1. Eighteen Hours of Rain


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

    capitalism. It was then in 1953 that Svetlana came into Jean’s life. She was only just turning twenty-one. Langham was twelve years her senior at thirty-three. Imagine how well the young Russian must have done in training to be given this responsibility at such an impressionable age. She had learned English amazingly fast. She had out performed seasoned agents in small arms fire and sniper training. The claims she made to me that night I still find hard to believe. The gorgeous Russian may have been young, but in addition to all her other skills she had a serious knack for seduction. A bisexual beauty, Svetlana led a trail of gorgeous young women to share her bed with Jean. Most were students she met in cafes or at university. Some were serious sources of information inside government who needed to be compromised. The finest woman they shared was surely the half-Japanese student studying German and philosophy at Girton College, Cambridge. Her father was a diplomat. Aya was a very bi-curious eighteen, both coltish and coquettish. So reluctant and unsure she was, but between them and some Champagne, Svetlana and Jean had taken her virginity and more. All this was in the past. Tonight in Mayfair it was just the two of them. Svetlana took a final glance outside the window. It was still pouring rain. No one had followed them. No British agents anyways. She turned in the darkness towards her lover. “Unzip my dress.” Jean smelled her rich perfume. He lifted her hair and found the ...
    zipper. Slowly he pulled. In the room’s silence you could only hear the zipper. There was something different tonight. The mood was quiet and soft. The dress dropped. Svetlana shimmied and Langham pulled it over her hips. The dress became a black heap at her heels. She turned in her elegant black lace lingerie. They kissed. The lovemaking was also different tonight. Jean felt different too. The night felt strange and eerie. Everything he had done. His entire life—he regretted it all except for this moment right now. Jean felt sad and yet happy. Could he change? Could he be someone else? Svetlana murmured in his ear. There was no scratching, no clawing, no frenzy, it was simply romantic; Jean scooped up her slender frame and carried her to the bed. Stripped of his clothes Jean was inside her. He filled her completely. Svetlana held on as if he were her husband. She clung to him tenderly in a way she never had before. The young Russian tucked her face into his shoulder. There were unseen tears in her eyes. It seemed endless. They built a gentle rocking cadence. Neither of them wanted it to end. She didn’t. But finally she squeezed her pussy walls. Jean bit down on her shoulder. His body shuddered. Langham’s balls contracted and he let go. She whimpered and stroked his head gently. Svetlana wanted to use the world “love,” but bit her tongue. Not permitted. Langham had drunk too much. Jean often did that. It was one of his many weaknesses. Did they talk? What did he say? Svetlana ...