Part 1
Part 1
I was born in Riga. My name is Stanislav, but my friends call me Stas.
I barely remember my mother. When I was still a kid, she took off to the States, leaving my father and me behind. What happened between them, I still don’t know. My father never talked about it, and I never asked. As a child, it was enough for me that she had simply left and never came back. Eventually, I got used to it.
Until I was eighteen, I lived with my grandmother. My father visited almost every week. He’d come over, hang out with me, spoil me, buy me almost everything I needed or just wanted. He treated me more like a friend than a son. No fatherly lectures, no moralizing. I always looked forward to seeing him. Young-looking, tall, handsome, always cheerful. I wanted to be like him. He was pretty well-off, in the construction business, and things were going great for him. I understood that even then. By his car. By the way he dressed. By how easily he pulled out money.
My grandmother was different. Quiet. Warm. Her hands always smelled of either dough or dill. She raised me. She fed me. She walked me to school and met me when I came home. My father came like a holiday. My grandmother was the everyday. I loved her more than anyone in the world. I probably never told her that.
Then she got sick. At first they thought it would pass. That she’d get better. That the doctors would do something. The doctors did nothing. Medicine turned out to be powerless. I saw it with my own eyes. How she faded. How she grew weaker. How she stopped getting up. I was finishing high school then. I’d go to the hospital after class and sit until evening. Sometimes we just stayed silent. She held my hand. I looked out the window and thought about what would happen next. Nothing good was next.
After the funeral, my father sent me to a youth camp for the summer. He probably wanted me to take my mind off things. To distract myself. To be around kids my own age. I went. The camp was ordinary. Bunkhouses. Morning lineups. Campfires. Dances. I was miserable there, but it was bearable. I didn’t get close to anyone in particular. Kept to myself. I thought about my grandmother. Thought about my father. Thought about how my life was about to change.
And then I moved into his apartment in the center of old Riga. That’s when my rogue’s life began.
The apartment was large. An old building. High ceilings. Wide windows. Parquet that creaked in the hallway but lay flat and cold in the rooms. I got a spacious, cozy bedroom. A bed. A desk. A wardrobe. A window facing the courtyard. I unpacked my things, sat on the bed, and looked around. I liked my new home. I liked my room. And I liked Oksana.
Even though she wasn’t mine.
After my mother, my father never married again and never tried. But he always had live-in girlfriends. He introduced me to a few of them sometimes. In passing. Over dinner. The way you introduce a colleague. I didn’t remember them. They came and went, and I didn’t pay it any mind. But I saw Oksana for the first time when I moved in with my father. From the first glance, I understood. This one was different.
She was from Ukraine and sometimes threw in Ukrainian words in a funny way. She was twenty-three. Twice as young as my father. Five years older than me. Besides the fact that she made incredibly delicious borscht, she was incomparably beautiful.
A natural long-haired blonde. Bright green eyes. A small, doll-like nose and a plump-lipped little mouth. Her figure could be envied by any model, though you wouldn’t call her tall. Beautiful long legs. An alluring round ass. A thin waist. Narrow shoulders. A thin neck. And a breathtakingly luxurious chest. All of it made her incredibly slender and sexy.
For about a year and a half, I couldn’t fall asleep without freeing myself from my teenage sperm. It was my only joy. My evening ritual. My secret life. I did it almost mechanically, like brushing my teeth or locking the door. I’d lie down. Stretch out. Listen to the silence. Then pull down my underwear and take my already habitually hard cock in my hand. Sometimes I hurried. Sometimes I drew it out. Sometimes I just lay there and ran my fingers along the shaft without thinking about anything. It was my way of shutting off my head. My way of falling asleep. Without it, I couldn’t sleep.
Before, I imagined various things. Girls from my class. The gym teacher. Random pictures from magazines that we passed around hand to hand. It was all vague. Quick. Optional. I didn’t get attached to the images. They came and went, and I didn’t remember their faces.
But now, jerking my rod, I imagined Oksana’s charms. This was completely different.
She entered my fantasies immediately and without asking. I didn’t choose her. She was simply there as soon as I closed my eyes. Her long blond hair. Sometimes gathered into a ponytail. Sometimes spilling over her shoulders. Her green eyes, which she squinted when she laughed. Her plump lips, which she pursed when something amused her. I imagined those lips touching my cock. Just from that thought, my legs went weak.
I imagined her breasts. Heavy. Firm. Dark nipples that showed through the fabric when she was cold or when she leaned over the table. I imagined taking those breasts in my palms. Squeezing them. Running my tongue over the nipple. I imagined her waist. Her round ass. Her long legs. I imagined everything I could. And everything I couldn’t.
Sometimes I imagined her coming into my room at night. Sitting on the edge of the bed. Pulling back the blanket. Taking my cock in her hand. With those thin, cool fingers I saw every day when she handed me a plate or adjusted her robe. I imagined her leaning down and taking it in her mouth. I had never seen this. But somehow I knew how it would be. I imagined her doing it slowly. Confidently. Looking me in the eyes.
I imagined her naked. Completely naked. The way I hadn’t seen her yet, but already knew. I imagined her standing in front of me. Unashamed. Like in the movies we watched on the sly. How she spread her legs. How she sat on me. How she moved. I imagined her moans. I heard them through the wall almost every night. I already knew how they sounded. Muffled. Drawn-out. With a catch. In my fantasies they were louder. Closer. Right by my ear.
From these thoughts my head spun. I moved my hand faster. Squeezed tighter. Breathed harder. I felt the tension rising from somewhere below. Gathering in my balls. The head becoming harder and bigger. I knew this feeling by heart. But with Oksana it was different. Sharper. Deeper. Meaner. It was not just a release. It was something more. Something I couldn’t name.
And when I came, I came with her name on my lips. Or, more precisely, with her image before my eyes. After that I lay there, looking at the ceiling, with sticky fingers and heavy breathing. Thinking only one thing. How I wished it wasn’t my hand, but her.
A month after the move, I was lying in my bed, lazily stroking my hard cock. It was deep night. The room was silent. Only occasionally cars passed on the street, and their light slid across the ceiling for a second. I had almost reached the familiar climax when I suddenly heard voices distorted by passion. A man’s and a woman’s.
I froze. My hand stopped by itself. I lay motionless, staring at the ceiling, and listened. These were not the sounds I had gotten used to over the past month. Not footsteps in the hallway. Not the clink of dishes in the kitchen. Not muffled conversation behind the wall. This was different. The voices came from my father’s bedroom. There was something in them that made my mouth go dry.
I listened for a few minutes. Motionless. Holding my breath. Then I made up my mind. I pulled my underwear back over my erect cock, slipped out into the hallway, and stepped silently on bare feet across the cold parquet. I made my way to my father’s bedroom door. The voices that excited me were coming from there.
I quietly touched the door handle. Silently opened the door a crack. Peered through the gap.
I froze on the threshold. In the soft yellow light of the bedside lamps, a pornographic picture appeared before my eyes. I had never seen anything like it in real life. Only pictures the guys passed around. Only vague images in my own head. Only what I made up myself. But this was real. Alive. Two meters away from me.
My father’s hairy, crooked legs hung off the edge of the wide bed. Next to them, slightly to the side, huddled Oksana’s shapely heels. She was crying out with bliss, eagerly bouncing up and down. Her blond hair was spread over her shoulders and trembled with every movement. Sharp slaps came in time with her bouncing. With each slap, Oksana moaned loudly. My father slipped his hands between his thighs and her magnificent round buttocks, pulling them toward him. Oksana howled even more drawn-out.
I stood without breathing. The cold parquet burned my bare feet. My heart pounded. My cock, just so obedient, again filled with heaviness and rose, pressing against my pulled-down underwear. My mouth was dry. I was afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. Afraid they would notice me. At the same time, I couldn’t take my eyes away.
My father almost roughly threw her to the floor. His huge cock sprang from side to side, breaking free from the tight embrace of Oksana’s pussy, and froze tense. Wet. Covered with abundant female lubrication. The cock was striking in its immodest size. I looked at it and couldn’t believe such a thing even existed. I knew my father was big. But this—this didn’t fit in my head. Shiny. Heavy. It stood there, slightly twitching. I suddenly acutely felt that my own was completely different. Smaller. Thinner. Boyish. For the first time in my life, I envied my father the way I had never envied him before.
Oksana bent over obediently. My father casually grabbed her by the back of the head and pushed her pretty head between his legs. His penis hit her in the face, leaving a wet mark on her cheek. She didn’t even flinch. She just slightly moved her shoulder, settling in more comfortably. I realized this was habitual for her. This was not the first time. She knew what to do. She did it without a trace of embarrassment. My father leaned back and closed his eyes.
Oksana touched her lips to his taint. A pink tongue slipped out of her parted lips and began deftly polishing the short strip of his perineum, slowly moving upward. I followed her every movement, afraid to miss anything. After a few moments, her tongue reached his balls and flickered over them so fast that I could barely keep up. Oksana alternated licking with short bites of the tender skin. She tried to rise even higher, but my father pressed her head down. She understood what he wanted. Helping herself with her lips, the girl smeared his balls with her own saliva. She gulped for breath and swallowed a testicle into her little mouth.
I could clearly see how tensely, heavily her tongue moved behind her suddenly hollowed cheeks. I watched this arousing action. I pulled down my underwear and quietly jerked my erect cock. I did it slowly. Carefully. Afraid to give myself away with a single sound. My palm moved on its own. Habitually. As in bed. But now everything was different. Now I wasn’t fantasizing. Now I was seeing.
My father moved his palm from the top of Oksana’s head to her chin. She carefully released his saliva-covered, wetly glistening testicle. She sighed and began licking the shaft of his impressive penis, rising higher and higher to the head. Reaching it, she carefully ran her tongue over the head. Took it into her mouth. My father shuddered. Put his other hand on her head. Roughly, painfully impaled her mouth to the hilt. He rhythmically impaled Oksana’s mouth on his shaft. I could see how heavily but persistently her tongue moved.
I looked at this and felt something rising in me that I had no name for. It was not just arousal. It was a mixture of delight, envy, shame, and something else that made my head spin. I wanted to be in his place. I wanted her mouth to be on me. I wanted her hands to hold me by the hips. Her hair to tangle in my fingers. I wanted everything at once. From that desire, my breath caught.
I didn’t see the rest. My cock suddenly began to pour out sperm. Abundant streams in cloudy streaks flooded the door frame and the parquet floor. I frightenedly kicked off my pulled-down underwear and began wiping my wet traces with it. My hands were shaking. I was afraid I wouldn’t make it. That they would hear me. That someone would come out into the hallway. Holding the heavy underwear in my palm, I retreated to my room. I was shaking from the sight I had seen. My dick reared up again. I had to tame it again. Only after that did I fall into a heavy, exhausted sleep.
At breakfast the next morning, my father and Oksana were surprised by my silence. I didn’t look at them. I didn’t taste anything. I swallowed the scrambled eggs that my father’s girlfriend had carefully prepared. From the memory, my cock was tense the whole time, even though I had already discharged it upon waking. All day I thought only about what I had seen that night. I didn’t hear what the teachers were saying in class. For that, I got several reprimands.
Lying down to sleep, I habitually discharged a portion of hot sperm and began waiting for sounds from my father’s bedroom. Soon certain sounds were heard. I quietly approached the door and opened it as quietly as possible. My father evidently liked to have sex with the lights on. Both lamps on the bedside tables on either side of the bed illuminated his actions.
This time a completely different picture opened up to me. Oksana was standing naked on her knees on the bed. Obediently arched. Presenting her magnificent ass upward. Behind her, also on his knees, was my father. He was deftly massaging the hole of her anus with his fingers. When my father pulled his deft fingers out of her anus, revealing to my gaze a neat little ring of anus, Oksana froze. She kept the entrance to her ass open. It was clear this was a habitual thing for her.
My father positioned himself behind her, blocking my view. But he, as if sensing my silent indignation, leaned slightly to the side. Put his left foot on the bed. Grabbed Oksana by the hips. He made a forward movement with his hips. His huge erect cock swung and poked its head exactly at the ring of the anus of the partner standing in a more than interesting pose. Oksana deftly caught his cock with her little hand. In an elusive motion, she milked it, adding drops of male lubrication to her own. With the resulting mixture, she moistened the ring of her own anus. My father immediately tried to pull her onto his cock. Oksana almost fell face down, but safely stayed on her knees and briefly yielded to his movement.
On the first try, the cock hit its target and ended up in her ass up to the head. My father stopped for a moment, as if getting used to new sensations. Then he moved his hips. I looked at this and felt my own cock again filling with heaviness, pressing against my underwear. The cock moved tightly in the female anus, as if wrapped in a tight leather glove. Winning back millimeter by millimeter from the pliable female ass, it advanced deeper and deeper. Until the hair of his pubis finally pressed against Oksana’s buttocks. His dangling balls began to slap against her barely opened pussy.
For several minutes, my father rhythmically impaled her ass on his tool. Resounding slaps. Squelching. Voluptuous cries from Oksana. Her incomparable buttocks bounced in time with his movements. Her full breasts shuddered and froze. I looked at this and couldn’t take my eyes away. Each slap echoed somewhere in my lower belly. Each wave running down her back responded in me. I forgot where I was. Forgot that this was my father. Forgot that this was another man’s woman. I saw only her.
“Ohh, ohhh!” the woman cried out, falling into the swamp of orgasmic oblivion. Her voice trembled. Broke. Became higher. Thinner. More desperate. She was no longer holding back. “O-o, o-o...” her partner suddenly rasped. Slowed his movements. Firmly grabbed Oksana by the hips, driving his erect cock into her ass to the full depth. Oksana reached orgasm. Her legs gave way. She collapsed onto the surface of the bed. My father ended up on her back, but his cock remained in the female ass. It jerked once, twice, and began convulsively discharging into Oksana’s ass, pulled to the limit. She sobbed under the weight of the tense male body. Moaned almost at the top of her voice, almost to a squeal, unsuccessfully trying to bite the corner of the sheet.
Then I couldn’t hold back anymore. I began to pour out hot sperm onto the towel I had carefully brought from my room. I was shaking. My legs were giving way. I stood, leaning against the door frame. Felt the last spurts leaving me. The sperm sticking to my stomach. The cold parquet under my bare feet. It was time to get away. Quietly, closing the door, I staggered from an excess of emotions and went back to my room.
