Sailor Moon The Rise of Demons
- 4 years ago
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Russian Sailor Whore free porn video
Maria McCourt
Marie McCourt was a catholic girl with solid beliefs. Married with three children, and well-respected in the local area. Even after three births, she still had a figure of a woman ten years her junior.
She worked in a small Irish bar and had been there for about eight years.
Marie was 5'6 with long brown hair, her complexion was dark, and men always commented on her brown eyes. She was more often mistaken for being Latina, as opposed to her Irish roots.
In the bar
It was a Thursday; the bar was less than full. Marie served at the old oak bar while the regulars were engrossed in the evening's sports on the TV.
The door opened, and in stepped six men dressed ruggedly. She immediately knew they were foreigners before they had spoken. Being so close to the port, it wasn't unusual for sailors to come into the pub, especially midweek.
"Yes, gentlemen, what can I get you?"
"Six beers."
The accent was broad and as rugged as their clothes, the men sat at a table, and Marie filled a tray with beers. As she brought them over to the table, she could hear them talking in their language, and she placed the beers from the tray onto the table.
"Who's got the tab tonight, gents?"
"Run up a tab, can we?"
"Sorry, pub policy, you need to pay as you go."
The one with the broken English, and who did the talking, reached into his dirty coat to fish out some money and handed it to Marie.
"Change you keep."
"Thank you."
She moved back to the bar, and the men were now talking between themselves, all bent over the table, hushed voices even though they spoke in their tongue. She became suspicious as the men would look over to her then go back to their discussion. Marie was long enough in the tooth that she knew when men were discussing her.
She pretended to be watching the TV with the rest of the pub brushing it off as male banter no matter how childish it was.
Marie caught them looking over again, this time more questioningly, the conversation continuing as they watched her. This now was more blatant and probably needed to be checked, she thought.
"Where are you from"? Her sudden turning to face them and asking abruptly had caught them all out.
"We are from Russia, and we boat here," they responded in their broken English.
"Are you here long?" she kept it friendly.
"Tomorrow we go, 0500 hours we leave."
Marie let them talk amongst themselves as she went back to watching the TV. She knew they were discussing her but put it down to them being possibly at sea for a while and not seeing any women in that time. The thought did disgust her, her strong beliefs and proper upbringing, not having much patience or tolerance for their behaviour.
Marie served more drinks to regulars and the thirsty sailors.
She was cleaning down the bar when the man who had spoken earlier approached.
"Hello." His approach was gentle and cautious.
"What can I get you, sir"? her professionalism rising.
"My name is Oleg, and I apologize if my comrades have offended you, and it is you who are beautiful." His eyes kept contact with her own.
"I'm sure a dead pig would look good to your friends just now," she said as she looked over his shoulder.
"We did not mean to offend, but see we have, in our country we buy someone a drink if we make unhappy unfairly, we drink with them. Allow us to offer you that." Again, his approach was soft.
"There is no need."
"Please, we insist." A tone of hurt in his voice.
"Please bring seven vodkas."
Handing over the money as he was joined at the bar by his friends. Marie, not being one for a drink, also prided herself on not being ignorant; taking seven shot glasses from the shelf, she filled them with vodka before turning from the sailors and placing the bottle back on the shelf.
As she stepped back, one of the men held a glass towards her; she instinctively took it from him out of politeness.
"We apologize and drink to be happy," they offered.
She lifted the glass and drank it down in one. She did feel something was off though. She knew it wasn't the taste of the shot, it seemed fine; rather good actually, no it was only how the men looked at her as she downed the drink then placing the empty glass onto the bar, All six men cheered and raised their arms.
Marie smiled. The men paid for another round.
"We do more"? they called.
"Honestly, I can't. I'm not a drinker," she said with her open palms in the air and a broad warm smile on her face.
"You make us HAPPY if you drink." The happy was raised and course with his accent.
As he finished his sentence, something clicked. Marie had already been turning for the bottle when she noticed. It had been when he had said happy, she suddenly felt good about making him happy. Really good.
"Enjoy."
Marie filled the seven glasses again; she returned the bottle to the counter as before and as she turned back the same man held out her glass like a repeat, she thought twice about drinking it. The first one was to be polite, but she never drank when working, seldom when not working.
"We would be happy to share a drink." She headed him again.
There it was once more, that warm feeling of making him happy. Marie took the glass and downed the clear liquid surprisingly easily. They watched her as she placed the drained glass on the bar and another cheer for her participation in their custom. She liked they all seemed to be happy she was making an effort.
"We go now," he said.
"It was nice to meet you all, and if you are ever back in our town, please come by." Slightly disappointed they were leaving so soon, she found herself hoping they had enjoyed her hospitality and would return again.
"Yes, we will." The man translating said before being nudged on his upper arm by one of the younger men. "It would make us very happy to see you again."
"I'm here every Monday to Friday." She found herself delighted they would be happy for her to entertain them again.
"You have make us happy. It would makes us VERY HAPPY to see you before we go."
That feeling was so good, looking around the pub to see the regulars still watching the TV.
"I'm a married woman in a small town, and it wouldn't look right. I mean, it's a small town, what would people say?"
"They say you done a good job to make them so happy."
Marie was now contemplating leaving the pub with the dirty, ragged sailors; she knew it would look bad, yet the reward for making them happy at such a simple request was beyond nice.
"Ok, I will walk you back to your hotel," she said, and as she did she noticed the group smile when the man translated it back to them, It felt good to see the visitors smile.
"We stay on the boat," he informed her as he returned to face her.
"Well to the harbour them."
The men left the pub; Marie collected a few glasses before slipping out without anyone noticing.
Once outside, the sailors had moved into a close group and puffs of smoke filled their circle. She could see all but one held a cigarette. It was dark and cold out she noticed. She looked up and down the street, no one around.
Soon she found herself in the middle of the group; she walked along the street with the men along the familiar road towards the marina.
"I'm happy for your hand." The group's translator, arms outstretched.
The thought of what it would look like, her walking scruffy sailors home was bad enough but holding one of their hands, a married woman, it was just wrong. Yet, her hand was now in his, the coldness of the night gone with the touch and heat from his hand, the feeling of joy from him being happy was now euphoric.
As they crossed the main street, all the shops were closed, and still, no one was around other than the seven of them. Two of the men became involved in an apparent dispute, and they argued in Russian before one shoved the other.
"Why are they arguing"? she was concerned that the unhappiness would spread through the group.
"Ah, it is you."
The thought of these men now unhappy and unhappy because of her suddenly caused her great concern. Why did she care if they were happy or not? She didn't know. But she did.
"Bigger says that you must be a great kisser, unhappily littler man he says you won't kiss a man in public," he said, gesturing to the two.
"I kiss my husband. He never complains," she defended herself.
"As he says, he is unhappy that you won't kiss other men, that he won't know how happy it is to kiss you, and he never kissed a woman as beautiful before."
Marie stepped from the translator letting his hand go, still in the middle of the crowd, she walked over to the smaller man; he was probably the youngest in the group, he looked around eighteen, his hair ragged and unkempt, his cheeks a rose red, he was boyishly cute but looked very insecure and nervous. She realized she was slightly taller than him. As she came face to face with him, she gently placed both her hands on his cheeks. She pulled his face forward to hers while softly pressing his face and his lips puckered, her own lips pouting as she brought them into contact with his, slowly pressing against the young man's.
Prude or not, she knew the boy enjoyed it and felt good that she made him feel this way. She pulled back after several seconds to a quiet group.
"There is your first kiss, sweetheart," she offered.
Now aware that the man who had been arguing with the boy was now harking to the translator Oleg, she turned back to Oleg.
"What's wrong now"?
"He is now unhappy, and he wants to kiss you."
Unaware that she had now moved to the man, as she turned around, she was in front of him. She moved to kiss him, wanting to make him happy also. He took her by surprise as he grabbed her, his grip pulling her tight against him. His breath was terrible and his touch rough. If she weren't so keen to make him happy, she would feel sick by this older man.
His lips rough against hers, his tongue prodding out and into hers, she could tell the man liked this, and she accommodated him as she tapped into his pleasure.
She walked through the port and up to a boat that looked even in the dark unseaworthy.
"Well, good night, gentlemen." Emptiness entered her as they reached their destination.
"We hope you would join us."
"I'm sorry, it wouldn't be proper. I have already done things tonight that I should not have"
The older man she had kissed spoke. Oleg translated.
"Andre says he would be more than happy for you to do more stuff that you shouldn't do."
She wanted to fight, she tried to walk away, but leaving these men unhappy didn't seem like an option. She was now walking along with the narrow board and onto the boat. The younger man took her hand and helped her across, which she found sweet. Oleg walked behind and held her waist, steadying her.
Following the younger man through a door - he turned to her and climbed down ladders - she copied him and started down. As she did, she became aware of the rough touch again, knowing it was Andre, his hand gripping her waist as she descended. His touch left her waist and slid up her back as she lowered down past eye view of his crotch. She noticed a large bulge, very large.
When she got to the bottom, she took in the dim dirty conditions. Andre was now moving in on her once he had navigated the steps. She felt slightly threatened now, his hands moving from her sides and to her breasts. She stepped back before pushing his advances away; she knew he was angry and confused.
Andre looked to Oleg.
"Happy to feel your breasts he is."
She was now square on to him. Her hands moved and took hold of his hands then moved them to her tits again, squeezing her; the feeling flowed from his touch through her body. She closed her eyes as she enjoyed the simple pleasure of knowing he was happy to do it.
"Andre wants to show his quarters, he wants to touch you, to explore you. It makes him happy. He wants you to respond and make him happy, we all do, but Andre wants to be happy first."
She was now quickly led down the boat; he helped her down another ladder before taking her hand and pulling her in through an open door.
The room was small, the smell musk. It was both untidy and dirty. Several adult magazines littered the floor. In a bunk was a thin rolled-up mattress.
On the wall were several photographs, Andre with three women. She guessed one in the picture was his wife, and the other two were his daughters. They looked around their early to mid-twenties.
Andre untied the mattress. As it unrolled itself onto the bunk, she could see several stains and rips. He was now in front of her, his hands roaming her. She could feel his excitement build which made her feel good.
The feeling was too lovely, she knew what was happening but making him happy was more important. He signalled for her to unbutton her shirt. As she did he unzipped his trousers, with her shirt unbuttoned, her white bra exposed, he pulled his hard cock from his pants. He dragged her to him with his hand in the top of her trousers. He unbuttoned her trousers and unzipped them.
Turning her around, he pulled her trousers down. He then removed her white panties, letting them join the trousers around her ankles. He pulled her onto the bed, she didn't know what he liked better. She let him roll her to her front. He was now climbing onto her, the excitement unparalleled to any experience she had before.
He turned her stomach, but the need to make him happy turned her on and in extreme fashion. His raging cock was now hitting her as he adjusted himself.
She had made her husband wait until they were married before sex, yet now about to allow this stranger to enter her, she felt him push. He was soon inside her, her moans filled the room as she pushed his cock inside her, her head turned, cheek pressing into the dirty mattress as he continued to drop his weight onto her.
She felt him pulling at her shirt, reaching around and squeezing her tit, his hard cock telling her how happy he was. She moaned louder, and he increased his effort. Knowing it turned him on, making him happier, she moaned for him to fuck her (the words never spoken from her mouth before). She could tell he understood as he again thrust harder. She was now aware of his breathing his upper body becoming closer to her. She realized he was about to cum.
She didn't want to have sex with anyone, never mind let a stranger cum inside her; she did not attempt to move. She only moaned as he filled her, his cum launching into her.
No sooner had he fell onto her and kissed her cheek, she felt the rough stubble from his chin. They both moved to the edge of the bed and sat.
The door opened, and in stepped the young boy. He held a piece of paper with the number one scribbled on it. He showed it to Andre, who laughed. The boy nervously stepped overhanded the form to her and took her hand. Pulling her to her feet, he began to speak in Russian. She bent down and pulled up her trousers and panties. She felt full. She held her trousers as the boy lead her to another room, her shirt opening as she followed. This room was half the size of the other. Still, it was a lot cleaner. Several posters of bands covered the wall.
He closed the door when they were inside, he spoke again before kissing her. He pushed himself into her as he slightly stretched up to her height. She felt his hard cock rub at her. The boy looked terrified. She wanted to settle him, to make him happy and relaxed. She moved to the bunk, and he followed, trying to kiss her.
Marie sat him down. Standing in front of him, she could see he was looking at her tits. Flicking the shirt clear and reaching around her with her hands, she unclasped her bra. Pushing the bra up and holding it under her chin, she moved her hands to her tits and cupped them.
The boy's smile and red face sent a tingle to her, her heart thudding, adrenalin flowing. She kissed his neck as her hands undone his belt and jeans. She moved back as she wriggled his trousers from between his bum and the bed. She pushed them down to his boots.
Placing a hand on his chest, she sank to her knees, let down her hair, and swept it to one side. She took his cock in her hand, smiling as she started to work his shaft. She then moved her other hand to his cock, half of it on his member, the other spilling onto her existing grip, the head of his cock sticking through her firm hold.
She moved forward, she had never given oral before and was repulsed by the idea, but now it was about making a young man happy; she kissed his tip, the underside of her tongue passing over him, she knew he was watching as he fell back onto his elbows. Angling her head, she engulfed his tip, her lips pushing against her own hands. She could feel him against the wall of her mouth. Glancing up, he began to moan as he watched her cheek move out with his cock inside.
Her tongue continued to run along his tip between her hand's grip and mouth's suction. She worked him slowly, his moaning now grunting as she steadily moved, her cheek still filling with him, her movements becoming deeper and firmer, the speed not altering she felt his back fall onto the bunk, his hands shooting up and holding the wall behind him. She felt him draw into the bed as he filled her mouth. He spoke again, and she knew he was happy even in another language.
She rested her elbows onto his thighs. Moving her finger to the corner of her lips, she pushed the excess into her mouth before swallowing loud. He smiled at her, and she returned the smile.
Movement behind her then distracted him; she turned to see Oleg standing behind her. In his hand, he held another piece of ripped paper with a two untidily written on it.
He nodded to the boy before helping her up. As he passed her the paper, she adjusted her shirt to cover her undone bra. Still holding her trousers tight, she followed him from the room and into another.
Oleg had followed closely behind. He closed the door and his hands had found her hips. She found herself bucking her ass out and into him as he ground his cock behind her.
Soon she was being filled by him. He took her from behind offering reassurance he was happy with her.
It wasn't long before his cock was spilling inside of her.
She rested with her elbows on the small set of drawers and still bent over.
She heard him fixing his trousers before another man slipped in behind her. He passed her another piece of paper over her shoulder, she repeated the process for the other men, all taking her in the same position and with the same level of happiness as the last.
**
When she stepped from the boat helped by Oleg and the boy, she nervously scanned the port. Why had she acted so strange? How had she allowed them to bring her here, remembering it made them happy and soon dismissed it.
The boy waved and turned back before stepping back into the ship. Oleg pulled the board onto the deck, and she watched him as he untied the line.
"Do you not need me to make you happy some more?" she pleaded.
"We sail now. You have done the job well. We very happy sailors. We be back in three months. We see you then and we be happy again on seeing you. We are unhappy if you tell anyone."
"Oh, I understand. I won't tell anyone," she said.
"Goodbye," he said dismissively.
"Goodbye," her voice hollow and distracted.
The boat pulled away. Its engines filled the port with its sound. She looked around to see who was looking. The port was still deserted. She looked in her hand. In it were five ripped pieces of paper numbered one to five. She tucked them into her pocket before starting to walk back to the main street. Her body was sore and the pain and full feeling were becoming more uncomfortable as she walked. She slipped her hand into her pocket, feeling the paper again before smiling.
'What a good girl I was, making so many people happy in one night,' she thought and the lonely feeling was replaced with some satisfaction.
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