Out Of Gas
- 4 years ago
- 24
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Out Of Gas free porn video
"Hello?"
The voice came out of nowhere, startling Val and making him lose his grip on his wrench. His hand shot back and smashed into the frame of his currently disassembled motorcycle. Pain bloomed.
"Chyort voz'mi!" the nineteen year old Russian swore. He swatted the power button on the CD player with his free hand, ending the sweet sounds of Korol i Shut, one of his favourite bands and one of the few CDs of Russian music he allowed himself to listen to. He was an American now, as he had been for the last five five years. Americans tolerated difference only to a point, especially here in Arizona. Here he was Val Cosvik, teenager and apprentice mechanic, not Valentin Kostayavich, delinquent Moscow street youth.
He opened his mouth to yell at whoever had startled him but the sight of who stood before him made him stop mid exhalation. It was a girl. He had seen her in school, one of the narjadnyy who wore designer clothes and lived in their daddy's pocket. She certainly looked that part: expensive yellow sweater, white designer slacks that probably cost more than he made in a week and she looked like a movie star. Her hair was cork-silk blonde, eyes blue like the sky set in a face that was smooth, round and flawless. As American as apple-pie was the phrase he wanted, and that she was: the perfect, unattainable dream that every American boy wanted but would never, ever get.
She wouldn't last ten minutes in Moscow.
Val did remember her. Her name started with a 'J'. Julie ... no, that wasn't it. It wasn't Jackie either, but it was similar. Short. Jesse ... Judith... Jenni. That was it: Jennifer 'Jenni with an 'I'' Wescott. Yes, she was sixteen or seventeen and travelled with a group of girls who were just as rich and just as privileged but nowhere near as attractive. They all had the same smell about them, the same sense of contempt for those who worked and had grease under their fingernails; that and the awareness that no boy was ever going to score with them unless he owned a fancy European sports car and came carrying a diamond ring the size of a hub cap.
Yes, he did remember Jenni Wescott-the belokurva. He had talked to her just this morning in fact, in the school parking lot, where he and his bratans were sitting and talking on their motorbikes. He had been talking about his clubhouse (this clubhouse, in fact ... if you could count a half empty, partly converted auto garage as a clubhouse) and laughing at some stupid joke when he had caught sight of her looking at the group of them with that look that only girls like her could have: part shock, part indignation, part disgust but all condescension.
He had been in front of his brothers—pride demanded he do something—so he strutted up to her and invited her over to see his crib (as his American friends called it) and give her a special tour. She had given him a look that could have curdled milk and he had replied ... what had he said? Oh, yes: "you should give it try, kiska. Maybe being with real man would put smile on that pretty face of yours." She had turned and vanished in a huff before he could stroke her cheek.
"Ni khuya sebe," he whispered to himself in the present: 'No fucking way'. "Have you come to take me up on my offer, varustka?" he asked, smile forming on his face and barked knuckles forgotten.
No, she hadn't. He could see by the look on her face, the way she gripped her purse with white knuckles and by the way her eyes darted into every dark corner looking for attackers. She didn't want to be here at all.
"I, I saw the light on," she said falteringly. "I didn't know what else to do. I ran out of gas."
"Out of gas?" Val raised his eye brows. "Here?" He grabbed a rag and tried to clean the engine grease off of his hands, but it was no good. "Why would fancy girl like you be driving in place like this?"
She fidgeted, flushed and wouldn't meet his eye.
"Ah, I see." Val chuckled. "pretty girl in fancy car was off seeing secret boyfriend." She flushed even more and Val laughed loudly. "Secret boyfriend is very lucky boy, but why do you not call him on cell phone so he can ride to rescue like knight on shining horse?"
"I forgot my phone at home," she murmured, her eyes still not meeting his. "Can, can you help me?"
Val's smile widened. "Local princess needs help of lowly Valentin? Do you want phone so you can call rich father to come to rescue?"
"No!" Her eyes widened and met his. "I can't tell anyone I'm here. Can..." she swallowed. "Can I maybe borrow some gas? Do you have any here?"
"Borrow? As in I do favour for you?" His eyes narrowed and he let some anger into his voice. "After you make me laughing boy in front of my friends? Why would I do favour for you?"
She stepped into the shop, her high class elegance completely out of place amidst the dirt, grease and engine parts. "I'm sorry about that ... Valentine."
"Valentin," he corrected with a growl. "I am not holiday with hearts and chocolate."
She advanced closer, until she stood across the tool kit from her. He could smell her perfume through the grease and exhaust fumes of the garage: it was flowery and expensive. She was close enough that he could see the individual fibres in her sweater and the sloping mounds of her generous cleavage. She was wearing a pink shirt beneath it, he could see now, where it peeked out between the valleys of her breasts. The skin of her chest and neck was smooth ... and flushing. He glanced past her red perfect lips into her eyes—they were so, so blue from this close—and saw that she was completely aware of his scoping her out.
"I'm sorry about this morning, Valen..." she stumbled over his name, "Valentin. My friends were watching, too."
He took his eyes on another, more leisurely tour of her body. She really did have one hell of a figure, the kind of youthful perfection that only a sixteen year old could have. Meeting her eyes again—she was flushing more, now—his smile was more calculating. "No one is watching now, Jenni. Is only you and I."
She looked away, her face positively aflame and stepped behind an engine block. She clutched her purse in front of her like a shield. "Look, I said I was sorry and I really do apologize. Do you have some gas I can borrow..." she corrected herself. " ... have?" She reached into her purse. "I have some money. I can pay for it."
Val stepped around the tool box and the engine block until there was nothing between them. He was also, by no accident, between her and the door. He shook his head. "Not money. I am from Russia, where money means nothing. In Russia, business done through barter. This for that." He added at her look of confusion.
"Barter?" She backed away from him, her blue eyes as wide as saucers. "What do you want to trade for?"
Val just smiled.
Jenni was talking faster now, her voice higher. "Look, money for gas is a kind of trade, right? And, I have a watch you can have..." She backed into a wall, right where Val had been steering her. He leaned one arm against the wall over her head, trapping the pretty blonde cypka there.
"I told you, I don't want money," he murmured, "and I don't want watch."
"I don't have anything else I can give you." Her voice was small, almost a child's. It was dark in this corner of the shop and Val blocked most of the light that he would have used to see her, but her eyes, still wide, were plainly visible. They weren't the eyes of someone frightened.
Not moving his body, Val looked around the half empty garage bay. "This is not just garage you come into, little kiska, it is special place with special rules."
It took her a moment to reply. "What kind of place is it?"
He turned back to her. "It is house of sajka. A house of men."
She looked around in a panic. "But you said only you and me here."
"And I do not lie, my kroshka, but as house of men it has rules of men, ones that cannot be broken."
Her eyes glittered. "What kind of rules?"
Val reached his free hand towards her and she made no move to back away. His eyes locked to hers, he drew one grease stained finger slowly down her cheek, marking the perfect smoothness of her skin with dirt and oil. "Is called rule of konkat. Rule of finishing." There was no such rule; Val was making this up as he went along. "When woman enter house of men, men cannot leave unsatisfied."
Her eyes widened. "Unsatisfied?" Her voice was a squeak, but her eyes betrayed a different emotion.
"Unsatisfied." He confirmed. "Woman cannot leave without man getting konkat. Finish. American word is ... go. No: come. Yes, man must come. Splash. Brysgat. Is rule."
"What kind of rule is that?"
"My rule." His voice hardened.
She shrank from him. "How..."
He smiled and took another moment to caress her body with his eyes. "How is up to you." He ran his finger along her bottom lip and her mouth opened at his touch. He could feel moist breath against his finger. "Your lips play leather flute very well, I think, but—" he glanced suggestively towards her crotch "—so too your smonka: very pretty.".
Her face now completely red, she pushed away from him. "I can't ... you can't ... it's wrong!" She rushed towards the open garage door but stopped halfway. She still held her purse in front of her with clasped arms. Slowly she turned to face him, conflicting emotions warring on her face.
Val was happy; she could have run away but she hadn't. Still leaning against the wall he shrugged. "Then walk back to town all alone on bad road. Five miles to nearest gas station."
He watched her standing there, her eyes gleaming in excitement while the rest of her face and body pretended protest. She dropped her purse. "What will you do to me?"
Val smirked and slowly walked towards her, his eyes raking up and down her body; a winner inspecting his prize. "I can do to you, or you can do to me."
Her forehead wrinkled. "I, I don't know what you mean."
He didn't say anything more, just walked past her to the bay door and began to close it. He stopped it about half way, and looked over at her, one eyebrow raised in silent question. She said nothing, just squirmed where she stood and rubbed her hands against the sides of her expensive, designer pants. Neither of them said anything as he finished lowering and securing the door.
"Come, Jenni with 'I', come into traxodrom, come into place of sex."
She started towards the now closed garage door. "I don't think I can do this. I think I should go."
Val stepped in front of her, his eyes locked on hers and not leaving. She stopped, indecision written across her face in huge neon letters. Val stepped towards her, stopping only when he was close enough to feel her heat. "Door is locked. Deal is made, little kiska. Is too late for you to be leaving."
She shuddered at his words but did not retreat. "You keep calling me different things. What do they mean, anyway?"
"Kiska is name for pretty girl. Means 'kitten'." Val smirked. "Pussy." Her breathing quickened. He reached between them to where her hands were fluttering impotently. "Time for talking over, little pussy. Time is for doing." He began pulling her towards the back room, his traxodrom, and she followed passively. "Do you do to me with your pretty, pretty lips, or do I do to your hairy prison with my needle?"
They passed into the back room of the garage, the one he and his bratans had filled with cast off bar furniture. In the far corner, beyond the barstools and the tables was Val's destination: a stained mattress on the concrete floor.
Jenni tore her eyes away from the mattress with difficulty? "Hmm? What?"
Val used plainer English. "I give you choice, little pussy: do you suck my cock with your pretty, pretty lips, or do you take off clothes and I have sex with you on mattress?" His lips twitched. "Either way, I finish in part of you."
She swallowed. "I'll ... umm ... I'd rather go down on you." Her words were like music to Val's ears, made all the sweeter because they came from such an innocent and pretty face. "I'll ... blow you."
Val's smile was cruel. "You think maybe secret boyfriend think this less of cheating, little dojarka, or do you not tell him of your little adventure tonight?"
Anger flared in her eyes. "Look, shut up about that, ok? Please? I'll ... play your clarinet or whatever, ok? Just ... shut up."
Val had been hard from almost the first moment she had entered the garage and now, with her looking both defeated and aroused, he was harder than steel.
"Please to taking off sweater now." His voice was a growl.
She looked up, startled, and clutched her arms to her chest. It just made her breasts seem larger. "But you said I didn't have to. I'm just going down on you."
"I change deal, sweet little pussy," he growled, his eyes locked onto her chest. "I must see titka. Take off sweater or I take off for you." He smirked and held up his greasy hands. "If I take off you must explain to rich daddy why it so dirty."
"God, no! It's cashmere!" In a second it was off and laying across a bar table. Jenni stood next to it, here eyes still wide, now clad in her pink top that hugged her waist like a second skin and held up by tiny straps across her shoulders. Val advanced towards her. She tried to back away but found herself blocked by one of the tables.
Neither said anything as he came close enough to feel her breath. His erect needle, pressing painfully against his jeans, was almost close enough for her to touch. His hands came out and slid around her narrow waist, then down the flare of her hips to the tight globes of her zopa. She gasped and her hands flattened against his chest as he pulled her body against his, pressing her against his crotch and his painful erection. "Very nice, cypta. You have very nice ass."
His hands kneaded her, grinding her hips against his own rhythmically. If her eyes had been open she would have been looking off in the corner. Her breathing was ragged. "What..." she gasped out. "What does sip-ta mean?"
"'Baby bird, '" he growled out. "Is name for pretty girl." Her body was smooth and lean, curved in just the right way. She fit against him like a nesting doll. He pulled her up by her buttocks until she was standing on her toes and ground the crotch of her jeans against him. He groaned. "So, good, cypta. So eblivaya."
He loosened his grip but didn't release her. His hands slid underneath her shirt, fingers meeting at the narrow of her back and then slowly, slowly moving up its length, feeling the perfection of her warm, smooth skin. He felt silk and lace between the blades of her shoulders and slid his hands along her ribs until the peaks of her breasts rested beneath his palms. He gave the cloth covered mounds a squeeze that was more gentle than hard.
Her breath caught. "What does 'ebliva' mean?" Her eyes were still closed.
"eblivaya. Beautiful. 'full of sex'" He pulled up her shirt until it was a pink scarf around her neck and her entire upper body was exposed to him. Her bra was just as pink as her shirt and Val could easily see the outline of her nipples, hard and erect, beneath the sheer fabric. "You are very eblivaya."
He smirked at the sight of his oily handprints on her expensive lingerie and cupped her twin mountains with his dirty hands once again. After squeezing and kneading for a minute he pushed up until the lacy cups hung alongside the matching shirt and he could see her bufera in all their teenaged splendour. They were as perfect as only a sixteen year olds breasts could be: firm, not too large, warm, and full. They fit in his grip perfectly.
He rubbed her nipples with his thumbs and she moaned. "Do you like touch, cypka?" He growled into her ear. "Does touch of real man feel better than hands of secret boyfriend?"
Her eyes snapped open. "Don't talk about that!" Her arms came up to cover her chest and forced his hands away. "Let's just ... do this, ok? Let me suck your thing so I can go."
"Is not 'thing'," Val growled. He took her wrists in his hands and easily pulled them away from her chest. "Is my khui, my needle. 'Three happy letters'." He placed her hands overtop the bulge in his jeans. "Is to be loved and appreciated." Her fingers gently cupped his bulge.
He slid one hand up the creamy smoothness of her arm, along her shoulder and then under the golden cascade of her hair. Cupping her neck, he pulled her towards him. Her breathing was fast and her lips opened in anticipation. Val let his own lips brush her temple as he moved his mouth to her ear.
"Kurite moju trubku," he whispered. "Suck my cock, little pussy." Bringing his other hand up to her shoulder, he pushed her face down to his crotch.
She fell to her knees without resistance, her shirt and byusttalter still hanging around her neck. Her hands rubbed nervously across her jeans. She looked up at Val nervously. His hands were still resting on her shoulders and he pulled her gently towards him. "Use hands and unzip," he instructed, "but please being gentle. Is very tight in pants."
Her eyes fixed on his bulge and her hands came up to his belt. She was hesitant as she unbuttoned him and then slowly, so slowly drew the zipper down over the distressed fabric. The feel of her fingers sliding across his erection made Val groan. "Oh, yes, little pussy," he growled. "Take it out. Touch with hands. Do it now."
She opened his pants as wide as the zipper could go. His erect needle, freer now but still constrained behind his boxers, jutted outwards like a tent. "Take out," Val hissed in frustration. "Kiss with lips."
From where she knelt, Jenni placed one gentle hand on his shaft through the cloth, then glanced up and flashed him a quick smile. It was a smile that would not have looked out of place on a teen magazine. It was wholesome. Sweet. Nice, or at least it would have been if she had not been kneeling with her face in Val's unzipped jeans. That one fact changed it from nice to sexy as hell. Eblivaya.
Lust overpowered him. "Sosi moi khui suka!" he growled. Suck my cock, bitch! He held her in place with his hands and rubbed his throbbing erection against her face, desperate for sensation. "Zazizalka! Suka!" Cock-tease! Bitch! "Do to me now. Take in mouth!"
She pushed her head backwards until she could see his crotch, then pulled his waistband out with one hand and gripped his shaft with the other. His needle, free now, leapt forward and struck Jenni in the cheek. She giggled, then opened her mouth and wrapped her sweet red lips around the deep purple head of his shaft.
Val groaned deeply and lessened his grip on her. He could feel her tongue swirling around his head like it was candy. "So good, kiska. So good."
She continued like that for both an instant and an eternity, rubbing her tongue in circles around him as Val gasped and groaned above her. One of her hands held his shaft steady while the other stroked his balls like they were her favourite pet. After a minute or two of this she pulled her head back but before Val could protest she dipped her head down, running her tongue up and down the length of his shaft.
Mikhaela
- 04.09.2020
- 19
- 0
