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Hello again. Thank you to all my readers. It is somehow heart-warming to realise that even those who don’t like my writing are nevertheless finding this saga irresistible. And to those who do like my stories, my special thanks for your appreciation, your continuing support and encouragement. I know this style of writing is not for everyone, but I write for those who want to read it…and, of course, for myself.
I was woken up by Yulia gently touching my shoulder. I looked up and saw her with a young lady I recognised: a little taller than average, but not my height. A halo of unruly shortish blonde hair around her face. Slim, but still with a shape. Pretty, but not so much that you’d be intimidated. What was noticeable about her was that she was wearing an evening dress. Very classy and a little sexy. The dress that is – the lady inside was more than a little sexy. She was introduced to me as Lyusya (she had to spell it for me) but I could call her Lucy.
Yulia told me that we were going out for the evening. Now? Yes, now. I might have only just woken up after a very late night, but I had slept for nine hours and it was now 7pm. Lucy would supervise my preparations and we should be ready to be picked up at 8.
Lucy did indeed supervise my preparations. She undressed herself and led me to the shower. She got in with me and washed me from head to toe. Then she shaved me with a cutthroat razor without cutting my throat (or anything else). She also shaved herself, again without drawing blood. She dried me and laid me face down on my bed where she administered a gentle massage.
It was now time to dress, and Lucy was still in charge. First a leather pouch into which she carefully fitted me. It was a tight pouch that held me up against my abdomen but unfortunately, as a result of her careful attention, I no longer fitted. Eventually she had to let me take care of that part of the job, although I was closely supervised. Black silk socks and an off-white silk shirt. A dark grey lightweight suit and a pair of comfortable but highly polished black shoes completed the picture. I noted that the shoes had soft leather soles – it seemed we were going ballroom dancing.
Lucy dressed again, not that there was much for her to put on. Strappy shoes with six inch heels – would she to be able to dance in them? And a lemon-coloured dress with slightly puffed sleeves and a low sweetheart neckline showing a delicious array of cleavage. The dress was dominated by a calf-length skirt which must have been at least a full circle. The material seemed heavy, flowing and swinging in time with her movements as if it had a life of its own. A slightly darker silk wrap completed the picture. It was very sexy.
It was even sexier as she took a few steps away and swung gracefully through a few pirouettes, revealing that the skirt was indeed more than a full circle. That wasn’t all it revealed. If we were going to be dancing properly everyone nearby except me was going to get an eyeful.
Lucy took up her handbag (which of course matched her dress) and looked at me expectantly. I held out my arm, she took it, and off we went. On our way out we passed several ladies who wished us a pleasant evening. When we got out onto the street we were met by what looked like one of the columns from Stonehenge. A closer look revealed a huge man with enormous shoulders and arms. He must have been six eight, but you had to get close to see how tall he was, as his bodybuilder’s physique made him look almost squat. He wished us a good evening and opened the door of a car that was in proportion with him.
I had heard of ZiLs before; the car made in very small quantities made for government officials in Russia, and the USSR before that. This was an old one, very 1950s in style, shiny black and enormous. For a few moments I forgot my beautiful companion. And spoke to Gigantor.
“This is lovely. It’s a ZiL isn’t it? I’ve never seen one before.” I was not quite right. The company had changed its name over the years, starting nearly a hundred years ago as Automobil Moskva Obshchenie (“Moscow Automobile Society”) or AMO. Then in the 1930s the name became Zavid imieni Stalina (“The factory named after Stalin”), or ZiS. When Stalin fell out of favour in the 1950s, the name was changed to Zavod imieni Likhachev (“The factory named after Likhachev”, named after Ivan Alekseyevich Likhachev who had been Director of the company for 22 years). This car dated back to the 1930s, and was therefore a ZiS.
I hadn’t quite been expecting a history lesson, but I was interested in cars. I had heard of Russian ZiL and ZiS cars but all I had known was that they were large cars used by senior officers in the Soviet regime. I had enjoyed the little departure from my plans for the evening, but fascinating as this old car was, I was more interested in Lucy. Gigantor seemed to understand.
“My name is Joseph. I’ll be your chauffeur for tonight, but perhaps you’d like to drive, Sir?” Yes, I would actually. I enjoy driving – I’m not a chauffeur type ankara escort of person. When I go out on a date I like to drive and have my date sitting beside me while I drive. I had come to think I would never go out on a normal date again. Perhaps this wasn’t a “normal date”, but I’d still enjoy aspects of it that seemed normal. I opened the passenger door and helped Lucy in, then moved around to the driver’s seat. Joseph got in the back seat. I looked back briefly to check that he could fit in, but the back was more than adequate, consisting of a double armchair and so much legroom that even he could stretch his legs out all the way and still have plenty of room. He told me that there were foldaway seats between his seat and mine, and the car could comfortably seat three rows of people. “Not three rows of people like you”, I thought, but I just nodded.
I briefly embarrassed myself by trying to start the car that was still running, but managed to get it moving without any other difficulties. “Just take it for a drive for a while” Joseph said from the back, “You have plenty of time and you may not get the opportunity again.”
No indeed. I turned onto a main road and was soon cruising away from the centre of the city. I had heard that these cars were impressive-looking but somewhat crude copies of US cars of the era, but this seemed much smoother. The heater was keeping the huge interior cosy despite the cold night. The defroster seemed to work well, and there seemed to be more power in reserve than I had expected. (Yes, I did succumb to temptation and accelerate hard from a standstill to over 160 km/h on one occasion.)
I asked Joseph about this. “This is my personal car. It was given to my grandfather who was personal chauffeur to Stalin. I was named after Stalin even though he is not well-remembered now. I have modified the car in many ways – a modern engine and transmission and I have fitted an air conditioner. The bulletproof glass is updated. I have runflat tyres and the headlights are HID. There is a modern stereo and a GPS behind that grille – if you just turn that green knob…” I turned it and part of the grille slid aside to reveal a large screen displaying the road I was driving along.
This was great. Cruising in a big black car with my lady beside me. We smiled at each other. Even Joseph behind us didn’t seem out of place in this particular fantasy. I relaxed and enjoyed the experience, cruising along the open road, probably doubling the speed limit.
After a while I remembered we had other things to do. I asked Joseph which way I should go, and he just told me to follow the GPS. Ah yes – it had been highlighting the way all the time, but I had been ignoring it.
Finally the GPS told me we had reached our destination and I pulled over. I was out of the car before Joseph could open my door – I had said I wasn’t a chauffeur type of person – and helped Lucy out while Joseph held her door open. Before we left he handed me a small transmitter. “Press this button a few minutes before you leave and I will be here waiting for you when you are ready.” All very well-organised. I gave Lucy my arm and we ascended a grand set of marble steps. I told her how much I appreciated the treat. She just smiled gently and told me that she’d make sure she got her reward.
We entered a huge lobby and Lucy guided me to the left into a small restaurant. She spoke briefly to a waiter and we were shown to a table for two looking over a balcony onto a huge dance floor. A small band was playing somewhere beneath us and the sound of a Strauss waltz drifted up to us.
The food was lovely, but I can’t say I particularly, being more interested in my lovely date and the prospect of partnering a lady who no doubt was an expert dancer. I needed my wits about me if I was not going to make a fool of myself on the dance floor – I had learned to dance properly in my younger days, but that was years ago. I hadn’t so much as stepped onto a dance floor since leaving Australia. I decided to limit my drinking to a little soda water. I don’t think Lucy was able to appreciate her meal completely either.
After taking a few mouthfuls of a lemon meringue I told Lucy that I had eaten enough for now. She just looked at me and held out her hand. As we stood she left some money on the table and the maître d’ nodded and smiled at us as we left.
Down another flight of marble stairs we reached the dance floor. There were perhaps twenty couples dancing, but the group of dancers was dwarfed by the scale of the ballroom. I always enjoyed “stepping out” in every sense of the term, and I was going to enjoy the space. A Viennese waltz was just starting. I lifted my right arm and Lucy swayed into my arms ready to dance.
But there was problem. I like to dance close, but Lucy pressed her pelvis firmly against my tight pouch and gently slid her hips from side to side against me. The pouch became an even tighter fit and my mind was not on my dancing. Lucy looked briefly at me and told me to get on with it, then turned escort ankara away again in the proper position for dancing.
It was fortunate that my legs remembered the steps, because my mind was full of what was happening in between. Anyway, we were dancing. Lucy continued the delightful torture, but gradually I started to flow into the dance.
The next hour or so was a blur. I can recall some of the dances, but mainly I can remember this lady looking for all the world like a partner focusing solely on the dances, holding her frame and with her head tilted to the side as it should be, whilst beneath the voluminous skirt her hips were playing havoc with my libido. And all the time following my lead and making me look like a great dancer. I think I put on a respectable performance as a dancer, but I’m not really sure. All I knew was that I was having a wonderful time – I forgot all about the others around us and relaxed in the enjoyment of flowing around the dance floor as one with my partner, feeling the music and accompanying it with our bodies.
Eventually, after a particularly enjoyable slow waltz, Lucy leaned into my ear and said, “I could dance all night, and I’d like to do this again one day, but we have other things to do.” I reached in my pocket and pressed Joseph’s transmitter. Lucy took my arm and led me off the floor. I noticed that we were being watched by several men and wondered if Lucy’s dress had lifted enough to reveal the fact that she was not wearing any underwear. I never found out, but it was an erotic thought that made me feel proud to be out with this lovely lady – a lady who was now directing me through a double door into a lobby. No-one was around – I think those who had come out here tonight were dancing, or eating, or perhaps drinking in the bar. Or perhaps they had gone home to escape from the cold.
Lucy suddenly turned and kissed me. Her hips recommenced their torturous massage. I just held her close and responded to her kisses. After a while she leaned forwards and whispered in my ear, “I need you. I need you so much that I had to leave. My need was dribbling down my thighs. And you don’t have to tell me – I could feel all night how much you need me.” I stood on tiptoe (Lucy was taller than me in those heels – how could she dance in them?) and kissed her nose and then led her out and down the marble stairs.
Joseph was standing at the bottom. Clearly he was going to drive now. He was beside the open rear door. I shook his hand and returned his transmitter, then helped Lucy in and followed her into the comfortable seat. Joseph closed the door behind us and we forgot about him for a long while as Lucy decided she wanted another kiss. I vaguely noticed the car moving, but it was a long while later that I realised the panel behind the front seats was closed, and we were alone. I occasionally caught sight of lights moving past, but my attention was on something much more interesting.
Before long Lucy had me wedged up against the bolster at the side of the seat, one hand behind my head and the other undoing my shirt. Now it was my thigh that was the recipient of a massage from her pelvis, and I didn’t know which aspect of her attention to enjoy most. Strangely it was her right hand caressing my chest that finally took most of my attention.
Clearly, despite the semi-undressing that she had inflicted upon me, Lucy was in no hurry. She was enjoying herself and presumably she had a clear picture of what she had in mind for me. Apart from her wrap that was on the back shelf, she was still fully dressed, or at least as fully as she had been dressed all night.
Eventually she lay across the seat, half on top of me, and just lay there with her head nestled against my (now exposed) chest. I held her close and enjoyed her closeness as the car smoothly rolled on – to somewhere. I looked up to see what was showing on the GPS, but saw again that the divider was closed, and it was opaque. I took the hint and returned my thoughts to my partner.
As we drove along the open road in this wonderful car, the very slight movement in the back seat caused her hips to bounce just a little in my lap, awakening the dragon underneath. She must have felt the turgid swelling, but her only reaction was to press a button and ask Joseph to speed up a little and open the roof.
An enormous panel opened up in what I had thought of as the ceiling above me. I looked up and saw that it was snowing. However, the speed of the car kept the snow from falling into the car and the heater kept most of the cold at bay. Well, perhaps the heater had a little help from Lucy, who was very warm against my bare chest. The only sign of the cold, apart from the sight of the snow flurries moving over the car, was the occasional cool breeze as a change in the wind allowed a little outside air into the cabin.
Suddenly Lucy sat up next to me and removed her shoes. She threw them to the front, took my hand and stood, lifting me up next to her. My head and shoulders were out of the car, and Lucy, now less ankara escort bayan tall than me without her shoes, had just her head projecting outside. Despite the fact that we were projecting outside the car, the wind was much less than I had expected and I noticed a deflector in front of us. It was a strange sensation, bare-chested in the snow blowing past and yet not freezing, nor even unpleasantly cold.
For a few minutes we stood there enjoying this sensation. We could not see anything of the surrounding terrain, just the snow in the lights of the car and the crescent moon above. I turned to gaze at my companion and noticed her eyes sparkling in the light … perhaps with a little of their own sparkle as well. She looked at me and said something, but the wind blew her words into the slipstream. I smiled back and reached for her hand.
My hand brushed something that felt very pleasant, but was certainly not her hand. I looked down to see that at some stage without me noticing she had somehow slipped her dress off her shoulders. It was now just a billow of lemon around her waist, and I watched it drop to below her knees. And she was rising naked out of the billow like the stamen of a daffodil rising from the petals. For a moment the artistic vision overtook the lust, and I was able to appreciate her beauty as beauty, not as sexiness.
After a few seconds however, she pulled me against her body, and the eroticism resumed its dominance over the art. She pressed her breasts against my chest, reached her arms around my neck and turned her face up to me in an obvious invitation for a kiss. “Duty calls”, I thought, and bent down to her in obeisance to that duty. What a martyr I was!
The feeling of her warm breasts against me, nipples like little diamonds pressing into me, contrasted sharply with the cool air. As if that wasn’t enough she started the hip motion again, and my pouch started again to become too tight. Lucy released my neck with just one of her hands and did something at my waist, causing my pants to leave one grey petal amidst the ring of lemon ones at our feet. And then a smaller, black leather petal. The hand came back to my neck and the two hands together pulled me hard against her while her tongue explored my mouth.
Suddenly she grabbed the edges of the sunroof (snowroof?) and she lifted herself up until she was sitting on the roof in front of the opening, only her legs still inside the car. Her hair was blowing wildly about – it was lucky her hair was short otherwise it would have been very messy. She reached out sideways with each arm and grabbed at rails running along the roof, and then she lay back, leaving petals of a different kind open to my gaze. I leaned forward to touch her with my tongue, and after a few moments started to lap delicately up one side and down the other, up again and back down again, on and on without increasing either the pressure or the speed of movement.
I think Lucy was shouting something, but couldn’t make out any words. I noticed one hard move behind my head, but the car moved into a series of sweeping curves and she started to slide slowly sideways one way then the other. After a few cycles of this the hand moved back to the rail and she stayed in place. Clearly she could do little but lie there as I enjoyed her, and from the increasing flow of juices down my chin, as she enjoyed my attentions. All she could do in response was to lift her hips to increase the pressure on my lips. Unfortunately for her, I was in a playful mood, and each time she raised her hips, I lifted my head to reduce the pressure back to the original level.
Lucy’s response was then to lift and drop her hips vigorously, but I had an answer to that one too, simply standing up straight and ending the contact completely. I was now the unfortunate, as the car had moved onto a straight stretch of road and Lucy was able to sit up again and then drop back into the car.
She suddenly grabbed me under the armpits and demonstrated her great strength by lifting me up bodily to sit on the roof just as she had been sitting only a few moments earlier. She then pushed my chest so I fell back onto the roof. And again, just as she had, I had to grab the rails along the roof to stay in place as the car entered another curve. The tables were indeed turned, and she took full advantage, delicately running her tongue along my length, up one side and down the other. I could feel her breaths on me, little short pants of warm breath. I couldn’t work out what she was doing until I had a chance to lift my head and look down, and I realised she was laughing at me as she was getting her revenge.
I, however, didn’t have Lucy’s flexibility or power, and all I could do was to absorb the treatment she was giving me. I decided simply to lie back and think of – Australia – while I was treated to something I had never even dreamed of. And then suddenly she was on me, kissing me, sliding up and down on my hardness, while my ability was limited to simply staying put on the roof of this car, in the snow. Now we were both on top of the car the cold around us and buffeting our skin was intense, and I felt by comparison that I was making love with superheated entity. Lucy’s tongue and nipples, too, felt boiling hot, adding to the image.
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