Doomsday Cruise Delight free porn video

John hadn’t caught her age as things had just moved too fast. She was no teenager, but she couldn’t be more than twenty-five he figured? My god what a body, what a flat stomach and look at her firm tight ass. As her plump raspberry tinged lips enveloped John’s hard cock he groaned again and she giggled at his reaction. She looked more vulnerable and sexy than John thought a woman could be capable of looking. Their wild bedroom antics had tousled her hair and her make-up was streaked and smudged by their endless grasping, kissing, sucking and touching. John was at the edge and wondered if he could hold on? The intensity of her warm soft mouth, her flicking tongue circling his cockhead with deliberate and measured swirls, it was almost too much for him to bear.

John let his eyes wander over her flawless form; he was astounded as his gaze took in her body reveling in its perfect lines and sculpted contours. Her tits were the most perfect firm delicious orbs he had ever seen in his life. Her long golden blond hair was so lustrous it almost glowed in the faint light as her head bobbed up and down on his huge thick rod. John became more and more delirious as her sucking increased in speed and intensity.

How had he met her? How had this vision of beauty ended up enchanting him and more? How had he lured her to his bed? How had this amazing coupling of horny needy bodies happened? John groaned again with wild guttural animal growls as the young vixen sucked even harder. John was so close to coming the intensity bordered on pain. The young woman lifted her big blue eyes looking up at John. Just at that moment she pulled her sweet lips off his cock with a popping sound like a sixteen-year-old quickly yanking a big round cherry lollypop out of her tightly puckered lips. A smirk crossed her lips and John was dumbfounded as he desperately hoped she’d continue. “Please don’t stop!” John prayed. She was so beautiful and vivacious and clearly she was a young vixen voracious for sex. John realized finally he would be happy with the girl of his dreams.

“Beep! Beep! Beep!”

John was disoriented as he opened his tired dry eyes. “Where the fuck am I?” John wondered to him self. John looked around expectantly looking for the blond girl. What met his eyes instead was just another drab and rather carpet-worn hotel room with dreary sun-bleached drapes in need of replacement. The “beeping” sound that had so rudely interrupted his sex-dream fantasy wouldn’t stop buzzing. John sighed and reached out to swipe his iPhone to stop the alarm function. He tried to focus his eyes and looked at the time displayed on his phone. Five in the fucking morning? Fuck, so goddamn early?

John groaned a rather disappointed groan realizing the gorgeous blond “girl” had merely been a figment of his over active sex-starved imagination. Merely another perfectly formed “fantasy girl” popping up in his dreams to tantalize and tease him with images of unattainable happiness and sexual bliss. As John oriented himself his wits returned and John realized his flight was an early one. John needed to get out of bed, have a quick shower and get on his way to the airport or he’d miss his flight.

John took one last look around his Spartan room in the Crowne Plaza in Helsinki. Fuck Finland was one damn cold place in December. No wonder these people consumed so much Vodka and Aquavit since it probably helped to keep their blood flowing; it was human anti-freeze. John grabbed his LV garment bag, slung it over his shoulder and rushed to catch his car to the airport. If he missed his flight to Murmansk he’d be truly fucked. The Aeroflot flight only went once a week so John figured he’d better to be at the airport early to be safe instead of sorry. John departed yet another dreary hotel hoping things could get better; at least he was on holiday that was something, right?

John had decided some time ago that when “the date” came if he needed to “go out” he was going to go out somewhere special, somewhere unique. Anatoly’s idea of “on the top of the world” had struck the perfect note in John’s otherwise discordant mind. No, not metaphorically “on top of the world” as in the song by the Carpenter’s. John was going literally to the top of the world: John was headed to join the famous Russian nuclear icebreaker the “Yamal” to take a “doomsday cruise” to the North Pole.

John’s good friend Anatoly who lived in Khabarovsk in the Far East of Russia (close to the border with China) had introduced him to this crazy idea. Anatoly ran a large tourism company and traveled constantly looking for new travel destinations he could direct chartered planeloads of inebriated Russians to. Anatoly had been to some pretty insane places in the world and so had John so they made good companions for each other.

Anatoly and John had met in the club lounge of a five-star hotel in Bali. The two travellers had become drinking buddies discussing global affairs and sampling various fine single-malt Scotch whiskies. No one who was not Russian could even attempt to keep up with Anatoly in terms of “drinking”, but at least John could hold his own in discussing global affairs. When Anatoly found out John had actually been to Timbuktu, the Russian’s respect for this crazy globetrotting Canadian had increased a hundred fold. Anatoly had never met anyone who had been to Timbuktu. In a typical Anatoly gesture he had exclaimed immediately, “Let’s drink to Timbuktu!”

One evening the two companions had enjoyed just a little bit too much fine Scotch and John let loose with his disenchantment with life. The discussion segued into deep metaphysics and morose matters of the heart and the two men started disclosing secret thoughts to each other.

“Anatoly, I just fly too fucking much. I really fly too much! I have no roots. No fucking life.”

John’s new Russian friend commiserated with him and made suitable drunkenly slurred quotes from the works of Tolstoy and Chekov in an attempt to mollify John’s melancholy mood. When John had finally confided in Anatoly that he needed somewhere “very special” to spend December twenty-first Anatoly hadn’t even hesitated: “the Pole” he had declared with an emphatic Russian accented slamming of the fist on the table, drinks flying hither and tither, the world’s finest Scotch dribbling into the gutter. John had been slightly shocked, but was immediately taken by the insane edginess of Anatoly’s wild idea. From that evening of alcohol-lubricated male bonding a plan had been hatched.

The plan of the “doomsday cruise” was that the Yamal, a 23,000 ton Russian ship with two nuclear reactor engines driving steam turbines with an output of 75,000 horsepower, would position itself at exactly ninety-degrees, on the very top of the world, on the North Pole, at precisely 12 midnight on December 20th, based on the time in Chichen Itza. This would mean that if the Mayan’s were correct in their astrological predictions of “Armageddon” then John and the ship would be “on top of the world” when everything ended at the stroke of midnight as the twenty-first of December dawned over the lands of the ancient Mayan empire.

Most cultures have some mythology about the end of the world. Christians have myths about the “final battle” and the finality of all things prior to “the second coming”. For Hindus it is Shiva in the form of Nataraja, the cosmic lord of dance, who will, one day, stop dancing and put his foot forward and all time will stop; or perhaps when Kalki, the incarnation of Vishnu, rides down upon a white stallion and brings an end to all things. For Buddhism they believe the treasured teachings will be lost, the world descending into barbarism and then the dharma will be re-discovered just before seven suns rise and consume the world. So for Mayan’s to have predicted the end of the world would occur on December twenty-first in the year 2012 was not particularly strange as far as civilizations go.

John had long been fascinated by Mayan culture. This was the only pre-Columbian culture in the Americas to have a fully developed written language. The Mayans also had highly developed knowledge in art, architecture, and mathematical skills. Last but not least the Mayan’s were highly accomplished astrologers. It was perhaps the Mayan skill in astronomy that was most worrying for people of the “modern” world in 2012.

While most people knew little of the other great Mayan achievements they did know one simple thing: the date December twenty-first in 2012. This is the winter solstice and the last day of the 13th baktun of the Mayan calendar. This was the date the Mayan’s had predicted the world would end. This date is regarded as the end-date of the 5125-year-long cycle of the Mayan calendar. The Mayan calendar begins in 3,114 BC and the “doomsday” prediction is linked to the date that ends the important five-millennia cycle that the Mayans had divided into 13 baktuns. On this date many believe cataclysmic or transformative events will occur to usher in the next “solar Maximum”; in other words a new era would begin. While not too many people worried unduly about Vishnu or the seven-suns of Buddhism, for some inexplicable reason this Mayan prediction of a date had grasped the imagination of millions around the world who waited expectantly for “something” to happen.

Established as a pre-Classic society in 2000 BC many Mayan cities reached their cultural peak in the period AD 250 to 900 and continued to be vibrant until the arrival of the Spanish. Mayan society contained many great achievements, but it also contained a dark side. That dark side included human sacrifice rituals and a belief in the cataclysmic end of the world. Ultimately modern science would completely agree with the Mayans regarding the end of the world, except perhaps for the date.

Science now well understands that the universe began with a huge explosion and will, at some point, collapse again into an infinitely tiny ball of dense matter before exploding once again to renew the process; as Elton John sings most aptly “the circle of life” repeats itself. Would this “collapse” of the universe into a tiny dense ball of matter occur on December twenty-first of 2012? John seriously doubted it, but his life felt like such a pile of shit, he concluded the world might as well collapse. Scholars, “Mayanists”, archaeologists, astronomers, mystics and new-age phoneys all had their own reasons for propagating an interest in the Mayan prediction. Like each of these John also had his own reasons to seek a personal change in his life on this date.

Having kept a large home in Honduras for a quite a few years John was well aware that the Mayan language and traditions continue even today. Over six million people in Central America speak various dialects of Mayan. John’s gardener Jose had spoken Ch’orti’, a dialect from the extreme west of Honduras. This dialect is almost extinct, but Jose had retained it in his family and he retained many of the rituals and traditions of the ancient Mayan culture.

John had spent more than one evening sipping tequila under a large silver equatorial moon being regaled by Jose and his wife with tales of the ancient Mayan civilizations including its doomsday tales of the end of the world. Were these sonorous tales told late at night under a silver moon enough to scare him? No, not really, but John had other reasons to seek renewal and re-birth. John was in the doldrums; he felt at the lowest point in his life and he needed something, anything, to grasp onto. John needed something, anything, to put some wind into his sails, a life preserver to keep him afloat. The idea that December twenty-first might offer some kind of turning point for his pathetic existence was at least a sliver of hope.

At some time in early 2012, John couldn’t recall exactly when, he decided he needed to be somewhere special on December twenty-first. John’s life had gone from one low to another low even lower than the previous one. Just when John felt his life and his emotions had plumbed the deepest depths, life found a way of sending him a “zinger” and showing him “Nope buddy, things CAN get worse.”

These morose feelings made John start to obsess irrationally about the Mayan prediction of the end of the world. John almost hoped it would come true, even though the “scientific” and “rational” side of his brain told him this just wasn’t going to happen. In any event, John decided if the world were to end he needed to be somewhere “special”. For some completely irrational reason John began to believe that if his life were going to “change” and turn around it had to start on December twenty-first.

When Anatoly (or “the mad Russian” as John affectionately called him) in the midst of their drinking session had suggested the cruise to the “top of the world” John couldn’t imagine a place more appropriate to spend his last minutes on earth and to begin his personal renewal. If you’re fed up with living in the gloom and apathetic inertia of a personal malaise is there a better place to head than the top of the world? John couldn’t think of one. Besides with Anatoly’s tourist industry connections he had managed to secure John a prime first class outside suite with a small verandah deck for half the normal rate. The fact that the ship was fitted out beautifully and would have a Michelin star chef on board from Le Sud restaurant in Genève also played a small part in John’s considerations. At least his last meal would be fantastic he chuckled to himself.

As John’s Aeroflot Sukhoi Superjet 100 set its wheels down in Murmansk with squeals of burning rubber he looked out the plane’s window at the fine white snow carpeting the frozen port city. The most northern of all Russian cities the population of almost five hundred thousand encircles the port of Kola Bay, their main access to the outside world. It is so cold in Murmansk that most inhabitants don’t so much live through winter as they “hibernate” and huddle in their houses waiting for things to warm enough to dare going outside again. Temperatures reach lows that most humans would consider completely ridiculous.

John didn’t expect much from Russian hotels, but the Park Inn Poliarnie Zori Hotel (what was with the incredibly long Russian names for things?) caused John to smile as he made his way to his room. The multicolored wall panels, black, green, yellow and red played counterpoint to the parallel lines of multi-colored carpeting like a giant colored SKU code laid lengthways down the hall. In Russia you generally got a 5-Star price for a 2-Star room and this hotel was no exception. Oh well, only one night he thought to him self.

The next morning John was up early and had a simple breakfast with coffee, toast and a poached egg. John slowly nursed a second cup of very strong and bitter Russian coffee before retreating to his room to pack up and head for the port to board the Yamal. A number of the people on the “doomsday cruise” had been put up at the same hotel so a small bus had been organized to transport them to the pier. John was soon in the lobby waiting to board the bus along with the others.

There were a few other couples that mainly appeared to be older and of Russian or Eastern European or perhaps Ukrainian origin based on their dress and their conversation. A number of people were smoking the disgustingly strong Russian cigarettes and a haze of blue smoke hung in the air. John saw the couple near him was smoking Belomorkanal cigarettes in their light blue pack, one of the cheapest and most hideous smelling cigarettes in the world. Other than noting the irritating bluish smoke John was too tired and too infected by a bad case of ennui to really pay much attention to the motley collection of older worn-at-the-edges companions.

What motivation these fellow travellers might have to spend their final days before the arrival of the Mayan cataclysm on the top of the world John had no idea. As John sat there dejectedly in the shabby hotel lobby he realized his whole idea of the cruise verged on looking like a bizarre Monty Python skit? What had he been thinking? There would be no revelations or life changing moments shared with this strange group of people he had nothing in common with. They were old, fat and smoked disgusting cigarettes. This whole idea of the cruise had obviously been a huge mistake. John wondered if he’d be better off to just skip out?

Just as their bus pulled in front of the hotel another couple arrived in the hotel lobby. A tall husky older man with thinning-greying hair accompanied by an overweight wheezing wife with a head piled high with poorly dyed hair that was blacker than black. Trailing the couple was simply the most gorgeous creature John had seen in some time. Wearing black stretch pants that seemed painted to her toned body paired with a tight black stretch-Lycra top that showed every incredible curve of her firm female form this young woman was a completely unexpected and incongruous arrival.

John couldn’t help looking the gorgeous young blond up and down from the top of her gorgeous head down to her cute sheepskin UGG boots. The gorgeous young blond joined an otherwise dilapidated and fading group of women clearly decades her senior. The women of the group were paired with past-their-prime men with potbellies and thinning hair. Whatever beauty the rest of the women in the group may have possessed in the distant past was certainly well on the way to complete decline. As counterpoint, this young winsome lass was just approaching her pinnacle of physical perfection and she possessed an aura of energy so vivacious John could swear she glowed.

The gorgeous young blond woman was most probably the couple’s daughter John surmised. She looked to be about five-foot seven and in her early twenties. She had lush lustrous golden locks of shimmering hair plaited into a thick braid down the center of her back that fell like a golden rope that ended when it reached the top of her firm curved ass. A large knot and a green velvet bow decorated the end of the golden braid. The girl’s athletic and toned body oozed gorgeous curves that were perfectly placed and proportioned. Her feminine “baby-maker” hips, her firm young rounded breasts, her straight-backed posture like that of a poised ballerina, her blisteringly ice-blue eyes and her long elegant piano-player fingers; her every perfect feature was more than enough to grasp John’s now rapt attention.

The appearance of this vision comprising equal portions of unabashed sexuality and playful innocence was enough to drag John out of his doldrums and cause him to wonder if she would be coming on the cruise. The bus honked and everyone made his or her way towards the hotel door and the waiting bus. Disgusting cigarettes were stubbed out in brown plastic ashtrays. John paused wanting to see what this vision of loveliness was going to do? Would she be boarding the bus with her parents? Was that his heart thumping madly? John chuckled at how his mood had turned although he knew his chance of even meeting this girl was remote. It was highly unlikely she even spoke English.

John’s heart rate perked up considerably when the young woman followed her parents, her tight black stretch pants painted to her toned body and headed onto the waiting bus. As she neared the door and the frigid outdoor air the girl pulled on a white puffy parka jacket with a fake fur trimmed hood. My god Russia may be a dreary place John thought, but it certainly made up for all of its shortcomings by producing some of the most gorgeous female creatures the earth has ever seen.

John’s eyes remained lustfully on the beautiful girl’s firm young ass until she turned to the left and disappeared onto the bus. Finally, John made his own way onto the bus and found a seat next to a very fat perspiring man who apparently, from his smell, did not approve of bathing very often. Well John thought, if we are all going to disappear from the face of the earth in a few days at least I will be able to be consoled by a vision of beauty before I go. John knew this amazing young creature would fuel his masturbation fantasies for more than a few evenings during the cruise.

As the bus pulled up to the pier every passenger was eagerly peering out the windows of the bus. The dramatic red superstructure of the Yamal towered above them contrasting its bright red steel decks against the slate-blue-grey crisp morning arctic sky. The large imposing ship was facing forward. Its hull was painted black and a rather kitschy shark’s mouth with ferocious white teeth had been painted on the icebreaker’s bow.

The glaring shark’s teeth were grinning at them all in a smirk-like greeting. John gathered the message was that the forty-eight millimeter thick rivet-strengthened hull ate up Arctic Ocean ice like a voracious shark. Personally in terms of his own aesthetics John would “lose” the glaring white teeth, but he realized it must appeal to the hoi polloi of the “Nouveaux Riche” tourists and over-the-top newly minted oil barons from Russia and Kazakhstan.

John gazed up like the others and could see the various Zodiac boats and the single small helicopter mounted on the top deck. John had to admit it was quite an impressive ship to journey to the North Pole. Considering the Yamal was equipped with various deck-top hot tubs, a heated indoor swimming pool and luxury lounges, a gym, a sauna and even a volleyball court it wasn’t like you were following in the footsteps of explorers like Roald Amundsen, Frederick Cook or Robert Peary.

Taking their time as they craned their necks up at the huge ship the group from the bus slowly meandered their way up the steep gangway. John followed the line of travellers luging his garment bag and slowly made his way to the top outside deck where his first class suite was located. John soon found his suite and he was just opening the heavy steel door when the gorgeous young blond he had seen in the hotel lobby made her way down the same narrow hallway, her parents in tow.

“Вот она отцу. Here it is Papa.”

She called out enthusiastically her voice ringing with a sweet musical cadence, the soft feminine cadence of youth and optimism. Her voice rang clear and excited, the voice of someone who is not jaded or damaged John thought wistfully thinking of his more youthful self. The young beauty squeezed her taut firm body past John in the narrow passage and flashed him the most engaging and sparkling pearly-white smile as she moved to the door next to John’s suite.

“Отец ваш номер следующей. Father your room is the next one down.”

The blond vision of beauty pointed her father and mother to the room even further down the hall as she pushed open her own door. John paused not wanting to miss any chance to watch this incredible beauty realizing now that she was in the room next to his. Feeling an intense attraction John had some semblance of how a moth must feel when if flew near a glowing flame, or a bee within inches of a pile of pollen. “Serendipity” John almost silently whispered to himself, his head spinning with this development, thinking how this vision of beauty would be sleeping, possibly naked, only a few feet from his very own bed.

As she crossed the threshold of her doorway the young woman turned and realizing John was staring at her she looked straight back confidently meeting his eyes. John was embarrassed to be caught looking and was momentarily mesmerized by her piercing ice-blue eyes. John’s cheeks flushed pink with heat and he wanted to turn away but he couldn’t, he was frozen in place by her beauty. John’s staring clearly did not nonplus her; this sexy young woman was obviously used to men devouring her with their eyes.

The young woman’s return gaze seemed to penetrate John to the core holding him in thrall. She let lose another of her wildly beautiful smiles, releasing it effortlessly like a magician releases his white doves and with an equally magical effect. Her graceful charm and bewitching smile seemed to slow time as John tried to untangle himself from the web cast by her youth and irrational beauty that held him frozen in place. John must have had a pathetic “deer in the headlights” stunned look on his face. Comprehending John’s very male predicament she burst into youthful giggles as she ducked her head down and disappeared into her room. “Poof” and just like that she was gone.

John was left looking stunned and disoriented staring into the empty space of the hallway where seconds before his vision had been standing. There were many women in the world who were “good looking”, who were “sexy”, who were “funny” and who were more than anything else “attractive” to the male creature. But how many women truly possessed that special female mystique that can drive men mad with desire?

When the young blond had disappeared from view John felt an emptiness that was unusual, a feeling of illogical loss? This woman John realized had that rare and illusive quality, that aura of mystery and power to compel, that intangible quality that invests a woman with overpowering powers of romance and causes a man to experience pervasive desire; in short a man would do anything for this kind of woman. The exact quality was inexplicable, it was unquantifiable, it was intangible, it was magical, it was spellbinding and for this reason the Roman’s called it “mysticus”; a mystery.

John took his time settling into his room and soon he heard the ship’s horn reverberating loudly and a message came over the intercom advising all travelers that the cruise was about to commence. John could feel the large ship shudder and shake as the huge steam turbine engines bust into action and the ship pulled away from the pier. John rushed out to go on deck to watch the ship’s departure from frozen Murmansk.

John didn’t see the blond again that evening although he kept his eyes peeled as he walked about exploring the ship. He looked expectantly in the direction of her door every time he went in and out of his room hoping to see her again. That night he went out onto his tiny balcony to watch the ocean in the night. John watched the wake of the ship disappearing behind them, a thin stream of white bubbles floating eerily on the obsidian black of the terrifyingly cold Arctic Ocean. The ship’s lights highlighted the white bubbles for a few seconds leaving a thin trail of bright white froth behind the ship visible until the ship’s lights faded into a deep black void. They had not hit the pack ice yet, but the air outside was still so cold John could only last a couple of minutes and he gasped to hold in the freezing air so cold it hurt his lungs to breath.

John ducked inside rubbing his frozen hands together to warm them. With nothing else to occupy his time John got ready for bed. While the outside was freezing, John’s room was as warm as toast, receiving as much heat as anyone could ask for from the nuclear reactors powering the steam turbines. John tossed and turned in bed unable to sleep. The blond vision would not leave his mind and his cock remained stubbornly hard refusing to let him find sleep. The contagion of her mystery had infected John and the fever of desire had him running a lusty temperature—to put it more directly John was horny and couldn’t get to sleep.

John tossed and turned and then tossed and turned again. He changed his pillow turning it over several times, puffing it and then puffing it again. John moved to the left and then to the right. John’s frustration grew as he wrestled with her image and the inexplicable sense of lost purpose she had left in his mind. Finally John gave in and grabbed a small towel. Somewhat disgusted with himself John wrapped his big hard engorged cock in the soft cotton and began letting his fantasy of the blond next door take flight. John imagined her tight young body, her long golden hair draping down and tickling the skin of his chest; her firm rounded breasts supple beneath his kneading exploring hands, her rubbery pink nipples turning to hard points beneath his touch. In John’s mind he imagined she was straddling his body with her toned legs and he rubbed faster.

As John’s fantasy grew he imagined her thrusting her hips rapidly and driving them down onto his huge cock impaling herself on his rigid length. John imagined her athletic curved body consumed by a female frenzy and as he pictured her more vividly his excitement rose. John imagined her body quivering with female needs and desires as she began writhing on top of him, her cries of passion getting louder. Then the fantasy culminating she finally arched her back in the throes of uncontrollable ecstasy as she became consumed by her own massive orgasm. John could almost feel her pussy muscles spasmodically contracting and grasping at his manhood in female release as his hand gripped the cotton towel more firmly. John whimpered lightly as his body shook and thick gobs of white cream shot out into the cotton towel. Finally he sighed in weary resignation and his mind slumbered off into the welcome oblivion of sleep.

Even though the ship was not that big John did not see the young blond woman the next day either. He did see her father at dinner, but not the gorgeous young blond or her mother? John realized he was acting like a pathetic teenager trying to follow her around and grab glimpses of her beauty to fuel his masturbation fantasies. “I need to get a grip on myself.” John admonished himself as he resolved to forget about the girl and enjoy the cruise. That evening the ship started to hit the pack ice and the thudding-crushing sound as the Yamal began grinding through the thick arctic pack ice was amazing.

That evening after dinner John had a few drinks in the lounge hoping the alcohol would dull his brain and put him to sleep without the demonic visions of the sexy young blond being able to torment him. John’s life was pathetic enough he thought to himself, do I really need to be teased and tempted by a woman I don’t even know? John was sitting reading a paperback edition of “The Seven Pillars of Wisdom” and nursing his final whisky when the young woman’s father came and sat in a nearby chair next to him. John did not want to seem unfriendly so he smiled and said “hello” in English. John didn’t really expect the man to speak English so he was surprised when he responded back in very good English.

Soon the two men were discussing many topics and John learned his name was Kirill. John poured his new friend a drink and they began to get to know each other. It turns out that Kirill had recently retired from the Ministry of Energy in Russia and now worked as a consultant part time for oil industry clients. John was able to regale Kirill with silly tales of negotiating contracts for Russian heavy oil in Shandong Province and the two were soon laughing easily about an industry they both knew so well. John eventually enquired about the man’s wife and daughter.

“Ah yes John, they have been sea-sick these past two days. I am hopeful they will feel better tomorrow.”

When Kirill found out that John lived most of his time in Asia he perked up and his face took on a look of genuine parental pride.

“John you must really meet my daughter Aleksandra. She did her Masters Degree at the Institute of Asian Studies at Lomonosov. I’m sure she’d love to discuss Asia with you.”

John’s face registered his surprise and pleasure at the father’s offer.

“Well you certainly must be a proud father. Moscow State University is perhaps the finest in your country. So your daughter also speaks English.”

Kirill’s face beamed with a mixture of pride and surprise that John knew the reputation of Lomonosov Moscow State University.

“Oh yes John, Aleksandra’s English is much better than mine. I have such a heavy accent. I sometimes fear you will laugh at me.”

John assured Kirill that he’d love to meet his wife and daughter and perhaps they could try to get together the next day if Kirill thought they would be feeling better. Kirill seemed to be thinking about John’s suggestion.

“I’ve heard the chef is planning a dinner of New Zealand wild boar tomorrow with New Brunswick mashed potatoes and Alba white truffles. Perhaps we could dine together?”

John tried to subdue his boundless glee at actually being offered a chance to meet and dine with the vision of beauty he had thus far only gazed at from a distance. Without a further thought John jumped on the opportunity.

“I have a bottle of ’83 Chateau Palmer that I brought along. Do you and your wife and daughter enjoy wine?”

With that the dinner plans were set in place. Assuming the ladies felt well enough John would be dining with the Botkina family the next evening. John could hardly contain his excitement as he bid his new friend Kirill goodnight. They agreed to meet in the lounge before dinner the following evening. John returned to his suite in a completely new state of mind. John was stunned and his mind and senses were dazed by this sudden turn of events. “Serendipity” he mumbled to himself as he looked anxiously towards the door of Aleksandra’s suite wondering what she was doing inside.

Like a much younger sixteen-year-old John had done all those years ago with his first “crush” Patty, John began rolling her name around in his mouth “Aleksandra Botkina”. John began playing with her name, rubbing it in his mind like a sacred mandala, the sound of it somehow offering him a sense of spiritual completeness. Like all Russians John knew she must have a nickname and he wondered what it was? To possess her nickname would be so intimate and wonderful it teased his mind.

John eased into his suite and looked for his bag. Without him realizing it John’s mood had completely shifted. He had boarded the ship without hope or optimism and now a cheerful little green shoot had poked its head through the black ice of pessimism and spring had broken out in his mind with shafts of sunlight piercing the black clouds. Under the influence of this new “spring” the little green shoot in John’s mind suddenly recited, “And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose….” What the fuck? John looked at himself in the mirror realizing how long it had been since poetry had unconsciously sprung loose in his mind.

John rummaged inside his bag and pulled out the bottle of 1990 Krug Champagne. That was for the actual arrival at the Pole so he set it to the side. Unwrapping another bottle rolled inside a pair of protective jeans John pulled out the ’83 Palmer. John used his fingernails and pulled off the Saran wrap protecting the wine’s label and cleaned the bottle by rubbing it with a towel. John admired the classic proportions of the wine’s label design.

John hoped the Botkina’s would appreciate the wine’s classic rich structure and perfect harmonious balance. The ’83 was one of the three greatest Palmer’s ever produced with perfect September and early October weather delivering some of the most concentrated grapes ever. John had been saving this compelling wine for a “special occasion”. Letting his mind picture the intoxicatingly beautiful young Aleksandra John couldn’t imagine a more “special” occasion than the up-coming dinner with the young beauty.

The next evening John met the father and mother, but his recollection of the evening is clouded by the arrival of the stunning Aleksandra. The poor chef probably had no idea that his entire dinner (as fabulous as it no doubt was) to John was a blur. With Aleksandra sitting across from him the delicacy of the white Alba truffles shaved on top of the Canadian mashed potatoes disappeared. As Aleksandra besots John with her long batting eyelashes, her engaging perfect smiles and dazzlingly lively eyes he awareness of food is nil. If flirting were ballet then Aleksandra was a prima ballerina performing a perfect solo en pointe. John was intoxicated, but not by his wine.

Aleksandra had arrived in tight Hollister jeans form-fitted to her ass and on top she was wearing a thin charcoal grey cashmere sweater that clung to her body. Her breasts had a nice soft rounded curve under the soft thin sweater. She was wearing high brown boots almost to her knees that made her look even taller than her five-foot-seven. Aleksandra’s hair was hanging loose and straight and glowed golden in the candlelight of the ships formal dining room. The sight of this amazing young woman took John’s breath away. Aleksandra may have been unaware of her effect, but she played with John none-the-less.

The dinner was wonderful and the discussion was free and easy. Kirill and his wife seemed content to let their daughter do most of the talking. Soon John and Aleksandra got into discussing Asia and while Aleksandra seemed to be fascinated by John’s tales of China, he was equally taken with her stories of spending ten-months learning Putonghua in Beijing. Then Aleksandra’s father interjected speaking to his daughter with obvious admiration and love.

“Саша вы можете залить Папа еще немного вкусного вина Джона? Sasha can you pour Papa some more of John's delicious wine?”

“Да папа. Yes Papa.”

Aleksandra reached for the bottle of wine, but John sensed what Kirill wanted and grabbed the bottle and poured more wine for his new friend.

“Kirill you like the wine?”

Kirill had that ruddy red glow in his cheeks of Russians as they begin to enjoy alcohol just a bit too much. He laughed eagerly and sipped a deep sip of John’s wine.

“It’s wonderful John. A truly spectacular wine; if Napoleon had brought wine instead of cannons I’m sure he could have had Russia gladly capitulate.”

John laughed at his friend’s joke and smiled. John was gratified his small contribution to the dinner had been appreciated. John noted that Kirill had called his daughter “Sasha” so he realized this was her diminutive name, the one people close to her would call her. John softly said “Sasha” to himself in his brain over and over thrilling himself with the sexy sound. Kirill had apparently been drinking vodka before dinner and his nose was now fully red and his face flushed. Kirill was getting very jolly and he turned again to his daughter.

“Я думаю, что этот человек тебя любит Сашу. Я надеюсь, он понимает, у вас есть дух русской девушкой. I think this man likes you Sasha. I hope he understands you have the spirit of a Russian girl.”

Kirill chuckled deeply his stomach rising and falling with his laughter as he beamed at his daughter. Kirill’s wife giggled and slapped her husband on the shoulder like he was being naughty? John looked from Sasha’s face to her father’s bewildered by the conversation in Russian he couldn’t follow. Sasha’s face was turning beet red.

“What did your father say?”

Sasha blushed more and turned her face to the side in a coy gesture to deflect John’s question. John paused to let Sasha collect herself, but he still looked at Sasha waiting for an answer. Then Kirill poked his daughter in the ribs and said to her in English.

“Well are you going to tell John what your father said or shall I translate for him?”

Kirill was clearly relishing teasing his daughter and she was blushing furiously in response. Sasha turned back and gave her father a look that said if my eyes could kill you I would. Then she giggled in a youthful feminine giggle and surrendered to her father.

“Okay Papa.”

Sasha glared on final time at her father before setting her amazing blue eyes on John.

“My father said he thinks you like me. He is just warning you that I am a Russian girl with a Russian spirit.”

John looked from the gorgeous sexy Sasha to her father smiling. This woman was so beautiful when she laughed John felt his heart floating and his mind easing with all it’s worries retreating from view. Did Sasha have any idea how gorgeous she was? John was sure she did and probably he would never have a chance with her.

“And what exactly does your father mean by saying you have ‘a Russian spirit’?” 

John asked.

Sasha blushed even more and now she punched her father with a mock punch on the shoulder in joking admonishment.

“Papa you should never have started this! Are you proud of yourself Papa?”

Sasha turned to John with an exasperated look on her face and then elaborated.

“Well what Papa means is that Russian girls from my province have a certain reputation…..”

Sasha let her sentence hang in the air incomplete as John waited expectantly. John smiled at Sasha’s enigmatic explanation.

“And?” John chuckled.

“What reputation might that be?”

Sasha reached up and nervously flipped her hair away from her face. The gesture was so sexy John wanted to reach out and hold her hand. The impulse was almost too strong to resist, but he kept his hand under the table. Sasha glared one final time at her father who had started this embarrassing episode.

“Well Russian girls from where I was born are considered to be very demanding in the bedroom.”

John almost burst out laughing and Kirill couldn’t help descending into deep guff chuckles as his wife pretended to strike him. They all laughed together and John had no idea why but he reached out and took Sasha’s hand in his. He raised his glass while holding her hand and looking Sasha deep in her eyes he raised his glass of wine.

“Well then a toast is in order. To Russian women and…..”

John raised his glass and “clinked” it against Kirill’s, his wife’s and finally Sasha’s glass.

“And to the poor men who must suffer their bedroom demands…..”

John looked to all three of them before settling his eyes softly on Sasha’s eyes. John squeezed Sasha’s hand softly before completing his toast.

“And may I hopefully join these men in their suffering…..SOON!”

Kirill laughed a hearty laugh and they all burst out laughing at John’s silly toast. Sasha blushed and turned her head to the side, but did not withdraw her hand from John’s soft grasp. Sasha’s father beamed and reached over to pat John on the shoulder with fatherly encouragement. Sasha’s mother’s eyes danced and she looked from John to her daughter and back again like an eager matchmaker hoping to see sparks fly.

The dinner had been a huge success and John had felt like he was floating on air by the end. Somehow the parents had slipped away to leave the young couple alone and they had talked and talked with the conversation meandering this way and that. Sasha was insistent that she wanted to learn more about China and that she must visit John in Hong Kong. Every so often as they spoke Sasha would reach out and lightly touch John’s hand or his forearm sending tingles into his body. John had walked Sasha back to her door and he had kissed her on the cheek as they said goodnight.

For John the next three days were like torture as the Yamal churned ever closer to the North Pole and the Mayan day of reckoning approached. Sasha would show up for short periods of time and flirt with John, but then she would disappear like an apparition. Each time Sasha would be wearing a different outfit and each outfit seemed to be more intoxicatingly sexy than the last one he had seen. John would meet Kirill or Sasha’s mother and ask where Sasha was, but when he went where they sent him she would have left? John was thirsty for this girl his hunger and horniness growing ever greater by the day if not the hour. John wanted more of Sasha, he needed her, he wanted to drink her in, to hold her, but Sasha seemed to be playing with him and driving him increasingly mad with lust and desire.

When John would meet Sasha’s father he seemed to look at him in a pitying way understanding (as only another man could) what the total desire of a woman could do to you. John’s mood swung like a pendulum with the fulcrum being the presence or absence of Sasha. When John was near her he was happy, giddy almost, like a young man again, full of energy, his cock hard. When she disappeared John fell into a morose lethargy where even the adventure of the journey into the Arctic had no joy.

Finally it was late on December twentieth and John was frantic to find Sasha. The ship was about to arrive at the North Pole in a few hours and the Mayan catastrophe, whatever it might be, was soon to occur. If John’s life were to change he had only a few hours to find Sasha so that he could be by her side when it occurred. John rapped on her door for what felt like the fifteenth time. Once again the firm knocks of John’s hand simply reverberated in an apparently empty suite on the other side like a hand knocking on a hollow tree. Where the fuck was she?

At that moment Kirill emerged from his suite further down the hall. He smiled and approached John.

“Oh good. I was looking for you.”

John was relieved. Maybe Kirill knew where Sasha was.

“My daughter is in the galley taking the French pastry class with the Chef. She loves cooking you know John.”

Shit! John admonished himself for not thinking of the cooking classes that had been conducted by the Michelin chef. So that’s where Sasha was hiding. John looked back at Kirill and his friend smiled.

“My wife and I will be on the deck for the doomsday hour. My daughter has asked you too meet her at her suite one hour before. She hopes you would like to celebrate the arrival at the North Pole and the end of the world with her? Shall I tell her you agree?”

John hoped his vigorous nodding was not a bit excessive and revealed more than it should to the father about his desire for his daughter.

“Yes, yes! Please tell Sasha I’d love to meet her and spend my last hour with her.”

John chuckled. Kirill laughed.

“Yes John this whole Mayan ‘end of the world’ bullshit is a crazy idea, no? But at least we met you and have made a good friend. I’m sure nothing will happen, but it is a good excuse for a toast and getting drunk.”

Kirill laughed. John laughed with him.

“Well Kirill. Who knows, maybe for some people the world will end and a new era can begin?”

Kirill laughed harder.

“Maybe John, but I don’t believe it one bit.”

John was now on pins and needles waiting to meet Sasha. John sat nervously on the edge of his bed in his suite and the minutes seemed to take hours to tick away. To John the ticking of the second hand on his vintage watch sounded like the hammering of Big Ben’s gong in the desperate silence of his suite. Any man who has waited ring after ring for the girl he has a crush on to pick up the phone will know the feeling John felt as he waited. Waiting for the girl of your dreams to arrive can seem like eternity and is far worse than waiting for any pot to boil.

Finally it was one-hour before the appointed time. An announcement was made on the ship’s intercom system for everyone to get ready to arrive at the pole. They were also jokingly advised to ready their life jackets in case the Mayan apocalypse did actually arrive at the same time. John looked at his bottle of Champagne chilling in a bucket of ice and smiled. Thank god he’d be able to spend his final hour with Sasha.

John went into the narrow hallway and knocked on Sahsa’s door. Her youthful feminine voice immediately called back.

“Just a second John. I’ll be right there.”

The metal door clanged open and Sasha’s head appeared around the door with her amazingly beautiful angelic smile having its usual dizzying effect on John.

“Oh John I’m so glad you came. Did my father find you?”

John said that yes her father had talked to him and that’s why he was here.

“John do you mind being with me when we arrive at the North Pole and the world ends?” Sasha giggled a light feminine giggle. “I have a special idea.”

Sasha’s words were so flirtatious and light John thought his knees might buckle. My god this woman was stunningly beautiful. John chuckled and replied that he’d love to end his days with her. He then asked about her “special idea”? Sasha looked at John with a wicked twinkle in her eye.

“John have you noticed that none of these people have even been in the hot tub once. It’s a crime don’t you think to just waste it for the whole cruise. I brought my bikini and I really want to try it. Do you have your swim suit?”

John had actually brought a swimsuit along thinking he would use the indoor pool for exercise. It had never crossed his mind that he would be invited for an evening hot tub session with perhaps the most beautiful girl he had ever met. John couldn’t agree with Sasha’s suggestion fast enough and she smile brightly at his over-eager response. John recalled that the hot tub was on the highest promenade deck and was sheltered by an opaque screen on three sides. Only the side facing the sea was open and shielded by clear glass. This meant the hot tub was actually completely private.

“Okay, let’s do it John. I’d love to relax in the hot water while it is all snowy and dark outside. Can you imagine arriving at the North Pole while soaking in a pool of hot water?”

Sasha smile brightly at her outrageous idea and her face glowed with enthusiasm. Sasha reached her hand out and pulled John closer by the collar of his shirt. Sasha’s eyes were dancing with youth and fire and John couldn’t figure out why she was so excited, but it was infectious and he also became excited. Sasha pulled John’s face right up to her own glowing face. In a low whisper that was so sexy Sasha said.

“Okay John get your suit on and let’s do it. I have a surprise for you.”

With that Sasha leaned forward and kissed John lightly on the lips. Sasha performed the kiss so quickly John didn’t even have time to react. John stood there immobilized, stunned by Sasha’s kiss. Sasha looked at John with a mischievous grin. A surprise John thought? What could Sasha mean by that he wondered?

“Hurry up silly we’ll be at the North Pole soon. I’m putting my bikini on now.”

Sasha implored John to hurry and then her door clanged shut with a harsh metallic sound that jarred John back to reality from the cloud nine Sasha’s kiss had put him on. John hurried to his suite to get changed. John pulled on his navy blue swim trunks and then his sweat pants to keep him warm. John slipped on his runners without socks and then wrapped himself in the oversized thick terrycloth robe provided by the ship. John heard a soft knock at his door and as he turned to open it he grabbed the bottle of Champagne and the two flute glasses.

Opening his door John saw Sasha also wrapped in the thick white terrycloth robe provided by the ship. Sasha’s hair was golden as it fell in shining strands down across her shoulders framing her gorgeous face. John was totally besotted by this sexy young creature who had been flirting with him these past few days. John couldn’t believe his luck as he thought about seeing her body in a bikini. As John moved to go out the door Sasha put her hand on John’s shoulder and made him pause. Sasha’s clear blue eyes fixed John’s chestnut brown pupils and she leaned in close so he could smell her perfume.

“I’m so glad we met John. I’m having so much fun now. I just thought it would be a bunch of old people and my parents. Thank you for entertaining me.”

With that Aleksandra moved even closer and placed the softest kiss on John’s cheek. John felt something leap inside his chest and wondered if his heart had skipped a beat? As fast as the soft kiss had been placed Aleksandra was retreating down the hall pulling John along urgently by the hand. John’s cheek tingled where he imagined he could still feel the warmth of Sasha’s lips.

John and Sasha made their way up the freezing metal stairs to the second tier deck towards the back of the ship, just in front of the secured helicopter. The small deck where the hot tub was located was secluded behind a protective opaque fiberglass wall, shielding the hot tub from the harsh Arctic winds and from the view of anyone on the decks below. The small semi-circle deck was open to the ocean on one side with a clear Plexiglas partition affording a dramatic view of the pack ice and empty blackness that stretched off into infinity.

They were both shivering from the cold and the swirling freezing wind by the time they had climbed the final set of stairs to reach the hot tub deck. As John opened the door to the hot tub enclosure they both glanced back over their shoulders and looked down towards the large main deck. John and Sasha could see the other passengers far below all dressed in many layers of winter clothing clustered in small groups out on the ship’s deck waiting to arrive at the North Pole. The Mayan apocalypse, whatever it was to bring, was about to arrive.

Sasha sighed an incredibly sexy feminine sigh as she eased past John’s body into the enclosure. The enclosure’s cocoon of warm air immediately enveloped them both like a warm bath towel. As Sasha looked around at the small hot tub enclosure she began to laugh. Apparently Aleksandra now appreciated just how silly and crazy a “hot tub” on an icebreaker in the middle of the Arctic Ocean really was. John laughed along with Sasha finding her feminine laughter to be contagious. John eyes scanned around the small space and looked at the layers of wispy steam rising off bright blue water of the hot tub. The steaming water was illuminated and glowing from its underwater lights.

“Okay Aleksandra, we’re crazy! But you need to be crazy in life sometimes right?”

She looked John in the eyes clearly happy.

“John!” She pouted. “Call me Sasha. For you, only call me Sasha.”

Sasha smiled, her pout gone as quickly as it formed, and she excitedly also looked around. The hot tub was large enough to fit about eight people probably. At the hot tub’s perimeter the deck was covered by a series of heated blue rubberized pads with about two-inches of foam padding in them. One area was a low reclined area where two people could lay back in a bed-like deck covered by about four inches of hot water. This area had water jets that could be activated to “massage” you by pushing a button. The protective walls were a good six-feet high to keep out the Arctic wind and on their tops were several electric space heaters pouring more heat into the semi-circle enclosure. It was as if they had entered a cocoon of tropical warmth, a miniature Balinese beach, while outside in every direction was the blackest and harshest environment on earth.

John reached out and took Sasha’s hand to steady her as she slipped off her cute brown UGG boats revealing slender feet with long cute toes with pink toenails. Sasha then undid the waistband on her thick white terry robe and took it off and hung it on the steel hook. Sasha now stood on the warm deck wearing only the sexiest tiny white bikini. John couldn’t help gazing at Sasha’s tight trim young body. John’s eyes paused extra long for Sasha’s firm rounded breasts and again at her wide feminine hips and rounded taut ass.

Sasha stretched her arms up and arched her back pushing out her breasts and ass at the same time making John marvel at her amazingly toned perfect body. Sasha’s taut young body was barely covered by the tiny white bikini and John’s eyes went wide in male appreciation, his cock stirring in interest. John reached out his arm and held Sasha’s hand to help her as she slowly climbed into the hot tub. Sasha’s head was now floating in cloud of steam as her body slipped into the warm water up to her neck. Sasha sighed in contented appreciation for the calming hot water that quickly eased her muscles and relaxed her body.

“C’mon in John. It’s amazing! It feels wonderful.”

John quickly stripped off his own terry robe and his sweat pants and quickly stepped into the steamy tub of hot water to join Sasha. They were sitting on a bench seat under the water and Sasha moved next to John’s body and put her hand on his shoulder her hand gently tracing the skin of his neck. They both gazed out into the endless Arctic blackness. Sasha gestured into the distance.

“Look John isn’t this just incredible?”

Sasha turned to John fixing him with one of her entrancing bright youthful smiles.

“Aren’t you glad you came now John? It’s so awe-inspiring don’t you think? We’re almost at the top of the world and we’re in a hot tub.”

John looked out into the black distance, the sounds of crunching and crying pack ice hauntingly echoing into the seemingly endless nothingness. It was a truly amazing sight, breathtaking actually. They were both still and quiet in the face of the vastness and raw immense power of Mother Nature. The endless stretch of ice, its incredible incomprehensible volume; one couldn’t help but feel the feeble inconsequential nature of human existence when confronted by such a void. And yet counter to this was the infinite beauty and strong sexual attraction of young Sasha, the feminine potential for new life. Sasha’s proximity, her touch, cast John’s mind in a new direction. Having the beautiful Sasha beside him made John forget every morose negative thought he had brought onto the boat as his life’s baggage. It was as if John had packed all his negativity into a LV trunk and cast it overboard. Could life really begin again he wondered to himself?

John was too engrossed by the overwhelming scene before him to notice Sasha had put her supple warm lips next his ear.

“I have a confession John.”

Sasha’s whisper was melodious and sexy and her moist warm breath and silky lips tickled his ear. John was startled and turned to face Sasha and their noses touched. They both laughed at the same time at the collision of their noses. Sasha ran her hand up and down John’s shoulder playfully.

“And what’s that Sasha?”

Sasha pulled herself closer to John and brought her lips close to his ear again with a mischievous grin on her face.

“I have been teasing you these last few days. Flirting with you.”

John smiled and enjoyed the sensation of having this beautiful young woman leaning on his shoulder.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Sasha smiled and laughed and playfully tickled John.

“Oh REALLY! You didn’t notice?”

Sasha’s face was playful and happy. Then she turned more serious.

“Yes. Really. I have been. But you know what John?”

John looked deeply into the dark blue pools of Sasha’s excited young eyes. As far as he was concerned if the world was to end it could end right now.

“What Sasha?”

Sasha moved her face closer to John’s, their noses touching again, but this time in a gentle caress.

“I’m not teasing you anymore.”

With that Sasha’s lips met John’s and they began a passionate kiss. The sexual tension had built up so much over the past days of teasing and flirting that it was like a dam had broken. Sasha’s pouty pretty mouth sucked onto John’s lips with urgent need and her pink tongue quickly probed into his mouth. Sasha was hungrily devouring John with her growing female sexual needs. Sasha swung one leg over John’s thigh straddling his leg so she could sit on his leg, riding it between her thighs as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. The passion of their kiss only increased.

The ships horn blasted its first long single blast to signal that they would arrive at the North Pole in twenty-minutes. John’s hands roamed over Sasha’s body exploring excitedly like any nascent Arctic explorer. John explored all Sasha’ curves and playfully teased her naked white skin. Reaching Sasha’s white bikini top John felt the firm fullness of Sasha’s young breast and rubbed her nipple between his fingers. The little button quickly hardened into a nib of rubbery flesh and a moan eased out from deep in Sasha’s chest. Clearly Sasha’s cry was a cry for more.

Since it was winter the Arctic sky was in constant darkness, an obsidian vastness of black broken only occasionally by the northern lights that seeped up over the curve of the earth from areas far to the south. As John and Sasha kissed and explored each other with growing passion the vast Arctic sky seemed to mimic their excitement. Iridescent streams of light from far to the south, perhaps light cast by the sun hanging high in the sky over the Mayan temples, vivid blues, greens, violets, and oranges painted the darkness with life; a kaleidoscope of subtle colors like gasoline spreading on a calm pond.

John rolled Sasha in his arms and laid her out on the water jet pad. He leaned over her poised on his knees and one arm. John let his lips kiss her face, her nose, and her ears while his other hand worked her nipple teasingly. Sasha began to squirm and twist her body as her arousal rose. Somehow there was none of the first-time awkwardness. John knew where to touch and Sasha knew how to make her body available to her new lover. John’s kisses traced down Sasha’s slender neck and he pushed away her bikini top. John began assaulting Sasha’s pert firm breasts with a barrage of kisses, sucking, licks and gentle love-bites. John looked at Sasha’s small pinkish areolas and then latched his lips around one, sucking and playing with it, her nipple erect and responsive to his tongue. Sasha’s moans became louder and more feline.

As John let his mouth work on Sasha’s breast his hand traced down across the hard curve of Sasha’s hipbone and onto the soft velvet skin of her inner thighs. John teased the skin of Sasha’s inner thighs with light touches, gentle traces, interspersed with raking his nails lightly up and down her inner leg. Instinctively Sasha spread her legs and John accepting his lover’s invitation let his hand wander up further and rubbed over Sasha’s bikini bottom, rubbing her pubic mound. In response Sasha thrust her hips up into John’s hand and ground her pussy against his pressing fingers. A deep groan crawled up her throat and she bit on John’s lower lip as her need grew in intensity.

Sasha’s hand went to John’s head and she grabbed a fistful of his hair and pushed his head downwards. The message was clear. John let his head be pushed down by Sasha’s hand. John’s lips dropped kisses every inch of the way across Sasha’s flat abdomen on the journey south, teasing her skin with playful nibbles and licks. John understood his task and hooked his fingers into Sasha’s bikini bottom. With one good tug he pulled the protective shield away and he almost gasped. Before him was one of the most beautiful pussies he had ever seen.

Sasha had trimmed the fine blond hair around her pussy leaving just a small triangle of silky blond hair. John kissed all around Sasha’s hips, teasing her with his delay, his hands grabbing her hips to steady her. Sasha used both hands to push John’s head towards her female center, her sex, her need; Sasha wanted John to lick her pussy and she couldn’t wait any longer. John smiled. John loved nothing more than to make a woman wait, to prolong her pleasure, to turn delay into del