The Bangover Diaries: The Russian Roommates
It’s just a statement of fact that my colleagues and I have rattled many beautiful, sexy young women during our adventures, (as well as a few average ones that gave us the tingle) but a hand-full of these stand out as truly world class in every respect; the kind of beauties that make a man feel like he’s won the lottery, if only for an evening. They’re the ones who treat you like a movie star, make you feel like one, and are just fun to be around and eager to please, to boot.
As far as looks go, they’re in the same league as women you’ve seen in Playboy Magazine centerfolds, or on the cover of Vogue; My further good fortune is that I had the dumb luck to meet most of them early in their careers, when their attitudes were still un-jaded by the hardships of whoring.
After a few weeks or so in the game, you see, women get a gauge of their appeal on the open market, and tend to act and charge accordingly, and this can lead to a corresponding decline in eagerness to please, and attitude in general. And, the more beautiful they are, the more susceptible they can be to this malady.
And, to be fair, some of their clients certainly contribute to this decline; One asshole can transform a sweet, accommodating young lady into a jaded, hardened shrew, and meeting one before this transformation takes place is the best kind of experience; and, as always, a session with an extraordinarily beautiful woman with a great attitude toward you is a night to remember.
Speaking of appeal on the open market, just like women, every man likewise has an idea of his appeal to females, and yours truly is certainly no exception; Even though I fancy myself to be better looking than most, I certainly know when a woman would normally be out of my league, and I’ve managed to stallion more than my share of them on both an hourly and nightly basis over the years.
And so it went that, shortly after my introduction to the Italian with the loud whisper, I had the great fortune to meet the Russian roommates. They both had a rare combination of beauty, bubbly personalities, and just plain sexiness that no normal man could resist.
It all happened in South Miami in a club called Showgirls, not long after Bill Clinton had established that a blow-job wasn’t sex, and it seemed that the flood gates of every strip club in Miami went from private dances to anything goes in the VIP rooms, and Showgirls was no exception.
Luba, the redhead was tall, trim and athletic with a stunning figure, and her Russian accent was the icing on the cake; there’s just nothing like being talked dirty to in a foreign accent, at least in my book. Her roommate Maria was also a world-class beauty but a short brunette; and a splendid, fun vixen in her own right, to be sure
After a few enticing table dances and conversations spread over 2 or 3 visits, they gave me the rundown. An hour in the VIP room was $400.00, and satisfaction guaranteed; I saved my money and took the plunge a few weeks later, and Luba didn’t disappoint.
As soon as we got in the room, we sat on a couch in the corner and immediately she was all over me, embracing me and kissing me passionately, almost as if she’d been looking forward to it as much as I, sticking her tongue down my throat and stroking my manhood gently as it grew; finally she went down on her knees before me, unbuttoning, then unzipping my fly and with a short tug on my pants, Mister Bobo popped out and stood at full attention before her.
She went straight to work as she knelt between my legs, sucking and stroking, before getting back up on the couch to my left, then once again resuming the job as I reached around over her beautiful ass and between her firm buns to stick a finger in her moist pussy. This seemed to excite her and she groaned a little and picked up the pace.
Soon I simply lay back and placed my hand on her back (She had only one tattoo on her perfect body, that of a small spiderman face on the small of her back, precisely where my hand lay) and I watched that beautiful red-lipsticked mouth going up and down on my sausage until I felt myself coming; I warned her of the coming eruption but she continued to stroke the shaft with only my helmet in her mouth, and soon I felt an exploding wave of pleasure as she sucked up my load without missing a beat; Some Russian fellow must be missing the hell of this one, thought I at that moment.
After coming up for air and flashing a quick, saucy smile my way, she took a quick drink of beer to wash down the load, and then a moment later she was back on her knees before me, jiggling her tits and then tit-messaging my cock which was down, but not out and soon at full attention again between them. I remember the look of delight on her face (Which no doubt was reflected in mine) as she grasped my cock and rocked it back and forth between both breasts, then as she cupped one breast in each hand and went up and down with my cock sandwiched between them.
For a few passionate minutes of this, we never took our eyes off of each other, and I thought that if I had not just emptied the tank I would have certainly done so at that moment, probably with a volley on her chin.
Finally, she grabbed it and started rubbing her nipple in a circular motion with my helmet; After a few enjoyable moments or so I called a halt and, feeling a strong need to return the favor, I had her lay back on the couch and spread her legs as I went down on my knees and dove in to eat that beautiful Russian pussy of hers.
It was moist to perfection as I licked the length of her gash, then teased her clit before once again licking it’s length as I felt her juices roll down my chin. Finally, I focused both mouth and tongue on her clit as I moved my head in a circular motion.
I kept this up for a while, feeling in complete control as I pleasured her, grasping her hips as she gently wiggled to and fore to the rhythm of my tongue. When soon I heard her gently grunting as she exhaled, I knew the moment of truth was at hand and I felt her hand on my head pulling me closer, grinding my mouth into her wetness as I heard her say softly in that sexy Russian accent; “OOOH I love it when you SUCK my puussy”
With this I took the que and started sucking harder on her clit, as I felt her grinding increase in both speed and intensity………Soon she let out an abrupt grunt, and I then felt her pushing me away, as if her pleasure had become pain, and looked up to see her staring at me open-mouthed, her beautiful womanhood likewise in full, moist blossom before me.
After a moments rest, she lay over sideways on the couch, and as I got up to lay over her she was still breathing rapidly; she greeted me with a passionate open mouthed kiss, eager to taste her own juices, and I felt her heart beating rapidly against mine; at that moment I wondered how I compared to the Russian men who’d come before me (no pun intended) and I guessed that I’d made the grade, at least so far.
After a minute or two of passionate kissing and mutual tongue lashing, I stood upright on my knees and, after a moment of admiring the scene of her laid out before me and thanks to God above for his artistry in making that perfectly ravishing body, I slid my naked manhood into her and began a slow grind, feeling my chest puff out as I assumed the stallion position over her, and began to thrash her with reckless abandon.
After a few minutes of male supremacy, I went missionary, and once again tasted her tongue in my mouth as I slowed down the pace. She responded with a rhythmic grind as we melted together, the top length of my cock sliding the length of her slippery love gash, pressing against it tightly as my balls gently pounded against her tight little asshole with every stroke.
We must have stayed in this exquisite position for quite some time before she whispered softly, “Fuck me doggy”. I came up for air and she quickly assumed the position (thank God for the wideness of the couch) and, after briefly admiring the view, I entered her and immediately grasped her hips and began what can only be described as a jack-hammer like rhythm, followed soon by an earth-shaking release of man-juice inside her.
I remember her expression as she turned around to look at me; it seemed she and I both had climbed a high mountain, and were appropriately exhausted, yet satisfied in the exertion; exhilaration would soon follow, at least on my part, and I had to wonder if all Russian women were as splendid a ride as she.
Later I recounted this experience to Alfredo, telling him that even though the price was high, the experience was unforgettable, not to mention that there was nary the sight nor the mention of a condom, and he remarked, ”It just don’t get any more GFE than that, man.“ Of the price, he remarked, “Hey, you wanted a top-shelf piece of ass, and that’s what you got”
I certainly had to agree; She was a world-class ride in every respect, not only in looks, but in service and attitude; and what a pity I only experienced her once.
I’ve often wished that I’d offered to take her and her friend Maria to Key West for a weekend; that would have certainly been worth a couple of grand, or about the price of 4 days in Costa Rica, after all. But hindsight is always 20/20, and to this day I fantasize about the weekend that could have been; I have no doubt that it would have been glorious.
But getting too personal is always a hazard, and this story is also worth re-telling, both as a lesson and a warning to you, dear reader. As you’ve read, It’s my natural inclination to follow rule number one of whoring, (Never treat a woman like a whore unless she acts like a whore) but it was Luba who taught me rule number two, the hard way. (Never forget they’re whores)
I had developed a crush on her, you see, having fooled myself into thinking that she felt the same way, no doubt aided by her friend Maria and the time I had spent with both of them as a regular patron at the club, talking about Russia, South Beach, each other and life in general.
Maria for her part was determined to get married but made no bones about the fact that it would have been a business arrangement to get a US passport; I politely declined, perhaps hoping to get a similar offer from Luba, but, not long after our time in the VIP room, as we three sat together having a drink and a conversation, and after Luba was called to the stage, Maria soon began lamenting about Luba’s new, black boyfriend.
“I can’t believe she’s with this guy, she met him here in the club but he’s disgusting” she said, as I hid my own disbelief; “But at least she’s only fucking him and not trying to move in with him, or move him in with us. That would NEVER happen…”
Having never met or seen the fellow, I didn’t know if her disgust was racism or justified in some other way, but I must confess some racist feelings of my own at that moment: at any rate it was a rude awakening for me, and the loud crash of shattered illusions left me in startled silence for a few minutes before I took my leave, not to return until 2 or 3 months, and at least one trip to Costa Rica later.
By the time I returned, (admittedly on a quest to rattle Maria, rather than Luba) they had both gone home to Russia, a terrible loss for the men of Miami, but a huge gain for the men of Russia. As for me, I could never live in a place like Russia, or any cold climate, for that matter. But, life certainly can’t be all bad there, one must admit, with women like them around to keep you warm.
Do svidaniya, Luba and Maria……You certainly represented Russia well.
