The Russian Wife Ch. 08

Our friends had told us that those trees were cork oaks. They were red, by day, because the cork had been carved away already. There's a lot of things you can do with cork, they told us. Bottle caps, souvenirs for tourists, but even isolating panels for buildings, It was a good business.

We arrive to a point where there were no trees. We could see a valley, and a distant plain, with the fields and the roads neatly visible in the moonlight.

It was a nice view. On the slopes of the hills, on both sides, some houses, with the windows lightened from inside. We knew they were the first houses of two small country towns, but in the dark, being surrounded and almost covered by other trees, they could even look like more or less isolated huts. Hunters' or shepherds' huts...

"It's sweet, o hut, when in the hurricanes..." said my man, in Italian. It was a poem, of course not of his own (he was NOT a poet), but he said it well, and it was nice. It was about what we were seeing. "But sweetest, if the distant fires of woods laugh, and throbs every leaf on every tree, is lolling in the dusk on your threshold, so grassy, in the wide hum of the plains...". And the last verse: "The moon is raising to bless all the mountains."

"Whose is this poem?" I asked. He did not bluff.

"Of a local poet, first years of this century. Sebastiano Satta. I have read it at school. Now I know what it was about." He said. He nodded with his chin to the valley. "Nice, isn't it?"

"Yes." I said. We kept enjoying the panorama, for a while, then I took my man's hand and pull him away with me. "Come!"

We run till the first trees of the woods who surrounded the house of our friends. I stopped, breathing hard, then I look at my man, in his eyes.

"Take me!" I told him. And he got ready to run after me: he was so far from the thought of sex, that he thought I had said "take me" in the sense of "catch me"... I rolled my eyes up, smiling, and looked at him, shaking my head. "Take me NOW!" I said.

"Ah... You mean... HERE? You want me to... HERE?"

I nodded, smiling. Yes, my baby. I want you to "disrespect" me. Here, now, on the spot...

"Why?" he asked.

"Because it's all so beautiful... Your poem, this night, this light... And because if we don't do it now, so, beneath the stars, we will never do it anymore... And it would be bad..."

My man nodded. I wanted to have him back, to have my man, my male back. And I was right, it was a good place and a good moment for doing it... Beneath the stars...

We looked around in the wood. The cork oaks were more or less bent, not vertical. It was for the wind, my man said. It was easier to lean on them. Not exactly a bed, but it was not like standing on your feet...

So we went to a tree. It was bigger and much more bent than the others, and it was smooth, without the cork, but my man gave me his leather jacket, and put it on my spine, so I could hold it between the tree and my body. So I could lean on something softer, and I had not to worry so much about the ants... Then he hugged me, his left arm around my shoulders, the other hand on my tailbone, clenching me against his body...

We started kissing each other, standing on our feet, but quite soon my man was ready to go ahead: I felt it against my pubes and smiled to him. In that situation, it was hard for him to use his nice "tactical tricks". But I was quite aroused and "wet" inside, already... He was moving against me, with the same movements of when he ploughed me inside, in bed... And this did not disturb me at all: it aroused me even more... He was coming back in the living world...

I knew he would have taken me the hard way, without any real "podgotovka", but I was not scared: I was ready...

"Isnasìlui menyà..." I said, smiling. Rape me...

And he did. He pulled down my panties, I let them fall, then I leaned on the trunk of the tree, the curve of it against my butt, the rest against my spine, through the jacket, and let him pull up my dress and unbutton his pants, lean over me, widening my legs, and penetrate me, opening my vulva with the tip of his sex, and then pushing it inside of me, with a single blow, hard and strong like a train. I cried, he had hurt me a bit, but I was happy... He was my man again...

He started spearing me, with hard, well distanced blows, not fast like a rabbit... his hands on the inner lining of his jacket, at the sides of my waist: that way I could not fall... I winced every time, and I had the time to fancy the next blow before it came, and I liked it so... I raise my legs, one at at time, and put my ankles on his shoulders. Now my sex was aimed high, and his blows came straighter, from above, and penetrated me deeper...

I felt open, weaker and weaker, in his hands. My moans became wails, almost weep...

"Davày... Davày..." I muttered. I wanted to reassure him: he was not hurting me, I wanted him to go on, to possess me that way...

And he went on, mute, breathing hard, like me, pushing his sex into me, back and forth, more and more fluidly. He was just a bit out of training, but he was recovering quickly...

"Silnèie... Silnèie..." I begged, and he complied gradually, for to make me feel less pain. His blows now arrived stronger, up to the bottom of my sex, at the gate of my uterus, and I liked it. Just some more blows and I "finished", eyes closed, moaning... A long, sweet moan...

I opened my eyes and looked at him, smiling, grateful. He had not yet "finished", I did not feel his warm, strong flood...

"Do you want to take me from behind?" I asked him.

"Yes... If you want..." he panted. I smiled.

"I'm your slave, my lord...".

He got out of me, and I stood on my feet and turned my back to him, bending my body, as for to let him whip my back, just to offer him my sex, at the right height... the tree was not bent enough to lean on it, with my body in that position... I hugged the tree, his jacket between my face and the trunk, and he took me: I feel the tip of his sex between my thighs and between my buttocks, still hard, looking for my vulva, still open, weak, doomed to be... I fancied that he could sodomize me, even If I knew he would have not done it: he loved my sex, nothing more... And he found my sex, and dived into it... Strong hands, strong "chlèn"... My man, my male, at his best... I closed my eyes, letting him do to me what he wanted, with his sex, with his fingers... and he did, front and rear, while I moaned, knowing that I could not stop him, even if I wanted to... I could not see him, even with my eyes open, but I felt him, behind me, inside of me... And I liked it... His sex seemed bigger from behind, as always, but it did not hurt me. He just reminded me that he was the strongest and I was the weakest, he was born to penetrate me, and I was born to host him, he was the male, and I was the female. And I loved it. I loved to host him, to be penetrated by him. To have him as my male...

He "finished" inside of me, and I enjoyed it: another orgasm, strong but deep, without high pitches or the like. It was all inside. And it left me breathless, giddy... I stood up, when he got out of me, but I was not so firm on my feet...

"Hey... Beware!" my man said, smiling, holding me up.

"Oh... sorry..." I chuckled. "Can you take my panties, please? If I bend, I will fall face down..."

"Oh, yeah..." he said. He bent and take my panties, but they were damp with dew and likely full of ants, even if in the moonlight I saw just two or three of them... He slammed them against the trees to let the ants fall, but even so...

"I don't think that to put them on is a good idea..." I said.

"And who is telling you to put them on?" said he. And poked my panties in his pocket.

"Oh!" I smiled. Yes, I would have come back home with no panties beneath my "sarafan"... Well, why not? The lower part of it arrived to my knees, nobody would have noticed anything...

We walked hand in hand on the grass, and after a while I started chuckling.

"What's that?" my man asked.

"I feel the wind under my skirt..."

"Hmm!" he snorted. "You know, still in the 19th century, usually, all the women walked with no panties..."

"Really?" I looked at him. He nodded.

"Yes... They wore long skirts, so nobody saw it... But they did!"

"It's tickling!" I said. I was feeling the air on my pubes, which I had shaved not so long before, on my vulva, still swollen, sensible. I looked at my man and smiled. I was still feeling his sex inside too... long, hard, strong, warm, throbbing... And this made me feel how I really belonged to him... My thighs were wet of his own... "Ya devchònka huliganka! Yà gulyàyu gdè khochù!" I sang. I'm a bad street girl! I roam wherever I want! My man laughed...

We entered the house and we saw our friend looking a movies on the TV. They were starting to worry about us: one of them was suggesting to call the police. They asked us where did we end up. My man shrugged.

"Just a stroll... It is wonderful, out there!"

We took the stairway to go to our room, and I felt our friends were still looking at us. Especially, they were looking at me. At my "6 below", to be more precise: the "B side"... I smiled: they were "normàlnye mujikì", normal men, nothing bad... But if they just had known what I did NOT have there below...

"A stroll..." said one of them, cheerfully, then he started talking in Sardinian language. "Go tell another man... "Cùstas fèmminas rùssas"!"... Those Russian women...

"Eh, they are married!" another man said. "What do you want?"

Me and my man, at the door of our room already, looked at each other and smiled, but my man made me a sign to keep mum...

Not so fool, those Sardinian men...