Svetlana - Fashion Designer's Assistant

Although Svetlana had been taught English since the first grade, she nonetheless spoke with a discernable accent. However, in the Manhattan fashion industry, being able to speak Russian was an asset. As a young girl, she had dreamed of becoming a fashion model. When she was ten years old, her family emigrated to the United States and she thought that one day her dreams might actually come true.

She was certainly thin enough to be one. And her face was not bad. She was not a raving beauty, but working the runway is more about attitude than looks.

Alas, she never grew to the required height. At five-four, Svetlana was no midget, but she was far short (pun intended) of the minimum five-nine. Yet, she still retained her dreams of a career in the world of fashion, so she shifted her focus to her schoolwork.

At twenty-two, she graduated from the prestigious School of Visual Arts New York City (SVA NYC).

That was six years ago. Since that time, she has worked at various fashion houses and was presently employed by the much sought-after Natalya. No last name used. Geniuses seldom need more than one name.

It was a rewarding, thrilling, chaotic lifestyle.
And also a very stressful one.

Today, the pressure had been almost overwhelming. So, as soon as she had gotten off work, the green-eyed blonde hopped into her car and drove away. Taking the Lincoln Tunnel to New Jersey, she headed for Gagootz to blow off steam. And to blow a few other things.

She parked in front of the video store and pranced into the shop with long strides, placing one foot in front of the other. Svetlana kept her gaze straight ahead, her arms hanging loosely by her side with her hands relaxed. A perfect catwalk.

Once inside the booth, she rapped on a wall, waited a moment or two, then thumped on the opposite wall. Both gloryholes remained empty. Standing in the middle of the floor, still wearing her pink baby-doll dress from work with her hair pulled back in dual ponytails, she crossed her skinny arms and waited. She longed for a cigarette and not for the first time pondered the irony. It was forbidden to suck on a cigarette, but she could suck on all the dicks she wanted.

The appearance of a limp penis to her right snapped her out of her contemplation.

Dropping quickly to her knees in front of the gloryhole, she touched the bottoms of the testicles dangling down on her side of the wall. She lifted them gently, studying their size, skin tone, and texture. By bending forward from the waist, she was able to bring her face in closer to the wrinkly nut-sack and planted several quick kisses on the scrotum.

Already the cock before her was hardening, and she curled her long, slender fingers around the rising meat-stick. It did not take more than a few lingering strokes, from the base all the way up to the head, to get it thoroughly aroused and ready for action.

Wrapping her lips around the male member, she began to suck it. Drawing on it with such **** that her cheeks caved in. At the same time, she bobbed her head, her tightly pressed lips gliding up and down the shaft.

The thumb and forefinger of her left hand formed a ring around the base, holding it in position and giving it short, miniscule strokes. She could hear the man on the other side moaning in pleasure as she jerked her head back and forth, milking his cock with her smoothly sliding lips.

After about ten minutes, Svetlana reached up with her right hand and cupped those balls she had examined so intimately before. She found that they were no longer loose, but had drawn up close to his body, forming a tight little pouch for those twin sperm producers.

Mentally, she smiled as she continued the rhythmic waggling of her head. She knew what it signified. As if to verify her prognosis…

***KNOCK*** ***KNOCK*** ***KNOCK***

Her suck-job shifted into overdrive. Svetlana bobbed her head faster, and she sucked harder. All four of her fingers embraced the shaft, and she pumped furiously on it. Urging him to come. Trying to make him to ejaculate.

A yell behind the wall synchronized with a blast of cum against the roof of her mouth announced her success. That cock was twitching and throbbing. Pulsating as it spewed out the man’s thick, creamy load.

Svetlana kept on sucking. Pumping. Letting the nameless, faceless man use her mouth as a cum-dump.

When she felt the cock cease its spasming and started to soften, she let go of it and leaned back on her haunches, the spent dick slipping from between her lips. Still holding the man’s load in her mouth, she started to giggle.

Men were so easy.