefully getting it past my erection with a smile, but taking it to put by Petra on the edge of the sink.

She led, and Anna followed, back to the living room to the bedroll, laid out nicely with sheets and two blankets. I said, "I see two blankets, but I think I have something better than blankets for keeping warm."

They both laughed.

Vella said something lengthy in Russian, and Anna translated, "She is a virgin, she says, and is nervous, but she wants this. She says, two weeks before, ago. Since. She is fertile. She asks, go slow."

I nodded, and we lay next to each other. Anna lay on the far side of her, and I reached over and took Anna's hand to stroke it over Vella's side, over her skin. I said, "Tell her, I want to see, girls touch girls, is sexy."

Vella said, sort-of to Anna, "Da-da-da, men like this. Is okay."

Petra had come in from the kitchen and lay on my side, on the edge of the mattress.

Vella and I kissed for a while, getting into the spirit of things, though she seemed pretty nervous. I peppered her with long, slow kisses, and then worked my way down her body to her breasts.

Calling Anna over, I worked on one breast and got Anna to nuzzle and lick around the other one, then went down further, and had Petra get in closer to lick the other breast.

I could tell Petra was unsure of herself, but I encouraged this with, "Very sexy-sexy, yes, more!"

Vella saw I was moving down farther, kissing her, kissing and kissing and getting in and under her thighs, moving them wider, and kissing in between, closer and closer.

Finding my nose nuzzling up and on the skin right near her vulva, I let it ride up and over her pouting lips and felt her respond strongly. Of course, I made an Mmmmm sound, and kept going, licking up her slit, pulling it apart with my fingers, and making her squirm and moan softly.

This was going to be fun!

Maybe ten minutes later, I had Vella whimpering uncontrollably, squirming and strong-shuddering in jerky movements as she tried to crush my ears. I loved it when girls came, and she was beautiful in her orgasm, clamping on my two inserted fingers in steady pulses and writhing in agony-ecstasy under the way my lips had pulled her clit in to let my tongue flutter dance on it.

It wasn't fair to keep her in orgasm for more than 30 seconds (yes, I kept track), so I relaxed and stopped, slowing it down, and moved up.

My cock was ready and willing to go the distance, so I put it up to her wide lips and pressed ever so slightly inwards, pulling her legs up and out to give myself the angle.

She nodded so fast at me, looking down at what I was doing, and we locked eyes with smiles that said, "YES".

I pushed in farther, but despite the very-tight aspect of it, didn't break through anything. I knew, some girls had hymens, some didn't, and apparently she didn't. Regardless, I went very slowly, moving in and out, and I could tell she was uncomfortable with some of it.

Still, she kept nodding and encouraging me, so soon I was all the way in. She said, "I am woman."

I just said, "Vella. You are always a woman. Always beautiful, inside and outside."

She smiled at that. "You say, because, you inside."

We laughed, I shrugged, and said, "Da-da-da. True."

Still, we moved slightly, I had Anna and Petra back off, and I moved down to lay atop her and push in more gently and in a steady rhythm. I could feel, as I got in, her clit was being pressed up against her pubic bone and ground around a little, and her face showed this was having a great effect.

We just moved on and on that way. She obviously was feeling good about it, but I couldn't hold out any more and started going faster and faster, pounding hard into her, thrusting UP and IN and UP and IN again and again, and then, suddenly, I was coming, pumping a thrusting SPURT after Spurt into her, driven deep and DEEPER and wow it was good!

We just lay there, and relaxed; Anna and Petra rubbed my back, until I felt myself starting to slip out and rolled off of her towards Petra's side.

Vella giggled and clamped her knees together. I pointed at the wall behind us and made a rotating finger motion for her to turn upside down.

She was confused, but I knew from when my wife and I tried, the way to help things along was for the woman to turn upside down so all the sperm stayed inside. After translating through Anna, she got a big grin and turned around.

Motioning in to Anna and Petra, I had them tuck in alongside me, and we chatted a bit about what life was really like in the U.S. I had to keep things generic since I didn't want them to know anything about where I lived or who I was, really, but I'd been to many cities around the world and I compared some of those.

They were impressed by the stories, which I phrased as being because my dad traveled, and I got to go with him. My age, to them, was somewhere around 33 (I asked for a guess) and I knew I'd be getting younger looking as time went on, based on what The Chair had said.

Petra's hand was moving over my chest, and it strayed farther down to go over my package, which woke me right back up.

One thing led to another, and soon Petra (who was not a virgin, she'd done it with a boy from her neighborhood who had moved away, but she said, she'd insisted he wear a condom, and he'd agreed because, a, he was desperate, and b, he didn't want any blood on him from breaking her hymen.

I went down and licked Petra just as I had with Vella, giving her a nice shaking orgasm that seemed kind of weak, but then she started climbing back up again and came a second time. I love to make women come, it's real power.

Once she'd relaxed a minute, I moved around and got behind her. Vella was watching, too, so I had her and Anna lie under Petra's breasts and lick them while I pushed inside her.

Wow.

Her butt was a perfect heart - thin waist, dimples of venus, muscular glutes, and a nice little crinkly brown-eye looking up at me.

Getting in took some doing, a lot of tiny pushes, but soon I was stroking away, and the girls were sucking away at Petra's nipples in the meantime.

This got Petra going, for sure, but I encouraged Anna to reach down and diddle Petra's clit with her fingers, and that made for a great orgasm, too.

Pushing forward in a steady rocking in-out-in-out, I sighed and looked at the lovely quims of Anna and Vella open to me, legs splayed as they tried to hold onto and lick Petra's boobs.

What a life, I thought. But, I had to make sure to give Anna a chance at me.

Returning to my view as I pushed my cock into her, I could see the head of my cock just under her skin as I almost came out, then pushed in again. There wasn't a way to be sure without measuring, but I was pretty sure my penis was bigger than it had been - longer and wider - definitely the head was larger when I was erect, much more mushroom shaped than cylindrical.

Petra started coming about 3-4ths of the way through, and kept on coming. Anna's hand, their mouths, my cock, her previous two orgasms just minutes earlier, the super-sexy way we were all in bed together... Plus I remembered what it was like to be that young, 18 or 19, and so intent and devoted to the process that I could stay up all night just doing it.

I had done that, in that small village.

Too soon - I wanted it to go on forever - I felt my balls tighten and I said, "about to come! About... to..." and then, I spurted, groaning loudly, forgetting that I was supposed to be quiet in this house until at least the second or third big groan. The walls were covered and it was fairly acoustically dead in there, but still, there's no way it was a secret given the ceilings weren't rug covered.

My cum squirted into her, tense-release pulses in my lower abdomen that ended at the end of my cock.

How much cum did I make?

Was that changing?

What did the Chair do to me?

I wasn't complaining. There was zero chance I could get this lucky anywhere else and without some kind of help. Something was definitely going on. But, I wasn't going to question it too closely.