Apartment Eight Makes A Golden Challenge - Sex Stories

Apartment Eight Makes A Golden Challenge

... “You’re a long way from the Bolshoi,” she added. He nodded his way back to her and then clapped his beefy hands and said, “Good. Then you tell me how to strip.” “What?” Carie’s voice dropped an octave. Vasily took a step back. He held out his hands to his sides and said, “I am still your bitch. You make me dance the way you want.” “Here?” Carie titled her head. He was crazy. The night had somehow broken Vasily, she thought. She should have felt guilty how badly she had damaged her neighbour. Yet, should would have been crazy herself to pass up this golden opportunity. His face looking as if he were reading the menu board at McDonald’s, Vasily slowly started to circle his hips, his hands still at his sides. “Like this?” he asked. Carie pinched her bottom lip with her teeth, catching a chuckle. Her arms still crossed, she leaned back against the rear of the minivan. He was really going to do this. She sighed and said, “Go on.” “How about this?” Vasily raised his hands and clasped them behind his head. He crunched his stomach and traced a figure-eight with his pelvis, his oiled up abs snaring the light from above. Oh, Christ, Carie thought, feeling a patter in her heart and a flush on her cheeks and neck. “Very good,” she said with a perfunctory nod. In the dim alleyway, with only the muffled sounds of the city at night filtering in around them, Vasily found a rhythm. He rolled his crotch as if he were churning butter with it. He shimmied and shook his way around the gritty ...

... pavement, snapping his fingers and popping poses like he were on the dance floor of the club. Carie shifted her feet on the ground slowly, alternating the weight on her knees. She swallowed and moistened her lips. In her head, she knew that this was ridiculous. Vasily was about as graceful as a bear before hibernation. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. No, laughing was the furthest thing from her mind. Vasily dropped his coat off his shoulders as he continued to move, exposing his broad chest and svelte torso which funneled neatly into his tight jeans. He continued to grind his hips as he slowly stepped and danced towards Carie. Carie pressed her back against the minivan as he loomed over her, inches apart. The back of her head touched the rear window as she looked up and searched behind the dark mask for Vasily’s lovely, deep blue eyes. “You like?” he asked, slowly gyrating before her. “Is good?” “Is not bad,” she said meekly with a shrug, nearly choking back her words. She felt her breath tremble. “You like personal dance?” Carie offered a coy grin. She reached into her purse and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. Cocking her thin, black brow, she asked, “What does this get me?” A grin finally splintered Vasily’s tight, pink lips. He snatched the bill from her fingers and stuffed it into the pocket. “You may open package.” Carie licked her lips then looked down. As Vasily leisurely swayed his crotch back and forth, beckoning to her, she reached down, undid the button of ...