French-Russian Goddess

As Josh’s foot crossed the threshold into the parking lot, a sudden, overwhelming surge of memory shot through him, gluing his foot to the pavement as surely as if it’d been arc welded. He felt the jolt rip through his thigh, sending him up to a half-chub in the process, before lodging itself in his brain, where he saw…

…what he recognized as Sara’s face, blue-eyed and pink-lipped, panting slightly within a frame of her own pale yet rich blonde shoulder-length hair. The light panting was notable, because at that moment, Josh’s entire, “manly” frame was being lifted into the air by nothing but the slight yet corded musculature snaking through her biceps, her hands invisibly cupped around his ass—which she then used as leverage, to shove his turgid, eager cock deep into her folds. “Da.” She moaned, not out of any need or genuine cultural artifact, but because she knew he liked the race play. Most men did, being reminded of the place their woman had in the grand blue tapestry called Earth, and Josh was no exception, from the first time she’d told him she’d never need his help moving.

His own lips let out a groan, sharing in the pleasure as her vaginal muscles contracted oh-so pleasurably around Josh Junior, a delicate balancing act that most Russian women got used to in their teenage years when their musculature down there wasn’t yet developed enough to do any lasting damage. As a result, they generally got really good at it, and Sara was no exception, letting the rippling cage of her honey pot rattle his dick from front to back as he was pulled smoothly out of her, only to do the same motion in reverse once he was plunged back in. The plastic-ensconced length of his member trembled in turn with the clenching of his teeth, as he also reflected on how he’d had to put any notions of stamina or endurance to bed when it came to dealing with his Valkyrie, a humbling experience that had prodded much teasing on her end before he was able to catch up.

Wounded pride or not, being used as a sex toy was actually one of the perks of bedding a Valkyrie; it reversed the traditional dynamic, which was kinda hot, and the sex was usually pretty great, which was really hot, and having a strong woman (in every sense of the word) wanting a piece of you made it all the sweeter when one was able to turn the pleasure tables, leaving them mewling in unexpected pleasure like one of their Siberian Huskies. This was not one of those times, however, and Josh was all up for being used after a particularly successful date night. Josh wrapped his legs around his Valkyrie’s waist—yet another gender reversal he was admittedly still getting used to—and let his lips come crashing down on hers, plumbing her Soviet depths as her own tongue lashed languidly against his, tickling and prodding the roof of his mouth. He knew she knew she thought she was letting him win their little tongue-wrestling match, but if her kisses were bear wrestling (something she had promised she had never done, and would never do) then his were akin to aikido, or maybe judo, using the momentum and **** of their mutual sucking to hone in on sweet spots that she liked to pretend she didn’t have.

Like he said, mewling.

And whatever he was doing was evidently working, as it was mere seconds later that she threw him to the couch, his frame bouncing slightly off the cushion before settling in place, watching hungrily as his Soviet goddess turned around. Scooping her hair over one shoulder while lobbing a smirk over the other, she parted her legs wide and began to squat down onto his length, as though he were just another piece of elaborate exercise equipment cum sex toy. Emphasis on cum, as her walls closed down around the laminated head of his dick in a cold lesson within warm depths of the limit that his member could take. He groaned at the excruciating sensation as she took him all in, planting a firm, tight ass that could deflect a Howitzer onto his lap. “You like?” She whispered sensually, playing at being coy the way he played at being handy.

Josh’s fingers scuttled across the couch cushions, instinctively searching for purchase as her molten inner depths flexed around him. “Uh-huh.” He managed, his irises tickling the tops of his eyelids, and his tongue licked the all-too recent taste of her off of his lips.

“Then you must be proving it.” She continued, tensing her thigh muscles as she lifted herself gradually to the very tip of his length, giving his cock’s head a good inner squeeze as she leaned forward slightly to present the rounded globes of her ass cheeks to eye-level.

Josh gathered his hands to either side of him, fingers fluttering in anticipation. Let common knowledge, the news cycle, and teenage billionaires talk all they want; anyone who’s spent a decent amount of time on the dating circuit knows that a woman is more than the sum of their ethnic parts.

Or maybe there was just a country someone missed, who knows.

Josh’s hand whipped forward to smack Sara’s ass, causing her eyes to close and her head to crane back as she moaned like she was howling at the moon. Before the slight ripples through what was perhaps some of the only fat obvious on her body (aside from two other, glaring exceptions) even had a chance to stop, her snatch plunged downward once more onto his pulsing rod, causing a fresh groan to erupt from Josh’s lips at the pulsing pressure. “Da,” Sara groaned as she sat with him within her, “more.”

As she rose back to the very tip of his length, Josh greedily obliged, curling the fingers on his other hand in preparation before giving her next cheek a matching slap. “Da,” she groaned again, settling back down on his length with a matching groan from him before bouncing back up, not needing to say another word before his first hand came back around to collide with her willing, rounded flesh. Not needing to, but saying it anyway:

“Da.”

“Da!”

“DA!”

Josh felt his eyes crossing at the continued vaginal ****, and he could tell from the tenor of her wild cries that she was getting close too. Her orgasm would trigger his, but not vice-versa, so he did the only responsible thing and pushed forward, counting on her own inattentiveness and general willingness to allow him to push her so that her hands landed palm-first onto their coffee table, her legs spreading wide as he took to standing and buried himself to the hilt.

“DA!” She yelled again, as his hand cascaded against her perfect ass, then again a second later, while Josh felt the reverberations up and down his length like he was playing the world’s most erotic bongo drum. He slapped the same cheek a third time, then drew back, before once more plunging himself all the way to the base whilst adding his own cry to the mix:

“YES!”

On cue, her walls began to milk him for all he was worth, their mutual cries filling the space of their living room just as surely as he filled his condom to the brim. They began to settle downward, like a pair of deflating balloons, before a final burst of strength—on Sara’s part, naturally—sent both of them back onto the couch, Josh’s arms wrapping naturally around his Valkyrie’s torso in a soft embrace.

They grunted and panted softly as they both came down, Josh gently tracing the curve of her sizable breast before trailing lower to her stomach in a series of thoughtless, tender motions. He felt her moving off of him before he was quite ready to open his eyes, and merely sat there drinking in the afterglow even as he felt her gently peeling the cum-filled condom off of his dick. Hearing it be put down elsewhere on the couch with a gentle squelching motion, he cracked one eye open to see her spread sideways like a lioness, her cheeks flushed and her eyes firmly glued to his towering yet wilting length before flicking up to meet his. Her hand reached out to grab his member softly, mindful of his slight wince at her manipulation of the post-orgasm flesh, before gently running her fingers along its length as she helped him come down.

“How was your day today?” She asked, her accent softening into an acidic twang, her tongue suddenly eager to skip over entire groups of consonants. “Did you meet anyone, on your way home?”

Josh nodded slightly, then blinked once before opening both eyes as he gathered his faculties. This was why he usually avoided dirty talk with her during the act; it usually took most of his guile after the fact to come up with something that sounded good, and that wouldn’t hurt her feelings. Not that he was sure her feelings could be hurt, when it came to this particular topic.

“I saw an Indian girl today,” he said, his arm encircling the back of her head so that he could toy with her ear lobe while he spoke, “with titties bigger than your head.”

“Ohhh~.” She said, a soft O forming about her lips from the vibration even as it travelled downward. “And what did you do with them?”

“Why, I motorboated them, of course.” Josh said, absent-mindedly tucking a strand of blonde hair back behind her ear. “She asked me to, and I couldn’t think of a good reason to say no.”

“Mmm~.” Sara groaned, pushing in next to him so that her shoulder pressed against his, even as her ministrations continued to help him down the far side of his orgasmic hill. “And after that?”

“I met a Polish woman.” He said, raising his eyes to the ceiling and furrowing his brow as if in deep thought. “And it must have been a long time since she got a payment, because she was offering me a blowie for just five dollars.”

Her cheek grew pinker as she rested it on his shoulder. “And did you take it? Did you come right down her throat?”

He answered her by way of leaning over and kissing the top of her head, followed by gently rubbing up and down her far shoulder. He could tell by the gentle tension in her frame that it wasn’t the answer she was looking for, and as he felt his member on the verge of collapse back into softness, he knew it was only fair to deliver the same service to her.

“A Ukranian woman interrupted me.” He said as he was struck by the spark of an idea, drawing back to meet her eyes slyly. “and she was so ****, she dropped her pants and begged to be spanked then and there.”

This elicited a surprised, startled laugh that made her eyes sparkle, and she gave his arm a gentle punch that felt more like a hard slap. “Just like the Ukranians!” She said with a chuckle, before leaning in to gently drill her forehead against the center of his torso. “You are a good boyfriend.”

He shrugged off the impulse to reply with playful sarcasm and let the moment play out, before her hand left his thigh and made to push off of the couch. “I am going to make a protein shake, you want one?” She asked in her more normal tone as the need for race play faded, even as she collected the sperm-filled condom like a doggy bag.

“If you’re making it with that, I’ll pass.” Josh said, then mock-winced as she pretended to make to dump it over his head. Making her way to the kitchen as Josh reached over to his pants lying on the armrest, he stopped mid-reach in response to her stopping mid-step.

“You know,” she said, grinding her heel uncharacteristically into the carpet, "if you wanted to, you could--” Biting her bottom lip, she turned and continued her was into the kitchen, and Josh sighed in turn with the sound of the stainless-steel trash can opening.

Settling back with his phone in hand, he reflexively brought up her Pedicheck file, her French/Russian ancestry registering as plainly on the screen as it had during their sexual rendezvous. Though it should definitely be the other way around, He thought, not for the first time, she’s waaaaaay more Russian than French… but...

Josh continued staring at his phone, not even registering someone calling him a jackass as his cart full of supplies rolled away into a lamp post. His memories of who Sara was before were already fading, as if trapped behind at veil of fog that he could only get through with intense effort. But one thing was for sure—the Sara of this reality was definitely pushing him, implicitly if not yet explicitly, to cheat on her with another woman. And due to his ministrations, he had a whole assortment of exotic women to choose from.

But, still… He didn’t know if it was lingering feelings from the old reality, or if things about relationships really hadn’t changed that much, but something in him still felt queasy about going behind his girlfriend’s back. He had a blonde bombshell goddess, wasn’t that good enough? Couldn’t they just get by on dirty talk? And if not, couldn’t he just use the phone to do something about it?

What was he supposed to do here?