I spent a good deal of time thinking about who I wanted to post about, and settled on the Russian. I started the story, I figure, I might as well end it.

For a year and a half, the Russian and I talked on the phone. I was head over heels. We both agreed that we didn’t believe in long-distance relationships, but at least once a week, if not every night, we gushed at one another – I miss you, I wish you were here, when will you come visit? We had other relationships during that time (passionate, volatile ones, both of us, him with a girl whose name is the same uncommon name as I have, and me with THE Ex), and we talked about them openly with one another. And, to be fair, we cut down on the lovers’ talk during those times. But the moment we were both single again, there we were – I miss you, I want you, I wish you were here with me so I could throw you on the bed and make wild, passionate love to you.

Oh GOD was there sexual tension between us. We used to talk about seeing one another and being unable to control ourselves… airports, bus stations, you name it, the thought ran through our heads. But being a couple states away and both at University, it was impossible. Finally – a YEAR and a HALF later than our one not-a-kiss – my best friend Dee mentioned she was taking a road trip to visit family and friends in his area, and would I like to come with her?

YES!

I had no idea what to expect. What would he look like now? Would he still think I was as sexy as he imagined? Would it be explosive and delicious and sweaty all at once, or would we ease into it? I had thought about meeting him again so many times. In one of my fiction classes, I wrote a story (my first completed short story, actually, that wasn’t a fanfiction [yes, I was into fanfiction growing up... from about 12-17. I stand by it being nothing to be ashamed of.]) where he was a main character. This was the description of him from when he and the main character meet up again:

His hair had grown just a little wilder, sandy like the shore around him, but his eyes were still the bright blue of afternoon San Diego skies and he still wore that damned leather jacket even though it was quite warm outside. She could nearly smell the leather already, infused with the scent of the ocean and cigarette smoke.

“Hey babe, what’s crackin’?” he greeted her in his half-Russian, half-Californian accent. It reminded her of a mix between Stravinsky and the Beach Boys. The perpetual smirk she remembered was still there on his lips, and it somehow didn’t even budge when he gave her a staccato peck on her forehead.

Terrified, I agreed to meet him at a shopping center by his house, which just so happened to be near where we were staying. We hadn’t even showered yet after the long drive – we were stopping for coffee and he mentioned he was close-by.

Dee held back as he walked up to me. He looked just as I remembered – unruly blonde hair, intense blue eyes, except he had a red sweater on instead of his leather jacket. We barely hugged – it was extraordinarily awkward. After an uncomfortable five minute conversation and introduction to Dee, we decided to meet up later that evening. This would also give Dee some alone time with her ex-boyfriend, whose house we were staying at, since she wanted to, ah, catch-up with him.

When he came by to pick me up later, he was wearing the leather jacket, and as soon as we got outside, we began kissing. Fuck, I loved his kisses. Rough and sweet and when I got in close, I could smell that Russian smell that I always remembered him having. After a year and a half, the smell of him still jogged some memory and turned me on. We would have kept kissing in the middle of the street, but a gentleman walking his dog walked by and we giggled and blushed and went to his car.

When we got to his house, he showed me around a little. Walking up the stairwell, he took me by surprise, pushing me against the wall and kissing me, hard. I almost forgot to kiss back, I was so shocked, but soon, I was pressing my lips against his with no restraint.

Just as I started to get weak-kneed, he pulled away. I almost fell to the floor and he nonchalantly began showing me his kitchen. He grabbed a pack of bottled beer – a raspberry brew, I don’t remember the name – and I followed him up the second stairwell to his room.

He set the beer down, and I was a little more prepared when he pushed me against the wall this time. I’d brought my bathing suit, as we’d planned to go hot tubbing, but I dropped it on the floor and wrapped my hands around his back, pressing my fingers up against his neck and spine and ass. We had an amazing chemistry together.

I’d been scared, also, that the sex would be mediocre, but it wasn’t. It was amazing and wordless and fluid. Every motion seemed scripted or choreographed, every position change was flawless and oh wow did he feel good inside me… He was perfect amounts forceful and gentle and it was like in a fantasy – except I’d never imagined that he didn’t have a bed frame or that there would be a neon flamingo lamp in the corner.

When we finished, flushed and glowing, we did eventually go down to the hot tub. He jumped right in, but I’m not that type when it comes to water. I like to ease my way into the heat, and as I did, he pulled me onto his lap. He wasted no time finding his way into my bikini bottoms (black and red with a rose sprawled across the ass), and I was murmuring sexy thoughts into his ear. I could feel him getting hard again in his swimtrunks, and I straddled him, kissing his lips and teasing his neck and ears with little licks and nibbles.

He untied my bikini top and began playing with my breasts and I started grinding against his hard-on. Just as we both started to moan a little louder, his damned phone rang.

“Solnishka [Sunshine, I think?], it’s my friends.” Fuuuuuuck. “They live in the same complex, saw me walking to the hot tub… they’re on their way.” FUUUUCK. I pulled my top back on and he helped me tie it. His friends showed up soon after, those that didn’t have swimsuits stripping down to their underwear and jumping and splashing around in the hot tub. I wish this story went a different direction considering, but everything in the hot tub was pg after that (except maybe our jokes).

We hung out with his friends all night, finally going back to the house and lighting a fire in his fireplace, playing some beer pong, and just having good conversation. Eventually, I went up to his room to sleep, tired from travel and alcohol, and not long after, he kicked everyone out and came up to join me.

We began touching as soon as he got there, and I wish I remembered more, but the alcohol makes things a little fuzzy here. I know it was amazing, but the details are lost… Unfortunately, the same thing happened the next night. I went  to a party with Dee, got ridiculously silly, got dropped off at his house, and pretty much attacked and fucked the hell out of him. So, alright, I concede, this post wasn’t the hottest ever, but it is the ending to the story.

After that, the Russian and I talked a little, but not nearly as much. I miss him, but honestly? Once we had actually gotten the passion that had built up out of our systems, I think we realized it was futile to keep it up. Still, it was hands down some of the best sex I’ve ever had (for some of my other best sex, read here and here), because of the emotional connection and the raw sexual chemistry we had together.