Eastern Step - Sex Stories

Eastern Step

It was my version of a middle-aged crisis. I had been a bachelor since high school, and was now in my early thirties. I worked on computers, which guaranteed that no American woman would give me the time of day without a financial supplement. I was a bit lonely, so decided to turn my life upside-down. I went online and met a wonderful 28-year-old lady from the Ukraine. (If you know women, you know that Ukrainian girls are the hottest bl**ded around.) She also had a daughter, twelve. Well, one thing led to another, and I was soon flying over to meet them in their small town in the northern Ukraine. When I got off the puddle-jumper from Kiev, I saw them waiting next to the “terminal”. I couldn’t believe my eyes. While Olga was pretty, her twelve-year-old daughter Irena was a total knockout! I stared for a minute then came to my senses. I walked across the cracked old tarmac and gave Olga a hug. Turning to Irena I also gave her a hug. I could smell her hair. Nice. Fortunately I had studied Russian in High School, so I could sort of communicate with them. As we took the town’s only taxi back to their apartment we discussed how long I was staying, the weather, and what I wanted to do during my “rest” (as vacations are called in Eastern Europe). I said that it was their country, and that I didn’t have any specific plans. The idea that there wasn’t any schedule was difficult to communicate, but I believe I got the point across. We arrived at their house. It was a Soviet built ...

... apartment building. ‘What a dump!’ I thought. The bricks were falling off the sides, one corner looked like it was collapsing, the front door was missing, and there wasn’t a blade of grass in the mud around the building. As I followed Irena’s beautiful butt into the building (surreptitiously keeping an eye out for falling ceilings), my initial diagnosis didn’t get much better. The interior steps were crumbling, the elevator had given up the ghost years ago, most of the mail boxes on the walls were missing covers, graffiti was everywhere (in English!), and most of the hall and stairwell lights were burnt out. We climbed to the sixth floor. At least the apartment had a door. Olga unlocked it and we went in. Not too bad. She had done nicely with what she had. There was wallpaper covering the cement walls and tile over the concrete floor with area rugs. The apartment was a sorta studio. It had a bathroom, toiletroom, kitchen and commonroom. It was getting a bit late in the day, and I had major jet lag, so I asked Olga if I could lie down and take a nap. She folded a bed out of the couch, and I removed my shoes and climbed in. I was out like a light. I awoke at 4 am. Looking around (there was light coming in from the street) I noticed that Olga was sl**ping on one side of me and Irena was on the other! Apparently this was the only bed in the place. Unable to resist, I reached out under the covers toward Olga who was curled up facing away from me. I touched bare skin! With a trembling ...