Revolutionary Love - Public Blowjob

*** It is 1917 in the heat of the Russian Revolution. Watching Natasha speak to other men at a social gathering has made Borya jealous and insecure. Natasha reassures him with a fabulous blowjob..in public.***

Glowing lamplight illuminated the front of the Tretyakov Gallery under the black autumn night sky. It was a Friday, and a crowd of people stood about at the entrance and inside the hallways chattering, drinking and enjoying the food. Tonight was the opening of a new art exhibit, and many of the party members were in attendance. This was one of those many evenings when Natasha and Borya had to stay at a polite distance. There could be no strolling together thru the evening. Plenty of rumors were already swirling up and down the halls during the day as committee members watched whom their leader was spending his time with and how often. It was important that they did not appear as a couple.

Striding by herself across the vast reception hall, Natasha checked in her cloak then made her way upstairs. She had been looking forward to this show for a while.

Along the walls were colorful, geometrically abstract paintings, a complete contrast to the traditional, detailed traditional Russian artwork normally on display. When she made her way to the end of the hallway and into the larger room, she discovered with delight that the artist himself, Kazmir Malvich, was there in the middle of the room talking to a small group of people. After listening to them for a moment, she waited for the right opportunity to introduce herself, and join in the conversation. The group had a lively chat for a while until the others departed, leaving just Natasha and Kazmir to exchange notes on other artists they admired. She was enjoying herself so much she did not at first notice the curious and constant glances from a man on the far side of the room, who was flanked by an entourage of high ranking party officials. After a moment Natasha realized it was Borya, stealing sidelong glances at her from under his black cap. He had a way of projecting himself, even across a large room. She quickly realized she had been under his attentive watch this entire time. He was so obviously spying on her.

There were moments, such as this, when Natasha could not help but feel a little bit of resentment, considering there was no official binding contract between them defining their relationship. She figured she was free to talk to whom she wanted and gave him this same freedom in return. The whole situation, admittedly, lent itself to unease in these public moments.

Walking past Borya, Natasha nodded a formal hello to him as she went downstairs with Kazmir to enjoy some food and wine before it was gone. She could feel her lover watching her as she and the artist walked by. Even hemmed in by his ever-present entourage and eager people crowding around to talk with him, his keen eyes missed nothing, and seeing Natasha laughing and talking with another man was making him bristle.

About an hour later, after Natasha had made the rounds with people she knew she began to make her way downstairs to return to the reception area. She turned when she heard Kazmir calling after her on the way down the steps. He reached into his coat pocket and handed her a business card.

"I would be delighted to give you a tour of my studio, Natasha. I would like to hear your opinion on my new work." he said, his voice slightly raised to compete with the talking and laughter around them.

"And I would like you see you again," he added with a warm smile.

She took the card and thanked him as yet more people came over to him to talk, cornering him by the banister.

"Thank you, thank you, that would be wonderful, yes!" she called to him, as she continued to head downstairs. It was time for her to leave as she and Borya had a preset time and location they were to meet that night, away from the crowds at the gallery about four blocks away. She collected her cloak from the reception desk and headed outside into the cold night air. Glancing down at Kazmir's card, she turned it over in her hand thinking about his offer, then tucked it into her purse.

She only had to wait a couple minutes before Borya met up with her. She watched him walk towards her, his black coat buttoned up to the top, his cap pulled down and his hands in his pockets. Anyone would easily mistake him for just another commoner. He dressed plainly and very modestly, never interested in ornamentation or decorative acknowledgement of his position.

He stopped momentarily when they met, giving out a short gruff hello without making eye contact. Facing the pathway, they both walked side by side quietly. Borya was very closed up, facing forward and slightly bent with his signature stoop. It was body language that signaled his mind was preoccupied and he did not want to talk. He also had not given her his customary kiss when they normally met.

Well, someone had to make the first crack in the wall. Natasha spoke up.

"That was a wonderful show," she said. "I'm really enjoying the new direction art is taking. It's very commercial in a way..it's very.."

"Ugly," Borya interrupted. "It looks like paper cut outs, tossed all over the floor. Even a child could make something that simple."

"So let me guess. It turns out you are not a big fan of cubism," she said sarcastically.

His gaze focused ahead of him. He kept his head down, his eyes under his cap brim.

"What talent does it take to paint a black square? If I see something I could do myself...what is there to applaud?"

"It's more the concept behind it.." Natasha explained. "The intellectual concept.."

"Bah!" Borya bellowed. His eyes were coming alive now, as his temper flared. "Bourgeois rubbish," he spat. "Everyone thinks they have some radically new intellectual invention to flaunt. Why don't I pick up some leaves here, off the ground, and glue them to a canvas? Then what..do I get my own art show?"

"You very well might!" Natasha laughed.

"Of course you would say that," he grumbled. "You seem to be rather easily seduced by hucksters and their vapid intellectual stunts. Funny, because they so transparent! I thought you were more intelligent than that."

She stopped in her tracks. Borya halted a few feet in front of her.

"You refer to Kazmir?" she asked.

Borya didn't say anything, he just looked off into the distance.

"I asked you a question. Do you think Kazmir was trying to "seduce" me?"

"Are you naïve?" Borya huffed.

"Oh Borya." Natasha replied, taking a few steps to catch up to him. "I am not interested in Kazmir...in that way. We were simply discussing art."

"It is not you I am worried about. Did he give you one of his cards? Did he invite you to his studio?"

She was exasperated at his apparent non stop spy mission on her interactions that evening, even down to the last minute she was there.

"Honestly is it any of your business?" she said, her voice impatient. "You are not my husband, as far as I know. Or are you are my father, spying on me? Have I restrictions on conversation?"

Borya stood, as if a statue, staring off into the distance. He pursed his lips, silently, with his hands still in his pockets. What was he to say to that? Surely he would be a hypocrite preaching morality to her, considering he was the one who was in a marriage, as unhappy as it was.

Natasha walked over and stopped in front of him. She took the brim of his cap and pulled it up his forehead so she could see his eyes. Still he looked at the ground, refusing to acknowledge her.

"You are pouting," she said. "You are acting like a petulant little boy. You haven't looked at me once yet."

Still he said nothing.

They resumed walking. Crossing the street they entered the park close to her apartment. Natasha was out of words. As she wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself, she wondered how the rest of this night would play out. Normally they made love on Friday nights. It would begin with two big slices of dessert which they would buy from the local cafe to take home and eat together in front of her warm fire. They would drink their coffee, go over paperwork, talk and gossip themselves silly. Then they would begin to kiss until both of them were aroused and in need. Her warm bed became their nest, their sanctuary away from the stress and struggle, where they would spend the rest of the evening pleasuring one another.

Tonight however, did not seem to hold such a wonderful promise.

Walking thru the quiet park they passed by a gardeners shed. A line of cottonwood trees stood like tall sentinels in front.

Natasha suddenly stopped.

"Come with me," she whispered, pulling his hand out of his pocket. Tugging him along, she led him behind the shed. He looked around curiously.

"What are we doing here?" he said grumpily. He was still not in a good mood and didn't understand what she wanted. Again she faced him, pulling the brim of his black cap up so that he had to look at her. She cupped his face with her hand, feeling genuine sympathy for his concern.

"Listen to me," she said, making sure he was paying attention. He finally made eye contact, their brown eyes gazing at one another.

"I know it is difficult, darling, to be so close to one another but to have to remain at a distance. I want nothing more than the freedom to walk with you, proudly, hand in hand, in front of everyone. But we both know that cannot be." She started kissing his face tentatively. She could hear him quietly exhale a sigh. Her soothing words started to relax him a bit. She went on.

"I observe you as well, across the giant rooms we must occupy together, yet apart from one another. I watch the women you speak with...secretaries, visitors, committee members. I see them laughing and talking with you, I watch your eyes filled with warmth as you take their hands when you talk, sharing a joke or some story with them. In some, I can see the desire and curiosity in their eyes, and I must stand quietly to the side and say nothing."

"I have never accepted an...invitation," he replied, quietly.

"Nor have I," she responded. "Yet here we are. Jealous. Watching. Worried."

Natasha put her hands on each of his shoulders and gently pushed him up against the shed door. She enjoyed that his short stature enabled her to more easily take control of a situation. She began to kiss him, and soon he was unable to resist and began to respond. He moaned quietly as he parted his lips and started nuzzling her and returning her soft kisses.

"And you can be such a jealous boy..." she said with a smile and mock scolding in her voice. "I saw the way you were looking at me. Your eyes were burning with so much disapproval.."

Her hand began to run slowly across his chest, down over the buttons of his waistcoat and to the front of his trousers, where she ran her hand sensuously over his cock tucked inside his clothing, teasing it with slow squeezes. Borya almost jumped, but he was trapped up against the shed door and his brazen, beautiful lover.

"Natasha!" he whispered. "Not here!"

"But this is what you want, darling. You want me to pay attention to your cock. You want me to touch it just like this...mmmm..while I kiss you.." She returned her mouth to his, but he quickly turned his head to utter another protest.

"Natasha..one of the party members could easily walk by...anyone could walk by.."

"Oh, and what do you you fear?" she whispered into his ear. "That someone might see what a bad boy you are, getting your nice, thick cock stroked?"

Her words made him tingle all over. It was so naughty and dangerous. They continued to kiss, his protests silenced into soft moans as she continued her slow, sensual squeezing and massaging. His cock was swelling quickly in response, and he had to adjust it so that it stood up straight inside of his trousers. With that gesture, he was clearly open to the idea of more stimulation. Now that his cock was upright, the most sensitive part of it, right under the head, was hers to stimulate. Her hand continued to rub it's way up and down his shaft, encouraging his cock to become fully erect and engorged. She relished the sensation of his erection straining inside of his trousers and the sound of his soft moans as they continued to kiss.

"Look at my naughty malysh, so nice and hard.." she whispered. "Look how fast you ready yourself for me. Mmmmmmm, you know we cannot resist one another. There is too much heat, too much need."

She took a finger and ran it up and down the underside of his sensitive shaft. She felt it strain and throb with each stroke of her finger. Even thru his trousers the feeling was exquisite for Borya, even more so because she had him pressed up against that shed, sending kisses up the side of his face and flicking her tongue around the inside of his ear. This sent powerful tingles down his neck and right into his penis which responded with pleasurable throbs. His natural lubrication began to leak from his cock-tip as he leaned his head back against the shed door, trembling as she murmured worshipful words, praising his beautiful cock, attentive tongue and willingness to please for hours.

Being a man, this sort of flattery made him weak in the knees. His emotions had shifted from frustration and jealousy to an absolute joy in hearing her words of praise. She was refilling his heart, telling him what he needed to hear. He went to kiss her deeply, wrapping his arms around her as she murmured her praise for him. He wanted nothing more than to please her, to give her sexual joy and to be able to provide so much pleasure for her she would want no other man. His emotions often ran wild when he felt this was not the case. This was not the first time Natasha would need to work to reassure him with soft kisses, praise and reaffirmation that he was the only lover she wanted.

And once she was able to get him aroused and erect, he was receptive to complete emotional and physical release. This was something he needed frequently. After a night of connecting with her, the laughter, the kissing, the vigorous lovemaking and the strong, satisfying orgasms, he could return to his work with a clear head and steady temperament. Tonight his insecurities had flared up and had made the evening a bumpy ride, but Natasha knew he would respond quickly to her affectionate words. He always did, regardless of his huffing and puffing front of indignation and offense. Perhaps there was still a chance to salvage their original intent for this evening...

She returned her thoughts to his erection buried under his layers of clothing. She began to kiss her way down his chest, past his belly and to his groin. She was now kneeling down in front of her man. Borya placed his hands on her head and moaned. She was actually going to do it. He opened his eyes and scanned the horizon in front of him. The cottonwoods standing in a row, the lamps lighting up the gravel pathways thru the trees. Was someone coming? He thought he heard voices. Then, oohhhhhhhhhhh....her lips were over his cock, breathing warm air onto it thru his trousers, making it absolutely desperate for attention. He squirmed as she started undoing his buttons, his hands holding her head a bit more firmly. Quickly, quickly...get that last button undone...reach in, darling..yes...yes.....Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!! Oh, her hot mouth wrapped so tightly around it...aaaaahhh, gripping it firmly as she drew the entire length deep inside...Oh! He let out a sharp cry then clenched his teeth tightly shut, struggling to stay silent. She worked his shaft steadily up and down, from base to head, with long, firm tugs of her lips, squeezing and squeezing. Borya's thighs started to tremble and his back started knocking against the shed door she had him pinned to.

His breath started to come in sharp pants between his teeth. She tugged his trousers down just enough to reveal his testicles, which she cupped in her hand and gently examined. They were weighty and needed to be emptied. She continued to murmur enticing words to him.

"No wonder you're so grouchy, so possessive...look at how big and full you are. You were worried you would not be able to release your load into me tonight, weren't you? You've been saving it for me all week...oh, you must be positively aching..."

Borya leaned his head back against the shed door, closed his eyes and stifled a long groan. Her tongue was working his balls now, lapping and sucking and kissing as her hands kept his cock thick and hard and leaking strings of pre-cum. Her strong, milking strokes along with her swirling, busy tongue had him shaking and whimpering with pleasure. He barely noticed when someone actually walked by on the path with only tree trunks to block their view. His mind was so intent on his sensations he could only pray he could keep himself in check and get away with it, just this once. Natasha could sense someone was walking nearby. She withdrew her mouth for a moment and continued to encourage him.

"Mmmm..someone's close by...and you don't want to stop...do you? You don't want to stop because this is so naughty and feels so good as I stroke your aching cock and hold your nice, full sack. Mmmmmm..it's so full of milk for me, I can feel it." She slid her fingers down and again took his balls in her hand, feeling how milk-loaded they were, knowing he needed to forcefully pump it all deep into her mouth. And how she loved to receive his nice big mouthfuls of cream. She moaned and urged him on.

"Yes, my naughty little boy needs a good release tonight," she said, then gave his sack several nice, long licks.

Borya struggled to keep quiet as he urgently whispered his desperate command.

"Finish me, woman!"

He urged her mouth back onto his cock and with one hand grabbed her hair at the base, holding it like the reins of a horse. With a sure thrust of his hips the length of his shaft slipped back into her mouth. She locked on to it, wrapping her lips tightly around its girth. He began to fuck her mouth swiftly. He looked down, watching his cock piston in and out of her tight lips as he held her hair in his fist. He moved his legs wider apart, his laced leather shoes firmly on solid ground, long black overcoat flaring out behind his legs. He stood proudly as his beautiful mistress worshiped on her knees, his hand wrapped tightly in her hair, his hips repeatedly thrusting into her bobbing mouth. He felt her fingers again reaching up to grasp his full sack, softly squeezing and massaging, encouraging his impending release. His cock responded with several stronger pleasurable throbs, signaling he was close.

With her mouth full of his thrusting cock, Natasha listened to him moaning and grunting. He seemed to have forgotten where he was, as his vocalizations become more pronounced and unrestrained. At first teasing him about being so worried out in public, she now realized Borya was highly aroused and was going to lose control. His orgasm began to rumble forth as he started bucking up against her, rattling the shed door with his spasms. With her lips wrapped tightly around his cock, she immediately reached up and cupped her hand over his mouth just in time to muffle his loud cries of surrender. He cried out repeatedly into her hand, thrashing against the door, trying to free his mouth from her grip. The restraint was maddening as he fought against it, which suddenly triggered a new level of intensity to his orgasm. Spurt after spurt of his milk burst forth with immense power. He was no longer able to hold his grip on her hair and his hands fell back against the shed as his whole body shook. She held him firmly in the ecstasy of restraint, helplessly captive as his cock spasmed with intense pleasure, pumping every bit of seed out of his body and into her sweet, warm mouth. Her lips pulled and drew it in, welcoming his release, making sure she had squeezed and coaxed out every drop.