Whether that was what Dasha wanted, I don't know, but after all the teasing, the repeatedly bringing me to the edge, exciting me and then denying, even in the tender way she spanked my bottom red and stinging, I couldn't see how I was going to get back to my own apartment without some release. I had enough discipline to get down the stairs without grabbing myself, but as soon as the night air hit me in the quiet courtyard of the building, I was lost. It was dark, the yard lit by dim streetlamps scattered among the bushes, the trees, near the dusty broken down playground. Half of them weren't working anyway, and right outside the doorway there was little light. Voices drifted from balconies and open windows. There were lights here and there, but I heard no footsteps, no voices nearby. I moved off the path, along the wall of the building, to where some bushes and a little tree seemed to shield me, and there, I did it. I pulled open my pants, desperate, pushed them half down off my hips to let me get at my whole hard cock, and leaning back against the wall I started to stroke it, slow, thinking of her.
It wasn't the tempting she'd played at that got me, not her teasing about women who might want to suck it, not even the closeness of her face then to my hard shaft, the feeling of her breath swirling around it. No, I was jerking off imagining again my lips on her feet, her gentle voice encouraging me, tasting my own goo mixed with the tangy saltiness of her skin, how this strong, well grown woman had taken me, and offered me a path to surrender myself even more. I went slow, caressing myself, her name on my lips, my eyes closed in the cool, quiet night of the courtyard. I needed to cum, and still I didn't want to. I wanted to feel the height of tension she created, the hope for release, and the denial, the release instead of control, surrender to her, her calm freckled face, her red hair, her long, long arms and legs, the smoothness of the way she flowed into her power over me, taking me from the first instant.
And then I heard it. A quick, rising gasp, an almost birdlike voice, "Young man, what are, what are you-"
Quick footsteps, as I tried to catch myself, figure out where I was, and then, realizing, seeing a woman with short blond hair, eyes that even n the dark I could see were blue, even as I spluttered, trying to get myself covered up, "Excuse me, I didn't mean, I didn't think, I just had to-"
"What are you, drunk? Drunk? With that - member." She started then to hit at me. She was small. but strong, hitting at my head, reaching up and when I put my hands up to protect myself, I lost my pants down my thighs. "Are you drunk? You can't do that here," she kept on, as she kept on hitting at me. "Shall I call the police? The police, is that what you want?"
"Please, please no," I said under the rain of her blows.
Then she kneed me hard, right in the balls, once, and then again, even harder, and the wind went out of me. I fell over in the dust and she kind of snorted.
"What kind of man is this," she muttered, and then she stormed off.
I gathered myself up as best I could. At least getting kneed in the nuts had brought down my hard-on, even if I was having a tough time getting up straight. I brushed myself off, and started home, glad, too. She hadn't called the police.
It was such a strange thing. How late it was I wasn't sure, but the streets were empty, silent, no cars, no people, no bars or restaurants. Of course things have changed since then, but at that time so much of the life of the city was private, around kitchen tables. There were tourists at the little casinos, the wildly expensive hotels, but not many of them, and that wasn't where you found Russia. I walked and walked that night, at first barely noticing where I was, my heart pounding, my thoughts too, until I came to the broad river an found all the bridges raised, big boats moving under the open sky, and no way to get across. I didn't have to get to the other shore. And finding my way blocked, I turned, went back into the maze of streets along the winding canals and little rivers that crisscrossed the city, the low, quiet old buildings, and found my way home.
Once there, I stripped off my clothes first thing and showered, feeling the dirt rushing off me, and when I was clean, I went out to the living room, drying my naked body, feeling safe, somehow returned to myself, after the beating I took. And thinking of Dasha again, I went out on my balcony, still naked. The railings around it weren't open, so anyone looking up from the street would only see my bare chest. There was a floor above mine, on my building and the others on both sides of the street, but it was late, dark, and there were no lights on anywhere I could see. The air felt good, and the thoughts of Dasha, the stinging again fresh somehow on my ass, even Irina seeing me, knowing she knew, must have known that her older sister had spanked my naked butt. I couldn't believe how lucky I was. And the closest I could come to it was now the exciting vulnerability of being naked outside, innocently, just out for air in the middle of the night, naked as a baby.
Then I heard a voice, soft, just loud enough for my ears.
"You're not cold?"
It was a woman, and I looked around to see her leaning over a balcony one floor up, nextdoor on my building. She was smoking, watching me, I don't know for how long. She must have watched me come out, watched me letting the night come over me, and she didn't seem upset at all, quiet, enjoying, it seemed, her naked neighbor. My cock was already nearly hard, just from the freshness, the whole night. I didn't cover myself, didn't run back inside. It was strange how natural it felt, maybe it was Dasha's training already, or maybe it was this woman's casualness, the quietness in her voice. Just from her three words, the way her forearms rested on the railing, her hair shadowing her face, I liked her. If she didn't mind, I would just be naked.
"It's so nice out," I said. "It feels great."
"Yes," she said. "I see."
I had been facing the street, but now I turned to her, giving her full sight of my growing cock. I felt it swing slowly back and forth from my movement, and she kind of purred as she drew on the cigarette.
"I haven't seen you before," she said, her voice still almost a whisper in my ear.
"I just moved here," I said. "My name is Dean."
She chuckled a little and said, "You are not Russian."
"No, American, from New York."
"Ah, but you speak well. Very pretty - your accent I mean," she said, and she laughed again.
"I'm glad you like it," I said. "Sometimes I feel shy about it."
"No, you shouldn't," she said. "I don't see anything for you to be shy about. Of course, it's a little dark out. Maybe I'm not seeing everything."
