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Blackmailed Bride

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My fiancé said, “Kate, you have to promise me you won’t look in this one box. Promise?”

I laughed and held up my hand like taking an oath. “I promise, sir!”

“Mr. Zankov, you keep her honest for me until I get home. In fact, here.”

Our new landlord helped carry some out belongings from the car to our 3rd floor apartment. He took the brown box from John while saying, “Da, Da! Your secret safe. Segei too promise.”

He was a strange man. Short, stout, and in his sixties with bad teeth and a few strands of greasy hair on his head. It probably was my imagination, but every time I turned, I caught him looking at me. He would give me a bad smile that didn’t ease my discomfort. His thick Russian accent didn’t help, either.

Okay, Red. I have to make one more appearance at the office before our big day on Saturday. I can’t believe in two days we’ll be Mr. and Mrs. John Burke.”

“Don’t forget I’m keeping my name: Brennan!”

“Don’t get your Irish up, Kate. Until at least after we’re married. Come here.” He took me in his arms and kissed me softly. John was always so gentle. I hardly felt his touch.

“Now that you’ve graduated college, you can find a job in the big city here so I won’t have to be the only worker in the family.

“I can’t wait. After four years of classrooms, I’m ready for an office and a paycheck,” I said.

“See you tonight.”

I watched John’s car until it rounded the corner. Then I carried in the last two bags sitting on the sidewalk. Mr. Zankov had already gone upstairs with John’s mystery box.


Mr. Zankov stood in the living room with his arms folded and a grim look on his face.

“Thanks for your help, Mr. Zankov. I’ll call you if I need anything.” I thought this was a clever way to tell him to leave.

“Sergei. Please call me Sergei. May I say Kate?”

I would have preferred something more formal from this repulsive man, but said, “Sure.”

“Kate. We have serious problem.”

My first thought was something about the apartment: heating, appliances, water pipes.

“That box, your husband. Brown one.”

I looked in the corner. There it sat with the cover off.

“Open as Sergei put down, and … come look.”

“John told me not to.”

“Sergei knows now why forbids you this,” Sergei said. “Sergei afraid must call police.” He pointed to his cell phone that he had left propped up on the end table. “Come, come.”

A sense of dread made me cold all over. A rough hand grabbed my elbow and led me to the box. When I looked inside, I saw the vilest assortment of photographs and DVDs imaginable.

Sergei must report husband’s “hobby” to police. Mrs. Kate see why.”

I was in shock. All of a sudden, I felt I didn’t know the man I was about to marry. How could he have kept this from me in the years we had known each other? Now, in addition to my newfound knowledge, I was faced with John getting arrested and being forever labeled.

“You see problem, as good American citizen.” Sergei’s voice barely registered in my demolished consciousness. “Sergei call now.”

“Wait! Wait! Mr. Zankov, please wait. This has to be a misunderstanding.”

“What not understand; even Sergei, stupid Russian immigrant understand what Sergei sees.

“Let me straighten this out with my fiancé. Please!”

“My mother in Russia, when Sergei needed to show … what is word … Sergei’s sincerity, would make Sergei fall to knees before her, close eyes and say what is deepest in Sergei’s heart.”

This sounded like a glimmer of hope. I knelt before this man, closed my eyes, and said: “Mr. Zankov, John is a good man. Maybe this is all a mistake. Maybe he’s in the grip of something he can’t free himself—”

The air had turned putrid and my lips got swiped with the stickiest goo imaginable. I opened my eyes, and before me was the biggest penis I had ever seen. Its head was grayish pink with a dark purple ring around it. The shaft had thick veins feeding it blood. The tip oozed and drooled, and I knew that liquid was covering my lips too.

I spit on the floor and tried to stand up. A heavy hand pressured my shoulder. “Such pretty red hair,” he said and brushed his hand along the top of my head. “Suck Sergei’s cock.”

“NOOO!” I screamed and tried to get up, and then tried to crawl away. But, his strong hand had my short hair secure and held me there.

“Yes, scream! Scream bring neighbors to see what beloved fiancé looks at instead of bride.”

“Noooo,” I said softly this time.

“Suck Sergei’s cock and Sergei forget all and all is past.” He pushed the offensive appendage suddenly close and brushed my lips again, making me cough with the smell. By reflex, my tongue came out to wipe my lips clean. An overpowering sour and bitter taste filled my mouth.

“No, please. Don’t make me. Please.”

He let go of me. “Sergei call 911. They will know how deal man like this.”

I could only look up at him and plead with my eyes. I had no words in my mouth to use.

“Such green eyes. Use green eyes to see Sergei’s cock.”

Uncontrollably my eyes darted to the massive instrument before me. It throbbed with each of his heartbeats and pointed at my mouth.

“Sergei is bigger than your puny John. Sergei right?”

I shook my head “no” in a lie. Mr. Zankov was huge compared to John.

“Give Sergei your hand,” he commanded. When I didn’t comply, he reached down and grabbed my limp arm, pulling it up until he had found my hand. He placed my open palm against the hot, hard organ extending from his body.

I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. “Stroke Sergei. Stroke now.” He extended my fingers around his shaft and then with his own hand on top of mine, began a slow jacking motion along its whole length.

“Aahhh!” he breathed. “Good girl, good girl. Your hand knows even as kate’s mind says ‘no.’ Continue.”

He took his hand away, and inexplicably, I continued. My fingers put gentle pressure on his penis, but couldn’t reach all the way around because of his vast circumference.

“You suck Sergei’s cock, this all goes away. Poof!” He pushed forward and forced the cockhead against my lips. With my hand there, it looked like I was guiding it into my mouth.

“I’m begging you …”

“Suck Sergei. You suck cock before. Suck Sergei now,” he whispered over and over. His hand on my head was no longer forceful, but patting and rubbing my short red hair. “Suck Sergei and Kate again think of beautiful wedding instead of vast unpleasantness with police.”

“Don’t make me,” I said.

“Suck Sergei,” he said and pressed his dripping cock against my lips.

I parted my lips and took that vile cock into my mouth. The odor and taste were overpowering.

“Good … good. You suck Sergei. Women love suck Sergei. You see … you see.”

So far, he was only “in” my mouth. I hadn’t yet let the huge head touch my tongue or the inside of my mouth.

“Now all is left is sucking,” he said. He grasped my fingers and put extra pressure on that thick shaft. This sent a quantity of precum dripping onto my tongue. It had a horrific salty and sour taste.

I gagged. Mr. Zankov took this as a sign to push his cock to the back of my throat. I tried to pull away, but his strong hand stopped my head’s retreat.

“Suck. Easier for Kate,” he said in a chillingly friendly and soft voice.

Again I tried to pull away, but couldn’t. “Suck Sergei and all over, poof!” he said with that same encouraging melodious tone.

I sucked. My tongue made contact with the underside of his penis. My cheeks hollowed and hugged the sides of his shaft. Unavoidably, the poisonous liquid flowing from this disgusting man mixed with my saliva and found its way into my throat.

“Yours most beautiful lips to surround Sergei’s cock in all sixty-nine years,” he said while looking lovingly into my eyes.

It would be months before my twenty-second birthday. He was older than my grandfather. Forty-eight years older than me. And I was giving him a blowjob.

Suddenly, he surprised me by pulling his cock away. “Tell Sergei you love sucking Sergei’s cock. Tell … tell now.”

“NO!” I yelled. I didn’t expect him to yell back:


The volume of his raspy voice filled the apartment. That and the wild look in his eye frightened me so much I said, “Sergei, I love sucking your cock.” My eyes were directed at the floor.

“One more time. Look at me. And when you finish, lick tip and suck Sergei.” I figured this was some fantasy he was trying to enact. My fear made me play along.

While looking up at him, in a quavering voice, I said: “Sergei, I love sucking your cock.” Then I licked the thick bead of precum off the tip of his prick before stuffing his cock in my mouth and sucking it again.

“Da! Da!” he said. Then guided my hand to put more pressure and speed up its motion.

I should have foreseen this, but it suddenly became clear that he was planning to cum in my mouth. A new horror over took me.

I stopped to plead one last time, “Please … no!”

He didn’t even say anything. He reinserted his cock in my mouth and started my hand on its program of jerking him off.

It seemed like an eternity to me, but in less than a minute, the old man’s legs shook while he closed his eyes and shouted toward the ceiling one word—my name. “KATE!”

His penis burst a flood of hot liquid and gelatin the consistency of cottage cheese. It filled my mouth and forced its way down my throat. Half of it, anyway. The other half was finding its way into my nose and leaking out of the corners of my mouth.

I tried to cough, I tried to gag, but all I could do was swallow and make an unrecognizable sound deep in my throat. I thought it would never end, but finally he pulled out and let a last jet of cum spray across my face. His hand went under my chin and lifted my face towards his. Our eyes met.

“You made Sergei cum. Good girl. More cum than puny John. No?” Then he laughed.

I put my hands down flat, bent forward, and spit all that was left in my mouth on the shiny hardwood floor. “I’m going to be sick!” I said out loud. To myself, and not to him.

I ran to the bathroom and fulfilled my prophecy. I vomited into the toilet. I could hear his laughter.

Before the slamming of the door, he called to me: “Sergei keeps his promise. No police.”


I used mouthwash for five minutes straight. Then brushed my teeth—three times. Then threw away the toothbrush.

I scrubbed and polished the floor, put the paper towels in a separate garbage bag and tossed it down the chute in the hallway.

Finally, I took the longest shower of my life.

I had planned to put the finishing touches on our new apartment, but mostly sat around looking at the box. The offending box.

It sat on the floor. Our landlord had put the cover back on it before he left. I wouldn’t touch it.

So many questions ran through my mind: Did I really know who John was now? Do I tell him I know what was in the box? Do we still get married? Do I ever let him know what I did to save him from public humiliation and police prosecution?

Hours went by and I only got more confused. Finally, I heard the key in the door. Usually, I got up and ran into John’s arms. Tonight, I sat there, unmoving.

John’s face brightened when he saw me like it always did. That didn’t have the same effect on me as usual.

“Does my Kate have a big kiss for her man?” he asked. His arms were wide, waiting for an embrace.

Two thoughts went through my mind. That was the first time I heard my name since that Neanderthal called it out while cumming. The other was that the very cum during that orgasm had drenched the mouth John wanted to kiss.

Both those thoughts, and more, kept me glued to the chair.

“We should talk,” I said quietly. So much for not mentioning the box, I guessed. Something drove me on to figure this out with John, and maybe salvage our relationship. Maybe we could get him help.

John looked fairly puzzled. “About …?”

I nodded toward the box.

“I KNEW IT!” he yelled. He put his hands on his hips, and stared at me with a grim look.


“I knew you would be mad at me for leaving a mystery hanging like this!”

“John, I can imagine why you didn’t want me to see …”

But, before I could get the rest of my sentence out, John had walked over to the box, flipped off its cover, and pulled out the most gorgeous porcelain clock I had ever seen. It was the clock that had been handed down in his family for several generations.

“My mother made me promise not to give this to you until after the honeymoon. It was a housewarming gift from her.”

I ran over to look in the box. Except for the clock, there was nothing in it.

The look on my face must have expressed all the shock I was feeling.

“I thought you might have peeked, but I can tell how flabbergasted you are.” He laughed with the excitement that comes from giving someone a big surprise. “I bet you can’t top THAT!”

“No,” I said. Then I thought to myself “unless I tell you our gross landlord came in my mouth after I gave him a blowjob today.”


“See you this afternoon,” John said. “We’ll leave the city and head home—our old home—and be there in plenty of time for our rehearsal and dinner with the wedding party.”

I give him a light kiss on the cheek. He looked at me strangely.

“What’s up with you? Last night? This morning?”

“I guess I’m getting nervous. Big day, you know.”

“Relax. You have all day to relax and get yourself together.”

The night before I had been distant. When John suggested we “break in” the new bed for the first time, I told him why don’t we wait so our wedding night would be all the more special. He’s always so reasonable and went along with me.

The truth was I still felt creeped out by our landlord. He had manipulated me by planting that filth and making me actually believe it was John’s. Then, he replaced the clock.

I felt like such a fool. And, I felt violated. Not only had that bastard violated me, but he violated John. I had given a man oral sex just a day before our wedding. I was going to the altar in a white dress knowing that I had been on my knees in front of a disgusting old man and giving him pleasure.

I shivered in revulsion. I promised myself I would never be taken advantage of again.

I busied myself around the apartment, working harder to catch up on what I had left undone the day before. Soon I had worked up a sweat despite the air conditioning. I pulled the front of my tank top out and blew down it. I untucked it from the elastic waistband of my shorts.

The doorbell rang and startled me. This was the second time I heard it. The first was when John tested it.

I started to open the door, then stopped. “Who is it?” I called.

“It is Sergei,” the muffled voice said.

I had debated whether to march down to his apartment this morning and tell him what I thought of his trick. But, I didn’t have the courage to see his face again and relive the humiliation I had suffered.

“Go to HELL!” It came out of me before I even thought of what to say.

“Come, come. You know Sergei’s little trick now.” He laughed. “All forgiven? Correct?”


“Sergei brought Kate something.”

I looked through the peephole and saw the ugly gnome had nothing in his hands. “GO AWAY! This time I’LL call the police!”

“That would be very unfortunate.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Let Sergei in and Sergei explain. Explain plight.”

Somehow he thought I had a plight. “GO AWAY! I’ll call John and he can be home in ten minutes. He won’t put up with your bullshit!” I seldom swore, but this felt good!

“Puny John? He takes care of Sergei?” He laughed until he coughed up phlegm and almost choked.

John was not a violent man. In fact, I had never seen him lose his temper. He was gentle and kind hated confrontation.

“The internet,” he said.

When he didn’t elaborate I said: “GO AWAY! THIS IS THE LAST TIME I’M TELLING YOU!”

“Your wedding place. On internet,” he said.

I thought “What? Wedding place?” then it hit me—John had set up a website where our friends and family could leave messages and videos for us. They had ranged from sincere and heartfelt to outrageously funny. We got emails, texts, and phone calls sharing reactions to them.

“I too wish participate. Internet. It is valuable. No?”

I started to have a bad feeling. My body was going cold. I pressed my face against the door. “Please … please go away. For the love of God, go away.”

“Love! Love is good! Look. Look through hole, Sergei show you love.”

Without wanting to, dreading what I’d see, I looked.

He held up the screen of his phone so it was in full view. “I place volume high so Kate hear. Maybe everybody hear!”

He pushed the play symbol and a video appeared. There was a redheaded girl on her knees in front of him. “Sergei, I love sucking your cock,” the voice said. Then she licked something off the end of his huge penis and sucked it into her mouth.

“His phone!” I whispered. It had been propped up on the end table. He must have recorded the whole scene.

“Open door,” he said in a stronger tone.

“Go away,” I said in a weaker tone.

“This must stay private? No?”

I didn’t answer.

“Shame for such moment we shared to be in public? No?”

The word “shared” made me cringe.

“Please delete that. PLEASE!”

“Kate would not want friends or puny John’s mother or father to see such a thing on your wedding place so soon before Kate’s glorious celebration. No?”

“You wouldn’t …”

“Sergei do many things. But, Sergei is generous soul. Open door.”

“No. I can’t.” Only leaning against the door stopped me from dropping to the floor.”

“Sergei … please call me Sergei. I like it’s sound in your mouth. Sergei very easily persuaded.”

“Delete it. Delete that.” I could only imagine what all our friends, John’s new boss and his new coworkers—our families would think if they saw that. The wedding would be off. Our lives would be in shambles. I don’t know what I would do, or how I would be able to ever face anyone again.

“Easily persuaded. But only how you say … face-to-face.”

Maybe I could reason with him. Maybe when he saw how upset I was he would relent. Maybe there was some shred of decency within that horrible body.

I turned the deadbolt lock and opened the door. He stood there grinning, showing several missing teeth. The rest of them were badly stained, except the gold one, which glinted in the light.

“Good, good. We talk.”

He was wearing a sweatshirt with sweat stains under the arms and a pair of Adidas polyester shorts that came to his knees. He wore them beneath his great belly. The shorts didn’t hide the knotted muscular calves carrying his tremendous weight. He had the hairiest legs I had ever seen on a human. He wore blue flipflops.

I stepped back and folded my arms, trying to look “all business.”

He closed the door behind him and turned the bolt. “Always lock door,” he said.

Suddenly that deadbolt which had previously promised safety, now seemed confining.

“Sergei likes apartment.” He didn’t even look at me, but gave himself a tour, walking from room to room while commenting on how much I had accomplished and that he liked my decorating.

“You said you would delete that,” I finally said.

“From this window, Kate see all way to river. See?” He made a gesture to look with him out the bedroom window.

“Sergei say persuaded. Easily persuaded. Very simply persuaded.”

“Give me the phone and I’ll delete it for you,” I said. I reached for the phone in his hand.

“You persuade … and I leave phone. All is well. Wedding success. Marriage success. All is wonderful. No?”

“Persuade? What can I say to persuade you?”

“Say? Naaww! Not say … do. Do for Sergei. Call me Sergei.”

“S-Sergei … what do you mean … do?”

“A small thing. So small. To make old man happy.” He grinned that awful grin.

“What …? What small thing?” I was shuddering.

“You … such handsome woman. So tall. With eyes so green. Like emeralds. So trim of figure. Remind Sergei of Russian athletes. You athlete?”

I wanted to say no, but told the truth: “Swimming. In college.”

“Da! Swimming. Kate have long and graceful lines of swimmer. Except those lovely and big breasts.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “John is due back soon. What do you want?”

“I think you lie. But, maybe Sergei should go … with phone!”

“What do you want? The small thing.”

“Sergei wants to see Kate’s beautiful naked body.”

“NOOO!” I shouted. “I could never let you see … I could never!”

“A small thing. You are naked every day, like everyone. This time, only difference—Sergei see. Sergei enjoy. Sergei has memory to take with him. And, Sergei leaves phone. All done. All over. Poof!”

“No! Definitely no. No way I’d let you see me naked.”

“Maybe Sergei wrong. Maybe Kate right and will be better for video to show what Kate has done. Maybe better than minute of Sergei looking with admiration at Kate’s body of beautiful woman.”

I looked at the floor and said nothing.

“I know shy young thing. You keep eyes shut all the while so Sergei’s gaze is not in Kate’s memory. Good?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t.

“Sergei go out in hall. Shut door. I wait minute. You remove clothes and say ‘Sergei, come in.’ Sergei enters, put phone in your hand, look at you. Walk once around Kate to look at all of Kate. You have eyes shut so you not see Sergei. Then I leave. Poof.”

I shook my head and said, “I can’t.”

“Sergei shut door. If you say nothing, after minute is gone, Sergei leaves. With phone and visits internet and wedding place.” He left the bedroom and quietly shut the door.


My mind froze. Ten seconds … fifteen seconds passed by. Letting this man see me naked was impossible.

More impossible was letting the whole world see me suck his cock. I drew my tank top over my head. Then unfastened my bra. Down went my shorts to the floor. Finally, I skinned my panties over my hips and let them drop to the floor.

I stepped into the middle of the room, closed my eyes, and said, “I’m naked,” loud enough to be heard. I had forgotten what he wanted me to say, or maybe it was my last bit of protest.

I heard the door open, and then close. I could hear his breathing, which was quick and raspy.

“You, my beautiful Kate, even more lovely than Sergei dreamed. Kate’s skin so white, so perfect. Kate’s breasts magnificent. Kate’s nipples, pink like baby’s. And, Kate’s red hair, not only on Kate’s head, but glorious patch of fire between Kate’s legs.”

He walked closer. I could smell him, the stench of him as he got close. I reasoned that with my eyes tightly squeezed shut, my sense of smell was stronger.

I held my palm up. “The phone,” I said. He placed it in my hand without hesitation. I gripped it much harder than needed, and even with this monster gawking at my naked flesh, I felt a little relief, a little justification that I had done the right thing.

He was behind me now. “Kate’s ass so round and firm and delicious.”

“You’ve seen what you wanted. Now go,” I said.

“Yes, Sergei has seen and Sergei does want.”

Without warning, I felt that filthy mouth on my right breast. He hungrily sucked at my nipple while encircling me with his arms.

My eyes flew open and the shock of what I saw made me scream. He too was naked. He must have undressed while I did and entered the room unclothed. No wonder the smell was stronger.

I had thought his legs were hairy, but even that observation had not prepared me for what I was seeing. There was not a single square inch of his body that wasn’t covered with thick black and gray hair. It curled and matted over his chest, his stomach, his shoulders. Only slightly thicker was the massive growth of pubic hair from which stood, totally erect, that giant cock.

I tried to push him away, off my breast, but he was too strong. He had, even at his age, great bulging shoulder muscles, thick forearms, and biceps the size of my thigh. The body of someone who had done extremely strenuous work for most of his life. Coupled with the body hair, it reminded me of an ape.

I screamed again, louder this time.

“Sergei knows everyone in building gone. Scream if Kate like.” Then he switched to my other breast. His rough tongue brushed back and forth over my sensitive nipple.

I pushed with both hands on his head, but the iron muscles of his neck held it motionless against my tit.

I tried to punch, but he easily slipped his head to the side, letting my clenched fist shoot past.

“Time has passed too long before Sergei gets kiss from beautiful Kate.” He raised his face to mine and I tried to avoid him by shaking my head from side to side. He pressed his face tight against mine and licked my cheek, then found my tightly-closed mouth. I gave frantic muffled cries while breathing through my nose.

Those massive arms tightened around my body, constricting my breathing in a tremendous bear hug. My mouth flew open, trying desperately to catch just one breath.

His putrid mouth filled mine. His tongue probing and tasting, probing down my throat. Then he sucked my tongue—hard, and for a long time. The stench of his mouth was beyond belief. It crept deep into my nasal cavity.

“You like Sergei. Sergei knows.”

“Let me go. Let me go.”

“Your body says ‘Kate need Sergei instead of puny John.’ It says ‘Kate never been properly satisfied.'”

“You’re insane!” I said, and managed to push myself away and stumble back. Unfortunately, back until I hit the bed with the back of my knees and fell onto it.

He came forward, and I kicked with all my might, first with my right foot, and then with my left.

He easily caught each ankle in those weathered and scarred fists. He held them tight.

“You think Sergei never fight before? Many fights. Always win. Sergei too strong. Sergei too fast.”

He held my feet up, almost lifting me from the bed. Only my shoulders supporting me. “Kate’s feet tender like girl.” He brought his mouth close and sucked in my big toe. Then with his tongue, he washed between each toe while making disgusting sounds of delight at what he tasted.

“NOOO!” I screamed.

He merely repeated the action on the other foot.

I kept pulling and kicking with my legs, but was powerless. He stood up and placed the soles of my feet on either side of his erect penis, pressed them tight, and started fucking between them. “Aahh!” escaped his lips.

But, that didn’t last long. “Sergei returns favor now. Is that what Americans say?”

“Enough … enough,” I said. I had no idea about returning what favors meant.

He maintained his grip on my ankles and bent my legs back towards me until they were pressed onto the bed close to my ears. This raised my hips off the bed.

“See what Sergei means,” he said while dropping his head down.

“NOOOO!” I screamed as I felt his rough tongue on my vagina. Now I understood. I had sucked his cock, and returning the favor meant he was going to use his mouth on me (something John had never wanted to do).

His tongue circled my vagina then he sucked at it expertly. I knew he was tasting, savoring my most intimate part. His mouth ventured lower, covered my asshole and probed deep with the stiff end of his tongue. I reacted as if I had been hit with an electrified wire. My hips leaped.

“Kate like. Sergei can tell.”

But, he had saved the most telling and horrifying for last. His filthy mouth kissed, licked, and sucked its way up to my clitoris. When he found it, he teased and tongued it gently for several minutes while I wildly tried to twist away from his evil intentions.

Then he sucked it into his mouth and surrounded it with his lips.

“NOOOOO!” I screamed.

Sensitively, tenderly, he nibbled and licked it. Then began a rhythmic alternation of sucking and pressing with the flat of his tongue. Not hard, but steady.

My body had been exhausted by the efforts to free myself. I lay there trying to regain my breath and thinking of what to do next. That’s when my hips took on a life of their own. They jerked once, then again. Not big, giant movements, but micro-motions that were gaining force.

“Nooo!” I whispered. “No!” That changed to “Aaahh!”

Sergei stopped to lift his big round face to grin at me. The sight of his mouth framed by my red pubic hair appalled me. “Stop!” I croaked.

“Kate says ‘stop’ but body say ‘please continue, Sergei.'”

“You’re crazy!” I managed to say before his mouth resumed on my clit. Then all I could say was “Oooohhh!”

My mind was becoming fuzzy, my breathing increasing until it was only panting, my hips gyrated, and the room was fading from my sight.

Then, he stopped.

My eyes flew open, and I had a mixture of thoughts and emotions.

“Sergei see Kate ready. So many juices flowing.”

What was he thinking? What was he saying? His words were a blur in my overwrought mind.

He put my feet on his shoulders and encircled my body with his great arms, pinning all four of my limbs in his tight embrace. As if my 120 pounds was nothing, this brute lifted me off the bed and stood there grinning at me as he held me suspended. I was folded in half against the leering Russian.

He stood, as if waiting for me to realize what was going to happen.

“Put me down. Please—put me down.”

“Sergei obeys Kate. See.”

He lowered me, and my crotch slid along the hairy bulge of his stomach. Lower and lower until something hard, yet spongy probed the entrance of my vagina.

“NOOO!” I screamed as it hit me—I was being lowered onto the old man’s erect penis, and the position he had me in made me powerless to do anything about it.

“Your woman part feels Sergei’s manhood for first time. Admit to Sergei Kate already wondered what Sergei feel like inside Kate.”

“Let me GO!” A rush of shame added to all else I was feeling. The night before, my mind HAD flashed to that very scenario. After feeling the size and hardness of that penis in my hand and mouth, I had naturally imagined what the massive weapon would do to a woman.

I shook my body as much as I could and managed to dislodge myself. But, he was immensely strong and had immense patience to match. He again and again raised me up and slowly slid me toward that waiting prong.

On his fourth try, the head of his penis firmly lodged against the saliva-slickened entrance of my vagina.

“No! I’m to be married soon. You’re too big … you’ll hurt me … ruin me!”

“Sergei ruin you. Yes! Ruin you for other men. Puny men. You forever remember and say ‘not like Sergei, not man like Sergei!'”

He let me slip down. “OWW!” I yelled as the head found its way inside me. Inch-by-agonizing-inch he impaled me on his penis.

“All the while he talked softly and soothingly into my ear. Some in English and some in Russian. All hypnotically rhythmic and sing-song.

“Sergei halfway,” he said at one point. Halfway? Already he was probing territory that John had never reached.

The elastic walls of my vagina were now accommodating themselves to his great girth. The pain was subsiding. Sweat covered my body. Sweat covered both our bodies—mine from the ordeal, his from the exertion.

I had nearly passed out. I was physically and mentally exhausted. But the last shreds of my consciousness registered that I was now lying on the bed. My new bed, the one that John had wanted to “break in.” Somehow, he had, without disengaging himself, maneuvered us to the center of the bed. He had released my legs and arms and his weight crushed down on me in the standard missionary position. It was HE who was going to break in our bed. The old man was going to break it in with the 21-year-old bride-to-be—ME!

“So beautiful beneath Sergei. We make handsome couple.”

The words seemed far away. But they registered. I could only imagine what we looked like: his dark skin made even darker by the wild tangle of sweaty hair covering his body—pressed against my peaches and cream skin. His balding head nuzzling my red hair. A vile old man grunting and sweating over a young girl.

My body lay lifeless. No strength, no will. I now wanted it to just be over. He was fully inserted in me. I felt a pressure within me like no other I had ever felt. A fullness bordering on bursting. But, the worst of the pain had passed.

And emotionally, the worst for me had passed. I now just had to endure and survive. I tried to make my mind go to another place: to John, to the wedding, to my future.

“We begin … slowly we begin. Sergei great lover. Sergei knows woman’s body.”

I had expected a brutal assault. What I got was a performance. He withdrew to the tip of his penis, waited there for my vagina to reassume its shape, and then incrementally invade me again. He had propped himself on his elbows and knees so the crushing force of his bodyweight no longer constrained me.

For five minutes, my mind and body were silent. Then, on one of his excruciatingly slow thrusts, my hips tilted upward, meeting him in the motion. I didn’t notice it, but he did.

“My Kate. Kate’s body says ‘hello, Sergei.'”

More minutes passed. Now every thrust of his was met with my lifting my hips.

His patience was astounding. He quickened only a little. More minutes, and my legs grew restless: my feet started to slide small caresses along his hairy thighs.

“Da … da!” he whispered in my ear. Even I knew that meant “yes” but had no idea why he said it. That’s how far disconnected my mind was from my body.

He lowered his head and took my left nipple into his mouth. There was no rush or aggressive action. It was slightly more than a kiss, but I felt a sensation rush through my chest and my hips gave a jerk.

“No …” I whispered. I put my hands on his hairy chest, trying to push him away. He moved to the other nipple and applied greater suction than before.

“Ohh,” I said. My pushing hands slid around his torso and began rubbing against his hairy back.

“Kate knows. Kate’s body knows.”

“No … stop … please.” My voice seemed like it came from another room or another time.

He transferred his mouth to my neck and kissed and bit and sucked, all with equal delicacy.

“Mmmm,” I grunted in my throat.

He tried to kiss me, but I turned my head. He didn’t persist. Instead, he concentrated on his pace. That increased.

“Kate is ready. You will remember Sergei each time in the future. Kate will long for Sergei’s touch and recall how Sergei brings Kate pleasure Kate can get no other way.” His voice was hypnotic.

“No,” I said, but my body increased its pace also.

“Say fuck me, Sergei. Fuck me!”

“NO! No!” I had one last shred of respect for myself, for John that I was determined to hold onto.

More speed, more pressure both inside and out. The greater force of his thrusts meant he was forcing himself into me farther that ever before. But, that didn’t cause pain, but only new awakening sensations of pleasure.

I couldn’t believe it. All the times John had made love to me never had made me feel remotely like this.

With one last effort of will, I tried to push him off me and twist away from under him.

He easily held me in place, but it prompted him to piston into me now at full speed. His breath was fast and rasping in my ear. He put more weight on me and that put pressure directly on my clitoris.

“Aaahh!” I cried. My legs went up around him and tightened to pull him deeper. My arms went again to his back and I hugged as hard as I could.

My hips matched his speed, and my mind finally caught up with the situation: he wasn’t just fucking ME—I was fucking HIM!

“Say Sergei’s name,” he commanded into my ear.

“No!” I whispered back.

“Say Sergei’s name,” he said again. Then put more weight on my hips.

“Aaagghh!” I breathed out in one long glorious sigh.

He sought out my open mouth and plunged his tongue deep into it. My tongue reacted and met his and danced with it until I stuck it deep into his mouth and probed furiously.

Then, as if in slow motion, my body stiffened. I squeezed my eyes shut and tore my mouth away.

“SERGEI! SERGEI!” I screamed.

He put his full weight on me, plunging him to the greatest depth yet.

“I’M CUMMING! OHHH! I’M CUMMING! It was my voice echoing in the small bedroom.

I stayed on that peak, voiceless for another fifteen seconds, writhing under the old man. Then he let out a mighty triumphant roar: “AAAAAAHHHHH!” while holding himself deep inside me.

And I knew he was sending torrents of that thick hot Russian cum to the farthest reaches of my womb.

That was my last thought before I passed out.

Snoring brought me to. Loud snoring.

Sergei lay on his back, a sweaty, hairy mess of a man. Totally unconscious from his exertions. I looked and wondered what I was feeling. There was anger and shame and exhaustion and something else too. It would take time for it all to come together in my mind.

“TIME!” I thought. I looked at the clock. John was due to come home in a half hour. I couldn’t believe how long we had been in bed.

I pushed at the inert mountain beside me. “Wake up! WAKE UP!”

He coughed and grunted and cleared his throat until he finally opened his eyes. “My Kate!” he smiled. It sounded like he gargled the words.

“Your nothing, you pervert! Get up. You have to leave. John can’t catch you here … can’t catch us …”

“Sergei understand. Puny John feel inadequate when he sees new Kate.”

“Shut up! Just leave. NOW!”

“Wait,” he said. “Phone,” he said. He pulled his phone from somewhere I had dropped it. He fiddled with the screen, then showed me play screen of the video he had taken of me giving him the blowjob.

With a thick finger, he touched the trashcan icon and it said “Do you want to delete” and he pushed “Yes.”

“Poof!” he said. “Sergei never lie. Sergei many things. Liar, not one.”

I somehow didn’t find that very comforting.

He got up and got dressed. I hugged the covers around me, shielding my naked body from his gaze.

“This,” he said waving his hand toward me and the bed, “this Sergei’s wedding gift to Kate.” When I looked like I was going to explode with words in his direction, he held up his hand. “And, this,” he made the same gesture, “Kate’s birthday gift to Sergei. Sergei seventy on wedding day.”

He looked like he was waiting for a “happy birthday” from me. I was silent.

“Another thing Sergei not do. Sergei does not bother married women. This was one time. You married, no more. Sergei bothers no married women.” As he left the room, he added, “Except woman make choice.” From the front door I heard, “Poof! Sergei gone.”

I sat there for a few minutes, shaking my head. How did this happen? How did this all happen. AND—how could I do those things I did with that man?

I looked down and said to myself, “John, I’d say our bed has been broken in.”


My mind remained a jumble of thoughts. Should I call the police? Should I call John? Should I shut up? What?

Sergei had certainly forced himself on me—up to a point. After that point I was more than a willing participant. I felt so conflicted, and so guilty. I guess this is why so much stuff goes unreported.

And, the wedding. What would it do to the wedding and all the planning and all the guests and all anticipation? It was too much to think about.

And what about John? What would he think of his fiancée if he knew that Sergei had deposited a big load of cum inside his bride-to-be? And what would he think if he knew Sergei had made me cum like I never had in my whole life. Like I never imagined possible? What would he think if he knew Sergei’s big cock had made me shiver and groan as I tried to get it deeper and deeper inside of me?

Whoa! Kate! Calm yourself down. What are you thinking?

I would wait until John got home before I made a decision. He was always so logical and smart. I would feel out the situation and go from there.

I had time for a quick shower. I started the water and took my robe off. I looked at my legs and long trails of dried cum reached all the way to my knees. The tremendous amount Sergei had filled me with couldn’t be contained in my pussy. It had leaked out.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe how much I made Sergei cum!” I said out loud. When I heard myself, I noticed two things: that I was calling him “Sergei” and that my voice had a little pride in it. Could I actually be happy I made Sergei cum so hard?

I showered, and it wasn’t the same as the day before. I luxuriated in the hot water, feeling my body, its power to make a man lust over it. Every place I touched reminded me of Sergei’s hands or his mouth … or his cock. The day before I had felt degraded and lessened. Today I felt I was blooming into the woman I always was meant to be. My body, after that shocking orgasm, felt more alive than it had ever been before. Like it finally recognized its true self.

Was I in shock or going crazy? Would I return to normalcy? Ever?

As I was drying off, I heard John calling.

“I’ll be right out!” I said.

But, John came into the bathroom. He had seen me naked a hundred times over the years we were together. Out of nowhere, I took the towel and held it up in front of me, like he was a stranger who just barged in. Where did THAT come from?

“Not getting shy right before the wedding, are you?” he laughed.

“I guess I’m a little on edge. New apartment, big night tonight and the big day so close.” I hesitated and finished drying.

John got close and hugged me. I hugged back and couldn’t help feel how easily my arms went all the way around him. I noticed for the first time what a frail build he had. He felt like a girl in my arms.

“We have just enough time … you know …” He nodded toward the bedroom.

“John, I told you it’s best to wait until the wedding night. To make it special.” What I didn’t tell him was earlier I was ravaged by a raging Russian until the top of my head blew off while he shot copious amounts of DNA-laden goo into my pussy.

“It’s just seeing you like this. I mean, I need something.”

“Fine,” I said. I don’t know why he made me angry, but I acted spontaneously.

I dropped the towel on the tile floor, knelt on it, and went to John’s belt. “What are you doing?” he asked. I didn’t answer and proceeded to take down his pants and underwear. I did it roughly. I wanted to get this over.

“Kate, this isn’t like you.”

Before he could say another word, I stuffed his little cock in my mouth. It felt so small and soft. I sucked at it, and finally it showed some life.

“Easy! Easy! You know how sensitive I am.”

Sensitive? Sergei would have hardly felt the pressure I was applying. I stopped sucking at all and let my lips barely slide over the tiny pink thing. Those lips were almost in a pucker to make any contact. Sergei had stretched them so far it hurt.

John’s fully erect cock didn’t even reach halfway into my mouth, and wasn’t a threat to ever reach my throat like Sergei’s.

“That feels so good, darling,” John said in a sweet voice. Sergei had been so rough and forceful. I should have liked “sweet,” but somehow it made me … disappointed.

John kept his soft, uncallused hands suspended in the air, vaguely waving in little motions. He made no move to take my head and control me. Like Sergei had.

I backed my mouth off until only the tip of John’s penis remained covered. My right hand went to encircle it, but didn’t have enough room for all my fingers, so I used light pressure from my thumb, index finger, and middle finger to give little jerking motions.

“Easy!” John said. A second later, he whined: “Goodness!” And he came in my mouth.

I could hardly tell it had happened. It barely added to the volume of saliva I already had in there. John’s cum tasted like a couple of drops of grapefruit soda, and I swallowed it without thinking.

John’s knees got weak, and I swear if I hadn’t held him and guided him to sit on the toilet seat, he would have fallen over. I thought to myself: “Sergei had been fucking me standing up, supporting BOTH of us!”

John looked at me with wide eyes. “That was the best EVER! I don’t think I ever came so hard. And … you swallowed it. For the first time in your life … you swallowed it!”

I did my best to smile. “This is a special week,” I said.


I was mostly quiet on the drive back to our hometown about two hours from our new apartment in the city.

“Penny for your thoughts!” John chimed happily. He was in a great mood since his “big” sex performance.

“So much to think about!” I tried to match John’s cheery tone. “How our lives are changing. The rehearsal, the wedding! So much!”

“Don’t forget the honeymoon!”

“How could I forget THAT!” I said with an excited voice. It was ONLY my voice that was excited. John’s lovemaking was so proper and gentle and tender—and uninspired. I hadn’t noticed it before. I noticed it now.

Sergei was rough. He didn’t ask—he commanded. I had been shocked and offended. But my body responded in ways I would have never dreamed. Where John’s touch was slight, Sergei’s had bordered on brutal. My skin had been electrified under his grasp. He had called up in me some primitive instinct that had to respond to his rhythms and force and power, so that I finally—

“Kate. Are you even listening to me?” John asked. He had been talking, but my mind had drifted away, drifted to the afternoon, drifted to our bedroom.

“Of course, John. Go on.”

“So I said to Henry at work, we’ll have to rewrite …”

I looked out the window of the car and tried to keep one ear attuned to when John stopped talking.

My phone beeped the familiar signal saying I had a text message.

“Those girls aren’t going to leave you alone, are they?”

My sister, the Maid of Honor, and others in the wedding party had been sending me texts for the last few days.

I looked, but this was from a number I didn’t recognize.

It read: Sergei think of Kate

I was going to ignore it, but texted: How did you get this number?

SERGEI: Tenant give #

Of course. We had filled out contact information with our rental agreement.

KATE: Poof! You are gone. Leave me alone.

I decided not to use any shortcuts in texting him. He could barely speak English as it was.

SERGEI: Kate think of Sergei

I considered not responding. A part of me was still angry. Angry at getting duped into giving him a blowjob. Angry at getting blackmailed into stripping myself naked. Angry at this caveman forcing me to have sex with him. And, most of all, angry at myself for ultimately succumbing to the raw passion he plied me with.

Another part of me wanted to give him a piece of my mind. Texting is a strange thing. It lets you say things you normally wouldn’t have the courage to say face-to-face. There’s that barrier you can hide behind. And, you can run away any time by merely shutting your phone off.

KATE: No! I never want to think of you again. Or what you did to me. Go away!

“Who is it?” John asked.

“My sister,” I said. John left me alone when my sister and I got going.

SERGEI: Sergei think of Kate’s beautiful skin so soft

KATE: Stop it.

SERGEI: Kate think Sergei ugly Sergei not always ugly

I couldn’t think of what to say to that other than:

KATE: I’m hanging up.

But before I could another text came with a picture attached. It was of a boy maybe my age dressed in a red wrestling singlet with “CCCP” written in capital letters across the chest. It was obviously Sergei, with his bulging muscles. In those days, he had more hair on his head than his body. That had reversed itself along the way.

SERGEI: Sergei train 1968 Olympics

By reflex, without thinking of who I was talking to I texted back.

KATE: You were in the Olympics?

SERGEI: Father die dream die Sergei take care of mother and 3 young brothers no Olympics

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to respond.

SERGEI: Sergei not always ugly no

KATE: I have to go.

SERGEI: Kate beautiful all beautiful every part

KATE: I have to go.

SERGEI: Tell Sergei Kate feel beautiful today

KATE: Stop it.

SERGEI: You call Sergei’s name today

I had to think back. Then, I remembered: right before my orgasm I had shouted his name.

KATE: Stop it.

SERGEI: Sergei think Kate’s pussy taste sweetest of all

I gasped. I had forgotten that Sergei had spent time devouring my pussy. Licking it and sucking on my clitoris. My mind had been blocked from so many details by that awful orgasm that shook the foundations of my being.

KATE: You have to stop. John is sitting right here driving.

SERGEI: Puny John like taste Kate’s pussy

KATE: None of your business. Stop it.

I didn’t know why I didn’t just hang up. I kept looking for an opening to let all my feelings attack him. But, he was keeping me off balance. I don’t know what made me want to continue with this man after what I had been through.

The truth was John had never performed oral sex on me. He didn’t know how my pussy tasted, so he had no opinion at all that was based on experience.

SERGEI: Sergei think puny John not satisfy Kate’s body

KATE: That’s not true. John is a better lover than you’ll ever be!

I hoped that would deflate that big bag of wind!

SERGEI: When Kate cum today Sergei feel she let go of long passion

I looked at his words for a long time. My mouth was open. Here was a stranger talking to me about a most intimate detail—how my body responded during an orgasm—and absolutely nailing his observation. I couldn’t ever let him know he was right.

KATE: You’re crazy and I’m stopping this right now.

SERGEI: Admit Sergei that best cumming for Kate’s life

KATE: You’re a pervert. A crazy pervert!

SERGEI: Kate’s pussy tighten squeeze Sergei’s cock when Kate cum

I didn’t know if that was true. I thought back and remembered the feeling. I did feel a pressure I exerted when I came. He was right.

KATE: You have to stop.

SERGEI: Sergei always able to control but Kate’s pussy make Sergei lose control and cum hardest in life

I remembered that mighty roar of his as he sent his seed into me. Was there surprise in that yell as well as satisfaction? Looking back, I thought it was likely. I had made Sergei cum like he never had before. Why was I enjoying that sordid fact? I felt a little smile on my face.

We had arrived at our hometown.

KATE: We’re here. I have to go.

SERGEI: Kate have things she wants to tell Sergei so Kate feel better

KATE: I have nothing to say to you. EVER!

SERGEI: Maybe Kate think of insult for Sergei later Sergei go

That was all. We pulled up to my parents’ house and I shut my phone off.

John saw the look on my face and asked, “Everything all right?”

“Great!” I lied. That lie was better than saying “I just found out I was the best fuck in a 70-year-old ex Russian Olympic wrestler’s life.”


“John’s perfect for you,” my sister said. She was six years older than me and already had two kids. She had come over to say hi before the rehearsal.

“I guess,” I said. We were in my bedroom at my parents’, a room that held so many memories for me.

“You don’t sound as sure as you did on the phone a few days ago.”

I think tonight I sounded as sure as a girl can be when still filled with another man’s cum. “Night before jitters, probably,” I said.

“That’s natural,” she said. Janice was always full of good advice. “I almost ran away the night before my wedding.”

“I remember you didn’t think you wanted to be tied down at the last second.”

“Tied down, handcuffed, spanked!” she said and laughed. I must have had strange look on my face.

“I forgot I’m talking to my straight-laced little sister. You probably only do it in the dark still!” She laughed. “That’s why I said you’re perfect for John and he’s perfect for you. You’ll never scare each other with something wild or kinky or out of the ordinary. Just the missionary position on Tuesdays and Saturdays and birthdays!”

She found this VERY funny, and laughed for a long time. She poked at me to get me to laugh, but I only gave a pretend “Ha! Ha!” with a straight face. What did she know—John wanted it on Wednesdays and Sundays. Janice wasn’t doing me any good here. And … Sergei … damned Sergei … with his texting … and his big cock … forcing me … forcing himself on me … forcing me to cum!

“Kate? You listening?”

“Yeah. Birthdays. You leave John alone. He’s a good man and he loves me.”

“I was joking. I’m just saying he’s not the most spontaneous or adventurous guy I’ve ever met. Just like you. That’s why you’ll be perfect together. No surprises. I have to go. See you tonight.”

She gave me a hug, then held me at arm’s length. “What’s up with you? You’ve got a different vibe going?”

Sisters know each other. She was picking up on things John would never recognize in a million years.

“Nervous, I guess,” I said, hoping that would cover.

“Yeah. Okay,” she said. “Get a little rest before the rehearsal. It’s going to be a big whirlwind for the next few days.”

I wanted to tell her the whirlwind began yesterday with my first swallow of cum and continued this afternoon with being lowered onto a huge cock. And, oh, by the way, an old man gave me the biggest orgasm of my life. I’d say that qualified as the start of the whirlwind, thank you very much.

It’s all Sergei’s fault. I shouldn’t be having these feelings. I shouldn’t be having any doubts. I should be the happiest girl in the world right now. Sergei should be ashamed of himself for what he was putting me through. He probably had no idea of the torment I was going through. If he did, he would apologize.

Apologize! Yeah! That would make me feel better. If he apologized!

I swiped my phone alive. I chose the end of our conversation and texted:

KATE: You should apologize.

Nothing happened for a minute, and I thought he was out doing landlord stuff, knocked out from his afternoon “workout” or combing his chest hair or something. I was about to put my phone to sleep when he replied.

SERGEI: Sergei sorry

Good, I thought. He probably was having some severe guilt about what he had put me through.

SERGEI: Sergei sorry Kate never cum like that before

Damn him!

KATE: You know nothing about me, asshole!

That would show him I meant business.

KATE: Sergei taste Kate’s asshole with tongue Kate shiver when Sergei lick

My God! I forgot about that. Until now. Until I remembered now how I tightened my butt cheeks when he invaded my anus with his tongue.

KATE: I demand an apology.

SERGEI: Sergei sorry puny John not know Kate’s body

KATE: This isn’t about John. This is about what you did to me. It’s not what I wanted and you took advantage.

SERGEI: Sergei see puny John not appreciate beautiful Kate and want Kate know real man know Kate is magnificent

It took a long time for that to come through and I could picture Sergei’s giant fingers trying to type on that phone. I smiled in spite of the situation.

I smiled also because I recognized the truth of his statement, although I had never admitted it to myself before. John took me for granted and didn’t appreciate my devotion to him, my intelligence, or … my body. Sergei, despite his roughness, had made me feel desired, lusted for, beautiful. Like a jewel. My body had responded to that and ultimately matched his passion. Something John had never, ever sparked in me.

KATE: You’re SO wrong!

That felt SO lame after what Sergei had made me realize as the truth.

SERGEI: So Kate say Sergei not make Kate feel special

KATE: You make me disgusted. Apologize.

SERGEI: Kate say her body not feel different

KATE: Just violated.

SERGEI: Kate say she not like Sergei’s cock in her mouth in her pussy

Seeing the word “pussy” made me squeeze my legs together, and a jolt went through me. It brought images to my mind of that “thing” residing between his hairy thighs. Could I really have had “that” in my mouth? Could “that” have really fit so deep inside of me.

I squeezed harder and rocked a little.

KATE: You’re disgusting. John is all the man I need.

SERGEI: Puny John not satisfy gorgeous Kate not any more maybe never has

I thought John and I had a good sex life. But, that was before I knew what a real orgasm felt like.

SERGEI: Sergei need photo of beautiful Kate to look at

KATE: You’re nuts. Never!

SERGEI: Sergei has no photo after delete Kate cocksucker video

Cocksucker! Oh my God. I was LITERALLY a cocksucker, but to see it written there shocked me.

KATE: You’re disrespectful.

SERGEI: Sergei has highest respect for beautiful Kate

KATE: You don’t show it.

SERGEI: Sergei show by worshipping Kate her body her feet her breasts her ass her pussy

Oh my God! He DID worship me this afternoon. That’s exactly what it felt like. There was a reverence right beneath that brutality. I hadn’t been able to put my finger on why I hadn’t felt the fear I should have during it. There was that worship that let me know I wouldn’t be hurt.

KATE: Stop it.

SERGEI: Most beautiful Sergei ever see face and body and when you cum Kate make Sergei know Kate appreciate Sergei too

A long time went by as I tried to process what he had just said. He waited for me to reply.

KATE: Let’s just say my body responded in a way that surprised me. It was a reflex, a response. That’s all.

SERGEI: Sergei’s cock inside Kate’s beautiful tight pussy do nothing with reflex

KATE: Apologize.

SERGEI: You want Sergei be sorry he make Kate cum

I didn’t know what to say to that.

KATE: Apologize. And mean it.

SERGEI: Tomorrow Kate married woman Sergei not talk again tonight send picture of Kate so Sergei remember

KATE: You should WANT to apologize to me if you have any decency at all.

SERGEI: Sergei decent and honorable man

KATE: Those disgusting photos and DVDs you said were John’s. Are owning THOSE decent?

SERGEI: Previous tenant leave in closet hidden Sergei already destroy

KATE: You blackmailed me. That’s not decent.

SERGEI: Sergei see how puny John treat Kate and want Kate see man appreciate and treasure Kate but da Sergei sees Sergei wrong

The word “wrong” confused me. Part of me hoped it didn’t mean I wasn’t worthy of that kind of appreciation and desire.

KATE: Wrong.

I wrote that one word.

SERGEI: Sergei wrong to trick Sergei apologize for trick but wants Kate to know

KATE: Know what?

SERGEI: Know puny John luckiest man and Sergei hope he finds ways all ways to make Kate happy

“You fuckin’ idiot!” I whined to the screen as tears welled up in my eyes. “Why couldn’t you just say you were sorry instead of that?”

KATE: I accept your apology. I have to go.

SERGEI: Sergei respectfully want picture of Kate to see in Sergei’s mind all the beauty of Kate but wish to view on phone when imagination fades

KATE: No. Goodbye.

SERGEI: As birthday gift to Sergei

That’s right. His birthday was tomorrow. Seventy. It was hard to imagine he was that old. What was he like in his prime?

KATE: I’ll think about it.

Why would I even consider it? What was the power this man had?

SERGEI: Surprise Sergei something he would worship

KATE: Goodbye.

I ended the conversation and sat there thinking it all over.

Why should I even consider sending him a picture? He would probably just masturbate with it. That thought made me laugh.

“You old pervert,” I giggled.

I picked a blank space of wall and posed against it for a selfie I’d send him. Then, two thoughts collided in my head: my sister accusing me of never being spontaneous, and Sergei requesting something he could worship.

“Janice, how’s THIS for spontaneous!” I said to the air in my room.

I pulled my pants down, and then my panties. I did a semi-squat, put the phone between my legs and snapped a pic of my pussy. My red-haired pussy!

Before my courage faded (or was it my spontaneity I thought might evaporate?), I wrote “Worship THIS! Happy birthday!” and texted the photo to Sergei.

I IMMEDIATELY regretted it and felt guilty.

“What the HELL was I thinking?” I said to myself as I paced the room. “Well—too late now.”

After a minute, I heard my phone. I had a message. From Sergei.

It said “Sergei thanks you happy marriage.”

It also had a photo attached:

It was the biggest erect penis I had ever seen. It had a huge head with a dark purple ring defining it. The massive shaft showed a network of veins that struggled to feed it to keep it rock hard. It was Sergei’s magnificent cock. It being hard was one thing, but adding to it: I knew it was hard because he was thinking of me.

Had I REALLY had that in my mouth? Had that monster REALLY invaded my pussy all the way? Had it fed cum to my mouth and throat? Had it showered my pussy with its contents? I shook my head and laughed.

“OH MY GOD!” I said. And then squeezed my thighs together, and rocked.


“Do you think I have pretty feet?”

“They’re feet, Kate. Made for walking on,” John said.

We were finally in our room, the Honeymoon Suite at the Muir Redwood Bed & Breakfast. It had been 24 hours so filled with activities and details I hadn’t thought once of our wedding night.

Everyone loved my dress, and Dad looked so proud as he walked me down the aisle. I had only thought of Sergei and what had happened between us during that short walk. I wondered if having another man’s cum inside you when you took your wedding vows was like crossing your fingers when making a promise?

I kept my smile big. I guess I was mostly happy, and another day’s distance from what Sergei had made me feel insulated me to a degree. I saw our grandparents and looked at John’s grandfather, and then at my grandfather. Their ages were 68 and 66, respectively.

Here they were GRANDFATHERS—and they were younger than Sergei, the man who had fucked me until I screamed his name and tried to crush his penis with my pussy when I had a volcanic orgasm. I doubted if either of these two could still lift a bag of apples, let alone carry around a 120-pound girl.

We said our “I do’s” and put on our rings. John kissed the bride … and I was married. I was on the other side of that barrier. I was safe from Sergei.

That should have made me happy.

Everyone ate and danced and sang and gave great toasts. None of the toasts made me feel more than the one Sergei had said the night before.

My sister hugged me more than she ever had, except when she had backed into me on my bike the week after she got her license and I hurt my elbow.

“You’re a married woman now,” she told me several times.

“John’s my husband!” I said back.

My husband and I drove an hour to the Muir Redwood and checked in. It was already 9:30, and we were both pretty overwhelmed and exhausted.

“Going to carry me across the threshold?” I had asked.

“You’re joking, right?”

“It IS a tradition,” I said, still hopeful.

“Yeah, when men had to manhandle women to get them into bed. Men who broke their backs all day long to earn a dollar. Now real men use their minds, like your brand new husband!”

He unlocked the door and went in first, not looking back after me. I had a good idea I was in no danger of being manhandled.

“You use the bathroom first,” he suggested. “You won’t want to go in there after I’m through.

I changed into the special lingerie I had chosen. It was a nightie made from the same material as my veil, only much softer. “What would you think of this?” I asked into the mirror. When I emerged, I did a little seductive walk to the bed and twirled, making the nightie rise and reveal.

“Looking good,” John said. “I’ll be out in a few.”

I was left alone on the big bed. This was the big night. The big event was about to start. Everything was supposed to be so … big. Why did I have the feeling that the big stuff already happened?

I had sat there looking at my feet, and that’s what started me thinking about what John thought of my feet.

That’s why I kept pressing him about the subject when he finally came out of the bathroom naked. John had very little body hair. Almost none on his chest, and a little patch of dark brown pubic hair. I had been thinking of that when I started my foot interrogation.

I continued:

“Yeah, but do you think they’re sexy?”

“Sexy, as in do they give me an erection? Look,” he said pointing to his crotch at his limp penis. “Not sexy.”

I raised my foot with toes pointed. I aimed it at his face. “What if you kiss it?” I was holding back on the suggestion that he suck my toes and lick in between them.

“Your sweaty foot? You had those new shoes on all day. Even you have to admit it must have gotten pretty funky inside those.”

I took my smelly foot down.

John leaned over and kissed me. I was fully prepared to be warmed up, won over, seduced, ravaged, and be thoroughly satisfied.

“Let’s get this thing out of the way,” he said, and tugged my nightie up and inside out, catching my arms on the way. I heard a little tear. “Ooops,” John said, “well, it’s not like we’ll need this again, will we?”

Now we were both naked on the bed.

John started to get on top of me and I asked, “You know what I did for you … you know … in the bathroom? Do you think you could do that for me?”

“You mean tonight? I told you I would someday. Why don’t we just concentrate on enjoying ourselves tonight?”

“You’re right. We’ll save that for a special night,” I said. I was careful he didn’t see me roll my eyes.

“Right. Now I’ve lost my concentration. Can you do your Kate magic for me.”

All the things that had seemed playful and important in our lovemaking were seeming … puny. The magic he was looking for was me jerking him to a full erection. I did so mechanically, and he responded sufficiently.

I wished at that moment I had never held Sergei’s penis, never felt the throbbing power of it, never known that such a thing ever existed or that nature would endow some men with such a weapon of pleasure.

John was “adequate” if one didn’t have a firm grasp on what the word “adequacy” meant. I had a firm grasp on what I now knew was a very little penis.

“Ready?” he asked and didn’t wait for an answer.

He rolled me flat and climbed aboard. I lifted my knees and John easily penetrated me. The easiest time he ever had since we had been together.

“God! You must be extra horny tonight! This feels great!”

Either Sergei’s supersized cock had stretched me, or some residual Russian spermatic lubrication was helping John enjoy the ride.

I put my arms around his slim, smooth body, and lifted my long legs, wrapping them around his small butt. I pulled, aiming for greater penetration. I didn’t do a good job of it.

He made little quick thrusts, which now reminded me of watching rabbits mate. I maneuvered my best to get some contact on my clit, but it was all over before I succeeded.

“Oh … oh! John said, sounding like he had just remembered something.

I said nothing, because I had nothing to say, and no reason to say it. Our “lovemaking” had ended before I even warmed up. I didn’t feel John’s ejaculation, and didn’t expect there to be a wet spot under me from any overflow.

He rolled off, out of breath. “Wow! You were right! Waiting made that the best ever!”

Unfortunately, the “best ever” had a new definition in my book. That definition had been written a day before.

“Yeah,” I agreed. I figured that was what a wife was supposed to say.

“Picture getting that on a regular basis now we’re married,” he whispered in my ear.

“I got the picture,” I said back. I was telling the truth. The reality was clear: this was what I could expect the rest of my married life.

“See you in the morning, Mrs. John Burke,” he said before drifting off to sleep.

“Kate Brennan,” I said into the darkness.

I lay there for a long time. I’d like to say I had a throbbing between my legs, but it was more of an ache. Not a physical ache, but the ache you get when something’s missing.

I got up and went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet in the more intimate darkness that the closed door gave.

My hand went to my pussy and rubbed. I brought my fingers to my lips and wet them to give me some lubrication. But, guilt made me stop.

Masturbating on your wedding night? Come on! What lame loser would do that?

I had left my phone next to the sink. I grabbed it and for a moment thought of texting Sergei. But, I would have felt even more guilty for being so disloyal. And as a new wife!

After fighting with temptation, I pulled up the picture of his cock. “Oh my God!” I said as quietly as I could.

Now there was a real throbbing “down there.” My fingers went back to work; they didn’t need any saliva because my pussy started pumping out its own elixir after looking at my phone.

“Deep, Sergei, deep!” I whispered as my hand increased its speed.

“Kate! You OK?” John called.

I flushed the toilet, shut off my phone, washed my hands, and said, “I had to clean up a little, that’s all.”

I got back into bed, half-done. My observation: the first half of masturbating is not the half you want if you get to choose.

“Get used to that, baby,” John said proudly before he drifted back to oblivion.

“I guess I’ll have to,” I said, to no one in particular.


The next week was filled with sightseeing, good food, and cruising up and down the California coast.

Lots of fun. And I have to admit, it was better than the first night.

What it wasn’t filled with was orgasms of any shape or form. None, nada, zip. I was becoming increasingly edgy.

By the time our honeymoon was over, I was downright cranky. I had developed a passive/aggressive thing with John based on my feeling he wasn’t trying very hard to please me in the bedroom. We had made love each night, and I had performed oral sex on him three times. Did he ever offer to do anything extra or special? Nope! Didn’t even enter his mind. I’ll admit I didn’t know the right way to ask, but still—try a little bit, John. At least be sensitive enough to know something’s wrong.

We got back to our new home and were bringing in our bags.

“Mr. Zankov!” John said. He was in the hall of the first floor.

The first sight of him made me look away in fear I would say or do something that would betray what had happened. I wanted to rush upstairs with my heavy suitcase and hide behind the locked door. It’s not easy to be in the company of the man who fucked you last AND the man who fucked you best.

My rash action of sending him that photo of my pussy made me feel vulnerable and guilty. Keeping that picture of this 70-year-old’s cock made me feel weak and ashamed.

“Happy married couple return,” he said. I had almost forgotten the sound of his voice.

“The new bride and groom,” John said.

Sergei looked at me, and I looked away. I wanted to rush up the stairs, but Sergei grabbed at the handle of my suitcase.

“Sergei help new bride.”

“I can do it myself,” I said with a little too much frustration. I walked up the stairs, leaving John behind.

It was five minutes before John joined me in the apartment.

Mr. Zankov had something very interesting to show me,” he said.

My heart beat so hard I could hear it. I was exposed, not just figuratively, but literally. I just knew Sergei had shown the photo I sent him. What could I do? I had to tell John everything. He was my husband and deserved an explanation. I would throw my self upon his mercy and hoped he would forgive—

“Did you know our landlord was on the Russian Olympic wrestling team? He showed me a photo of when he was wrestling.”

I nearly collapsed in relief. “Hard to believe,” I said with a shaky voice.

“You probably noticed he’s giving himself a makeover. Got his teeth fixed and he shaved his head. He’s got a long way before he looks human though. He’s like an animal, don’t you think?” John let out a nasty laugh that made me angry.

A few weeks ago, I probably would have joined John from my ivory tower of superiority and added jokes and insults. Now I looked on Sergei differently. I wondered what John would have thought of seeing his wife sucking that animal’s cock? Or seeing that animal with his animal cock making his wife scream? Or filling his new wife with more sperm than he could produce in a month?

John, that animal had awakened something in your new wife that had been calling to her every minute of our marriage. Something that I had to be very careful of.

“He said something happened that made him want to be a better man again. Seeing the picture, you think? Or some old, dried up woman he has his eye on?” John asked. “The old man has delusions if he thinks he can attract anyone. And, he probably would need a bottle of viagra to even know he has anything in his pants!” He laughed again.

“You’d be surprised,” I said. I surprised myself for blurting it out. What needed to be said was “You’d be surprised by what’s in his pants!” What I finished with was “Lots of guys stay healthy longer these days.” Healthy enough to make your wife cum hard, anyway.

“Don’t bet on it! I’d pay to see him try and get romantic with some geriatric grandma!” John walked out of the room.

“What would you pay to see your wife fed a huge load of cum through his thick cock?” I whispered. Low enough not to be heard.


I managed to avoid all contact with Sergei for the first week back. But, eventually, we saw each other here and there. Maybe in the hall, maybe passing on the stairs. I was always with John, so the greetings were formal and polite.

John was right. Sergei had transformed remarkably in a short time. Shaving his head had given him an altogether new appearance. His smile had been dentally restored, and he seemed to have dropped some weight.

Was I to feel I was the catalyst for this? I knew in my heart this was true. He was trying to become a better man for me. I didn’t know how to react to that.

I felt his eyes on me, devouring me, sending me messages from some place deep within the maleness of his being. Something said: “I’ve possessed you, dominated you, tamed you, freed you. You are mine!”

Or maybe it was my imagination, fueled by increasing frustration over John’s ineptness in bed. I hadn’t cum once since that afternoon with Sergei.

The sight of him only brought back memories of his touch and the fierce way he commanded me to please him and the brutal way my body responded.

It was maddening. And it was crazy that I could be so turned on by a 70-year-old man. Here I was, not even twenty-two and married to a young guy—and my thoughts kept going back to being under that hairy bulk while he drove into me with all his brutish strength. Crazy.

“John! Kate!” he bellowed one day as we passed each other on the stairs.

“Mr. Zankov,” John nodded.

Sergei’s eyes traveled my length, and then he took me gently by the elbow. “Kate must hold on banister so not fall,” he said and put my hand onto the rail. He patted the top of my and with his hairy paw. Then, let it linger there, surrounding it and trapping it with a firm grip.

A jolt shot through me. That forbidden secret we had, that only we knew, was transmitted right in front of my husband.

We went our separate directions, and when out of earshot, John said, “I think you have an admirer.”

“Be serious!” I said with too much emphasis.

“I think the old man is sweet on my honey!” he teased. “I’d better watch out he doesn’t start bringing you flowers and candy!” He laughed. When he saw the look on my face, he interpreted it as fear and disgust for Sergei. “Kate! He’s a harmless old man. He’s a puppy dog wagging his tail for attention.”

I had seen the tail he wagged. That tail had been in my mouth and my pussy. He had wagged it there and the fear John saw on my face was the fear of my weakness and the fear of those memories and the fear of my growing sexual frustrations.


Four days later, on his way out the door for work, John said, “I forgot to write out the rent check. Write it out and drop it down to Mr. Zankov. It was due yesterday.”

“Can’t you do it?” I put that whine in my voice that usually worked with John. Not this time.

“I’m late!” he called over his shoulder.

Great! I’d been successful in avoiding a confrontation with Sergei for almost three weeks, and now this.

But, why would I even have to see him. I’d write out the check, put it in an envelope, and stuff it under his door. Perfect.

Perfect until I found that the space under the forbidding door was not wide enough. No matter how many times I tried, the envelope would bend and crinkle. On my last attempt, the door flew open while I was on my knees.

There stood Sergei, looming above me.

“What pleasure see Kate. Great surprise. I hear scratch at door think cat. But cat of different kind, I find.”

Did he mean pussy? Was he playing?

He put his hands under my armpits before I could stop him and pulled me up to my feet as if I were the evening newspaper left at his doorstep. He held me suspended for a moment and then rested my feet to the floor for a soft landing.

Two words: “Your rent,” I said. My plan was to hand him the envelope and scurry upstairs and carry on with my assignment for the day: to be frustrated. And when that succeeded, continue to look for a job in the city.

But Sergei thwarted that plan when he turned without taking the envelope. He left the door open and disappeared into the interior of his own apartment.

I threw the envelope to the floor inside the apartment and turned to leave.

“Rent late,” came Sergei’s voice from within.

I wanted to leave. I should have left. But, John had said it was due yesterday. I took the bait and called, “Just a day.”

“Rent late.”

I picked up the envelope and followed the sound of Sergei’s voice. “It’s only a day. What is there some penalty? I’ll write another check if there is.”

“Rent late.”

Sergei was in the bathroom. He had his shower dismantled. It looked like he was doing a major plumbing and tiling repair. He washed his hands in the sink, then turned to me.

There had been a remarkable transformation. He looked different, maybe even slimmer.

He had on a huge black t-shirt that still showed the swell of his bull-like muscles. Dark blue polyester Adidas shorts again covered those hairy thighs.

He saw me surveying the shower. “Two days more, all done. Better than before. Meantime, no shower.”

“About the rent. I’ll call John,” I said and pulled out my phone.

“Still have picture?”


“Still have Sergei’s picture? Sergei’s cock?”

“No!” I lied. “I deleted that the minute I saw what it was.”

“I delete Kate’s pussy also.”

When he saw the look on my face, he laughed. “Sergei joke! Sergei prize Kate’s photo. Sergei’s screensaver now!”

Again he looked at me and laughed. “Sergei joke! Kate’s photo only for Sergei and is secret.” He held his index finger to his lips and made a “shh” sound and then pointed to himself and to me, indication it was our secret.

I had actually looked at Sergei’s photo every day. Its fascination had yet to wear thin.

“The check,” I said.

“Check. Okay check.” He held his hand out and I extended the envelope in front of me. He reached, but touched the envelope and then reached beyond it to my bare arm. He slid his hand up to my elbow and grasped it when I reacted to pull away.

Instead, he pulled me close until our faces were inches apart. He found and held fast my other elbow. I twisted, but knew from experience his strength made escape impossible.

“You think of Sergei?” His voice was slow and songlike.

“No! Take the check or don’t take it. Let me go, you’re hurting me.” That too was a lie. His hands were rough cushions that exerted just enough pressure to hold me. I knew he could crush me if he had wanted.

“Sergei think of Kate. Think of Kate’s softness, Kate’s beauty. Kate more lovely than Sergei’s memory.

“Let me go.”

“But Kate’s face hide something new.”

“I have to go. John is going to call any minute to ask about the check.” All lies.

“Kate’s face show pain. Show sadness. Not there before.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Sergei think Kate remember Sergei, remember feeling Sergei.”

He let go of my arms, and I should have bolted for the door. I didn’t.

“You forced me. You know what you did. You’re lucky I didn’t call the police. Now just forget it. I did.”

“Sergei know woman’s body. Kate’s body know Sergei now. Kate compare puny John and puny John disappointment. Da?”

“John was right! You’re an animal!” I said it with anger through clenched teeth. But, my anger wasn’t about Sergei, it was that he was 100% correct.

“Perhaps Kate need animal. Need animal to bring animal Kate from cage.”

“I’m leaving.”

“You think of Sergei’s cock in your hand.”

“No! You’re delusional.”

“You think how big Sergei feels in Kate’s hand.”


“Sergei bigger than puny John.”

I kept silent.

“Sergei harder than puny John. Farther into pussy than puny John.”

He took my right hand. I struggled to free it, but he placed it flat against his hard chest and dragged it down against him. I pulled with all my strength, but he was able to keep contact with his body in a smooth glide.

“Stop it. I don’t want this.”

Lower he pulled my hand. Over his belly, which was noticeably smaller than before.

“Please, don’t. I’m a married woman.”

“Married woman deserve choice.”

What did he mean “choice?”

My hand kept traveling until finally I felt the outline of that huge thing I had a picture of on my phone. I audibly gasped.

“You like Sergei’s cock.”

It wasn’t a question, but I whispered, “No.”

His eyes looked into mine, and I was shaking my head “no.” That massive thing wasn’t completely hard … yet. I hadn’t noticed that I stopped struggling until he took his hand away from mine.

And my hand remained where it was, pressing against an engorging penis shielded only by a thin layer of polyester. He thrust his hips forward and back a few times, making my hand glide over his penis.

“Stop it,” I said. I could have taken my hand away, but didn’t.

Sergei leaned forward and whispered into my ear, “Choice,” then kissed my cheek.

He took my hand and snaked my fingers inside the top of his elastic waistband. He wasn’t wearing underwear. He started my hand downward, and I continued on my own. My fingers were buried in the dense tangles of his body hair and then the jungle of his pubic hair.”

“We have to stop …” I said.


Then, my hand was on it. That hard, hot thick cylinder of flesh. My fingers tried in vain to get all the way around it.

“Oh my God!” I said.

My fingers pulled up, and then down. I felt my hand go slick, and knew that Sergei’s cock was washing me in its precum.

“Mr. Sergei! Mr. Sergei! Are you here? Your door was open!” A quavering female voice broke in from the living room.

“Bathroom, Mrs. Watkins!” Sergei roared. Then he laughed.

I yanked my hand out of Sergei’s shorts, and staggered back. Sergei laughed again as if he found this immensely amusing. I was appalled. I almost got caught jerking off my landlord.

Mrs. Watkins came around the corner. She was the elderly neighbor below us. Elderly—I bet she wasn’t that much older than Sergei.

I made a big show of presenting my envelope to Sergei. “Rent!” I said. My voice was hoarse.

“Oh! You must be the newlywed!” Mrs. Watkins said. This was the first time I had seen her. She lived on the second floor with her husband. I had met him only once in passing.

Mrs. Watkins held out her hand. “You can call me Doris.”

“Kate,” I said. I shook her right hand with my left, my non-precum-coated hand. She gave a puzzled look, but smiled.

“I have to go,” I said. “Nice to meet you.” I almost ran out of the apartment.”

I only heard the first part of Mrs. Watkins saying, “You must come and fix …”

I slammed the door of my apartment behind me and said: “What were you thinking, Kate!” I look at my hand, still gooey with Sergei’s fluids. I brought my palm to my nose and inhaled. There was an overpowering sharp odor of musk. “Animal,” I said.


The doorbell rang twice during the morning. I didn’t answer it. I didn’t want another encounter with my landlord who seemed to have weaved some spell over me.

I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why I had done the things I had done. While dating, many guys had tried to get sexual with me, but I never was at a loss. I always could handle the situation.

Not with Sergei. He had broken through some firewall I had relied on and penetrated my defenses. The only defense I had left was avoidance. I would avoid him as much as humanly possible.

After the second doorbell alarm, I slipped out of the building and did errands and caught a matinee of “Godzilla.”

I wandered the local mall until I was sure John would be home. I carried a pizza in the door for dinner.

While we ate, I kept thinking of what had happened. How I had stood there. How weak I was, both physically and mentally when I was around Sergei. And—I thought of how powerful he was—both in his forceful nature in handling me, and also his raw physical power.

I looked at the pizza slice in my hand and thought “Those same fingers were wrapped around Sergei’s hard cock.” What a stupid thought with my new husband sitting right there.

The pressure between my legs was getting to be unbearable. The feel of Sergei’s cock again had brought up all the memories of that day, the day of my orgasm. That fantastic, soul-liberating orgasm. And the memory of it only highlighted that I hadn’t experienced anything remotely close to that since.

I cuddled, kissed, seduced, and almost begged John to make love to me. I hungrily went down on him until he was erect. Then I pulled him on top of me and ground and thrust against him with all my might. But, I was almost feeling nothing from his puny cock.

“Harder!” I said, “HARDER!”

John stopped and in a clinical and academic tone, he said, “I read that if a woman spreads her legs as far as she can and points her toes, it creates a better sexual experience.” Then he resumed his measured and moderate performance. I didn’t even make the effort to spread my legs with him. I lay still until he gave a little grunt. I knew whatever trickle he had saved up for me had trickled.

I opened my eyes and he said to me, “I wish, just once, you would look into my eyes and say ‘John, I’m cumming.'”

“Next time … I promise,” I said softly, then rolled over.


The next day was Saturday. I thought I would be safe with John home.

But, two things conspired against me: John had a combination business presentation/golf date with his new bosses. He was all excited about the opportunity to shine and get to socialize with the bigwigs. The second thing was our sink—it was plugged up.

John, without consulting me, had summoned, of all people, Sergei into my inner sanctum.

“Sergei fix,” he said. He eyed me, and then got under the sink. He fiddled and took the trap out, draining the gunk that had been collecting there for who knows how many years. It had an evil smell. Sergei collected it in a basin.

John had been avidly watching, probably trying to learn how to do a simple repair.

Sergei reattached the trap and started to shimmy out from under the sink. John looked at his watch and exclaimed: “Hell! I’m going to be late!”

He turned, and when he did, knocked the basin full of waste off the counter. It dumped its entire contents onto Sergei. He was covered in foul-smelling black grease, hair, string, and garbage.

“Oh my God! Mr. Zankov! I’m so sorry. It was a stupid accident!”

“Sergei!” I said before I could catch myself. I felt bad for the old man, sitting there covered in refuse.

Sergei eyed me. “Sergei shower broken.”

“Use ours!” John said, happy to try to redeem himself a little by offering.

“No. Sergei be bother.”

“Mr. Zankov, please,” John said. “Kate, get that new terrycloth robe and let Mr. Zankov use it to get to his apartment after his shower.

“Okay, Sergei take shower.” He pretended to have trouble getting up and John helped him. He headed for the shower and closed the door behind him.

John laughed and whispered to me, “I’m surprised he even WANTED a shower, the hairy, stinking old animal!” He laughed again and looked at me as if I would join in. I didn’t.

“God! I have to go!” John grabbed his clubs and slammed the door behind him, leaving me with the sound of the shower running.

I hurried to the bedroom and hunted up the terrycloth robe. I opened the bathroom door a crack and snuck my arm around enough to hang it on the back of the door.

I sat impatiently in my bedroom with the door shut. I planned to stay there until he had gone. About ten minutes went by before the water stopped.

After another few minutes, I heard Sergei’s muffled voice. I did or said nothing. Then, I heard it again. Then again.

I opened my door and could hear more clearly. Just one word: “Towel!”

I said, “What?”

“Sergei needs fresh towel!”

I ran to the linen closet and picked up a blue towel. I opened the bathroom door a crack and stuck the towel in.

“Give Sergei,” his voice commanded.

I gave a little toss and it landed on the tile floor somewhere I didn’t see.

“Hand to Sergei.”

“No. You can pick it up yourself.”

“Hand to Sergei.”

“No. Put on the robe and go home.” I shut the door. And leaned against it, relieved.

“Hand to Sergei. You disrespect Sergei. You disrespect like puny John. I see his look, his smiles when he thinks Sergei don’t see. Disrespect. You too Kate disrespect?”

“No! You know I don’t!” It was important to me that he knew that.

“Towel,” he said. Then again, that one word: “Towel.”

I opened the door and focused my attention on where the towel had landed. I spotted it, scooped it up, and extended my hand to where my peripheral vision showed Sergei to be.

He caught my wrist and pulled. I gasped, then looked at him for the first time.

He stood with a great white bath towel tied around his waist. Contrasting the white was the dark skin of his torso made all the darker by the matte of wet and tangled body hair completely covering his torso. My breathing came in quick, shallow inhalations and exhalations.

“Dry Sergei,” he commanded while pressing my hand and the towel against his hairy pectorals. He made drying motions for a bout ten seconds and then let go. My hand continued until his chest was dried. My eyes were cast downward.

He turned. “Dry Sergei’s back.”

This was the first prolonged and unobstructed view I had gotten of the old Russian’s back. He had even more hair here. So much so that where it met at his spine formed an almost black column of hair.

I wiped as I had been instructed.

Sergei’s hand went to his waist and flicked off the towel. He dropped it to the floor, exposing his butt and massive legs.

“Dry Sergei’s legs.”

“No. That’s enough,” I said.

“Legs,” he said. “Legs.”

I dropped to one knee and with both hands wrapped the towel around one muscular thigh and swiped gently up and down the full length. Then I switched to the other.

Sergei turned his naked body toward me. At eye level was his great and erect penis. He roughly grabbed the towel from my hands and threw it against the wall—hard. I inhaled audibly with surprise.

I was in shock. Paralyzed. Kneeling there on one knee.

He took my right wrist and guided my hand. Guided it to that throbbing shaft of his.

“Please. No. I can’t. Please, I’m married.”

“Choice,” he said, and let my hand go. It slowly encircled his penis.

My eyes now focused on the end of the weapon pointed at me. I was both petrified and mesmerized. With each stroke of my fingers, an ooze flowed out of the dark opening.

Sergei stepped closer. I didn’t retreat. Now the head of his penis was an inch from my mouth. I looked up into his eyes and silently mouthed the word “No.”

“Choice,” he said while closing the gap between us.

His cock brushed my lips, and I opened my mouth to accept the old man.

He flooded my taste buds with his heady flavors. “Mmmm,” I murmured deep in my throat. He pushed gently and I opened my mouth wider.

For about thirty seconds I stuffed inch after inch, stretching my jaw as wide as I could to accept his thickness. Then he pulled out and reached down.

He grabbed the collar of my top in both hands and ripped it apart like it was tissue paper. I cried out aloud in surprise. Then, without unhooking it, he pulled my bra up and over my head and through my arms.

My breasts sprung loose, and my nipples hardened.

“We can’t,” I breathed. I still clung to the faint echo of my wedding vows.

He pushed me back onto my butt and took the waistband of my sweatpants in one hand and dragged them down. Down, down they came, turning inside out as he stripped them off me in one motion. My panties followed in a similar rough skinning.

He reached for me, caught me under the armpits and hoisted me high to arms’ length over his head—and let go.

I fell and cried out, but he caught me in his embrace and hugged my waist close to his chest so that my face was a foot above his. My legs automatically wrapped around him in the same way a child does to support herself when picked up.

Here we were, both naked—the old man and the bride.

“Please, Sergei. No. I can’t.”

“Say ‘fuck me.'”

“I can’t.”

“Say ‘Sergei fuck me.'”

“No …”

“Say ‘Sergei, give me what puny John is not able to give … make me cum. Make body alive. Say fuck me!'”

I said two words into his ear: “Fuck me!” then rested my head on his shoulder.

I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror as he walked out of the bathroom with me in his arms. My ultra white skin framed by his dark animal coat. He had one arm around my back. The other hand cupped my naked ass and supported me.

As we crossed into the bedroom, I thought to myself “I’m finally getting carried across the threshold.”

Sergei placed me on the bed and I lay crossways on it. I playfully lifted my legs and rubbed the soles of my feet against his hairy chest.

He didn’t ask what shoes I had been wearing or if I had recently washed them—he took each foot and kissed it. Then he licked the soles. I groaned. He sucked each toe and spread them so his tongue could reach every crevice.

He went to his knees before me and kissed his way up my thighs.

“Kate so beautiful,” he said before the lower part of his face disappeared in my pubic hair.

“OH GOD!” I said when he found my clitoris. He sucked and gnawed and licked and worked with varying pressures and intensities until my body could no longer contain the pressure:

“YES! YES!” I screamed as it all crashed in one big orgasmic wave over me. I was catatonic. The black magic spell of sexual frustration that had been cast by John ineptness had broken.

Sergei shifted my lifeless body and climbed onto the bed. He lay flat on his back, with that gorgeous cock standing high. I didn’t have to be instructed. I summoned all my strength to crawl up and straddle his hips.

“Oh my God … oh my God,” I repeated. My hand went behind me and I painted my pussy opening with his sticky precum. Then I fitted the head to the entrance of my vagina and I eased onto it.

“Aaaahhh!” I breathed out in a long groan. I raised up and then down. Four times. Until I had the base of Sergei’s huge cock surrounded by my red pubic hair.

That’s when Sergei took over. He grasped my hips and thrust upwards.

“Sergei!” I said.

“Kate’s body knows real man!”

“Yes! Yes! Finally … finally!”

It was like I had never felt before. Even better than the first time. By a lot. Now I was participating consciously, and willingly. I ground and rode while he thrust. I made obscene noises that I didn’t recognize as my own voice.

Then, unexpectedly, Sergei hugged me down to him and turned us over in one smooth move. We were now in the missionary position.

And now he went seriously to work. For five minutes he deliciously moved in and out of my ravenous pussy. I craved and desired and lusted after his pleasure-giving cock. I possessed it with all my power.

He increased his speed and I kept up with his motions. We were synchronized in body, mind, and soul.

“Kate, Kate … my beautiful Kate,” he whispered. Then he let out that mighty roar. “AAAHHGGH!” Gush after gush of hot cum filled me. More even than the first time.

I heard a slight noise near the bedroom entrance. My eyes flew open. There stood John with his mouth wide open. I saw his briefcase just inside the door and knew immediately he must have forgotten it and rushed home to retrieve it. His eyes looked in horror on what was before him:

His new wife was being viciously fucked by the hairy old man that he had degraded and insulted. A huge thick cock was pumping her gaping pussy full of baby-making scum!

My legs were spread as wide as I could get them for maximum penetration and my smelly toes were pointed toward John. With my eyes fixed on his, my body convulsed and granted his wish while fulfilling the promise I had made him the night before on this very bed. I screamed:


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Lewis Barrett wrote

A realy depthy stories to get in to spot on