Ok

By continuing your visit to this site, you accept the use of cookies. These ensure the smooth running of our services. Learn more.

Russian-Uzbek

  • Connections

    f1d3fb2798a1df5719f9e402ee6b6cc0.jpg

    (This is a long-overdue story. I almost thought I won't be able to finish it, but I did, and here it is.) 

    This happened about two years ago. It seemed like a long time, though it's still quite fresh in my memory. 

     

    'Homecoming'
    We went to the club again, Bud and I, the one notorfious for its variety of working girls. This was in Thailand, so it was mainly Thai women. But there were a smattering of others, like Russians, Uzbeks, Kazakhs, and even Turks.

    It was smokey as usual, and there would come a time when the both of us stopped going; Bud because he was sick of the cigarette smoke, poor ventilation and increased entry charges; me because of all those reasons, but more directly, because I would leave the country in about a year's time (although I didn't know it then). 

    Her eyes seemed to light up when she saw me. She'd asked Bud about me when he went to the club a couple of weeks previously. She smiled and we started making conversation...and ended up slow dancing to a then-current and popular (and tacky, come to think of it) pop ballad I would otherwise never even want to listen to. And there and then, we made a connection.

    Lisa was special. The kind of special that a guy (even a punter) doesn't quite see as his first choice, but grows eventually to like her. And not out of desperation either. There were lots of other women that night, all for a price. But I only wanted this one.

     

    A bit about Lisa
    I first met her through another lady I'd taken...the Russian-Uzbek milf who belonged in the same group of friends as her. At that time I was an "unknown quality" to Lisa, I guess. I remember talking to her a few times, and after the milf left Thailand for home, Lisa hung around the club either alone or loosely with the remaining members of her group. There was a time that I approached her and she seemed only lukewam to making conversation, or even having eye contact with me. 

    That changed after her milf friend left, and also after I'd been away from the club for a while. I'd just come back from a work-related trip, and wanted to hang out with Bud at one of our usual haunts. And there she was.

    The truth was, I'd always had an eye for her, and the milf's departure was a good excuse to follow up with Lisa. I think she liked me too, and it was also likely she'd heard good things about me.

    Which brings us back to the present.     

    As we left the club to get a taxi, she and I started talking about her home and what she used to do there, before coming to Bangkok. She showed pictures of her daughter, a very cute little girl with a lot of her mother in her features. It didn't surprise me that she had a kid. Half of the Russian and Uzbek working girls here had had at least one child before; that's a safe bet about the women who are here in this kind of business.

    When we got back to my apartment, I let her take a shower first, while I watched TV. She seemed surprised and seemed to think I wanted to shower together with her.

    I was eager to get her naked and into my bed, but it was one of those paradoxes of life, where I've waited for something - or rather someone - even without realising it for so long, what was a few minutes (or ten) more?

    When I came out of my shower, she was under the covers. The TV was on, but no one was watching it. We were both expectant. 

     

    fe9eea3f82f29386115b083be8de8e57.jpgIn bed, not dreaming
    I'm not exactly sure what came next. As I got under the covers, she smiled at me and I grinned back. Then we held one another for a while.

    After what seemed like only seconds - these things happen too fast - we started to kiss. I moved my lips over hers, our tongues making eager contact. After a while my lips went over her cheeks, her ears, lingered on her earlobes; she gave little squeals of delight. 

    And as I slowly worked my way down her body, her hands gripped my arms tightly. At some point she seemed almost breathless. She showed her pleasure, and reciprocated.

    Some people can say all they want about Russian or Uzbek women. I see their point but I'm immune to them. I always try to maximise my positive experiences. And this was one of them.

    It may sound trite, but Lisa gave herself to me completely, taking my pleasure as her own.

    At times I thought I might have been too rough, but those times passed quickly. Lisa was responding and reciprocating in ways most of the women I've had never did. With real passion. 

    (It would be a long time, if ever - at the time of this writing - that I would experience someone like her again) 

     

    Morning after
    I woke up with my arms wrapped around her from behind, on our sides. Spooning. After a few minutes of regaining sufficient consciousness, I was horny again. I used my free hand (the other was either splayed out behind me, or under her - I can't remember) to brush her sides down to her thighs, and then between her legs. To my pleasant surprise, she was already wet. I wondered how long she'd been awake and feeling me behind her, touching her.

    Then she purred and turned her head to look at me, and smiled.

    We kissed, long and deep. Then we started getting up into a half-sitting, half-kneeling position. And as we really got into one another again, I reached for my condoms.

    She went on top, and we did it sitting up. When we were finished, we were both suffused in perspiration, a layer of it that was visible by the angled refraction of the light filtering through the window.

    After showering, she held my hand as we sat on the edge of my bed, relaxing. Later, as we said goodbye and took different routes - me to work, she to her apartment - my mind took a while longer to focus itself. I was still a bit giddy from all the activity. But I was happy.

    I never slept with her again, but somehow I always felt that special bond whenever we saw and spoke to one another at the club. Eventually she left the country, and I was uncertain when she'd ever be back. Not too long after that, I left too.

     

  • Orthodox Christmas (7 January)

    Oops. I realised a wee bit too late that there was "another" Christmas, the one celebrated by the Eastern Orthodox churches on 7 January. This BBC article gives a good summary of it.

    Well, in order to make up for my missing it, here's another pic that I hope, in keeping with the core theme of this blog, sums up Orthodox Christmas for me...a pic representing Eastern European, Russian and even Central Asian women. And what could represent them more than what I know (and envision) these women to be - sweet, sexy, sultry. In Christmas-themed bikini underwear. Oh, and my personal preference for this representation - a brunette :)

    This is dedicated to all the lovely Russian, Eastern European and Central Asian women I'd ever met. Merry Christmas!

     

    Also, while we are celebrating Eastern Orthodox Christmas, check out this video from Russian girl-group Fabrika.

  • Scattered collages

    medium_Leila.2.jpg"How do you like it...what do you like? D'you want me to hold you" - my hands on her upper thighs, close to both her buttocks and hips - "hard, or soft?"
    "As you like," she said, her voice husky from the exertion and desire of the moment. And I knew she meant it.
     

    And I'm back once more. Sorry I haven't been writing for over a month. Again. (There's no real excuse, but let me tell ya that the combination of travelling for work, the work itself and "blogger's block" is detrimental to keeping a blog regularly updated. Yup, and it happened to me.)

    My blogger's block hasn't completely disappeared. So for now, in lieu of writing something truly coherent, to present "scattered collages" of what I intend to or might write in time to come.

    The women of ancient Rome are the real power behind the throne.
    Against their wiles and charms and powers of seduction, no dictator or would-be conqueror can stand against them. They work behind the scenes, and carry out their schemes...

    Okay, how can a collage get more scattered than it usually is already? Or am I using inappropriate or downright erroneous word combinations?

    When she stripped off her skirt, she looked a very appealing picture with her black spaghetti straps and bikini briefs. I stepped up to put my arms around her waist, going lower down to her hips. As I rested my hands there she nudged me gently and told me that she had to take a shower first. I smiled like an eager schoolboy and said, "Yes, okay, you first..."

    I seemed to have spent more time looking at women than actually getting laid. Call it being picky. Call it saving money (and time, and effort). Call it just being plain lazy. But sometimes I enjoy the eye candy more than unwrapping and *ahem* eating the candy in the privacy of my own room. Or call it the thrill of the chase, even if the hunter doesn't always gets the prey - or wants to.

    Her eyes seemed to light up when she saw me. And apparently she'd asked my friend about me when he went to the club amedium_Natalia.jpg couple of weeks previously. She smiled and we started making conversation...and ended up slow dancing to a currently popular and tacky pop ballad I would otherwise never even want to listen to. When we went home together later, it was all worth it.  

    The above are presented in no particular order...and I might write about them later in no particular order. But do stay tuned.  

  • Sexy mommy, Part Two

    To recap.

    My buddy and I were in this hotel club, notorious for the number and variety of working girls hoping to pick up a customer. And we did, sort of, for now. I'd promised my girl that I would go back to her once I helped my friend out. Not that he needed any; he was just being picky. I understood that because if I were him, I would've wanted the best too, or at least the "best" for me. After lucking out with the CIS chicks, he decided to go back to the hotel lobby to recover and regroup.

    It was there that he met the two chicks who we'd met earlier, and who he'd paid for to get into the club. I got my girl out from the club at closing time, and we sat next to my friend while he tried to close the deal with one of the two. Apparently some prospective punters were driving them a hard bargain, but my buddy got one of the chicks because he didn't care to bargain; he (and I) knew the market prices, and what she was offering was standard and reasonable.

    So off we went.

    First to an after-hours club. My buddy knew the place and was keen, and I was curious - a first-timer to the place. On the way there I realised my girl was drunk. She asked me to take care of her, and don't leave her, because she agreed to come with me, and so on, slurring her words...it was quite funny - as in amusing funny. The ladies, mine especially, weren't so sure about the club until we entered it, and it was rockin'. The music was loud, and the alcohol started to flow again. And then my MILF-girl kissed me. Full on the lips. With tongue.

    It was nice. Actually, more than nice. A drunk blond MILF-type making out with me in a small bar only partly filled with dancing, drinking and drunk people, my friend and his companion looking on, and myself slowly sinking into the sweet oblivion of her lips (and of alcohol). She said my lips were nice, and kept pinching my cheeks (Whoa, take it easy, sexy mommy...). I was asking her at certain points, "Are you drunk?" To which she always replied, "No, I'm not drunk, I'm Russian, I can't be drunk..." in that sexy Russian accent. This type of conversation went on for a while, and one can imagine the weirdness of it.

    Before too long, we finished our drinks and left for my buddy's apartment. For reasons best kept to myself, he'd kindly let me have his spare room for the night, while he would be next door (in the same apartment). Kinky, heh.
    In any case, my sexy MILF seemed to have second thoughts, even coming out of the shower fully dressed, after her shower! (I attributed it to her not being drunk enough) Finally when we are in the room, she asked me to switch off the lights, which I promptly did, eager as a boy scout, and anticipating the time ahead.

    It was actually quite anti-climatic, no pun intended. We were both drunk, and in no real condition to have any of the awesome, mind-blowing sex that I hoped I would have. In fact, neither of us were probably in any condition to have any kind of sex, full stop. We managed to first get each other undressed...I think she was actually shy to do so in front of me in the light. We did try to have sex though, and there was a lot of French-kissing and stroking. But at some point we fell asleep, not from any hot-blooded, heavy action, but from sheer alcohol-induced exhaustion.

    The next morning I woke up a few times. Once, I peeked out the door and saw my buddy working on his computer. We chatted a bit and he was okay with letting me and her stay there for a while longer. That "a while" turned out to be three hours. We just slept. And then I woke up in a spooning position, with her hair in my face and my arms and legs around her (see the beginning of 'Sexy mommy, Part One') . When my MILF woke up, she couldn't remember most of the night before, until I slowly recounted the events...ahhh. I found out that she was born in one Central Asian country (oil-rich and growing gradually prosperous) and carried the passport of another Central Asian country (less wealthy, more repressive). She now lived in Odessa, Ukraine, and get this... was Jewish with Israeli citizenship!

    Sometime during the course of the day, I called her 'sexy mommy', which she half-dismissed with a laugh. But I was  amazed by her. And I would continue to be amazed as we started making out again - after she'd taken an aspirin (thank you buddy!) and reached a certain comfort level with me while now sober, albeit with a hangover. But when we started getting it on again, it was good. She helped me with my condom, and got on top of me. She was quite tight. Or maybe I was rock hard. I don't know. But it was good, and I had to slow down a few times before I came too fast; I wanted it to last. She was obliging too.

    After that, we slept in for a bit more. Really thankful to my friend for letting me stick around in his apartment, especially since his own girl had already left. Apparently she was a university student who was - ahem - 'escorting'  part-time (quite common in these parts), and had classes earlier that day.  Anyway...my MILF left eventually. We exchanged phone numbers. I made vague promises to at least call her sometime.   

  • Sexy mommy, Part One

    w4bblonde016.jpgI woke up and I remembered the blonde, still lying next to me. I smelled the scent of her hair before I opened my eyes and saw her. We were spooning, her back to my front. I leant over and kissed the back of her neck, and she murmured "Mmmmm...[then something in unintelligible Russian]". I fiddled with her hair, and she used a hand to brush the whole lot away from my face and under her ear. I re-settled my hand on her bosom, and went back to sleep for a while more.

    We were on my friend's bed...or rather, we were in my friend's spare bedroom, which he'd kindly let me use after we'd come back from the club where we had picked up our girls, the night before. I didn't want to go back to my filthy bachelor pad, and getting a hotel room at such short notice was too much of a hassle, so I was lucky my mate had his spare room available.

    But anyway. So there I was with my buddy last Saturday, in a hotel club that was notorious for the sheer number of working girls hoping to make a quick killing, and I settled on a MILF - sorry - Mom I Love to Fuck. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

    My mate and I ran into these two chicks in the lobby, one of whom insisted that she'd seen him before at another similar haunt. He didn't quite remember her, but that didn't stop him from paying their cover charge into the club. "I'll take care of the girls, no worries," he said. It's something that he does pretty well, by the way (ha ha). Then we were in, and the girls, both locals, proceeded to take care of themselves by going on the prowl. They weren't with us, simply because my friend and I we were not interested there and then, and we left them to their own devices. He did say, however, that if both pairs struck out for the night, we would go back to each other. Or at least he would. I had different fish to fry.

    I was looking for something blonde that night - Eastern European or Central Asian. They were there, definitely; the first thing I saw when we entered was a bunch of East Asian businessman-types walking out with one of the above each. That of course didn't stop the local chicks from checking me out. There were hordes of them. I candidly admit that I almost changed my mind a few times in the course of the evening. But I stuck true to my original aims, and I struck gold; or blonde, rather.

    She was shorter than me quite a bit. She looked like the mamasan of the girls, but only in age. A very drunk 'mamasan', as I was to find out later. I approached her in the most direct yet haphazard way imaginable.

    "Breviat," I said. "How are you? Are you here for a holiday?"
    "No, not on holiday," she replied in a throaty accent. "I'm here for biz-ness."
    If I wasn't entirely sure about the nature of her "biz-ness", the way she spoke gave away her general origins.
    "So what kind of business do you do?" I asked again.
    "Just biz-ness, you know? You don't know what kind of biz-ness when I say biz-ness?"
    "Yes," I replied. "I think I know."
    "If you know then maybe you don't want to talk to me, because I don't think you can afford my prize [that was how she pronounced it]."
    At this point I decided to tease her a bit. I leaned in closer, put my hands around her waist, practically on her butt. "If I don't know your price, then how d'you know I cannot afford it? And I haven't even asked you your price."
    There was a momentary silence from her. I think she became perplexed for a while. I grinned.
    "So where are you from?" I asked.
    "Odessa."

    After some more small talk and some bargaining, I settled on her fee - her '"prize" - which was a bit more than I expected, but I thought what the heck; I don't do this every week, not even every month. I asked her to wait around for me for a while, while I got myself another drink along with my friend. He was alternately hesitating or missing opportunities for approaching the other CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States; former Soviet Union) girls. There were quite a few around that night, and some of them were really hot. It turned out there were girls from the Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Moscow, and even a couple who looked Latina but could've been Uzbek or Kazahk for all we knew. But I knew my friend didn't want to settle for anything less than the best (or at least what he fancied), and he was prepared to take a non-CIS chick.

    And that was what he eventually did.