1. Eighteen Hours of Rain


    Date: 8/26/2015, Categories: Historical, Author: flytoomuch, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    circuit in London? Only serendipity can imagine her perilous route into the arms of Jean de Langham, a man who was a dilettante of all things except sex and avant-garde poetry. When Jean first met her in 1953 Svetlana was so perfect the only reason a man wouldn’t want to fuck her was that he was gay. About to turn twenty-one the attractive Russian could have any man she wanted. All she needed was to crook her finger and wink. Married, single, engaged, they all frankly wanted to possess Svetlana. Now at twenty-three her beauty was maturing, becoming deeper, blooming into a more profound perfection. Jean could only speculate on how incredible she would be at thirty. He hummed nervously. Still gazing across the room at his lover, Langham slowly let out a cloud of grey-blue smoke, playfully forming grey-white circles expanding in the darkness. He had done this at Cambridge for his friends. Smoke circles was one of his party tricks. Jean had many tricks: cards, dice, making things disappear, making coins come out of women’s ears, reciting Latin and Greek verses. Svetlana turned and looked towards her subject. She giggled softly. The gorgeous Russian found Jean amusing. She particularly adored his smoke rings. In some things the Russian sophisticate was still the childish girl from the shores of Lake Baikal. Her father Anatoly had blown smoke rings for his giggling eight-year old daughter. She had giggled for her father too. That was before he was dragged away on trumped up ...
    charges. Anatoly had been sent to the Gulag as one of fourteen million Russians sent to labour camps between 1929 and 1953. Svetlana had never seen her father after that day. The white-grey smoke rings rising slowly towards the ceiling resonated deeply inside her. She felt an ache in her soul. “You have such a talent,” she paused, “so many talents Jean.” He smiled in the dark. Her voice was so husky and soft. “You make a woman feel truly amazing,” she puffed on her cigarette holder again, “and men in Moscow just don’t make a woman orgasm like you do.” Jean couldn’t see her face clearly in the darkness. “It will be hard to return to Moscow,” she was examining him he could tell, “so hard to leave you.” Why was Svetlana saying this? Jean could tell she was thinking about something, but what. These handlers never revealed much. This heartfelt admission was something unusual. He watched the woman he increasingly wanted. His cock was hard. He always looked forward to their meetings. Still she considered him. Svetlana was examining him like a lab specimen. She had something on her mind. Jean looked rather more “well to do” than a Cambridge PhD dropout ever deserved to look. The dubiously titled handsome rake took another deep draw on his cigarette. He was looking about the elegant Mayfair room they used for meetings. Well for meetings and for fucking. Langham had fucked her three times on their last visit. Twice in the pussy and once in the ass: Svetlana loved anal sex as long as he teased ...
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