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Three weeks into the ‘partnership’ with Ron things were going smoothly. I had caught up with some of my old customers, and made a sweet new friend in Ginny. Ron took care of all the phone work, so my job was easy. We talked late every afternoon to plan out the next day, and things were rolling along nicely.
“Hey buddy,” his friendly voice crackled through the cell phone. “Got a new customer. I’m in the middle of the Miller job, so you get the honors.”
The next morning I pulled in to an almost nonexistent driveway and shut off my engine. The yard was overgrown, and the house looked like it was crumbling. The siding looked like it had been scraped for paint two or three decades ago, never painted and left to weather, and it was hidden behind two big cedar trees that had started out as shrubs on either side of the front steps. They were concealing most of the house, and rubbing against the siding, wearing the wood away when the wind blew. Three cats were prowling around when a woman in an apron came out the unpainted and faded front door.
“You are handy?” she asked in a thick accent that sounded like Russian.
“Handyman, yes,” I said. “Steve Mills. I work with Ron.”
“Good, yes,” she said. “Lot work for you.”
Her name was Zoya, and as I was to find out, she was a Russian mail order bride. The man who had sent for her and married her was an eccentric old gentleman who had lived alone his whole life and decided he wanted a woman to call his own before he died. I’m not sure how long he lasted, or how long they were married, but he died a month before Zoya called Ron and me. She wanted to be able to sell the house when the estate was finalized, but it had some problems the realtor told her she needed to fix first. She walked me around and showed me a few things.
“They say safety issue,” she said in her charming broken English, pointing out the wooden back steps which were completely rotted. “Can you fix nice?”
“Sure I can build some new steps. Something simple since you’re gonna sell the place, right?”
“Yes, simple, yes,” she said.
She showed me a broken basement window where the cats were coming and going, and a wobbly railing on the staircase to the second floor.
“They also say I need smoke dektors. What is that smoke dektors?” she asked.
“Smoke detectors,” I said. “They’re electronic devices that go on the ceiling that set off an alarm if you have a fire.”
“Okay, yes, smoke dektors,” she said, “I need. They said more, but only this things I have to have.”
“Okay,” I said. “Let me make a list and go pick up some supplies, and I’ll be back in about an hour to get started.”
I went to the nearby home center and picked up what I needed, and drove back to the decrepit old house. I got started on the back steps, and the spring day was warm. When I’d worked up a sweat I took off my shirt and let the sun bake into my fading winter tan, which had reached its peak on the beach with Becka in Fort Lauderdale. After an hour or so Zoya came out to see me.
“I cook you lunch?” she asked with her first nice smile.
“Yes, thank you, that would be nice,” I said, güvenilir bahis smiling back at her.
She held my gaze for longer than I expected, and turned and disappeared into the house. Half an hour later wonderful smells drifted out of the open windows, and my stomach started growling. Half an hour after that Zoya came out to get me.
She watched me pull my shirt on and I went in the house with her. She sat me down at a small metal topped table in the kitchen and fed me cabbage soup and small meat pie things she called ‘pirozhki,’ with a delicious meat and vegetable filling. She didn’t sit down with me at first.
“Aren’t you eating?” I asked as she hovered over the stove, watching to see if I liked what she gave me.
“No, you eat all,” she said.
“I’d like you to join me,” I said. “It’s delicious, but there’s way more than I can eat.”
“A Russian big like you would eat all,” she said with a sly smile, and she reluctantly sat down with me and took a pirozhki for herself.
“This is the best lunch anybody’s ever made for me,” I said, lying a little as I thought back to Chrissy’s wonderful lunches which were equally good.
Zoya smiled, and I smiled back. She was a beautiful woman, in her late twenties, with the full body of someone who’d eaten a lot of this kind of heavy cooking. Nicely curvy though, although her big apron had concealed a lot of her since I had gotten there. If the photograph the old gentleman had chosen her from was of her shining face, I could certainly understand why he picked her. But I’m guessing the picture showed at least some cleavage, which I was pretty sure was immense and lovely based on the way the apron draped over her.
“More shchi?” she asked, gesturing at the soup bowl.
“No thank you,” I said. “It’s delicious though, very good.”
As we ate we talked a little bit about her life here, and the whole ‘mail order bride’ thing.
“It was scary, yes,” she said. “My family thought crazy. But it’s good . . . it was good.”
“Your husband was good to you?” I asked.
“Oh yes, good,” she said. “Very good gentleman. Old though. Not any . . . how you say . . . playtime.” She smiled nervously and looked down at her plate.
“Was that difficult?” I asked, worried I was getting to personal.
“I got use to,” she said, looking a bit wistful.
She got up and brought a plate over from the counter and set it down next to me. It looked like some sort of a cake type thing with a cheesecake like filling in the middle.
“Vatrushka,” she said with a lovely roll of the tongue, and she cut me a big piece.
I learned one thing that day — the old gentleman she was married to didn’t die of starvation. I got up from the table and thanked her, and she looked up at me.
“You are big like some Russians I used to know,” she said with a little smile and a twinkle in her eye.
I went back to work, shirtless again in the warm spring sun, and could hear Voya washing dishes and pots and pans as I put her new steps together. At one point, when she had moved on to another room, I could hear her singing a Russian song. It was very faint and I’m türkçe bahis sure she didn’t realize I could hear her.
A while later she came out to see how I was doing, and she had changed her clothes. Gone was the frumpy old dress covered up with the big apron. Instead she had on another casual day dress, this one belted to show the ample curve of her hips, and the cleavage I envisioned was on full display. Not overly so — it was tastefully shown off — but it was indeed a place a man could get lost in.
“Don’t you look nice!” I said with a smile. “As beautiful as this nice spring day.”
She smiled shyly. “You get sunburn on shoulder,” she said. “I get something.”
She scurried off and came back with a tube of sunscreen.
“Thank you,” I said, and I reached out for it.
“I do for you,” she said.
She came up behind me and squirted some of the cool lotion on each of my shoulders and started to massage it in. Soon she was down my back, and then her hands came around my sides and up onto my chest.
“Okay?” she asked quietly.
“Yes, very okay,” I said, and I felt her body press against my back as she continued the chest massage.
When she slowed I turned to face her and she looked up at me hopefully.
“Playtime?” I asked quietly.
She just about melted into me, as if it was a word she’d waited a lifetime to hear.
I kissed her gently, and her kiss back to me quickly grew in intensity. It seemed as if she was ravenously trying to consume my mouth and face. The woman clearly had a huge appetite waiting to be satisfied, and I sensed some fireworks ready to explode.
She hiked-up her dress and squatted, giving me a glimpse of her plain white panties, and she went to work unfastening my pants, saying something in Russian as she did it. We were out in the open in the backyard, but the landscaping was so overgrown it was quite private even though we were surrounded by other houses.
She exclaimed something in Russian when my cock made its appearance, and she looked up at me with a happy glint in her eyes right before engulfing me in her hungry mouth. She consumed my big hard cock like a starving woman.
“Big like Russian friend,” she said at one point, but there was very little talking — she didn’t want to take the time.
“We fuck, yes?” she asked hopefully when she had gotten her fill.
“Yes,” I said, nodding and smiling at the lovely voracious woman looking up at me.
She started unbuttoning her dress and it was open to the waist by the time she stood. She flicked open the belt, deftly opened the lower buttons, and the dress fell to the ground. Her body was the very definition of ‘rubenesque’ — overweight by today’s standards, yes, but smooth and curvy and extraordinarily womanly. She smiled when she saw the pleased look on my face. Her tits were huge, and as natural as the clouds in the sky. For the time being they remained caged in her every-day white bra as she slipped off her cotton panties and bent over with her hands on the new steps I was building. Her ass was full and round, and her pink pussy was big-lipped and seemed to draw me in. She was so wet güvenilir bahis siteleri I slipped in easily, but it was a nice tight place to play, and felt incredible.
“Oh Ya! . . . Ya! . . . Ya!” she exclaimed loudly as I entered and started a slow fuck.
More Russian words poured from her mouth, often quite loud, and she seemed unconcerned about any neighbors hearing her in her heightened state of arousal. I fucked Zoya hard, with my hands on her fleshy hips, our bodies slapping together loudly as my hard piston cleaned the rust out of her freshly oiled cylinder.
“YA! . . . YA! . . . YA!” she yelled, loud enough to be heard a block away.
I kept up the pace and her “YA!’s” got quieter until she was grunting them through clenched teeth, and she finally came with a deep, powerful grunt that nearly shook the ground.
I continued to thrust into her slowly, and more Russian words were uttered, breathlessly this time. She slipped off of my cock, turned around and was on her knees, sucking my hard meat into her eager mouth again, every bit as hungry as before, if not more so.
I reached behind her and opened the clasp on her bra, which sprung open like a rubber band as her tits expanded to their natural state. Her nipples were huge and hard, with soft pink areolas as big in diameter as a baseball.
She tugged at my hand and rolled onto the grass next to me, her beautiful big tits oozing slightly off the sides of her as she lay on her back. I quickly stripped off my work boots and pants, and dove into her glistening pussy for my own feast, my tongue finding her hot spots and lifting her back up to the clouds.
“Oh Ya!” she said again as she began her journey. “Is good! . . . Is good!”
She came again, quietly mumbling something in Russian with her legs vibrating in the air.
Zoya smiled at me sweetly as she regained her composure. My hands couldn’t resist playing with her tits, and I sucked a big nipple into my mouth making her moan.
“You like here?” she said, running two fingers between her tits, seeming to mimic a tit fuck.
“I do” I said, smiling, and her smile grew.
I straddled her above the waist and she took my rock hard meat and squeezed it between her supremely soft globes. She spit on her hand to lubricate things and smiled up at me before returning her gaze to the action, watching as my big cock thrust out between her tightly squeezed tits. I was quickly reaching the point of no return when she positioned her mouth so I slid onto her tongue at the end of each thrust. I came hard, pumping streams of hot cream onto her shining face and into her hungry mouth.
“She mumbled something in Russian as she tasted my cum and swallowed it, a look of pure bliss radiating across her pretty, cum splattered face. She took the tip of my cock into her mouth and sucked me dry.
Just then a neighborhood boy came around the corner of her house, only ten feet away from us, pushing a lawnmower with one hand, and holding a can of gas in the other. He froze when he saw us, and Zoya and I froze too.
“Sorry!” he said after a long look at his cum splattered neighbor, and he turned and pulled the lawnmower back out of sight.
Zoya threw her head back onto the soft grass and started laughing, a wonderful, hearty laugh that drifted up toward the heavens. She was back in the world of the sexual, and she loved it.
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