Sergei

Sergei. He was a maniac. He would look at a woman. Especially married women. Actually, exclusively married women…

He would say, “See her? I am going to fuck her tonight…”

”Bullshit…” his colleagues would say.

He said to his wife Cameron that he was in Russia on business, but really he was taking a break.

Making billion dollar deals was easy for him — but it was so fucking boring. Honestly, an idiot could do it…

Sergei approached the married woman. She had a ring on her finger. She was with her husband too. He was a similar sized man. Not bad looking, but surely he had a decent personality.

She was a tanned brunette - mid twenties — big tits and ass, but modestly covered up in casual wear. A cardigan and black jeans. She had a pretty face — a button nose. Sergei wanted to give her a baby. His genes and hers would be heavenly. Fuck off husband…

Honestly, Sergei would be doing them a favour.

Her husband had left for a moment to look at some pottery. She kissed him and said she’d stay outside as she was stuffy. Perfect opportunity.

She looks bored. Practically dragged around. He heard a joke that her husband cracked earlier. She was hiding her cringe behind a smile. She doesn’t laugh much, but she wants to please him. Why? Out of loyalty — or maybe she is a sucker…

She looks so young but why does she dress like a middle aged woman? She probably hasn’t been complimented in months. Her husband is nothing but a habit… Time to break it.

Sergei stood next to her, “My wife likes pottery too…”

The woman looked up and saw the handsome tall brunette man. Sergei had a strong build body. Tall. Broad. Handsome. She looked away.

”So she’s just like my husband…” she said.

”I hate pottery… It’s so boring,” he said.”

She laughed. Finally someone said it. She had been dragged around on this holiday to find the perfect piece for the living room. They had at least a hundred stored in the attic.

“Me too,” she said.

”God. Look at him. He is practically in love with that bowl,” Sergei said.

She laughs. Like she hasn’t in years. Her life being stuck in a clay pot. Bored out of her mind.

“My wife is the same. You know what it is?” Sergei said.

”What?”

”They like things that don’t talk back. That don’t feel real. Safe little objects to put on the shelf…”

She looked into his eyes. He was reading her mind. Someone who understood her.

“But you aren’t like that. You feel everything. Even when you try not to…”

Her name was Anna.

Anna was making out with Sergei in the bathroom of a local beer house. His manly hands on her fat ass. She was doing it. She wanted this man’s kisses. Her breath, hot and heavy. Her eyes wide.