Operation Buterbrod
Episode 2 - The First Waltz [I]
As one memory ends, another begins. Truly, this was some dream, for sure. Muzhik found himself in the rainy wilderness. North. Yes, Euskadi? It had to be. It was remarkably colder here than he had thought it would be, it was a good thing that his Far East equipment came in handy against the wet-cold and humidity, just as much as it did the harsh snows of legend. Nothing was as cold as Sakha and Yakutia, but there was a special, eerie chill here.
He fastened his ushanka and lowered the ears, a scarf pulled up to his nose. But dammit all, if he exerted himself too much, then his glasses would fog. The only downside to them. Yet, it was not worth risking discarding them when it came to the necessity of some accurate shooting. His Mosin Nagant rifle was without a scope, either way. The last thing anyone needed to see was another sun glint to give away his position.
With binoculars in hand, rifle slung over a shoulder, Muzhik stepped over some rough terrain that was dotted with collapsed trees. The meeting spot was just up ahead now. A small home in the woods, but hardly one that looked like a Baba Yaga lived there.
It would rain soon, he knew as a few droplets hit his lenses. Muzhik was like a predator from the woods, as he navigated the branches and all of its bundles. He stepped off from a stump and finally felt the wet crunch of some grass beneath his valenki.
The warmth of familiarity and excitement had made the rest of the process easy. With a
loud clearing of his throat, he began to stomp through the wet grass to further clarify his sudden emergence in this ‘secret’ place.
Audible fumbling, the sound of a book being dropped, could be heard within the home. Muzhik marched casually toward the door, beside the chicken coop that greeted him rather loudly. They were well kept, better than some of the ones he saw back home even.
He stood himself up tall, but let it all calm and slack slightly with an honest exhale. Sometimes, it was easier to let all that extra tension just leave his body.
Matilde opened the door and she looked just as she did back in town. One of the local collaborators in Operation Buterbrod. She looked the part of a young intellectual. The nerdy girls’ hair was somewhat wild and with many natural curls in a strangely coordinated flurry. Her circular glasses guarded the brown eyes that often caught his and despite her relatively smallness, there was a great deal of adorableness regarding her.
She certainly had just gotten back from the university in town and still dressed rather
typically for the area. The modest skirt hid most of her legs and dress shoes had only some
slight hints of mud on them, as far as Muzhik could tell. The green, tall socks almost made him
wonder more about what her legs looked like beneath them.
Of course, it was rude for a man to stare at a lady in such a way, but the two have
shared more than one… ‘intellectual conversation’, outside of the obligations of the Operation
as well.
Mati was snug with a tannish turtleneck and a stitched sweater vest that somewhat showed the pudge at her abdomen with its clinging fit. However, skirt or not, Matilde had a very
pleasant softness to her hips and legs. Plump in the most sweet, decadent way that drove a man like Muzhik insane. Perhaps non-intellectuals would not notice, but to him, she was especially beautiful.
A tight package but hardly petite in all ways. While her womanly chest was small, he found that all the more alluringly cute as it almost emphasized the more she filled out from the
abdomen down.
Matilde, of course, could feel the foreign man’s eyes upon her modest, hidden shape and it made her wonder at times if the man somehow could… see through her clothes, some days.
“Muzhik…? Are you cold?” With a blushed face, she asked and brought her hand to her mouth nearly with some worry. “You look a bit red near the cheeks…” At least, that is what she could tell from what she barely saw of him. Really, the slight concealment of his face had a similar effect on her and she wished to peek behind the scarf, even if she was familiar with the
lips of the Siberian.
“A little cold never hurts…” He shrugged casually, oddly soft spoken. His eyes closed as he cocked his head with the shrug that audibly made his slung rifle cling against the gear fastened to his back. “Living out in the woods all the time makes one wish for more warmth.”
“Mmm… the junta really is searching everywhere for you…” Mati was worried, simple as that. “Please, come in, it's been a bit and Lovecraft wants to see you…”
“Eh?” Muzhik cocked his head further with an audible crack this time. “Lovecraft?”
“I-its just some silly name I had for him, c-come in!”
Even though this was the sort of abode where it was not entirely necessary to kick one’s boots off, he was still considerate enough to knock much of the water off of them and would happily remove them if so asked. Oddly, Mati never seemed to mind.
It was a modest home, hardly a shack. But her artistic and intellectual sensibilities were
very clear at a glance. Everywall had a shelf and an excess of literature. The nearby stove/oven
had a steady flame going to it and the room had the slightest amber hue to it in an oddly
warming way that made him comfortable, if not a little somniferious…
“Oh, t-thank you for not having the bayonet on this time…” Matilde mentioned, as it the ‘Pig Sticker’ bayonet certainly elongated the length of the already long rifle.
“Of course…” Muzhik glanced upward, where several holes and a long scrape in the roof barred the scars of what happened last time. “I will fix that…”
“Please… don’t worry. It is fine, it hasn’t… affected the integrity of anything…” To distract
herself from the interactions a bit, she grasped the book she was reading earlier from the floor
and the comfortable reading chair. Quickly, she was able to find where she had left off and she
bent the corner of the page, to return to it later. “I was just… doing some reading…”
Her voice fastened into itself tightly, almost defensively as Muzhik unslung the rifle and placed it carefully against a wall and the shelf. With a slight huff, he contemplated removing the jacket, but stopped himself and instead, lowered the scarf ever so slightly as he turned back to Mati. His gloved finger lightly padded against his lip as he bit it for a moment.
“I’ve really been missing you…”
Mati nearly dropped the book again, only to catch it and hold it close to her chest, almost
painfully so. “I-I… I’ve been… I’ve been wanting you to visit again and…”
The Siberian Soviet’s steps were nice and audible. A resonance of strength and also measured confidence, but humble enough to be nearly meek as he got closer to her. The height difference between the two was decently subtle. Her arms basically beckoned for his grasp.
And he would accommodate them with his touch. His gloves fingers lightly holding her at the elbows from behind. And naturally, even though it scared her, even though it made her swell with anxiousness, Mati leaned back into him… Proving to herself she was braver than she ever thought. With her back against him, she closed her eyes and reared her head back to him.
Muzhik gazed down at the mess of girls that was her head, before her glasses-clad face revealed itself with the warmest need to be kissed. Eyes closed, as if afraid of something that had shared so many times before…
Of course, he had no choice but to kiss her. And kiss her he did, lovingly and slowly. While there would always be the slightest bit of lust, Muzhik pressed his heart against his teeth as he put love to her lips.
Mati was shy, but far from pathetic. She allowed herself to be kissed and for her body to warm against him. Soon, his arms had become wrapped around her, his hands grasping her as she held onto the book.
Of all places, the war had brought two foreign hearts together as one and Muzhik wished he could hold her forever. Hug her forever. To be the mountain to always protect her too. To be the mountain that could never be conquered or traversed by any other, so that she could never
be conquered or traversed by any other as well.
It was beautiful how two people could embrace each other and be equally as possessive as one another. Love sometimes was selfish in the most unique way. As it often resulted in two people selfishly wanting each other for themselves and in this act of sharing this want, they created memories that could never become anything less than the stories worthy of literature.
And just then… he pulled away, as he saw a certain black cat stroll by with something in
its mouth. Surely, it had caught a mouse or some other rodent? No, it was just some small fish
from a tinned meal ration or something, upon closer inspection.
With Muzhik on the search for the black cat as it ran away from him, Mati was able to compose herself just enough to finally place the book where it belonged, on the nearest shelf. Although, she spent a considerable moment tasting her own lips and pressing her fingers against them.
She couldn’t believe today would be the day they finally take it further… or rather, the night she took it further. And she wanted it more than ever, as she felt her stomach tighten and twist inside of her.
“Ayyy… now, Lovecraft, is it?” Muzhik had followed the cat to a dresser where it had hidden itself deep behind it. “You mischievous thing… Nothing loving or crafty about you, you little curse.” The Siberian sighed. This cat had followed him all across the world and it was the one constant thing in his life. Yet, he never bothered to name it.
“I thought the name would be… appropriate…” Mati mentioned as she looked over her shoulder, hands folded into one another and kept close to her chest. “You say he… manifests wherever? Like a ghost almost?”
“Ha… well, you wouldn’t believe me if not for the fact you’ve seen it yourself…” Mused Muzhik as he tapped on the dresser’s top. “Lovecraft… going to at least come say hi?”
“Lovecraft is the name of this American author… he writes a lot of spooky… things. It just seemed to make sense and well-”
“I know, I know, it's weird. A good communist doesn’t believe in ghosts, ay?” Muzhik jabbed at himself and peered behind the dresser, only to see that Lovecraft had seemingly disappeared and left the little remnants of canned fish behind. Typical of him. “My grandmother must have been a witch or something… this cat haunts all the men in my family and it seems that he loves the attention of everyone else, but I’ve never had much of a chance to hold him…”
“P-Pining for his attention, a bit?” Muttered Mati, realizing that she was not too unlike that
cat. Wanting to be held, petted… protected and loved on. Pampered by him… Him and only him. “Muzhik… Why don’t you sit down and rest? You and the others have been chased all around lately…”
“Like a black cat, ay? I’m sure we are all just as unlucky and a bad omen too, tsch…” He was always in better spirits around her. Remarkably, the ‘Man of Ice’ that she knew him as initially, had melted considerably. Muzhik dusted himself off, even though there was hardly anything upon his body besides the aroma of the forest, before he sat down in the reading chair.
And for once, he slouched, rested an ankle on his knee and let his elbow lean at the armrest, with his partially obscured face rested against a closed fist. Mati blinked and felt herself
become somewhat flustered at the sight. He was like some introverted, yet gregarious king on a
throne. A man who carved his way through this world no matter how much it worked against him.
A king of nothing, who wanted nothing, but would surely devour any gifts given to him. A modest man whose greatest treasure was his heart and he wanted to share it with her. Yet, his eyes pulled away from her to the sets of shoes by the stove.
“Your family… still-”
“R-resisting? Yes…” Mati gulped and turned toward him fully. Even though she kept her hands behind her back somewhat. Her pudgy abdomen was still aimed at him and she kept a strong posture, all to empower herself some more - while directing her body language toward him. It was all things she read in that book just now before he arrived, after all… Fiction or otherwise, she was tired of reading these sorts of things in books and she was ready to feel them for herself. To write her own stories with her own body.
“I know you worry about everything t-too and…” Her face reddened even more, down to her neck. “Let’s forget everything for a bit… o-okay? I-I’m tired of worrying, I’m… I’m not wanting to worry for a little while…”
“Matilde…” Muzhik said her name with the grace of a sharp knife carving bread. Sharp, yet oddly satisfying. But really, it was the fact he could say so many unspoken, undyingly passionate words with his eyes alone - the most subtle of looks… that made her legs move on their own toward him.
Mati was unaware that she looked like warm butter sliding off a slice of bread and frankly… she was tired of there not being any kolbasa on the sandwich. That is why she quickly and deliberately marched up to him, until her cute little dress shoes were between his booted feet. She turned with an about-face, almost like a military facing movement and sat down in his lap.
“Muzhik… M-Muzhik, I’m your lady, y-you know?” Her hands gripped her knees and socks, her fingers tugged at them lightly and she… found herself grinding her plump ass against the man’s crotch. Audibly, her skirt scraped against his jacket and trousers and she… despite the layers, felt something harder. Perhaps it was already hard, but this was… the thing she was thinking of the most intently in this moment. “Muzhik… I’m… I’m your lady, right?”
And just like that, there was no room for meekness or shyness ever again. Muzhik widened his lap to all her to more effortlessly sit against him. His body never felt warmer as he wrapped his arms around her and slowly pressed her back against his wide torso.
“Yes, you are…” And he kissed at her neck, at first pressing his lips against the turtleneck. Mati squeezed like a mouse in his grasp, as his gloved hands felt her pudge through the sweaters. There was no shame in it, he felt and groped her for all the softness her body offered. “Mati, I… I’m your man, mhm…”
Matilde had no idea how it ended up like this. She sat in a Siberian man’s lap, this foreign agent who was assisting the Republicans and the International Column against the fascists… a hero to some, a monster to others. A villain especially to the junta. But, to her, he was her Muzhik. Her bear. Her protector. Her lover.
And his hands felt her small breasts, teasingly grasping at them lightly as he kissed more and more at her neck with wet kisses. Glancing her cheek and jaw with an audible lick. Soon to nibble lightly at her ear. Only to whisper into it with the sweetest of promises…
“I want to eat you, mmmm… I’m the wolf you wished for…” And indeed, he was. And ravenously, this man proved there was nothing timid about him. His teeth scraped so softly against her earlobe before he kissed her cheek again firmly. A gloved hand stroked her from the side, across her belly and back to her chest again, while the other traced her skirt. Soon, the embrace of his glove was felt against her skin. The warmth of her inner thigh was teased briefly, before he ran his appendages against her sock clad leg. “Mmm, I’m your Siberian wolf…”
Never did Muzhik ever think he would speak like this to a lady, let alone someone as innocent as Mati. But she encouraged the most animalistic and feral, ironically… human part of him, in a way that was hard to describe. All he knew was that he was glad to let himself lead with emotion and want - not just purely secular, analytical process and pre-determination in accordance to some set of ideals or the other.
He was never much of a prude, admittingly - but he surely felt less restrained than ever. Not following any conduct or rules, he just wanted to feel this woman that he loved and to taste her. To be tasted. To eat, devour, excite and enjoy… He was not a hedon, this was simply the human side of love that reminded one that humans were animals too.
“Mmm, I’m… your lady?!” Mati did not know how to match him in words, but the way she moved her hips against him, how her plump thighs brushed further against his crotch and the growing bulge… Her actions would be more than enough. “Muzhik, I’m your lady-” She gasped, before their mouths met once again.
Her hands did their best to reach back to him, to wrap around his head and nearly knock his ushanka off. Already, a light bit of sweat had formed on them both, for a multitude of reasons.
Muzhik brought an arm across her chest suddenly, which made her squeak like a mouse as he suddenly pulled down the scarf some more, so that he may bite the tip of the gloved middle finger. With his teeth, he dragged the glove off and his bare hand, eager to feel her more intimately, did just that. Feeling her breasts through the layers of clothes, before trailing down to grab at the end of her sweaters.
“I want to taste you more…”
“T-taste me, then~!”
His one still gloved hand leaned her leg further over his own and stroked the shape of her inner thigh teasingly. The sock gradually lowered, but still, tauntingly, he did not touch her so
intimately just yet. Muzhik instead, pulled her sweaters slowly over her belly.
“It's cute…”
“My belly?”
“Yes…”
“It's… a little pudgy, h-huh?”
“I love it.”
“You do?”
With his hand beneath her clothes, he lovingly felt and caressed her excess softness. There was a loving way he grabbed at her pudge, a mix of admiration and genuine attraction. A lady with some extra meat to her clearly made him happy.
“I-it's not bad?”
“I love it, I said…”
“Oh… g-good, I don’t mind having it-”
“It makes you tastier…”
“Oh…”
Mati never thought of herself as delicious, but she felt his actions further confirmed by words. Longingly, lovingly and with some intense intention, his hand flowed up her body - but
only after it had groped every sweet part of her tummy and just above her hips. Meanwhile, their
kissing had gotten incredibly more audible, more wet. Muzhik’s tongue glided over lips a few times and briefly, she would flick her warm, pink tongue against his.
In between the exchange of the making out that thoroughly explored one another’s mouths, Muzhik would lightly nibble at her bottom lip and playfully bite her top, but never enough to hurt. At times, he’d merely drag the texture of his teeth softly against them and then smear her tongue with his again.
“Mghhhlk…”
“Schmmm…”
The two had shared their mouths so thoroughly, having tasted each other's tongues so intimately, that it felt weird when their lips were apart as well. The two devoured each other, even though Mati mostly just did her best to keep up with what Muzhik chose to dictate for the pace. Which was passionate and enough to warm each other’s faces.
Matilde did not wear a bra, it was found quickly. But she felt his hand certainly gave her
breasts the ample support she always wanted. To feel Muzhik’s grasp on her, it made her moan
lightly as eventually, her chest was exposed fully to him for the first time, her sweaters folded
thickly just near her clavicles.
“Mmmm, so cute…” Remarked Muzhik as he felt both of them firmly, but with consideration to how much he actually kneaded them. Her skin was so soft, so delicately soft to the touch and his hands, remarkably soft as well, made Mati bite the inside of her cheek briefly at the attention. “I want to taste them as much as I can…” Promised Muzhik as he let her nipples glide against the inside of his palm.
“Please, p-please, you can taste them…”
“And if I want to bite…?”
“Mmm… a l-little?!” God knew that Matilde just wanted all the attention in the world onthem from him.
To further tease her, however, Muzhik returned the gloved hand to his face to bite at the tip of the finger again, to drag the glove off and to then swipe it away to the floor, in the way a wolf would rip meat from a bone.
Both of the Siberian’s hands worked her tits, feeling them, cupping them, squeezing them and generally enjoying their softness with intense arousal. His own dick hardened beneath her ass below, all while her nipples reacted favorable to his touch.
Both of her erect nipples received dedicating attention, as Muzhik pinched them first and ‘tuned’ them back and forth, as well as giving them light pulling. To Muzhik, he honestly enjoyed
this more than sex itself, to a degree. This
modest aspect of her womanhood felt so pleasant to
pat over, rub and pamper. Her nipples were the same colour as the lips he was still transfixed
with, by pressing his own over them again and again.
“I’m going to suck your tits…” He promised again.
“And then I am going to make love to you…”
“O-oh…” Mati was a virgin who had only masturbated, who had only felt herself
externally and never penetrated herself beyond a finger before. Yet, she felt especially brave,
empowered and eager to receive this attention from the man she sat on - whose heated body
and heated embrace made her wet lightly between the legs. “M-make love, n-not fuck me…?”
“Both, I am going to make love and fuck you…” Muzhik bit her neck lightly. “Ahhh…
Matilde…”
“M-Muzhik…”
Suddenly, his right hand trailed down her torso again and found her pudge, giving it a loving embrace and pinch. Her smooth skin and how it filled his palm, that was truly bliss. But
his hand sought something else, something intimate. Over her skirt, he traced the shape before he reached underneath and felt the warmth of her inner leg.
“O-hhohum… Muzhik…”
“So warm there…” He gripped the softness of her thigh as he lovingly did everything else. Her plump ass flexed beneath him briefly, but once untightened, her softness melted over him again in a comfortable manner. Blatantly, his fingers now touched her panties and enjoyed the pleasant texture of them, as well as noticing the bundle of natural hairs just beneath and above her happy valley. “Mmmm… A little moist…”
His finger rested against her intimate parts, the slit concealed by the fabric of her panties, before he kissed her again and ran the length of a finger along the crevice. She shivered. She squirmed. She rocked her hips against his hardened cock and once his mouth left her lips, it aimed straight for her breasts.
“They look so good…” Muzhik remarked, his tongue flicking against a nipple he had played with thoroughly. His other hand was sure to knead her breast a little, before the other nipple was grasped in a tight pinch. The pad of his thumb and his index would roll it, as we all as pulled at slightly. But it was his tongue that made her squeak some more, as Muzhik gave the other erect nipple some love.
Muzhik sucked at her breast, all while padding her slit and making her more and more wet. All while Mati closed her eyes and let her face redden, let her body warm further so. Her toes curled and dug against the insides of her shoes, as her limbs naturally folded back toward Muzhik. And for whatever reason, she began to rock and rub her hips against his own pelvic region more. Until, rather perfectly, the bulge in his trousers was positioned right below her concealed womanhood.
There was no mistaking the sound, Muzhik sucked audibly at her tit and exchanged to the other one somewhat frequently. Both of them had been layered in his saliva and the Siberian man had both sucked, licked, traced and prodded the nipples with his tongue until their pink colour had become more red.
Meanwhile, his finger got more and more moist, as he had traced the entrance to her pussy with further ambition. After her breasts were practically devoured by the man and he had
solidly ensured they were stickily wet with his saliva, he brought the slit-focused fingers to his own mouth to taste her.
He fastened his ushanka and lowered the ears, a scarf pulled up to his nose. But dammit all, if he exerted himself too much, then his glasses would fog. The only downside to them. Yet, it was not worth risking discarding them when it came to the necessity of some accurate shooting. His Mosin Nagant rifle was without a scope, either way. The last thing anyone needed to see was another sun glint to give away his position.
With binoculars in hand, rifle slung over a shoulder, Muzhik stepped over some rough terrain that was dotted with collapsed trees. The meeting spot was just up ahead now. A small home in the woods, but hardly one that looked like a Baba Yaga lived there.
It would rain soon, he knew as a few droplets hit his lenses. Muzhik was like a predator from the woods, as he navigated the branches and all of its bundles. He stepped off from a stump and finally felt the wet crunch of some grass beneath his valenki.
The warmth of familiarity and excitement had made the rest of the process easy. With a
loud clearing of his throat, he began to stomp through the wet grass to further clarify his sudden emergence in this ‘secret’ place.
Audible fumbling, the sound of a book being dropped, could be heard within the home. Muzhik marched casually toward the door, beside the chicken coop that greeted him rather loudly. They were well kept, better than some of the ones he saw back home even.
He stood himself up tall, but let it all calm and slack slightly with an honest exhale. Sometimes, it was easier to let all that extra tension just leave his body.
Matilde opened the door and she looked just as she did back in town. One of the local collaborators in Operation Buterbrod. She looked the part of a young intellectual. The nerdy girls’ hair was somewhat wild and with many natural curls in a strangely coordinated flurry. Her circular glasses guarded the brown eyes that often caught his and despite her relatively smallness, there was a great deal of adorableness regarding her.
She certainly had just gotten back from the university in town and still dressed rather
typically for the area. The modest skirt hid most of her legs and dress shoes had only some
slight hints of mud on them, as far as Muzhik could tell. The green, tall socks almost made him
wonder more about what her legs looked like beneath them.
Of course, it was rude for a man to stare at a lady in such a way, but the two have
shared more than one… ‘intellectual conversation’, outside of the obligations of the Operation
as well.
Mati was snug with a tannish turtleneck and a stitched sweater vest that somewhat showed the pudge at her abdomen with its clinging fit. However, skirt or not, Matilde had a very
pleasant softness to her hips and legs. Plump in the most sweet, decadent way that drove a man like Muzhik insane. Perhaps non-intellectuals would not notice, but to him, she was especially beautiful.
A tight package but hardly petite in all ways. While her womanly chest was small, he found that all the more alluringly cute as it almost emphasized the more she filled out from the
abdomen down.
Matilde, of course, could feel the foreign man’s eyes upon her modest, hidden shape and it made her wonder at times if the man somehow could… see through her clothes, some days.
“Muzhik…? Are you cold?” With a blushed face, she asked and brought her hand to her mouth nearly with some worry. “You look a bit red near the cheeks…” At least, that is what she could tell from what she barely saw of him. Really, the slight concealment of his face had a similar effect on her and she wished to peek behind the scarf, even if she was familiar with the
lips of the Siberian.
“A little cold never hurts…” He shrugged casually, oddly soft spoken. His eyes closed as he cocked his head with the shrug that audibly made his slung rifle cling against the gear fastened to his back. “Living out in the woods all the time makes one wish for more warmth.”
“Mmm… the junta really is searching everywhere for you…” Mati was worried, simple as that. “Please, come in, it's been a bit and Lovecraft wants to see you…”
“Eh?” Muzhik cocked his head further with an audible crack this time. “Lovecraft?”
“I-its just some silly name I had for him, c-come in!”
Even though this was the sort of abode where it was not entirely necessary to kick one’s boots off, he was still considerate enough to knock much of the water off of them and would happily remove them if so asked. Oddly, Mati never seemed to mind.
It was a modest home, hardly a shack. But her artistic and intellectual sensibilities were
very clear at a glance. Everywall had a shelf and an excess of literature. The nearby stove/oven
had a steady flame going to it and the room had the slightest amber hue to it in an oddly
warming way that made him comfortable, if not a little somniferious…
“Oh, t-thank you for not having the bayonet on this time…” Matilde mentioned, as it the ‘Pig Sticker’ bayonet certainly elongated the length of the already long rifle.
“Of course…” Muzhik glanced upward, where several holes and a long scrape in the roof barred the scars of what happened last time. “I will fix that…”
“Please… don’t worry. It is fine, it hasn’t… affected the integrity of anything…” To distract
herself from the interactions a bit, she grasped the book she was reading earlier from the floor
and the comfortable reading chair. Quickly, she was able to find where she had left off and she
bent the corner of the page, to return to it later. “I was just… doing some reading…”
Her voice fastened into itself tightly, almost defensively as Muzhik unslung the rifle and placed it carefully against a wall and the shelf. With a slight huff, he contemplated removing the jacket, but stopped himself and instead, lowered the scarf ever so slightly as he turned back to Mati. His gloved finger lightly padded against his lip as he bit it for a moment.
“I’ve really been missing you…”
Mati nearly dropped the book again, only to catch it and hold it close to her chest, almost
painfully so. “I-I… I’ve been… I’ve been wanting you to visit again and…”
The Siberian Soviet’s steps were nice and audible. A resonance of strength and also measured confidence, but humble enough to be nearly meek as he got closer to her. The height difference between the two was decently subtle. Her arms basically beckoned for his grasp.
And he would accommodate them with his touch. His gloves fingers lightly holding her at the elbows from behind. And naturally, even though it scared her, even though it made her swell with anxiousness, Mati leaned back into him… Proving to herself she was braver than she ever thought. With her back against him, she closed her eyes and reared her head back to him.
Muzhik gazed down at the mess of girls that was her head, before her glasses-clad face revealed itself with the warmest need to be kissed. Eyes closed, as if afraid of something that had shared so many times before…
Of course, he had no choice but to kiss her. And kiss her he did, lovingly and slowly. While there would always be the slightest bit of lust, Muzhik pressed his heart against his teeth as he put love to her lips.
Mati was shy, but far from pathetic. She allowed herself to be kissed and for her body to warm against him. Soon, his arms had become wrapped around her, his hands grasping her as she held onto the book.
Of all places, the war had brought two foreign hearts together as one and Muzhik wished he could hold her forever. Hug her forever. To be the mountain to always protect her too. To be the mountain that could never be conquered or traversed by any other, so that she could never
be conquered or traversed by any other as well.
It was beautiful how two people could embrace each other and be equally as possessive as one another. Love sometimes was selfish in the most unique way. As it often resulted in two people selfishly wanting each other for themselves and in this act of sharing this want, they created memories that could never become anything less than the stories worthy of literature.
And just then… he pulled away, as he saw a certain black cat stroll by with something in
its mouth. Surely, it had caught a mouse or some other rodent? No, it was just some small fish
from a tinned meal ration or something, upon closer inspection.
With Muzhik on the search for the black cat as it ran away from him, Mati was able to compose herself just enough to finally place the book where it belonged, on the nearest shelf. Although, she spent a considerable moment tasting her own lips and pressing her fingers against them.
She couldn’t believe today would be the day they finally take it further… or rather, the night she took it further. And she wanted it more than ever, as she felt her stomach tighten and twist inside of her.
“Ayyy… now, Lovecraft, is it?” Muzhik had followed the cat to a dresser where it had hidden itself deep behind it. “You mischievous thing… Nothing loving or crafty about you, you little curse.” The Siberian sighed. This cat had followed him all across the world and it was the one constant thing in his life. Yet, he never bothered to name it.
“I thought the name would be… appropriate…” Mati mentioned as she looked over her shoulder, hands folded into one another and kept close to her chest. “You say he… manifests wherever? Like a ghost almost?”
“Ha… well, you wouldn’t believe me if not for the fact you’ve seen it yourself…” Mused Muzhik as he tapped on the dresser’s top. “Lovecraft… going to at least come say hi?”
“Lovecraft is the name of this American author… he writes a lot of spooky… things. It just seemed to make sense and well-”
“I know, I know, it's weird. A good communist doesn’t believe in ghosts, ay?” Muzhik jabbed at himself and peered behind the dresser, only to see that Lovecraft had seemingly disappeared and left the little remnants of canned fish behind. Typical of him. “My grandmother must have been a witch or something… this cat haunts all the men in my family and it seems that he loves the attention of everyone else, but I’ve never had much of a chance to hold him…”
“P-Pining for his attention, a bit?” Muttered Mati, realizing that she was not too unlike that
cat. Wanting to be held, petted… protected and loved on. Pampered by him… Him and only him. “Muzhik… Why don’t you sit down and rest? You and the others have been chased all around lately…”
“Like a black cat, ay? I’m sure we are all just as unlucky and a bad omen too, tsch…” He was always in better spirits around her. Remarkably, the ‘Man of Ice’ that she knew him as initially, had melted considerably. Muzhik dusted himself off, even though there was hardly anything upon his body besides the aroma of the forest, before he sat down in the reading chair.
And for once, he slouched, rested an ankle on his knee and let his elbow lean at the armrest, with his partially obscured face rested against a closed fist. Mati blinked and felt herself
become somewhat flustered at the sight. He was like some introverted, yet gregarious king on a
throne. A man who carved his way through this world no matter how much it worked against him.
A king of nothing, who wanted nothing, but would surely devour any gifts given to him. A modest man whose greatest treasure was his heart and he wanted to share it with her. Yet, his eyes pulled away from her to the sets of shoes by the stove.
“Your family… still-”
“R-resisting? Yes…” Mati gulped and turned toward him fully. Even though she kept her hands behind her back somewhat. Her pudgy abdomen was still aimed at him and she kept a strong posture, all to empower herself some more - while directing her body language toward him. It was all things she read in that book just now before he arrived, after all… Fiction or otherwise, she was tired of reading these sorts of things in books and she was ready to feel them for herself. To write her own stories with her own body.
“I know you worry about everything t-too and…” Her face reddened even more, down to her neck. “Let’s forget everything for a bit… o-okay? I-I’m tired of worrying, I’m… I’m not wanting to worry for a little while…”
“Matilde…” Muzhik said her name with the grace of a sharp knife carving bread. Sharp, yet oddly satisfying. But really, it was the fact he could say so many unspoken, undyingly passionate words with his eyes alone - the most subtle of looks… that made her legs move on their own toward him.
Mati was unaware that she looked like warm butter sliding off a slice of bread and frankly… she was tired of there not being any kolbasa on the sandwich. That is why she quickly and deliberately marched up to him, until her cute little dress shoes were between his booted feet. She turned with an about-face, almost like a military facing movement and sat down in his lap.
“Muzhik… M-Muzhik, I’m your lady, y-you know?” Her hands gripped her knees and socks, her fingers tugged at them lightly and she… found herself grinding her plump ass against the man’s crotch. Audibly, her skirt scraped against his jacket and trousers and she… despite the layers, felt something harder. Perhaps it was already hard, but this was… the thing she was thinking of the most intently in this moment. “Muzhik… I’m… I’m your lady, right?”
And just like that, there was no room for meekness or shyness ever again. Muzhik widened his lap to all her to more effortlessly sit against him. His body never felt warmer as he wrapped his arms around her and slowly pressed her back against his wide torso.
“Yes, you are…” And he kissed at her neck, at first pressing his lips against the turtleneck. Mati squeezed like a mouse in his grasp, as his gloved hands felt her pudge through the sweaters. There was no shame in it, he felt and groped her for all the softness her body offered. “Mati, I… I’m your man, mhm…”
Matilde had no idea how it ended up like this. She sat in a Siberian man’s lap, this foreign agent who was assisting the Republicans and the International Column against the fascists… a hero to some, a monster to others. A villain especially to the junta. But, to her, he was her Muzhik. Her bear. Her protector. Her lover.
And his hands felt her small breasts, teasingly grasping at them lightly as he kissed more and more at her neck with wet kisses. Glancing her cheek and jaw with an audible lick. Soon to nibble lightly at her ear. Only to whisper into it with the sweetest of promises…
“I want to eat you, mmmm… I’m the wolf you wished for…” And indeed, he was. And ravenously, this man proved there was nothing timid about him. His teeth scraped so softly against her earlobe before he kissed her cheek again firmly. A gloved hand stroked her from the side, across her belly and back to her chest again, while the other traced her skirt. Soon, the embrace of his glove was felt against her skin. The warmth of her inner thigh was teased briefly, before he ran his appendages against her sock clad leg. “Mmm, I’m your Siberian wolf…”
Never did Muzhik ever think he would speak like this to a lady, let alone someone as innocent as Mati. But she encouraged the most animalistic and feral, ironically… human part of him, in a way that was hard to describe. All he knew was that he was glad to let himself lead with emotion and want - not just purely secular, analytical process and pre-determination in accordance to some set of ideals or the other.
He was never much of a prude, admittingly - but he surely felt less restrained than ever. Not following any conduct or rules, he just wanted to feel this woman that he loved and to taste her. To be tasted. To eat, devour, excite and enjoy… He was not a hedon, this was simply the human side of love that reminded one that humans were animals too.
“Mmm, I’m… your lady?!” Mati did not know how to match him in words, but the way she moved her hips against him, how her plump thighs brushed further against his crotch and the growing bulge… Her actions would be more than enough. “Muzhik, I’m your lady-” She gasped, before their mouths met once again.
Her hands did their best to reach back to him, to wrap around his head and nearly knock his ushanka off. Already, a light bit of sweat had formed on them both, for a multitude of reasons.
Muzhik brought an arm across her chest suddenly, which made her squeak like a mouse as he suddenly pulled down the scarf some more, so that he may bite the tip of the gloved middle finger. With his teeth, he dragged the glove off and his bare hand, eager to feel her more intimately, did just that. Feeling her breasts through the layers of clothes, before trailing down to grab at the end of her sweaters.
“I want to taste you more…”
“T-taste me, then~!”
His one still gloved hand leaned her leg further over his own and stroked the shape of her inner thigh teasingly. The sock gradually lowered, but still, tauntingly, he did not touch her so
intimately just yet. Muzhik instead, pulled her sweaters slowly over her belly.
“It's cute…”
“My belly?”
“Yes…”
“It's… a little pudgy, h-huh?”
“I love it.”
“You do?”
With his hand beneath her clothes, he lovingly felt and caressed her excess softness. There was a loving way he grabbed at her pudge, a mix of admiration and genuine attraction. A lady with some extra meat to her clearly made him happy.
“I-it's not bad?”
“I love it, I said…”
“Oh… g-good, I don’t mind having it-”
“It makes you tastier…”
“Oh…”
Mati never thought of herself as delicious, but she felt his actions further confirmed by words. Longingly, lovingly and with some intense intention, his hand flowed up her body - but
only after it had groped every sweet part of her tummy and just above her hips. Meanwhile, their
kissing had gotten incredibly more audible, more wet. Muzhik’s tongue glided over lips a few times and briefly, she would flick her warm, pink tongue against his.
In between the exchange of the making out that thoroughly explored one another’s mouths, Muzhik would lightly nibble at her bottom lip and playfully bite her top, but never enough to hurt. At times, he’d merely drag the texture of his teeth softly against them and then smear her tongue with his again.
“Mghhhlk…”
“Schmmm…”
The two had shared their mouths so thoroughly, having tasted each other's tongues so intimately, that it felt weird when their lips were apart as well. The two devoured each other, even though Mati mostly just did her best to keep up with what Muzhik chose to dictate for the pace. Which was passionate and enough to warm each other’s faces.
Matilde did not wear a bra, it was found quickly. But she felt his hand certainly gave her
breasts the ample support she always wanted. To feel Muzhik’s grasp on her, it made her moan
lightly as eventually, her chest was exposed fully to him for the first time, her sweaters folded
thickly just near her clavicles.
“Mmmm, so cute…” Remarked Muzhik as he felt both of them firmly, but with consideration to how much he actually kneaded them. Her skin was so soft, so delicately soft to the touch and his hands, remarkably soft as well, made Mati bite the inside of her cheek briefly at the attention. “I want to taste them as much as I can…” Promised Muzhik as he let her nipples glide against the inside of his palm.
“Please, p-please, you can taste them…”
“And if I want to bite…?”
“Mmm… a l-little?!” God knew that Matilde just wanted all the attention in the world onthem from him.
To further tease her, however, Muzhik returned the gloved hand to his face to bite at the tip of the finger again, to drag the glove off and to then swipe it away to the floor, in the way a wolf would rip meat from a bone.
Both of the Siberian’s hands worked her tits, feeling them, cupping them, squeezing them and generally enjoying their softness with intense arousal. His own dick hardened beneath her ass below, all while her nipples reacted favorable to his touch.
Both of her erect nipples received dedicating attention, as Muzhik pinched them first and ‘tuned’ them back and forth, as well as giving them light pulling. To Muzhik, he honestly enjoyed
this more than sex itself, to a degree. This
modest aspect of her womanhood felt so pleasant to
pat over, rub and pamper. Her nipples were the same colour as the lips he was still transfixed
with, by pressing his own over them again and again.
“I’m going to suck your tits…” He promised again.
“And then I am going to make love to you…”
“O-oh…” Mati was a virgin who had only masturbated, who had only felt herself
externally and never penetrated herself beyond a finger before. Yet, she felt especially brave,
empowered and eager to receive this attention from the man she sat on - whose heated body
and heated embrace made her wet lightly between the legs. “M-make love, n-not fuck me…?”
“Both, I am going to make love and fuck you…” Muzhik bit her neck lightly. “Ahhh…
Matilde…”
“M-Muzhik…”
Suddenly, his right hand trailed down her torso again and found her pudge, giving it a loving embrace and pinch. Her smooth skin and how it filled his palm, that was truly bliss. But
his hand sought something else, something intimate. Over her skirt, he traced the shape before he reached underneath and felt the warmth of her inner leg.
“O-hhohum… Muzhik…”
“So warm there…” He gripped the softness of her thigh as he lovingly did everything else. Her plump ass flexed beneath him briefly, but once untightened, her softness melted over him again in a comfortable manner. Blatantly, his fingers now touched her panties and enjoyed the pleasant texture of them, as well as noticing the bundle of natural hairs just beneath and above her happy valley. “Mmmm… A little moist…”
His finger rested against her intimate parts, the slit concealed by the fabric of her panties, before he kissed her again and ran the length of a finger along the crevice. She shivered. She squirmed. She rocked her hips against his hardened cock and once his mouth left her lips, it aimed straight for her breasts.
“They look so good…” Muzhik remarked, his tongue flicking against a nipple he had played with thoroughly. His other hand was sure to knead her breast a little, before the other nipple was grasped in a tight pinch. The pad of his thumb and his index would roll it, as we all as pulled at slightly. But it was his tongue that made her squeak some more, as Muzhik gave the other erect nipple some love.
Muzhik sucked at her breast, all while padding her slit and making her more and more wet. All while Mati closed her eyes and let her face redden, let her body warm further so. Her toes curled and dug against the insides of her shoes, as her limbs naturally folded back toward Muzhik. And for whatever reason, she began to rock and rub her hips against his own pelvic region more. Until, rather perfectly, the bulge in his trousers was positioned right below her concealed womanhood.
There was no mistaking the sound, Muzhik sucked audibly at her tit and exchanged to the other one somewhat frequently. Both of them had been layered in his saliva and the Siberian man had both sucked, licked, traced and prodded the nipples with his tongue until their pink colour had become more red.
Meanwhile, his finger got more and more moist, as he had traced the entrance to her pussy with further ambition. After her breasts were practically devoured by the man and he had
solidly ensured they were stickily wet with his saliva, he brought the slit-focused fingers to his own mouth to taste her.