Wednesday, August 05, 2009


The first orgy ended with Crazy Bob thumping naked through his apartment holding up a bloodied condom yelling, "LOOK AT THIS! IT'S ORANGE! IT'S ORANGE!"

I offered to let him smell my fingers; he tossed me out into the street and I spent about an hour tromping through the snow giggling with a 2-liter plastic bottle full of beer under my arm.

Things had gone wrong for him in several ways. He'd picked up a girl at the House of Pain nightclub, but her rather cuter friend had gone for me. When we'd arrived at his apartment, he'd taken his into the kitchen to be alone with her; I was somewhat surprised when her friend pulled me onto his bed and started kissing me.

The next thing I remember is that she's half naked, writhing and squirming beneath me, and Crazy Bob is coming into the room to get some cushions off the bed.

"You better not get any spooge on my bed," he says mildly, going back into the kitchen.

A while later mine is completely undressed and Crazy Bob is coming back into the room to get a condom.

"Uh, break me off one of those," I say, as my girl, delirious with passion and alcohol, is pushing my head down to her crotch and paying no attention whatsoever to Crazy Bob. Soon she's doing a backbend, crying out, as I'm eating her out and sliding a finger into her asshole.

I remember it all, but I remember it in fragments that probably don't go in the right order.

I remember getting up to use the toilet, and then deciding to pay Crazy Bob back the favor by walking in on him and his girl to get a glass of beer from the two-liter plastic jug of it we'd purchased after leaving the nightclub at 4.30am.

His girl is shocked and jumps off of him; I say, "Sorry, just needed a drink."

Outside, my girl, 19 but looking about five years younger, hair messed up and her dress pulled on over no underwear, greets me with a drunken smile, "Hey!" and a kiss. After we both use the toilet, we get back in bed.

Next I remember her naked again, giving her two fingers from behind as she writhed and moaned, pushing her beautiful shapely young ass up into my face.

I did something very unhygeneic, that I once told the guys I'd never do.

The next thing I remember is both of the girls sitting in the bathroom crying. I don't remember why, or what Crazy Bob and I were doing at this time. I think I went and plopped unconscious on the bed. The March sun was up by now, 7:00 am or so, shining mercilessly through the windows.

Then I remember being wrapped around my girl, both of us naked, dozing, and her friend coming and waking her up and telling her they had to go. I also seem to remember Crazy Bob coming in and swinging his penis around and saying, "Where are you going, huh? Stay for a while."

I helped my girl put on her bra, which was white and frilly with red spots. I have no memory of her taking it off, but I clearly remember her putting it back on. She asked me to accompany them outside, but by the time I got my shoes on, they were gone.

"In addition to being kind of pudgy, she was on the rag!" raged Crazy Bob. "It was nauseating!" He would later describe this by SMS as "a festering vagi-volcano of blood and pus."

After he threw me out, I called Crazy Bob and described the lovely butterscotch smell on my fingers, and apologized that my chick had been so unrelentingly sexy and hot while his had not. He shouted obscenities at me and I cackled drunkenly through the snow as I walked home.

* * *

Our second orgy was in May, I believe. He and I had been drinking vodka in my kitchen -- a half-liter bottle -- and he was sending out text messages to all the various girls he'd met prowling the shops and bus-stops during the week.

"I met a girl a few days ago, rather pretty although not the thinnest girl on Earth, and she says she's not far from here on the street with a friend. Should we?"

"Sure," I say.

Indeed his girl is as he says -- rather pretty, honey-colored blond hair, if not exactly svelte. Her friend is the opposite -- small and dark, nice slim little body but not the greatest face ever.

After a short time on the street, Crazy Bob invites them over to my apartment for more drinks. He buys them a bottle of champagne and I get some beer for us.

They're not bad company, and I happen to be in the mood for stupid "Why did you come to Russia?" small talk for once, so things are going well when Crazy Bob takes me aside in the hallway.

"Look," he says. "This girl I was fucking the other night just called me and wants to meet at my apartment. I think I'm going to do it."

I'm pretty rosy-faced drunk at this point, so I say, "Hey no problem baby, you're leaving them in good hands."

"I'll try to make it back in a couple of hours," he says.

I laugh evilly.

He has me surreptitiously call his cell phone; then he mimes one-side of a conversation in which one of our friends is nearby and in trouble with some hooligans and he needs to go to the rescue. "Oh my god, English Teacher R is being devoured by wolves you say? Good heaven, please go help him!" I say in English. Crazy Bob thunders away.

I turn my attention back to the two girls; things have reached the point where a candle has been lit, the lights are out, and dancing has commenced, moving back and forth between radio music in the kitchen and music from my computer in the combo bedroom / living room.

The dark-haired one is really into it, pulling my hand onto her breasts and kissing me; I'm trying to include the blonde one, too, though, as English Teacher etiquette pretty much demands I try to get off with Crazy Bob's girl before the evening is over.

The dark-haired one has had a lot to drink and at one point she lays down on the bed and closes her eyes. I'm dancing with the blonde one and we're twirling around and such but she won't let me kiss her. She keeps disengaging to find "good Russian music" on the radio. By this time it's three a.m. and there's not many choices. She's obsessed with it.

I wake up the dark-haired one and as she's dancing I take her shirt off; she's happy to dance around in her bra for a bit. Then I start dancing with the other one and again the dark-haired one falls asleep.

Crazy Bob calls, a couple hours after he left. "How's it going? What's up? Is it happening?"

"Sorry Bob, bad connection, hiss- zzzz- hssst, can't hear you," I say and hang up.

The blond girl's phone rings, and she's happy to hear Crazy Bob is still alive.

Soon Crazy Bob is ringing the doorbell. I get some cushions from the bed as he enters the hallway with a couple more bottles of beer; I'm carrying them into the kitchen, where the blond girl is still searching the radio for good Russian music.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Building a fort," I say as I dump the cushions on the floor and return to my bed, where the dark haired is still sprawled. I wake he up; an enormous smile spreads across her face as i wake her up and pull her bra up and begin unbuttoning her pants.

She won't blow me, though, and there are no condoms in the bedroom -- for some very illogical reason I keep my condoms in the kitchen -- and after some fooling around she says, "Let's get a drink," and we go out to the kitchen. She's pulled her scanty top and jeans back on, I pulled on a pair of shorts.

Crazy Bob and his girl are making out on the cushions; when we go in, Crazy Bob asks, "She keeps asking if we can get in the bed."

I pour drinks for everyone and say, "Hell yeah! Orgy time!"

We all four pile into my not especially large bed. Crazy Bob has his girl's top pulled up and in squeezing and sucking her tits; I've got my hand down mine's pants and am rubbing her clit. She's moaning loudly. I say, "Hey let's have a contest and see who can make their girl come first."

Crazy Bob's girl objects when I try to touch her breasts; my girl is not at all shy about letting Crazy Bob feel her ass however, which we decide is pleasantly small and firm. "Like a 14 year old boy," I say, and the Russian girls like this joke. The dark-haired girl is quite clearly into the orgy scene. . .

Becoming increasingly silly, I put a t-shirt over my head like a ninja mask and strip down to my underwear. I begin giving bizarre orgy instructions in a deep Satanic voice. The dark haired girl pulls my mask off and kisses me.

Crazy Bob tries to pull his girl's pants off and she laughs and screams and objects; this is probably what woke my evil downstairs neighbor up, the old woman with the steel teeth.

He leaves the room for a while and says, "Get them warmed up."

I sweet talk them for a while; the dark-haired one is curled up in the arms of the blonde, spoon style, and I kiss the dark-haired one for a while, and then try to kiss the blonde while the black-haired one is licking one of my nipples but she says it's not right to kiss two girls at the same time. She suggests it would be cool if I kiss Crazy Bob.

"Ah. . . don't think so."

At that point Crazy Bob comes in again, naked, swinging his fairly erect penis around.

We all scream.

"If you come on me I'm going to fucking punch you!" I yell.

He gets into bed, fortunately on the other side of the blond.

The sun was coming up by this time and the magic spell of darkness was broken; I spanked mine on the ass hard a couple times and she got kind of mad. We tried to mollify them but they wanted to leave. Fumbling around for clothes and purses, everybody blinking and blotchy-faced in the morning light.

"We're not very good at this," I say to Crazy Bob.

He shrugs. "I got my nut off twice tonight already, I don't care."

At about that time, the girl he had fucked, still locked in his apartment, calls, screaming.

"Shit, I locked her in. She was asleep. . . I better go let her out, eh?" he says.

"Yeah, I think that would be neighborly."

We show the girls out -- they rush away -- Crazy Bob and I finish our beers in the street, a warm and sunny spring morning, agreeing it had been another swell evening.

When I get upstairs, Crazy Bob calls after about twenty minutes.

"Oh shit. . . I burned the apartment down. I left a candle burning on top of the TV set and it caught on fire somehow."

"You burned it DOWN?"

"Uh, no, there's just a bunch of soot and ash and shit everywhere. . . the TV's a blob of melted plastic. . ."

"And the girl?"

"A bit hysterical but otherwise okay. . . she dumped some water on it and put it out."

"Good thing it wasn't turned on, I guess. . ."

"Shit, this place is fucked. . ."

It was eight a.m. or so at that time. The angry neighbors started pounding on the door.

I ignored them and crawled into bed for some blessed unconsciousness.

Funny postscript: the blond girl forgot her telephone and had to come get it from me on the beach the next day. she was clearly mortified, but the black-haired girl smiled happily, "call me sometime!"

This video happened at a nightclub called Lust. You can see where Crazy Bob's hand is if you look closely.


Burden said...

Great story. However, that's not an orgy. It's not even a gang-bag. Hell, not even a DP.

El Gringo Vasco said...

a great piece of American literature. brilliant.


The TEFL Tradesman said...

This is very probably the most perverted and disgustung Tefler's tale I have ever read. Well done, ETX!!

RadarKing said...

Hmmm. Giving rimjobs to skanky Russian dyevs. Guess it is time to go to Saudi and take a breather.