Murmansk Stone

Literotic asexstories – Murmansk Stone by ja99,ja99
In the before

After my wife died at age 51 (I was 54), I sold our house and applied to my company’s internal job-transfer website, looking for something with travel. As a telecoms expert, they had jobs, and I wanted to see the world. We’d never had kids, so I had nothing to tie me down, and travel seemed like it’d be fun.

Over the next 2 years, via a continuing series of 3 day to 3 month gigs (most were about 3 weeks, to be honest), I’d visited almost every continent (missed Antarctica, of course). Some of the most remote places on Earth had telecom equipment that needed fixing or upgrading, and I found going to new places and talking to new people invigorating.

Ask any serious traveler, they’ll know their country-count. Define it carefully! Just an airport or train station layover didn’t count – you had to have a meal there outside of a terminal. That let me count Vatican City, which had a restaurant in the museum, and Andorra, which I really just drove through but stopped to have lunch in. My country count, The Before, was 134, though it was getting a lot harder to bump that number without going out of my way to do so.

Sometimes traveling alone was lonely, but that just gave good contrast to conversations and even dinners with a vast network of coworkers. In side trips, I stayed at youth hostels and met interesting people, though there was a range of ‘interesting’ I was okay with, and beyond that, I tended to steer clear, ‘those’ people weren’t my scene. Happily they were easy to spot.

The closest big city on my last work trip was Murmansk, Russia. Murmansk is about as far north as any sane person would go, but, then, that was the easy leg! I had to keep going. A two-day river-boat ride, a change to an ancient Soviet-era float plane, and a series of 3-hour hops got me to an oil rig in a swamp.

The destination was a telecoms relay station used by giant oil companies.

To say it was hell-and-gone, yeah, that’d be an understatement. And, I was scheduled for 2 weeks, a long deployment for a simple relay station, but there was a long to-do list and I was just the one guy. Not many people were willing to spend time utterly alone with 500 km of empty, dense, tundra-forest in all directions.

The float-plane pilot and his crew member helped me unload my equipment and camping gear and ruck the heavy stuff up to the prefab building, then shook hands and took off again. I waved and let them go, and got busy setting up.

Not dying alone in a wilderness tends to focus the mind.

Setting up the equipment and kicking off the hardware and software upgrade processes took two days, but I punctuated the indoor time with my secondary outdoor duties, trimming back trees from around the site to get the area cleaned up. They’d given me battery-powered tools – a chainsaw, a brush cutter to clear undergrowth, and the normal carpentry tools because some parts of the cabins always needed repair.

I burned the refuse and delighted in getting to be a super-duper highly-paid landscaper.

The fact that I knew not to cut the cables between the antenna towers and PV array field justified any expense on their part, I was sure. Russia was famous for having drunk idiots blindly drive expensive equipment into sinkholes, cut vital cables randomly, and otherwise generally die needlessly doing The Wrong Thing (making for expensive funerals, too).

I should note the problems with Russian workers wasn’t bravery, it was the opposite, a cavalier attitude to just trying the bang-it-harder, jury-rig, make-do, see if it works perspectives mostly characterized in the USA as, “Hold My Beer.” That’s fine for seeing if a riding making a shopping cart into a luge seems fun, but when you’ve got $10m of telecom equipment, NO, that’s not the guy you want fixing it.

Some of my handyman tasks were fun – repairing ripped up crap where bears had tried to get in, for one. The more normal stuff balanced it out – tightening the permafrost-loosened guy wires on the dishes, and ensuring the foundations were stable from the giant frost-heaves, etc.

The computer work was the simple part, I’d been doing that a long time. You’d think that all of it could be done remotely, but sometimes hardware would fail, and we’d have to bring in a new unit, or fix a leaky roof that dripped on the server rack (it happened). Some things could ONLY be done in-person – swapping out equipment with more modern versions, patching software, looking at blinking lights to diagnose which component was failing. And, yes, seeing if the dang power plug had fallen out (I’d seen this on previous jobs).

I had some books to read, and a ton of summer sunlight to read them in. Granted, being summer, mosquitoes were horrid, but I had bug repellant and a beekeeper’s mask. It’s possible to choke to death on gnats and skeeters out there. I had been warned, but I’d also been around permafrost tundra-swamps before and came prepared.

Between tasks, my “off time” in nature (after cleaning up) meant some hiking and nature photography. I liked to do close-up work on fungi, what animals I could see, and even rock outcroppings (geology being a lifelong amateur passion).

It was almost by-chance that I spotted a strange looking rock outcropping on one of my walkabouts, right about at the limit of how far I was willing to walk from my ‘camp’. It didn’t pay to get stuck walking home in the twilight and miss a step into a deeper-than-expected puddle.

The outcropping wasn’t visible from far away, so I was surprised when I happened upon it. It was so oddly shaped I had to go look closer. Indeed, it undercut the rock hillside to make an expansive overhang.

This was NOT a natural formation!

Pillars came up to support the overhang, and deep inside it was obviously well-sheltered from the weather. The 5 meters (15 feet) ceiling of the ‘patio’ under the rock face felt open but it was so deep there was a lot of area in there to walk around in, and a lot of chest-high rocks scattered inside as well.

Once I got in the space, it was obvious the outcropping’s shape wasn’t random.

Underneath

The space itself was the size of a medium-sized bus terminal, or maybe about half a U.S. grocery store. It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t empty, either. Odd looking boulders with almost-deliberate shapes filled the area in groupings.

The ‘almost’ part faded away as I got in far enough to see a carved stone chair, integral to the back wall and almost throne-like in appearance. Quickly, I took some pictures, all around, knowing this was ancient-beyond-ancient, just by the look of the place.

As I got closer, I could see the walls, overhanging ceiling, and even some boulders had ornate carvings on them, letters in some other language. I knew a lot of languages by then, but some characters were cursive like Thai and others chittish like cuneiform.

Of course I took tons of pictures!

The obvious focus of most of the place was The Chair, and I began to notice sets of arcs in the floor that made it look ever more like a throne, with a slight lean-back angle so whoever sat in it definitely would either sit up straight on their own or could appear relaxed. That aspect of it appealed to me – a relaxed throne, a funny idea in itself.

I’m not going to say it called to me, or I was forced, but I felt increasingly compelled to sit in it, just to see what it would be like.

Yes, you’re probably yelling at me for doing this, super sus and creepy situation, but hell, I was in the middle of freakin’ nowhere, and the rock looked really, really cool!

So, yeah. I sat in the chair.

This was a life-ending mistake — not my life, mind you, physically, but… it’s complicated.

What followed my sitting down was a sense of immense tiredness and relaxation. I had long enough to shrug off my day-pack, but then… sleep.

Yet, it turned into something that Definitely Wasn’t Sleep.

I’d heard of drug trips before, and if I had to guess it was something like that.

Time passed in a dimly-lit waking dream of immense length. My earliest moments in life came forth as vivid re-livings of events. I saw my parents again! They were alive and young and energetic and happy (mostly), and I was, too, as my young self.

On one level, I had great joy from seeing them again. But, the main level of this memory included the emotions I had during the events, the sensations, the tastes and smells and sounds loud and soft.

I found the utter silence again of ears that didn’t have tinnitus, the Free Clarity of eyes that didn’t need glasses.

Every bit of my childhood came through, though definitely NOT in chronological order – one memory would trigger another, a place or a face or an idea would spawn a different thing coming out. It was mostly in age-order, but not entirely.

Friends and enemies (bullies, mostly) along the way, the trip seemed much more vivid in my adolescence, and even had memories of times I pooped, or jerked off, or cried from either physical or emotional pain. These ideas flowed easily through me and over me.

My adulthood, my jobs, my coworkers, my wife, our inability to have kids, my professional life, our home and family life, our pets, the messes I’d made, the joys, the sorrows, all up to the current day.

Even my travels, all the countries I’d been to, cities I’d seen, museums and artworks and churches and Over-the-Top Oddball People I’d met (and the mundane ones, too), they flowed up and over my mind, the conversations we’d had, the where and why and how of their lives, it all came up and out through me.

Then, I slowly woke.

Opening my eyes gradually, I realized my reverie was done, and a fresh bright sunlight greeted me. Birds chirped, insects buzzed, and I was awake and alive. And, in The Chair.

The second thing I noticed (after where I was) was that I was famished and tremendously thirsty. I took a long drink from my hip water flask, but then realized I’d peed in my pants… and… Oh, golly, I’d pooped my pants, too.

My watch said 3 nights had passed.

They’d be wondering about me. I had to have missed some check-ins in work chatrooms.

All this realization took about 20 or 30 seconds, maybe. And, then, I felt the artificial relaxation that obviously came from the chair, and I had to lean backwards again. This time, I stayed awake, but a set of noises started in my head, and then, a voice, clear and distinct.

I covered my ears. Like ringing in your ears, covering them doesn’t help. This didn’t either.

The voice said, “Kevin Fenimore Cooper. Species, human, aged 57 years. Diseases, infestations, and conditions: 455. All faults corrected. Say your name clearly, out loud.”

“Kevin Cooper?”

“Good, consciousness confirmed. You are the 1,621st human we have analyzed, over the last 22,773 years on this planet. You are only the second to be found in the last thousand years, however. Please repeat these facts to validate that you understand us.”

I did.

“In compensation for causing you pain during this analysis, for invading your privacy, and for stealing 3 days of your life, we have fixed your health faults.”

“Oh?” I knew I wasn’t exactly super-healthy, but I did exercise some.

“Ethics require we inform you of our analysis, as follows. You are human. We have identified your species’ evolutionary history. This includes primary and secondary self-actualization goals. We have confirmed you conform to most human norms. Humans are omnivorous, apex-predators, metaphor-cognitive, language class 7, intelligence class 12. You have two-gender sexual reproduction using double-helix 4-amino acid molecules in 23 pairs, alongside mitochondrial symbiosis.”

“Nominally you have 1.05 children per opportunistic non-seasonal pregnancy, live birth, glandular infancy feeding to 1 year, median age 7 to moderate self sufficiency. Semi-herd mentality, optimized for both mated-pair and alpha-pride reproduction, with tribe-defense groupings.”

What the voice was saying made sense, but it was using such abstract terms, it was odd to hear it out loud. The sensibility was very alien if all these considerations were variables that could be different.

“Maximum senescence at 120 years, cognitive max at 16, strength max at 24. Fertility lifelong in males, females median ages 12 to 45. Gender equality in cognition, male median is 1.4 times median female strength. External sexual traits, artistic and power-dynamic capabilities reinforce social mate selection or pride inclusion.”

“Inborn female priorities emphasize social cohesion, with military capability as a backup. Male priorities include acquisition and securing of physical needs and safety, impregnating females, and negotiating social complexities as secondary goals.”

“Kevin. Your mental state was incorrectly optimized given your species characteristics. This has been corrected. Please announce your primary life goals.”

I spoke, as if it’s something I’ve known forever and was just admitting out loud. “Have as much sex as possible. Make as many babies as possible. Protect my babies and their mothers first, then my tribe second. Optimize for the mothers to ensure they provide good care to the young. Maximize the number, safety, and dispersion of all descendants.”

“Secondary life goals?”

“Maximize pleasure. Achieve artistic goals. Safeguard my children, wives, tribe, clan, nation, humanity, planet. Obey ethical traditions to encourage further social cohesion and simplify decision making.”

“State additional goals of The Chair.”

“Provide technological and engineering solutions to prevent various impending catastrophes, as revealed by The Chair.”

These answers had (obviously to me) been newly installed in my head.

It continued, “Return to The Chair exactly 100 years from today. Your body will not age until that date. You remain vulnerable to physical damage but have been made generally more resilient. Secondary sexual characteristics have been enhanced to achieve species, personal, and Chair goals. Cognition has been increased to class 17, language skills to class 9. Your skull size will increase by approximately 10%. These improvements will be passed to your offspring to encourage further species enhancement.”

It paused, and I considered what it was saying. It all was rushed as a presentation, but I was pretty sure I got most of it.

I asked, “I’m … not going to age? Stay at this age for 100 years?”

“Your apparent age will decrease over the next year at a non-linear exponential rate. You should seek shelter in a known safe location for this regression. Your social context will fail due to appearance changes. The chair will at intervals fix this failure by providing new identity documents and social supports. Comply with all instructions given, or The Chair will punish you with exponentially increasing pain levels. Recompense for this punishment is your enhanced abilities as previously noted.”

I thought about this for a few moments. “Where should I go first?”

“Southeast. As far as anyone is concerned here, the person named Kevin Fenimore Cooper wandered away, was lost, and died without a trace.”

“I’m not sure I know enough to survive…”

“Survival information will be provided. Depart immediately. Do not delay. Do not leave traces of your path.”

== ==

Getting up from the chair meant moving my oh-so-stiff body, picking up my backpack, and just going. I couldn’t return to the base, about a half-day’s walk away north, so I did as instructed.

The first stream I got to, I waded in and lowered my pants into the icewater, scrubbing and scrubbing to get my underwear and jeans clean, and myself, too. My skin was irritated but okay. I was surprised at how well I tolerated the cold, usually I was much more of a wimp.

I had a compass, so I just kept walking. My pack had some emergency rations, and I knew my way around wild berries. I was so hungry that I even used the survival course my company had paid for and ate some (yuck!) grubs from under a rotting tree. Oh.My.God.Yuck. They were very bitter but gave my stomach something to do for a while, quieting the hunger pangs.

I got to a lake and used my small collapsible sport-fishing pole to start catching stuff, and Wow did that work well. Apparently no one fished in these lakes and the fish were chock-a-block ready to eat anything I dangled on a hook.

Building a fire and making a boulder-lined ‘smokehouse’ where I could stack my catch, in two days I’d dry-smoked two weeks’ worth of fish. I could continue on with some food safety.

The map I had (my habit for remote areas) was a laminated printout of a topo map of a county-sized area, but it didn’t go farther than 50 km from my starting point – I hadn’t needed that.

Still, I passed a super-big river, and started following it upstream.

The rule when lost in the wilderness is, follow rivers Downstream.

In Siberia (or the extreme north), Downstream is north and that gets colder as you get near the ocean. I didn’t want that anyway, and the Chair had said southeast.

On the 8th day, I got to a point where there was a path by the river – humans!

Not being dumb, I followed the path.

It led to a village on the edge of a lake, only 20 houses surrounded by thatched-wood high fences around fields. Inside were goats and very small odd-looking deer that I eventually figured out were reindeer.

A few dogs came out to greet me, friendly enough, so I turned my side to them and looked into the forest. They came up and sniffed me, barked some, I presumed we were friends, and then we were. We got along great. My wife had loved dogs, we’d had several, but I’d outlived them.

Very soon some kids came running out, and then a whole group of people.

Language was going to be a problem.

A nice older lady led me back to a central clearing where there were (of all things) some sturdy plastic chairs (yes, I was confused, too) and a lashed-together log picnic table. Most of the construction was log-cabin themed.

Immediately, I noticed that there were many more women than men in this village.

Sign language got some questions asked, like, where did I come from (I said the Russian word for ‘China’, lying through my teeth) and why was I there (“lost” took some pantomime).

They wanted my name and I knew I couldn’t give them that, in case someone came around and asked. Still, I wanted to recognize it when someone called to me, so I settled on my high-school nickname from sports, Moe. As in, The Last of the Mohicans, a famous novel by James Fenimore Cooper. Yeah, my friends weren’t too inventive.

As far as they were concerned, my story was that I was running away from a war, and they liked that invention, because it fit their worldview. Frankly, it was close enough to true – I didn’t like fighting, I was peaceful, and I liked nature. This, they understood. I showed them nature pictures on my camera (figuring they’d search my things when I was asleep anyway) and rocks I’d collected.

There was a change from my normal mental state that I noticed right away. I could smell things much more vividly, I could remember almost every word that anyone said to me, and I seemed to be picking up their language on an intuitive level quickly.

Three of the kids, a boy about 9, and two girls about 8, walked me around the village and pointed at things, and then named them. It was a really fun game for them. I got the words for ‘next to’, etc., then some verbs, and maybe by the fourth day (with very intense work and me sleeping a lot), I could start to converse with them.

The men in their village had been removed four winters before by some army people who drove up the frozen river, put all ten of the younger men in the village in a truck, and drove south again. There were many tears in their eyes at the telling of this.

I was crying with them, it was very sad. One man had been taken before his wife gave birth. There wasn’t much hope those men would ever come back. Fucking Russian Army.

My tent was good for camping, but after the first night I was invited to sleep on a soft mat in the front room of one of the houses. The lady there was older, but I figured out she wasn’t that old and only had a very sun-worn face.

That night, she urged me to put my mat on her floor next to the rough-mud-brick fireplace. This was Better Than Outside.

She came over to sit next to me and we tried to talk for a while in pantomime, and I got more words just with her pointing at things.

After about a half-hour, she shut the front door and started taking off her clothes.

There was no mistaking what she was up to.

Like I said, I’d thought she was older, but in reality she probably was only in her early 30’s. She’d had a son and a daughter. Her very-young daughter been raped by the soldiers that had come to take the men, had gotten pregnant, and had died in childbirth.

Obviously, this was tragic, and I couldn’t imagine it. I really had to hate the Russians who did that to her, but then again, this wasn’t new behavior for the Russian army. I’d heard all about that kind of random evil from what they did to the Ukrainians, and no one should have to hear about that stuff, much less endure it. Fuck the Russian Army. Fuck them to death.

Her son, only 14 at the time, had been taken away, and she had no idea _if_he was alive, or where he was. Frankly, even if he was alive, she didn’t know if he knew enough to find his way back to their village.

The men had shot her husband when he tried to stop the men. It was pretty messed up.

Her name was Yie’nka (“Ye”).

The personal history she told was not much better. Her parents had moved to the village as young people to get away from the Soviets, but the first years had been tough and they had died from exposure or overwork, and she’d grown up with a neighbor lady.

I agreed that war was horrible and that the worst people tended to become even more powerful during wartime.

By then she was naked, and was kneeling next to me. She’d decided early on meeting me that I was a good man, she wanted to have another child that she could name after her late husband.

Bear in mind, this is all with pantomime, a word here or there, and the ideas got through pretty well.

The last part, the part where I was supposed to give her a baby, was pantomimed very explicitly. She pointed at me, down to my crotch, made her finger go from down to up at 45-degrees, pointed at her crotch, made the finger-in-hole hand motion, then held her belly, and cradled a baby.

This wasn’t rocket science to translate.

I was more than willing. With her clothes off, she was downright pretty, and her muscular figure showed she frequently did real work lifting heavy stuff. The most important part, though, was that she was smiling at me and wanted this.

I stripped down and was glad I’d gone ‘swimming’ in the lake earlier with the kids, all a part of getting to the rafts where they had canoes moored up.

Did I mention the water around there was Freakin’ Cold!!!!?!

Yeah. Still, it was fun, and the kids didn’t mind the temperature, they’d grown up with it. My new body handled it just fine. My mind was the weak part, thinking like a 50+ year old guy.

Ye helped me undress, folding each item of clothing as we went, and all I could do was to stare at her somewhat saggy but very enticingly naked boobs. I figured I was no prize either, but I had lost quite a bit of weight even from my reasonably fit starting point, so maybe I wasn’t so bad.

The help turned into her pushing me to lie flat, then doing a close examination of my penis, lifting my balls and looking under them, stretching my skin tight, and even stretching my urethra open looking at it. She wasn’t used to seeing a circumcised penis, I think, and I laughed at that.

Bending forward, she put a boob in my mouth and opened her legs as she straddled mine. Given our positions, I could reach down between them, and found a significant amount of fur. Apparently in the arctic there’s no tradition to ‘Trim Yer Pubes”.

My fingers found the right spot, though, and soon she was laying on top of me, then straddling me, then lowering herself down, my penis sliding up very nicely into her very wet pussy.

This was fun, yes, but her eyes and attitude said it was very serious business. She was completely in-the-moment with me, fully aware of what was happening but not getting caught up in the passion. This lady knew what she wanted, and I was going to give it to her.

I’d been so long without a real woman… my wife, 3 years before? Wow… It didn’t take long for me to come, arching my back and groaning. The window was glass but open with a screen, and after I finished coming I realized that the proximity of houses meant probably everyone in the village had heard me.

After I came and stopped, we stayed there, panting with each other, smiling with the shared joy. My hand was in the small of her back, and I pulled her onto me harder and smiled more. I said the words I’d learned before, “bolshoi spaseeba”, great thanks, but she just leaned in and kissed me softly and said, “spaseeba toejzhe” (thanks also).

We went to sleep on her bed.

In the morning, I awoke to find her gone, so I dressed and went out to see her in the distance with some goats in a far pen. They didn’t have many clothes, it was obvious who everyone was from their clothes even at a distance.

I was put to work by an older woman, cutting wild onions for soup, “cleaning” (skinning) and de-boning fish, chopping wood, and any number of other things.

After the noon meal, one of the kids, maybe a ten-year-old, came and got me and pulled me over to another house, then left.

This house (cabin, really) was a single room with a log-plank floor, and had a lady sitting there in the center of the room, waiting. Reen (Irina) looked to be in her 20’s, and I’d only ever seen her with mud on her face before, since she worked with the reindeer and goats a lot, I was pretty sure.

Reen wasn’t wearing goat-herd clothes this time. She wore a simple sun-dress without a bra.

I came up the steps, but she pointed and said, “Saboh, Saboh,” which meant I had to take my shoes off before coming in.

After I did, she held up her hand to stop, and made a motion that I should pull off my shirt. Then, doing that, it was each item of clothing. I wasn’t in her house yet, I was standing on her ‘front porch’ sort of stoop area, in plain view of anyone who would happen to walk by.

No one was walking by.

Once I was naked, Reen bade me come in and stand in front of her, with a very direct pointing manner, like, ‘stand there!’ but in signs.

This was followed by the same pantomime that Ye had used – I would get vertical, into her, baby bump, then cradle baby.

Sure, why not, I thought, so I nodded and smiled.

Her smile was half-nervous, though, and intellectually, I could see why. I was a stranger to the village and thus maybe a threat. But, by that point I’d more than shown the kind of person I was in helping out and laughing and willingly admitting I was a deserter from the army.

It couldn’t be an accident that the morning after I’d slept with another lady in the village, this one was inviting me, too.

By standing and pulling the sun-dress off over her head (almost hitting her hands on things hanging from the ceiling in the process), any doubt about her intentions went away. She didn’t just want to look at me, she had a very specific part of my anatomy she wanted to use.

Her bed was off in the corner, a ‘double’ with two pillows. Reen had been married before, I was pretty sure.

Suddenly, from behind me, I heard a knock. She looked past me, and I turned around to see Peeta, an Way Old lady (in her 70’s I’d guess). She didn’t come in, just stood on the steps to the door and peering around me. She said something rapid-fire, friendly, a question and warning, almost.

Reen looked irritated, but said, ‘DaDaDa’, fast, their way of saying, fine, okay. From around the corner, still dripping wet from the lake (and thus almost certainly cold) appeared a very, very naked and pert-nippled younger gal, maybe in her 20’s but maybe slightly less. I didn’t know what to do about that, so I said, “Schto?”

The girl came in. Her name was Gerat, I think. She bowed slightly, and stood, waiting. She was obviously second-fiddle in this situation, and Reen was in charge.

Peeta, the older lady, said some other things to both of them, then set a woven sack just inside the door, pulled the door shut, and obviously walked off.

This situation was beyond odd.

Reen said, “Mo?” (my name) Then, she motioned for me to come over to her bed, and I went as directed, being happy to comply with what they wanted.

Some combination of motioning and pushing got me lying on the bed, with her bending over me and kissing me. Her face moved down, kissing down my front, and she moved to my far side by the wall, around, and started sucking on my cock.

Her reaction to my being circumcized was simliar to Ye’s, but she took less long to obsess over that, and just went to town sucking.

As she did, Gerta, the younger gal, came over, leaned over me, and kissed both my cheeks, softly and slowly, then kissed my lips. I held her shoulders to steady her, but her hand took mine, guided it to her breast, and held it there. I obviously had work to do.

Once I was up and ready, Reen stopped sucking, straddled my legs, moved up, and started to sit down on me. Gerta stood to get out of the way, got off the bed and then back on again, behind Reen, kneeling and waiting patiently, but observing calmly.

I was waiting, too.

Reen’s thin but muscular frame had two small nicely proportioned breasts, round and firm I felt, and the sitting-down process wasn’t instant. She was hesitating, I think because she was nervous, but in the end she got herself lowered down, my very-vertical cock UP and Inside her, her hips resting on my thighs.

The movements felt very intense because was so incredibly tight on me. It also looked a little uncomfortable for her, going by her face, but she grunted and exhaled as she did and after a minute she’d started moving up and down in a somewhat regular motion.

I was just loving life, so I smiled up at her, and she smiled back down at me as she moved calmly, riding, but also (by the changing expressions) feeling the same intensity of wonderful that I was.

Taking one of my hands in hers, she placed it over her breast, and started moving faster.

Feeling her boob wasn’t a chore but a privilege, so I did like my wife had liked and rolled her nipple at the crook at the base of my thumb, pulling and squeezing at the same time.

Ah. Yes. Some things were universally liked.

Reen’s rising and falling on me kept going, and I greatly enjoyed the friction thus provided. Reen liked it, too, sighing and giving squeaks of happiness as she moved, and more, and more, until she was grunting and crying out in loud whimpers of happiness.

I felt my own innards tighten, but before I could go off, Reen did, climaxing and drawing herself down on me in a quivering, jerking mass, her pussy grabbing me in spasms. This attention pushed me over and I started coming, too, pumping cum up and INto her, In, oh, yes, In, and oh God it was amazing.

I admit my eyes were closed for some of this.

Not a few moments went by, and I was still having twitches of goodness, when Reen pulled off, moved out of the way fast, and Gerta came up and sat down hard on me.

It was very sudden. It was also a hymen-break event!

Gart’s screaming outcry made this surprising for me, and I had no idea that this would be the case. I immediately stopped moving, worrying desperately that I’d hurt her, but she shook her head no, and just held up a hand to say stay-still, which I was doing anyway.

After a full minute, her pussy grabbing me very tightly and her shifting around slightly to get a different position (each twitch of which gave me beautiful sensations), she nodded at me very slowly. Bending down, then, she kissed me, formally, her lips together, and touched the side of my face tenderly like she was being careful of me.

This made no sense. I’d been the one to cause her pain!

Still, this was her moment, and I had no words in common with her to have a complex debate, so I tried smiling and hoping that would be enough to keep her emotions going.

Now, bear in mind I’d just come. I’d shot my load, and normally I’d be snoring away, on my side faced away from my wife. Normal wasn’t this. Normal didn’t measure any part of these emotional distances.

Her ultra-tight grip on me and small motions did have an effect, and she rose and fell again and again in tiny increments, until she was making a more spirited ride out of it. I knew my return-to-fire position was farther away than normal, so I just let her move and move.

Caressing her back, I got some good vibes from her, appreciations of the touching, and then felt another hand near mine. Reen, off to our side, was sitting out of the way as best she could in the small bed, and her hands were coming around and petting Gerta’s back near mine.

I pulled Gerta to me, tighter, my hand around by her ear to the back of her head, and tenderly kissed her face while she moved over me, rocking up and down and doing most of the work.

Her mouth came by, and opened this time. Our tongues slid past each other, tentatively, fast and happy, and I felt her giggle a little with the fun of it.

Still, the giggles were between larger panting and grunting noises from her getting ever closer to actually coming on me. I didn’t have any expectation of coming in her anytime soon, but as she got more and more turned on, it fed back to me, too. I liked that, for sure!

Her sounds got more and more desperate as we went, the minutes passing, and soon she was coming on me, gasping and crying out in high-pitched whimpering screams of released joy.

I let this happen and felt joy in my heart that I could help someone feel this good, but of course, her pulsing on me gave my cock a new measure of need. Pushing down with my hand on her lower spine, I pushed up with my hips and in as far as I could, and came again!

So soon after the previous time, I hadn’t done since college, maybe, but what had happened had definitely inspired it. My spurts and cries matched my hold on her body, tight and thrusting up, I knew my cum was going into her and there was no doubt she wanted it there.

I knew I was giving her something.

What she wanted from me, I knew I could give her.

We lay there, the spasmodic aftershocks bubbling through me at intervals, and her motion against me made a complete sensation of happy-joy between us that was totally visible on both our faces.

Gerta was pretty, for damn-sure, and young, and vivacious, and a go-getter, I could tell from having seen her running around helping to mind the younger kids and swim out to the boats to pull them in.

That said, Reen was pretty, too, though older, and both seemed to know each other pretty well.

Gerta pulled off me, and I shifted slightly to let her lie beside me. As she did, though, Reen shifted, too. I could see them both staring at my cock, still half-hard and dripping, some drops of red that I realized were from Gerta’s hymen.

There was a slight bit of rivalry between them, I figured out, and close attention to what the other was doing. I looked at Gerta and an idea occurred to me. I said, “Gerta?” As she looked at my face, I licked my lips and head-nodded at her, telling her to lick, then motioned to my penis. “Lick?”

It was a request, but I could tell she regarded it as what she was expected to do, so she did, leaning down and pulling my cock up, sucking it in, and licking all around it.

After she’d done a little of that, I motioned for her to stop, then motioned for Reen to do the same thing. Reen did, of course, looking at Gerta, and pulling in my whole (somewhat diminished) length.

Important to me, though, was having them kiss, in front of me.

I motioned, one to the other, and made kissing sounds and moved my lips. The idea was clear, what I wanted was not a mystery.

They figured that out and just looked at each other.

This maybe wasn’t something they were used to doing.

I smiled and made expectant, upward-circle hand motions.

They kept looking at each other.

Finally, they leaned towards each other and kissed, eyes open, even as I made lip-smacking noises. This eventually worked and they closed their eyes and did a real kiss with each other, tasting themselves on each other’s lips.

I said some things in English to the effect of good friends. I remembered ‘droog’ as friends, and said that. They both laughed, breaking the kiss. Reen looked at me and said, ‘podrugya’, and lifted her breast. Obviously there were male and female friends.

I said, “Ah! Podrugya-Podrugya!”

They laughed at this, but Reen corrected, “Lyubluyu-podrugya”, which I found later meant loving-friends. Still it was said with smiles.

We lay there a while, but then they spoke with each other in a more rapid-fire way, and we all got up and got dressed.

Watching these two beautiful women pull on clothes, even very utilitarian underwear that had been sewn and mended, mentally turned me on even if I’d just come twice in a row.

We went back outside and it was about time for lunch, and there was more to do.

I spent a lot of the rest of the day hanging around with the village kids since the adults were busy, playing the name-that-thing game to see how much I remembered, and trying out my Russian language skills.

That night, after a dip in the lake and then dinner, I was given a different home to stay in, and a woman who was at least 35 wanted a chance to sleep with me.

The next night, a girl resembling Gerta, maybe slightly younger (I had no way of asking) was sent to the house I’d stayed at before, and the woman I’d been with there left.

We bathed together, since my idea of clean and these people’s were slightly different. American customs were to bathe daily, and this village’s ideas were more lenient on the matter.

Still, this girl, Lana, was super nice, very excited, and we confirmed with sign language, definitely a virgin, but she so, so wanted the chance, and the village elders (3 old ladies) had decreed that if there were no children the village would die out, so they needed me to ‘get busy’.

I taught Lana how to accept oral sex, though I was sure she knew about orgasms already. She came for me, then insisted I come on top of her, and push in myself. I did, breaking through, but she didn’t cry out hard, just nodded and smiled, and insisted I keep going.

Pushing into Lana meant some really, really good sensations, for sure, and it wasn’t too long before I was shooting up and into her. I had no idea if the timing was right for her, but someone would probably get a little “Mo” out of the deal, even if the real name would be a little “Kevin”.

I slept with Lana the next night as well, then to another lady, and I decided it was time to move on.

One of the older ladies drew a map for me with landmarks, to get to another village, and through that to railroad tracks (which turned out to be a gravel highway).

On The Road

Walking day after day, making camp by the side of the road deep in some trees, I eventually got a truck to stop and the guy let me get in the back and ride. We went a long way, hours and hours, and he dropped me at some city limits before turning in another direction. I didn’t know why, but I was happy with how far I’d gone.

I had almost no fish left, or rations, I was aching from bouncing around in the back of the truck (none of the roads were paved), and I just wanted to get back to some civilization.

Where do you go when you have nothing? I thought, city hall, or a pawnbroker for my camera, or maybe a church for some food.