Her heart was pounding. She'd played with ropes before and had had boyfriends tie her for mutual pleasure, but this was different. This was dominance, the male taking power and control, just like in the animal kingdom. It was new, very new, but she wanted to see it through.
Laying himself along side of her, Grigori went to work. He began with her nipples, clamping each in turn between his pearl white teeth. With one hand he held her wrists while the other strayed down her belly, tracing maddening lines over the taut, concave surface. She arched her back, moaning in anticipation.
He was going to play with her pussy. Oh, yes, he was going to part those complex, throbbing lips and give her the taunting and the teasing … and the fulfillment she needed.
"Please,” she hissed, dragging the word out into several syllables. “Touch me."
He made her kiss him first. She did all the work this time, pressing and twisting her lips, begging him to take her open mouth, to plunder it and subdue her tongue. It was meant to further reduce her, to make her vrastoya, conquerable, completely and inarguably ready to be a man's sex toy.
Expertly, his fingers slid into place. With the tiniest of motions, he had Julie writhing. Just a few seconds, clenching on his knuckle, just a minute to rub her clit against him and she would be there … over the brink experiencing what already promised to be one of the best orgasms she'd ever had in her life.
"Need … to … come…” She exclaimed.
The wrestler turned actor denied her. Kissing her cheek, softly but with diabolic intent, he brought her back down. Her body, covered in sweat, continued to spasm, seeking the needed stimulation for climax. Waiting till her breathing had slowed enough, he began the process again, nibbling at her breasts and reawakening her yearning pussy.
This time he had only to press down on her hooded clit for a second to push her instantly to the brink.
"Grigori, please,” she wept as he held her back yet again. “I can't handle anymore."
Grigori placed his come-soaked finger to her lips. “Vrastoya,” he rasped, employing what now appeared to be the all-purpose sex word in his language.
"Vrastoya,” she replied, delicately kissing the tip of his finger. She found the taste of herself to be pungent, but not unpleasant. Dabbing with her tongue, she licked at the tip of it, meekly, but also passionately. No lover had ever made her do this before. Then again, no one had ever brought her to the point where she'd sell her soul for a chance to climax.
Popping it in her mouth, Julie went to work. She'd show him vrastoya. Thirsty mouth, thirsty pussy, a little blonde dynamo who'd knocked a few socks off in her day, thank you very much. Cooperative, perky Julie. Cheerleader Julie who'd been there in the back seat of her boyfriend's car, the night of her eighteenth birthday to give it up.
And before that, in all innocence as a child. All her life, enchanting the men around her. Make them love you, Julie. Don't get your white dress dirty and keep your ribbons straight. A thousand strokes a day to your flaxen hair, make mama proud. Papa's watching, always, from his cockpit in the sky, gleaming white teeth, spotless uniform of blue. Salute him Julie and marry one just as good.
Such a long way from Ashview, Iowa to Hollywood and from there to here, a rented villa under the aegis of Ambrosiano and his doomed film. What an ending to the journey. Begging a muscleman for sex, hoping someone will buy her broke ass a plane ticket somewhere, a town, anywhere with a diner she could wait tables at, shaking it for the truckers and collecting on those hefty thirty percent tips.
Grigori took hold of her left breast in his hand. “Joo-lya,” he called her name, with such feeling she wanted to melt completely into his eyes. “Vrastoya girta."
Did this mean what she thought it did? Could it have something to do with the “L” word?
His motions between her legs had changed. He was no longer teasing but settling his hand in place for the duration. She began to shudder against him at once. There would be no holding back, no maintenance of lady-like dignity. She would be taking her orgasm hard and fast.
"Oh, fuck,” she exclaimed through clenched teeth. “Oh, Grigori, fucking fuck!"
Grigori held her down, applying just enough pressure to counter the explosions within. She thrust herself against him, against his hand cupping her breast and his other hand, working her sex. Never had she felt so yet completely possessed and yet the man's cock was still inside her.
How a bear wrestler learned to make a female come like this she had no clue, but she was not about to complain. In all he gave her three orgasms, back to back, no let up, no mercy. Each was larger than the last, concentric rings, cataclysms of such magnitude she would never have been able to endure them-or manufacture them alone.
They were like cyclones, imploding, tearing apart the walls of her reality, blowing everything wide open with animal intensity. Compared to this, every other encounter in her life had been child's play.
"Grigori, take me,” she cried when she'd found her voice again. “Give it to me with that great big cock-fuck me silly, do you hear? Shove it into me till I can't see straight."
She wasn't sure if the man had understood her or not, but he was shifting his position all of a sudden, climbing astride her. She felt woozy at the sight of him, kneeling between her legs, slowly stroking, running his hand up and down the length of his incredible erection. He paid special attention to the vein underneath, ridged and bluish purple. She'd only ever known one other man with a cock this size. It had been a joke of nature in that case, a complete waste on a five foot five inch, flabby body, but it had gotten him some pretty good gigs as a leading man in the adult film industry.
On Grigori, on the other hand, a dick like this was just right. Exactly in proportion for his larger than life body and persona. He seemed enraptured touching himself like this. Indeed, if she had a body like that she would spend all day masturbating in a mirror. Then again, if she had a body like that she'd probably be out chasing women, not admiring her self.
Truly, he was so big that even his own hand took time running the length of it. For a split second she wondered about being able to fit him. Too late now, though. She was in this for the distance. There was no way he was going to budge till he'd finished himself off.
Uh oh. His eyes had slid shut. He wasn't going to come like this, was he? She wanted that load inside her pussy, not all over her stomach. “Grigori, wake up,” she complained, though he wasn't exactly asleep.
The eyes reopened, brown, full of sudden sadness, echoing things centuries old. It was like this with every European man she'd ever been with, even the seemingly non-intellectual ones like Grigori. Their gazes instantly intent, mature beyond the dreams of most Americans males, their faces full of expression, most of it unreadable.
From her experience it was a fleeting thing. Best to strike while the iron was hot, that was the best advice in a situation like this.
"Fuck me,” she said unabashedly, her one-time cheerleader's belly rippling enticingly. “Make me take that bad boy … every inch."
He clenched his teeth, releasing a breath. The tip of his cock breached the petal-shaped gateway. It was a slow, sweet slipping, a descent, down and dirty … Julie loved this part, getting to know a new cock, showing it the ropes, making it feel at home. She always felt so alive, so needed, so female and fun with a cock planted inside her. There were times, when she was with some certain special man on a regular basis, that she'd wished she could take their shafts with her everywhere she went, greedily squeezing on them all day long, coming around their velvet coated rods as many times as she liked.