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The following story was taken from my memories of a time long ago, with little need for embellishment. Despite having found it difficult to convey all of the images and emotions that had collected my head, even in my native language, nevertheless I hope those of you English-speaking readers can find something interesting with the following recollection and the atmosphere that was prevalent among students during the period of stagnation that followed the collapse of the former USSR.
I hope that this English adaptation, done by Alpha Lyon, is able to convey the universal themes that are characteristic not only in Western culture, but among young people in relationships around the world.
Any comments, good or bad, are highly appreciated, and thank you for your patience while reading.
Keep in mind that there are quite a few erotic scenes in the story, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.
The first time I saw her was on the trolleybus as it traveled along Kutuzov Avenue. From the moment she stepped on and took a seat at the front, I could do nothing but stare from the back as my breath caught in my throat. Her beauty left me speechless. My legs betrayed me, leaving me affixed in my seat, when the only thing I wanted was to move to the empty spot beside to her. All I could do was stare, caressing her with my eyes, taking in every part and committing it to memory, lest this be the only time I would ever be blessed to be so close to her. I was dumbfounded. She stared back at me, or so it seemed she did, but neither of us had the courage to approach the other. When she exited at her stop, she looked back at me once last time. It tore at me from the inside, and in a last minute burst of determination, I rushed to the exit.
But the doors had already slammed shut. The trolleybus continued along the route. All I could do was watch from the window as she slowly disappeared from sight.
I was not myself for the rest of the day. There was nowhere I could run, no task I could undertake, not a thing I could do that would evict her from my mind. She was all I could think about. And yet I knew that it was all in vain, for what hope is there be for a man like me to find her in this metropolis we called Moscow?
Part 1. The Game
The country was in the peak of its stagnation, but a wonderful time for me. I had recently turned eighteen and was studying at the Moscow Power Engineering Institute where my future seemed bright. My parents worked abroad, and unlike most of my peers, I was fortunate to have them send me foreign clothes, drinks, and the latest gadgets. My favorite of their gifts was “The White Album” by The Beatles, complete with four postcards featuring each of The Beatles and a meter-long poster with the lyrics to all of the songs on it. The album had gone out of circulation years ago, but somehow they were still able to find a copy. It was this album that would later become the reason for what would happen.
I have always been the youngest in my class, as my mother was a kindergarten teacher and put me in school a year ahead of time. This did not stop me from being at the top of my class or making friends.
By the time I went to college, there were several Muscovites in our group, many of whom had parents with high positions in the Soviet government as well as in various district and regional committees of the Communist Party. The three I was closest with were Anatoly “Tolik” Lukyanov, Volodya “Vovchik” Gurevich, and Larisa “Lara” Markova. They dressed and behaved differently, carrying themselves with a certain laissez faire. They were fond of jazz and of reading books inaccessible to others, such as “The Master and Margarita”, “Jean-Green Untouchable”, and even, it was rumored, “GULAG Archipelago”. They often gathered with boys and girls from other educational institutions, including the University, and called themselves “The Hangout”.
I don’t know why they included me beyond the original fact that I was the one to help them with their studies. But more and more, they began to include me in trips to the movies, to dances, or just to sit and listen to records of Presley, Dassin, and Goodman among others. I would get lost in the “exotic” books we shared with each other, so much so that I almost failed my exams one semester when I was swept away in The Count of Monte Cristo and its tale of revenge.
They often mocked my age, but I didn’t mind. The jokes were never cruel and they treated me like a little brother, even going so far as to always make sure there was wine at our parties since vodka was too stiff of a drink for me. Their attention made me feel more mature, like I was someone important. But to them, I was harmless. One time, the girls in our study group chose lyrics for each guy that represented his very essence. When it came to me, they took these words from a popular song: “I am a fluffy white kitten, I never catch mice”.
I proudly showed off my copy of “The White Album” to the group during a break between classes. Their eyes lit up ankara evi olan escortlar immediately as they called out dibs on borrowing it.
“Guys, let’s bring him to ‘Daisy’!” Larisa said. She was of medium height, had dyed-blonde hair, and a good figure. She was also the girlfriend of Tolik.
The guys gave each other strange looks at this suggestion.
“Do you even talk to girls? And what prize would you even wager?”
I didn’t know what he meant, but before I could ask him, the break had ended and we hurried into the classroom.
I was confused, but I didn’t press the issue; no need for me to seem even lamer to them on things they found so obvious. A week later, though, I got my answers.
Friday afternoon, we gathered again at Vovchik’s flat to prepare a term paper. When we had finished our work, the owner of the apartment building invited us to his play for a drink. He had Tokaj wine; my favorite as it was reminiscent of brandy. Nobody refused, and the conversation soon turned to the discussion of my album that had already been listened to by everybody.
“By the way, are you going to Daisy?” Volodya suddenly asked me. “If I understood correctly you’re invited.”
“Yes. Us girls talked and we agreed that he should come,” Larisa confirmed.
“What do you actually mean by ‘Daisy’?” I was seriously interested at this point.
Everyone laughed for a reason I did not know, and then Anatoly asked sarcastically, “How are you doing with mice? Have you caught one?”
Knowing what was meant by this reference to the song, I didn’t even take offense, muttering, “What’s that got to do with it?”
“Didn’t think so.” The guys laughed again.
“Well, he’ll have enough time to catch them tomorrow?” Larisa said with a smile.
“I was actually going to the cinema tomorrow,” I replied. “They are showing ‘Romance about Lovers’, which I heard was sensational.”
“Come on, the movie won’t go anywhere, and here’s your one chance to be a part of Daisy,” Vovchik objected.
“Come with us. You won’t regret it,” Tolik supported him, “but you’ll have to take the disks with you as a wager.”
“What kind of discs?” I did not understand. Did they mean my copy of the “White Album”? And how could that be related to a daisy?
“Okay, I’ll explain,” Anatoly took pity on me and began to explain.
It turns out that “Daisy” was the name of this party of theirs where the most liberated guys and girls from gathered and practiced “catching mice”. There were rules. The guys had to bring something of value to wager, such as super-scarce gifts of rare records, collection cognac, foreign vintage wines, or anything that was very difficult to get. These were not gifts, but bets for which the girls still had to compete.
The game took place in one of the large apartments of the nobility, where carpets were not a luxury, but an ordinary household item. The girls, naked below the waist, would lie down on the carpet on their backs in a circle, head to the center, forming the “petals” of a human “daisy”. They would spread their legs, offering the “bumblebees” (the boys) to
“pollinate” them in a circle.
The “bumblebee” had to cum on the girl’s stomach so that everything was no fakery. He was also not allowed to use his hands to help himself cum faster. The “referee” would handle all of the rules and the countdown before the “bumblebee” would move on to the next “petal”. The girls were told to put their hands behind their heads and not move their legs; everything else was at their discretion. The goal was for the bumblebee to cum with the same girl he started with.
If a “bumblebee” failed, he would lose his wager and the “petals” would divvy up the prizes afterwards.
But if he achieved this goal, not only would he keep his bet for himself, but he also received the title of “King of the Bumblebees”, entitling to any girl at the party at any time. He could just call her with his finger and she would have to follow him. His access was not limited to the number of girls could be with for as long as the party lasted.
As Anatoly explained the game, I began to get worked up. There was a pounding in the temples, constriction in the throat, and ringing in the ears. As it turned out, all of them have already participated in this fun more than once, including Larisa. I somehow looked at my classmate differently, trying to see something special in her, but I could not.
“What about Tolik?” I wondered about how her boyfriend felt about this, but I didn’t say anything; in the end, we were are adults and would figure it out on our own.
“So are you ready to put the Beatles on the line?” Anatoly asked, interrupting the confusion in my head.
“Y…yes,” I said, barely holding back a shudder.
“But, you know, keep it a secret!”
“Sure, what am I, a child?”
Everyone laughed again for an unknown reason.
“Well, that’s good. So tomorrow, we’ll meet at my place at four,” Larisa summed up, before we went back to our dorms.
Needless ankara olgun escortlar to say, I could no longer study that night, and the two lessons we were taught on Saturday went in one ear and out the other. All sorts of visions flashed in my head, in which naked women alternated with each other, giving me pleasure. And of course, Larisa was among them. I adjusted the raging erection in my pants that would not subside.
On Saturday afternoon, I washed up, dressed in my nicest jeans and turtleneck, and sprayed myself with cologne my parents had bought me. When it was time, I tucked my records under my arms and walked to Larisa’s house. I stood at the entrance, not daring to enter, until Tolik and Vovchik arrived twenty minutes later.
“What are you doing here?” Vovchik asked me after we had shaken hands and patted each other on the shoulders. “Why didn’t you go inside?”
“I couldn’t remember the apartment,” I lied.
“How’s that?” Tolik was surprised. “We were at her place listening to Bob Dylan that time.”
I was even more embarrassed and blushed without saying anything.
“Ha, he’s just shy.” Vovchik guessed and added: “Don’t be shy, Sandro. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.” He put his arms around my shoulders and led me in.
The door was opened by a pretty woman in her forties, with dimples in her cheeks.
“Hello, Olga Fyodorovna,” we said in unison.
“Is Larissa ready yet?” Tolik asked.
“Hi, boys. She’s ‘putting on her face’. I think you call they call using makeup these days. Why don’t you have a cup of tea?” Larisa’s mother answered with a smile, letting us into the hallway.
“Oh, no,” Tolik said for everyone. “We’re already late. Lar, are you ready?”
“I’m coming!” Larissa jumped out of the bathroom, kissed Tolik on the cheek, threw on her raincoat, and flew out the door.
We soon arrived in courtyard of a huge bulding on Kutuzov Avenue where the nobles lived, and where today’s party gathered in one of the apartments.
The door was opened by a strange, curly-haired guy our age, apparently the owner of the apartment.
“Vyacheslav, call me Slavik,” he said, holding out his hand to me after he had kissed Larisa on the cheek and patted the shoulders of both my friends.
“Sasha,” I said, shaking it. “Friends call me Sandro”.
“Well, come in, everyone is already here, waiting for you.”
The song “Looking At You” by the band “Uriah Heep” was humming inside, apparently from the good speaker system because it seemed that the walls were already shaking.
We went inside.
The apartment was large with three bedrooms and high ceilings. In the center a large five by six meter room, was a huge thick carpet. Three guys and five girls, not from our institute, were standing and sitting with glasses in their hands. Everyone looked in our direction with interest.
“Who should I give the wagers to?” Vovchik asked.
“To Masha. She’s a newcomer and will be playing the role of ‘referee’ today.” He pointed to a slender brown-haired girl in a light blouse and dark green skirt, standing with her back to us at a table on which lay the collection of wagers brought by the guys.
Vovchik took his wager of a set of French cosmetics out of his bag, the Climate perfume from Tolik, and the album from me and moved towards her.
“It needs to be registered,” he informed us.
I looked closely at the girls as Slavik told me about each of them.
“This is Victoria; you can call her Vika, she is a basketball player,” he pointed to a sporty, tall brunette with a shock of cropped hair.
“This is Natasha,” his finger moved to a short, pretty blonde, drinking a cocktail, who immediately waved to us.
“And Galina or “Galya” is the one chatting with Zhorik.” Galya turned out to be a little plump, cheerful, merry girl with curly blond hair and large breasts.
He pointed to the fourth girl. She was beautiful with a round face and a braid, which she threw over her shoulder, sitting in an armchair, also with a glass in her hand.
“This is Lilya, my junior sister.
“Strike me pink!” flashed through my mind. “Is he going to be with his sister, too?”…
At that moment, the girl who was standing at the table, having finished the registration business with Vovchik, turned to us. My mouth went dry. My heart jumped and fluttered somewhere in my throat. It was HER, the girl from the trolleybus!
She politely greeted us, and Tolik exclaimed bombastically, “Hello, my dear, I am honored to make your acquaintance!” Then he kissed her hand ceremoniously.
The girl blushed and then looked at me. Something flashed in her eyes. It was clear that she recognized me. Overcoming my shyness, I muttered, “Sasha, it’s very nice to meet you,” and gently shook her outstretched hand.
“Masha,” the girl said softly and blushed even more.
We were hastily introduced to the rest of the guests, and I learned that the remaining two guys were Vanya and Sergey.
Larissa noticed that I reacted ankara sarışın escortlar differently with Masha, and when I joined everyone at the table for a martini with orange juice, she immediately wanted to know if I had met her before. I told her about the trolleybus, and how it was just for a fleeting moment. This was our second meeting after that fateful trip.
“Well, well,” she chuckled, “it looks like you’ve already fallen in love with her.”
“What? No!” I blushed, and my heart began to beat treacherously, spreading a blush over my face that told the truth about my intentions.
“Larisa,” I asked uncertainly, “is she going to… well…be in the Daisy with you too?”
“No particular reason.” I muttered. “It’s just…well…I wanted to get to know her better.”
“Yeah, I see,” Larissa drawled, looking intently at me. “‘Get to know better’, eh? No, it doesn’t work that way. You’re not going to ‘get to know her better’ THIS way. Newbies just watch, deciding if they want to participate next time. However, since she came here… There is a rule: in case of win, you can apply for any of the participating girls.
“Meaning her too?” I happily asked.
“Yes, her too.” Larisa said slowly, still looking at me. “But make no mistake, it won’t be easy, especially for the very first time.”
I blushed again, imagining WHAT I would do this very “first time”. “We’ll see!” I said cheerfully.
“Uh huh,” Larisa drawled again, and then turned away and went to the other girls, immediately joining in their conversation.
Galya, having finished her discussion with Zhorik, suddenly clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.
“Boys, girls, we all know why we are here, so we will not drag our feet. For those who participate for the first time, the boys will undress in this room and the girls will undress in that one.” She pointed to the doors. “I remind you that all participants, without exception, must be naked, so as not to embarrass others. Only then they can enter here.”
Our group of guys excitedly moved in the indicated direction. However, my legs were like cotton wool, and I could barely stand, let alone walk to the room. My head was ringing from shock. I did not understand how I could come out naked, but I followed them anyways.
The room we entered turned out to be Slavik’s room, and the girls, apparently, went to Lilya’s room. Everyone began to undress and soon, everyone was naked; everyone except for me. The rest of the guys were pretty calm, and their dicks hung between their legs in varying degrees of stiffness. Only mine stuck out of my underwear.
“Oh, come on, don’t shy. It’s only us,” Slavik said. “You’ll see how the girls will like you!””
Emboldened by the fact that I was not alone, I took off my underwear and put them with my rolled up turtleneck and jeans. Slavik suggested that we take another sip of alcohol for courage. We toasted in celebration then followed him out the exit.
The atmosphere in the main hall had changed. Five naked girls gathered on the carpet and began to lie down with cards numbered one to five hanging around their necks to show where they would be positioned. Among them I found Larissa under the number four. This was the first time I saw my classmate to be naked, actually I had never seen naked women before, except for my sisters, whom I sometimes spied on when they washed in the bathroom when I was still at school.
Larisa looked divine: a lean body, slender legs, and a rather large chest, which now that she was lying, was somewhat flattened under its own weight. The other girls were no worse. They were all slender, and although their breasts were different, I immediately wanted to start fondling them.
From the sight of naked female bodies, the guys’ penises immediately began to come to life and I stopped being ashamed of my own erection.
Masha was also standing at the table with the prizes, naked in only her socks, all red with embarrassment. One hand shyly covered her chest while the other one held a paper. Finally, overcoming the embarrassment of having so many naked guys with protruding penises, she cleared her throat and began to read from the sheet. “First we need to warm up the petals. Let each girl be approached by her boyfriend.”
“Wow. I guess Larisa isn’t the only one here who brought their boyfriend!” I thought.
Five guys from our group stepped forward and each approached their girlfriend.
I saw Tolik approached Larisa. He knelt between her legs and began kissing her, first on the lips, then moving to her chest, and gradually began descending until he buried his face in her crotch while he continued to massage her breasts, rolling her nipples in his fingers. The rest of the guys did the same, including Slavik, who sat between Natasha’s legs.
Soon the girls began to breathe noisily and even moan. Ten or fifteen minutes passed, some couples even began to actively neck, when Masha, apparently having received some signal, interrupted them, continuing to read the paper.
“According to the preliminary drawing, Vanya is the first to start ‘pollination’. At stake is a bottle of Martel cognac.” She pointed with the paper in her hand to a half-liter bottle of an unusual shape, filled with a golden liquid, standing on the table.
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