Perverts 'R' Us
Child of the Rodina
By Philthy ( M/g, 1st, cons, pedo )
lay.zee.boi@hotmail.com
My job takes me to Russia frequently. I work on automotive data busses and my employer has a long-term contract with a major Russian car and truck manufacturer to bring their systems up to western standards and to integrate the latest engine management technologies into their designs. For this I travel to Moscow once a month or so for anywhere from a four to eight day stay.
The facility I work at is on the outskirts of Moscow, past the ring road and not far off the main highway to St. Petersburg. I usually stay at one of the hotels along this highway, since there is not much else in the area. Most of the time my employer prefers to have the local supervisor of my division pick me up at the hotel and bring me to work. They don't want to pay for a rental car or even give me one of these glorious Russian cars from their fleet to use during my stays.
After work we'll usually stop on the way back for a meal and a beer. Russia, being what it is today, isn't a safe place to leave one's belongings in a hotel room unattended, so I always pack up every morning and load my bags into my supervisor's Opel Zafira for the ride to work, and then drag my bags with me into the office to avoid having my stuff freeze solid sitting in the van.
This was the routine for the first three trips to Russia, until my supervisor offered to let me stay in the spare room at his home. The logistics of my luggage was becoming a chore, and the necessity of bringing them with me to work was a reminder to the rest of the people in the office of the problems their society faces. It was becoming a standing insult. Staying with my supervisor relieved him and me of unnecessary extra work during my stay, and it was nice to be able to unpack and stay unpacked for the entire stay.
The home was on the outskirts of Moscow in an area that was rapidly building. The nouveau-rich were building huge mansions in the woods where previously there were only scattered farm houses and occasional small summer escapes used by the former Nonmenklatura of the old Soviet Communist Party. My supervisor had one of the smaller new homes in the area, built for him by our employer to western standards to attract outside talent to Moscow. His house was on the end of a block of similar new houses occupied primarily by western expatriates working temporarily here, only one small old house sat at the end of the street at the intersection of the main road.
My boss in Russia was an expatriate and had a daughter 11 named Zoe and a son 9 named Fraiser. A frequent visitor to the house was the 10-year-old girl that lived in the old house at the end of the street. Her name was Katja, and she was a skinny kid with blue eyes, dirty-blonde hair worn long and straight, a sweet if unspectacular face and glasses. Her dad died fighting in Chechnya with the FSB Border Guards. She had a 16-year-old brother who was involved in the local skinhead movement, a real tough little punk with tattoos and piercings, who smoked and drank hard. He ran with a crowd that liked to beat up dark-skinned people and all manner of foreigners. Her mom was a thin woman in her late thirties who looked at least ten years older.
With only a small pension after her husband's death and no real skills, she had to work in a local vegetable market making a small income there as well as sewing at home. My boss felt sympathy for Katja and made it a point to have her over and include her in family outings whenever possible. Her mom was a frequent guest as well. Except for the boy, who the mom had no control over, they were nice people dealt a bad hand in life.
By my second time staying with my boss, his kids and Katja had warmed up to me. I bought a bicycle and went riding with them after work when the weather eased up in the spring. They showed me meadows and small local lakes I'd have never imagined, had they not showed them to me. Occasionally we'd stop at a local store and I'd buy them all ice cream to their mom's dismay. She'd scold me for ruining their dinner. I'm such a bad influence!
During these rides a little eye contact developed between Katja and me. We'd often let Zoe and Frasier lead the charge while we hung back, riding side by side. She'd wear denim shorts and what looked to be a spandex leotard underneath, and it endlessly fascinated me to watch what hips she had and the bumpy line of her spine move under that clingy, shiny spandex fabric as she pedaled. She'd look up at me next to her as we rode and smile quite often.
Back at the boss' home, Katja was of the habit of sitting on a kitchen chair with one foot pulled up on the seat by her butt. This usually opened the legs of her shorts and exposed the crotch of her leotard to view, the delicious shape of her mound filled the fabric and at least once an old and stretched-out leotard sagged a bit to expose some lip. More than once I think Katja caught me looking at her this way. At least one other time, she caught me looking down her top as she sat at the kitchen table. Katja spent nights there with some frequency. My boss would let her stay whenever her brother was there with his tough friends, drinking and making trouble for her mom.
During one of these stays, I was up in the wee hours to use to loo. My room was next to the bathroom and across the hall was the den where Katja slept on a fold-out sofa bed. I noticed the light was on in the bathroom and waited outside. The light went out and the door slowly opened. It was Katja. She was startled to see me standing there and jumped. I whispered my profuse apologies and gave her a little hug. I really had to pee so I broke off the hug, closed the door, flipped on the light, and sat down. I had too big a boner now to stand up and pee!
When I was done and had washed my hands, I flipped the light off and opened the door. Katja was still standing there. She wrapped her arms around my waist and gave me a nice tight hug. I looked down at her and brushed her long hair out of her face. All she seemed to be wearing was a thin robe. She looked up at me in the dark hall and brought her face up to mine as if to kiss me.
Her body was pressed flat against mine and my boner was back with a vengeance. I leaned down and gently kissed her lips. Not open-mouthed, not a French kiss, just my lips pressed against hers for a moment or two. We broke the kiss, I ran my fingers through her hair again, and I told her I shouldn't do that with her, that she's much too young. I told her she was beautiful but I wasn't ready to spend my best years in Lefortovo Prison under the gaze of that statue of Felix Dzerdzinski or "Iron Felix." She released me and we returned to our rooms. Whew, that was too close!
Before I could nod off I heard the knob to my door turning, saw the door open through the darkness, and saw Kathja's outline in the door. She closed the door silently behind her and came to my bed. My heart was pounding in my ears as Katja lifted the covers, climbed in next to me, and pulled the covers back over us. Reflexively I reached over and scooped her next to me, holding her as close to my body as I could. Our noses bumped, our lips touched, and then pressed fully, our mouths opened and our tongues found each other in between.
The act of sliding her close under the covers pulled her robe away from her. I ran my hand along her bare back, tracing her spine, rubbing the back of her neck, playing with her hair, before rubbing the small of her back as we kissed. We both lay on our sides, front to front, holding each other tight as Katja raised her top leg and wrapped it over my hip. My hand shifted from her back to rub her hip and butt. She had no panties on, I discovered, and let my fingertips rake her slit lightly as my palm rubbed her baby smooth butt cheek. She gave a jolt and gasped as we kissed. I pressed my fingertips to her slit and felt her juice instantly. Her lips parted easily, allowing my fingertips to run up and down the now hot, oily length of her vulva, one knuckle deep.
Rubbing back and fourth several times, she became so wet you could hear sloppy noises, provoking a giggle from her. I concentrated a bit of my rubbing directly under her clit in that sensitive, delicate little groove between it and her pee hole. I could feel her hard nips poking me in the chest now and her breath was coming a little ragged at times. Then she broke our kiss, shoved her forehead into the crook of my neck and gentle spasms coursed through her body. When her orgasm subsided, she looked up at me with a rapturous expression.
She rolled onto her back, pulling the covers off us somewhat and exposing her bare upper body to view. Even in the dim light I could see she had no boobs to speak of but small, perfectly-shaped rock hard nipples. I brushed the covers back to see the rest of her. She was very slender with a flat tummy, slightly protruding hips and a plump, prominent hairless mound. Her nipples and vulva beckoned with a force that could not be resisted.
I leaned down to kiss and gently suck the nearest nipple while my hand found its rightful place between her legs. I cupped her mound as her legs parted, and then ran my index finger down her slit until it caught the entrance to her vagina. She was diabolically wet and slippery, my index finger slid in effortlessly. Beyond the mild tightness guarding the entrance, she was soft and sloppy and very wet inside. I stirred her slop for what seemed like forever until she began to maneuver me between her legs. She wanted to fuck!
I knelt between her open legs and propped my torso on my elbows. As I lowered my body to hers, I felt her hand touching my stiff prick. She placed the bulb against her suction cup lips, felt them curl around behind my bulb as it submerged in her hot goo, felt the slippery flesh of her vagina pull in slowly like an unstoppable force until all of my cock was bathed in her liquid softness. How could this skinny girl take this? She had the nicest pussy I've ever experienced!
I remained still inside her for a moment until the initial shock of how nice she felt wore off. I began to withdraw and the sensation was electric, it gave me chills. Her pussy was so damn smooth. Katja wrapped her legs around behind mine and pulled me back into her. Oh fuck, her soft pussy felt bottomless. She was so hot and silky inside. I only lasted a handful of slow deliberate strokes and came hard.
"My turn" I grunted as I shoved my cock as deep as possible to quench the twitching. Even after I thought I was done, when I started to withdraw, the sensation of her slippery soft flesh against my cock sent new spasms of pleasure through my body, forcing me to plunge back into her fully. It took about four tries to pull out without having a fresh orgasm each time. How could such a plain-looking girl have such an amazing pussy?
We lay in bed for a while, quietly holding each other tightly, occasionally kissing, and touching each other's face. At last I looked over at the clock, 4:15am. I told her I loved her, but it was time to go before we got caught. She gave me one last sweet kiss and disappeared as silently as she arrived.