The Magical World of BDSM. Andrey Ganesha
getting married to Dasha were not entirely ungrounded. However, these words about the possible marriage with Dasha began to live a separate life. She wanted to visit me, she was attracted to the metropolitan life, and this was not part of my plans. In order to calm her down, I even lied to Dasha that I had returned to my wife and daughter, but even this did not stop her, and Dasha wrote a letter to my wife, where she told her in detail about our romance.
The second erotic adventure from “Volchat” for me was the arrival in Moscow of an Eastern beauty – Alenka. Actually, Eastern beauty was Alenka’s nickname in the chat. She noticed me for a long time and would often invite me to come to her small Tartar town Bugulma. But I was embarrassed by the fact that two children lived together with her, and I was absolutely not ready to start a romance in front of them, and besides, I was shunned by the ups and downs of her mood.
Before her arrival in Moscow, Alenka asked me if I could lend her a million rubles in order for her to start a business. Of course, I told her to fuck off with this proposal because, firstly, I did not have a million, and secondly, even if I had it, it would be crazy to lend this money to a virtual chat partner. She still managed her million, though, taking a loan in a bank, dividing it with her friend. Their business idea was to open a shoe store in Bugulma. They met in Moscow to conclude an agreement on the shipment of footwear to Bugulma.
In the evening, upon entering the chat I received a proposal from her to drive up to the Izmailovo hotel complex, as they rented a room Gamma building together with her friend. I saw Alenka drunk, doing a haircut in a haircutting salon of the hotel. Her jeans miniskirt was stirring my first teenage erotic fetishes in me; otherwise, I would probably have gone right away. Sober and drunk can never agree, and I was not inclined to drink. The chubby friend of Alenka, although they probably drank the same quantity, looked absolutely sober. Apparently, this is how they imagined business and signing contracts – like a drinking bout. In addition, the girls broke free from their native city and now, perhaps for the first time, were left to their own devices.
I invited them to join me in the hotel restaurant for dinner. Alenka, throwing back another shot, went to a nearby table to molest some dudes. I did not feel any jealousy, I was disappointed: why on earth did I invite this drunken woman to the restaurant and did I have to wait now until she’s done playing with these males? After sitting for about ten minutes with her friend and chatting a bit, I called the waiter, paid and went to the subway. At the next station, and I exited at the “Semenovskaia” station, I was about to go home when Alenka called me back. She apologized and asked me to come back. Considering that the evening was already spoiled, and there is a small chance to redeem it, I returned.
Alenka was waiting for me at the lounge of the hotel, and we went into the room as if I had not left. Why hold grudges, once you come back? At the floor entrance, a stern guard warned me that I could only stay until eleven. The old Soviet tradition is that you cannot stay overnight. Everything should have changed since then, as hotels are crammed with prostitutes, but strangers are still not allowed. Alena’s friend left us for an hour under some plausible pretext. I began to kiss tenderly the face and body of Alenka, but she did not need it. “Could you fuck me hard?” – she said.
I was somewhat embarrassed, as my experience of hard intercourse with girls with ass slapping, hair grabbing and all-around roughness was rather limited, and that was exactly what Alenka needed. Pulling off her panties, I tried to bare her breasts. Alenka was embarrassed by her small breast, and she did not like this lovey-dovey behavior, she needed real hardcore. I slapped her gently a couple of times on the cheeks, and, managing to get excited somehow, I put her on all fours. Being drunk, she constantly slipped and fell, exhausted.
After a few shoves, Alena howled and fell in an orgasmic spasm. This was repeated ten times, I hardly had time to feel anything, and Alenka was already shaking in convulsions.
– Bitch, you cum like a machine gun, – I said, and turned Alenka on the back, hoping that she would have nowhere to fall now.
– Yes, come on, fuck me like a bitch, – whispered Alena.
I tried to do it, but could not relax now, because Alenka was tearing my back with her fingernails. “A-ah-a… you Tartar slut,” I said in a loving manner, wailing from the inhuman pain. Half an hour later, I was tired of pain, and the inability to relax and reach orgasm. Alenka was sweating and even sobered up and came to herself. Feeling pity, she blow jobbed me to orgasm.
Her friend returned after a while. I did not want to stay with them in the room or take Alenka to my house. After all, apart from sex, I need communication, and we failed to communicate.
Next evening I apologized and said that I could not come to her because from her voice I realized that Alena was again drunk. It looks like she substituted me with some other chat boyfriend.
Alenka’s shoe business failed in about three months, and she asked me about how to transfer the loan she’d taken for business development to her friend. Apparently, she succeeded. I have never met such temperamental girls, but, apparently, the temperament is not the most important thing in the relationship.
Olga
My third acquaintance in the chat with a woman already had everything to do with BDSM in the usual sense of this term, and even confirmed my guesses that BDSM games in the style of BDSM can cause a persistent psychological dependence.
When I met Olga in the chat, she and her husband lived and worked in Senegal. In the course of our correspondence, she described her lovers. One of them was a black guy who raped her on a white Rolls-Royce, and at the end of the action, the condom on his huge black cock was torn. Another lover was a special services officer who worked at the embassy. I really think that she invented these stories about her lovers. Sometimes it was very interesting to communicate with her and we were on the same wave, so to speak, while at other moments her messages seemed full of delirium to me. Therefore I think that while in Africa Olga was abusing alcohol.
In addition, Olga sent me photos of beautiful African landscapes or photos from the Paris – Dakar race. We discussed books, work, films and, of course, our erotic fantasies with each other. And then one summer she came back and invited me to a cafe near Vernadskii Prospekt.
There, she was sipping coffee with a young friend. I liked Olga: smiling, relaxed, with a small, neat little beer belly. Olga’s friend did not like me, though: slightly carelessly dressed, a bit tense from the fact that I expected there would just be two of us.
After having coffee, the friend left us, and Olga and I went for a walk to the neighboring park named after the 50th anniversary of October. Several years later I would often walk past this park on my way to the swing club “Adam and Eve”, and back then, Olga and I found some bushes, which were a rare sight in this small park. While in the thick of the bushes, I bit my lips into her nipple, which was facilitated by the fact that Olga did not wear a bra, and stroked her stomach with my hand. Olga bent down and unzipped my jeans. The pleasure of her initiative and fearlessness caused an attack of passion in me, and so, clasping her black hair with the palm of my hand, I pressed her head against my pants. Since the park is small and cramped, we were soon interrupted by some passing boys. Fiddling with my hand inside Olga’s panties a bit, I said good-bye and agreed to meet her in a more suitable setting.
Our next meeting took place at the Central House of Artists. Near the CHA was a large number of abandoned building houses, as the construction of the “Museon” park was underway, adjacent to the CHA. We spent about an hour there, engaged with oral sex until we were scared off by a worker who passed by, as if we were not there. Or as if he routinely sees people fucking here. Well, maybe that’s true, who knows…
Excited,