*** It is 1917, in the heat of the Russian Revolution. Revolutionary leader Borya Petrov feels the pressure and tension of his position and the distracting allure of his comrade and lover, Natasha Sokolov.
Borya Petrov had been thinking of her all day in his meetings. Back in those days, before air conditioning and with the constant debates going on for hours on end, he was particularly impatient, anxious and tense. His mind kept wandering to her luscious body, her mouth, her nipples that he would tease to hardness before he went to work on her delicious vagina, tasting and teasing her sex with his lips. During the day he shifted in his seat while trying to take notes, his erection straining against his pants, seemingly more demanding today than most days, determined to remove him in body and mind from the important business at hand. Like a movie that insisted on playing before him, her legs parted again and again in front of him, his cock poised at the entrance of her vagina, feeling her muscles ready to pull him in, suck him deep inside, locking him in as he entered her and instinctually began to thrust. This scenario presented itself over and over in his thoughts, causing him to lose track of his sentences and doodle aimlessly.
His cock was particularly insistent, hard and demanding today. His testicles felt full and heavy. But he managed thru the day to save himself for her, instead of releasing himself in his private government office or lavatory. He wanted to give to her all of his pent up passion, to allow her to take care of his needs. It was no contest between masturbation or her wonderful mouth. Once satisfied, only then would he be able to clear his mind and quiet the fever if only for a little while.
When the demands of the day finally waned and he had some privacy he was able to fixate on his carnal desire undisturbed. He packed up his things and walked across the courtyard to their shared office. Natasha was still inside, translating some notes, when he walked in. She looked up as he shut and turned the key in the door, dropped his briefcase and looked at her. She smiled for a moment, then noticed the intensity in his eyes. He was like a wolf locked in on his prey, fixated, steady, full of insistent hunger and need.
"Any progress?" she asked, curiously, suddenly aware of his unusual mood.
He didn't answer, instead he silently walked over to her, his gaze still locked on hers, seeing the question in her eyes. He stopped in front of her, his legs apart, his hands grasping each side of his open coat lapels. He had a look in his eyes she knew. But usually in affairs of love he was more conservative and kept his private life off the clock, so now, with his pressing silence, he had her full attention.
"Remove your blouse." he ordered.
"Excuse me?" she replied. "Here? Borya, I thought you had rules about..."
"Unbutton your blouse." he repeated.
Ending her questions, she set down her pen and began to work at her blouse. Once undone, he could see her full, heavy breasts resting inside her brassiere. He inspected them with hungry anticipation, cupping them in his hands to feel their weight, bouncing them slightly, making his cock throb with pleasure as he felt their rounded, inviting contours. God, finally, he was touching her. With a slight gruff exhale, he reached around and unhooked their tight cloth prison, causing her to moan slightly as they heavily bounced free, mesmerizing him. His mouth immediately sought a soft pink nipple and he latched on, tugging with his greedy lips like an eager child, his cock leaping inside of his trousers. Again she moaned as he nudged and tugged and suckled, until her nipple reddened and hardened for him, eager be sucked and licked and teased. His hands latched firmly onto each breast, holding them up and out while he went to work on the other nipple, making that one as well an erect, tasty bit of flesh that wanted and needed more of his firm sucking and flicks of his dancing tongue. Tingles went thru her as he created a suction with his lips, alternating between each nipple so that they both stood firm and red and hard, her hands caressed his head as he nursed eagerly, breathing heavily as his own excitement increased.
He then popped his mouth off her nipple and proudly inspected his handiwork. He held her breasts firmly out into the air as if showing them to the world, massaging them, working each nipple with his thumbs to ensure they remained firm and at attention for him. She blushed, feeling her clit throb with the thought of his boldness, shamelessly milking and working her soft, sensitive breasts, squeezing, inspecting and jiggling them with the palms of the hand to feel their weight, like ripe tantalizing fruit, again making his cock throb and stand at full attention tightly inside his trousers. He watched with pleasure as they bounced erotically at his command, her erect nipples blushing, sensitive and needy, wanting more of his soft lips, his suckling, but instead, he pulled her up out of the seat, then sat down in it himself.
"Kneel" he said, urgently.
She did was she was told, and kneeled on front of him as he sat in the chair with his legs apart, again taking command.