In Search of a Home
The unkind November wind threw handfuls of prickly snow in our faces, crept under our clothes, chilled our hands. The late evening had shrouded the wasteland and garages, roadside bushes and cars half-buried in snow at the curb in a gray veil. Only a solitary new nine-story building, now very close, shone with the brightly lit shop windows on the first floor and winked with the bluish lights of televisions in apartment windows. Alas, this nine-story building is not the one we need. We met on the commuter train, discovered we live in the same building, and now—we're lost in this new-to-us neighborhood.
"Let's at least go into the entranceway, warm up," he says with a laugh.
I know
why he's laughing. He knows I'm not cold at all. On the contrary, my heart is pounding at a furious pace, and my blood is racing faster and faster through my veins. A little while ago, trying to get warm, I took off my light, wind-unprotective coat, climbed under his warm, roomy jacket, and zipped it up. Through the thin knit of my sweater, I felt the living warmth of his strong, healthy body. I immediately wanted to press against him as tightly as possible, so as not to lose this blissful warmth for anything. I took a deep, satisfied breath and almost immediately felt his cold hand on my stomach."I'll warm up, okay?" he asked.
"Oh, how cold!" I squealed.
From his cold touch, my skin immediately broke out in goosebumps, a shiver ran through my body, and my nipples instantly hardened and stood up. His hand, as if knowing what it was doing, crept upward and reached my breast. Cool fingers touched my nipple, stroked it lightly. I shivered again. My cheeks flushed crimson. And he had already taken my breast into his large, warm palm and squeezed it firmly. I involuntarily leaned back, pressing my back tighter against him, and felt that I was pressing against something hard. Wriggling under his hand, which was now freely roaming over my stomach and my shamelessly protruding breasts under the sweater, I didn't immediately understand what that thing was.
"Could he have a weapon?" I wondered.
And the next moment it dawned on me: well, of course, he's armed, you gullible fool!
"My God, what should I do," raced through my head. "How will this end?"
And he kept stroking my stomach, pressing his palm firmly, going lower and lower, his fingers had already slipped behind the waistband of my skirt, letting in a bit of cool air, which made me shudder again. With his other arm, he was hugging me over the jacket, blowing hot breath on my neck, tickling me with his unshaven cheek, whispering something and laughing. I barely understood what he was saying, unable to cope with the surging wave of new sensations.
"Let's go into the entranceway, warm up."
"You don't mind?"
I could only shake my head. An unprecedented weakness overcame me, I could barely stand, and he continued to caress me, now penetrating my wet slit, hot and swollen, with his firm fingers. My breath caught, I pressed his hand with mine, moved my hips in rhythm with his movements. Then he slightly pulled away, unzipped his jeans, and freed his cock. In the darkness, he moved closer to me and, pulling my hair slightly, made me kneel down. Now his cock was level with my lips, already swollen from kisses. I could smell him, which made me tremble again.
"Don't be afraid, take it," he whispered, and his voice was breaking. "Feel how hard it is? Kiss it."
I took the cock in my hand, carefully licked the hot head, wrapped my lips around it, started to suck... what else was I supposed to do? What is he feeling now? Suddenly, my companion groaned, took hold of my hair again, and started moving my head, plunging the hard cock with its swollen veins deeper and deeper into my mouth. I grabbed the shaft with my hand, started to rub it lightly, but he squeezed my hand tighter, showing me how to move. With my other hand, I fondled his balls, feeling that they were tense too. My teeth rubbed against the shaft of his cock when it slipped out of my mouth, I caught it again with my lips and sucked the head, which made my companion moan softly and grip my hair even tighter.
Suddenly, he lifted me from my knees, sat me on the radiator (fortunately, it was warm, not hot), spread my legs, and ran his wet tongue over my swollen, protruding clitoris. Then he straightened up, leaned forward, and inserted the head of his cock, wet with saliva and my own juices, into my vagina. I jerked and was just about to squeak that it was, in fact, my first time... but I didn't have time. He grabbed me under the buttocks with his hands, squeezed firmly, which made me relax, and impaled me on his cock, inserting it deep and decisively, causing a flash of pain before my eyes, replaced by a feeling of being filled to the brim with this hard flesh, an endless satisfaction of closeness with another (another?) person. And he froze for a moment and began to move slowly, holding me by the buttocks with his hands. His movements became more frequent and sharper, his cock penetrated deeper, causing me an extraordinary, piercing, and sweet pain that I wanted to scream from and wanted more and more of. I just moaned through my teeth and dug my fingers into his shoulders, no longer trying to restrain my sensations. And finally, they overflowed. Something inside me suddenly contracted to the limit, my thighs went numb, a spasm ran down my back, and I felt my vagina begin to contract strongly, in pulses, as if sucking his cock in, and he suddenly seemed to explode inside me! But I could no longer control myself, my body shuddered in rhythm with the contractions of my vagina, and my companion, leaning his whole body on me, also shuddered and groaned dully.
Finally, he moved away from me and leaned against the radiator next to me. For a while, we stood there silently, catching our breath. Involuntary spasms ran through my body from time to time, but they gradually weakened. Finally, we looked at each other. He smiled, and his white teeth gleamed in the semi-darkness. Emboldened, I ran my hand over his prickly cheek. He caught my hand and kissed my palm. His lips were soft and moist, his breath warm.
"Time to go," he then said, fastening his jeans and adjusting his shirt.
I put my skirt and sweater in order as best I could. The panties could be forgotten.
"Are you ready?" he asked, and when I nodded, he opened his jacket, inviting me to press against him again so as not to freeze in the dark, cold November night while searching for our own nine-story building on this endless urban wasteland.