Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 BUTTERFLY AND FALCON (Part 31)

   By KATZMAREK (C)

   --------------------------------

   Author's note.

   This is a work of fiction based on fact.  Opinions and interpretations
of events expressed are my own and as such are entirely contestable.

   This remains my property and may not be used for gain without my express
permission in writing.

   ----------------------------------

   It took three weeks for the combined attacks of the Leningrad and
Volkhov Fronts to relieve Peter the Great's city from 17 months of siege.
The Russians stacked 12 Divisions of approximately 10,000 men each against
4 German, all seriously depleted.  Nevertheless, given the unequal odds, it
still took Sviridov's 67th Army and Fedyuninsky's 2nd Shock Army to close
the gap of some 16 kilometres.  On January the 17th 1943 Sviridov entered
Petrokrepost' and opened the city to the outside World.

   698,000 of Leningrad's population had died from starvation, disease and
military action.  The remaining population ran out to meet the tanks,
delirious with joy.  Railway communications were opened up on February the
6th, but still, that corridor was barely 10 kilometres wide.  The Russian
armies had been stopped on the river Mga.

   Benin, in Novgorod, listened to the news broadcasts with mounting
excitement.  She held a fondness for Leningrad, being her and John's first
'home' in Russia.  They'd enjoyed their time there and the nearest the
Soviet Union came to a Bohemian life.

   But the cellar Jazz clubs were now holes in the ground where the
citizens cowered for shelter from the cold and the German bombs and shells.
The ornate and beautiful palaces, the famous whorehouses, the 18th century
churches had either been demolished or clung to life potmarked by high
explosives.

   Not, it needs to be said, that the palaces, whorehouses and churches had
seen much official use during the Stalin years, at least not for their
original purpose.  But, it was rumoured, at least one whorehouse, Madam
Grusha's, had soldiered on catering for top Party officialdom.

   But it was all good news for the Russian Nation and there began to
develop an optimism that the invaders were shortly going to be expelled
from the Motherland.

   Stalin thought so too and dished out 19,000 medals to the heroes of the
67th and the 2nd Shock.  It was all a bit premature, because Hitler and OKH
were already planning Germany's counterstroke.

   This was to be an attempt to reverse the situation in the South on the
Kharkov Front.  The panzers were going to sieze back the initiative with a
grand attack on the so-called Kursk Salient.

   --------------------------------------

   Jana Ivanova returned with Voroshilov's staff from Leningrad.  The
suffering and destruction had affected them all, and an atmosphere of
sadness pervaded the headquarters, despite the victory.

   A letter from John was waiting for her when she got back to her
quarters. That in itself was a rare event, and something to celebrate, but
it carried the news that John had been given a furlough and was coming to
see her.  He would be arriving by train in a week's time.

   She hadn't told him she was pregnant.  She didn't really want to deal
with it now anyway.  Their's wasn't a relationship where his feelings on
the subject had any bearing on her decision on whether to seek an abortion,
in any case.  But the facilities were available and it wouldn't be any
trouble to terminate if she so wished.

   But she was leaving that decision awfully late.  It had been pinned on
her mythical 'to do' list ever since she'd found out, but that was back in
December.  Somehow, more urgent matters had required her attention.

   Jana realised John would have to be told and she was apprehensive. 
Unusually for her, she hadn't taken any lovers since her and John had got
together.  Long ago she had decided she'd never live with any man, or woman
for that matter.  John had been the closest she'd come to having a regular
boyfriend.

   She sat out on the small balcony that overlooked the Moscow river.  It
was night, it was cold, and she was wrapped in furs.  The thought of John
visiting set her heart fluttering like a schoolgirl's.  If he asked her to
live with him, she wasn't sure what her answer would be.  She wondered
whether the thought of a child would enter into the equation.  Perhaps, she
thought, that was why she hadn't done anything about it?  Perhaps she
secretly hoped John would ask her to be his wife?

   But what of Benin?  That Spanish woman had first claim and he doubted
John would have the spine to leave her and their child for her.  Maybe, she
chuckled to herself, they could all move in together after the war?  That
would set the Party moralists with a problem, she thought.  'I wonder how
they'd deal with war heroes bucking the social mores?'

   Could she stand being part of John's harem, she wondered?  She thought
not.  Sure, it may be fine for the first few months, but then...  A vision
flashed before her eyes of she and Benin fighting over John's naked body.
The dream ended with the two women agreeing to sleep with each other
instead.  All that, Jana grinned, and she'd never met the lady, had no idea
what she looked like except she was Spanish.  Perhaps the two *would* hit
it off?  And maybe John could be used for a little bit of variety when they
needed a spell?

   ------------------------------------

   Some 500 kilometres to the Northwest of Moscow in Novgorod, Benin, too,
had received a letter from John.  It was sparse of news, in his usual
style, but promised to come and see her in three weeks.

   A normal furlough was for a month, she thought.  If so, what was
detaining him?  She quickly dismissed the thought, she knew the answer.

   In any case, she had her own game of sexual politics to contend with. 
News of her one night stand, or more accurately, 5 minute stand with Pavel
Rodel had spread around the unit.  It offended her that the others now
considered her to be the Captain's whore.  She was tired of the knowing
looks and the smart remarks.

   Pavel had not the first clue on how to seduce a woman or be a lover. 
Benin wondered how his wife must feel and felt sorry for her.  If that was
all the experience she'd had of sex...

   But he seemed immensely proud of herself for fucking her over a stinking
bunk in a dirty cell.  It didn't seem to dawn on him that that was anything
but an erotic experience for her.  She wanted to forget about the whole
thing but Pavel wouldn't let her.

   The next morning he'd trapped her and planted a kiss on her mouth.  His
hand had grabbed her around the bottom and felt her up like a prize sow. 
She'd felt degraded and managed to slip out of his grasp making some
excuse. He still behaved possessively towards her shooing the men away.  It
had to stop, but she wasn't sure how she could do it within the confines of
Service discipline, the chain of command and the reality of a woman's life
in the Military.

   For, as in all services in all Nations, women had to walk on eggshells.
Certainly in the Red Army women were sometimes regarded as fair game for
the men.  Despite regulations, loose and unevenly applied in any case, most
young women were pressured for sex.  If one took a lover, you were regarded
as a whore.  If one resisted, then you were frigid or a lesbian.  In this
socialist paradise such attitudes were still common and it was up to the
woman to find some kind of middle road.  Certainly, the heirarchy weren't
going to protect you.  They all came through the same system and were
subjected to the same attitudes.

   At the end of duty that day, Pavel suggested she see him in his
quarters. She told him she would, but only that they needed to talk.  He
agreed, perhaps believing she'd succumb to his 'charm' in the end.

   He sat on his bed, patting it anmd urged her to sit beside him.  Benin
ignored it, found a stool, and sat opposite him.  The room was small,
having once served as the duty officer's day room from when the building
served as a local Police Station.

   "Pavel," she began, "I think you...  we, should stop," she told him.

   "Why?" he asked, confused.  At this point she'd considered telling him
about her 'husband's' imminent arrival, that he was a Lieutenant-Colonel
and extremely jealous as well as influential in Moscow.  It may have
worked, too, but she thought she'd try a softer tack before pulling rank.

   "Pavel...  you're a nice man, I like you.  But..." Dammit, she *had* to
tell him the truth.  "Pavel, I'm not going to be screwed over a bunk in a
filthy cell and have you call it love!" She leaned back, waiting for his
reaction.

   "You not like it?" he asked.

   "No!" she said, firmly.  He looked down as if crestfallen.  'He really
didn't have any idea,' she thought.  She'd wounded his ego and, in some
strange way, she felt guilty.  "Do you really like me?  Or am I just some
piece of meat?"

   "Sure, I like," he told her.

   "Then don't you think I deserve some respect?"

   "Sure!" he brightened.

   "Then," she chuckled, "perhaps one day we can do it properly so I can
get something out of it too?"

   She wasn't sure why she'd said it.  She hadn't intended to offer him
another opportunity.  But then, she was sure, John was with Jana and why
couldn't she have her little fun as well?  Maybe if she showed Pavel a
little technique then, who knows, it might even make him a better husband?
At least she got him to promise not to paw and slobber all over her and she
could *still* get John to have him posted to Azerbaijan as a train guard if
it didn't work out.



   -----------------------------------------

   The train blasted into Moscow Southern Station amid the roaring of steam
and the screech of air brakes.  Snowflakes were falling and the immense
snowplough on the front of the locomotive sparkled with ice.  The rear of
the train was normally reserved for senior officers and Jana pushed past
the throngs along the platform.  As usual a guard and a gate protected the
bigshots' privacy by fencing off the rear two carriages.  This she
negotiated by presenting her ID to the bored man.

   On the offside of the platform, several black sedans waited to whisk off
the Officers to their various meetings, offices, quarters or whorehouses.
All was spit and polish as aides strutted around as if on parade.

   And there was John, in dress uniform but open at the neck.  She laughed
because she knew he didn't like anything tight around his throat.  He came
over to her grinning, his big arms out wide.  They hugged and kissed
oblivious to those around them.  It didn't matter, some of the other
officers were doing the same thing.

   John steered them past the waiting cars.  Apparently they were only for
full Colonels and above.  He had to carry his own luggage too.  Although he
was permitted to, John had never bothered to acquire an aide.

   But even Lieutenant-Colonels, no matter how temporary, weren't to be
fucked with and soldiers threw the pair snappy salutes all the way back to
Jana's quarters.

   Although Jana was still only a Major, her position on Marshal
Voroshilov's staff earned her fairly decent quarters.  She lived in an
apartment block, as virtually every Muscovite did, but it was spacious and
featured a small balcony.  John was impressed, it was certainly better than
one end of an abandoned railway carriage that still served for his
accomodation at Abganerovo.

   Jana needed to talk to him, but was also realistic.  Not much talking
was possible until they had sex.  It was a normal response, she mused, for
a soldier returning from the front to have his mind on mating and little
else.

   The corridor outside her apartment was busy, as usual.  It was not
uncommon to have soldiers living there.  Accomodation was difficult to be
had in Moscow, especially with the numbers of troops expecting to be
quartered somewhere.  There were approximately 700,000 soldiers based in
the immediate vicinity of Moscow as well as the Local Defence Volunteers,
sundry Militias and various Labour Corps that had all flooded into Moscow
from the satelite towns to aid in its defence.  Behind them, in Kalinin
Square, a tent city had sprung up and the statues and fountains competed
with anti-aircraft guns for space.

   Jana's hands were shaking as she unlocked the door.  John was standing
behind her and she could feel his air of expectantcy.  She wrestled it open
with a weak smile.

   "You want some tea?" she asked in a voice louder than normal.

   "Sure!" he shrugged.  John followed her into the small kitchen and
remained behind her as she prepared the jug.  Tea was next to impossible to
be had.  Some ersatz coffee was available for those with contacts. 
Curiously, it was smuggled in from Sweden who obtained it from Germany. 
Made from Barley extract, the most one could say about ersatz was that it
was warm.

   Jana sucked in her breath as John placed his hands on her hips.  As she
waited for the jug to boil, he nuzzled her neck.  She could sense, and
feel, his growing excitement.  Wordlessly, he slipped his hands around her
waist and drew her back against him.  She trembled slightly as she felt the
warmth of his body.

   -----------------------------------

   Ink was also hard to obtain.  The GRU office in Novgorod used a watery
Blue, Green and Red ink for official reports.  The green for margins, blue
for text and red for comments, recommendations and footnotes.  The ink
often faded or became blotchy.  It was one of the many inconveniences they
had to suffer.

   Benin recognised the colours of the hand crafted little plaque that
appeared on her desk one morning.  The carved Siberian scene had been
carefully colourised with the office fountain pen ink.  An elk stood proud,
surveying the taiga as it erupted in the brilliant colours of the brief
Spring.  Benin had no doubt who the artist was.  Such a gift would never
have occurred to John.

   Pavel breezed in trying to pretend that it was business as usual.  He
muttered and smiled in his usual way then proceeded to his desk and picked
up the day files.  Benin looked on amused as he pretended to read the
prisoner muster.  He held it up in front of his face like a schoolboy
trying to avoid the teacher's gaze.

   "Thank you, Pavel," Benin said, "it's very nice!"

   "Eh?  Oh that!" he replied, "is just something I did last night." Benin
didn't believe him.  The work must have taken him a week of carving,
painting and lacquering with God-knows-what he used as a varnish.  Even the
resourceful GRU Captain couldn't have conjured up varnish or shellac.

   "What did you use?" she asked him.

   "Oh, that?" he tried to sound off-hand, "the wood is seasoned fir.  The
paint is office ink and the lacquer is my special secret formula, a mixture
of pine, used sump and diesel oils.  But it has to be blended just so."
Benin sniffed, it reeked of diesel and the faint, sweet aroma of pine
trees. She laughed.  Pavel put down his paper.  He looked anxious, perhaps
even offended.

   "No," she told him, "I don't mean to upset you.  It's amazing... 
really. I don't know what to say.  I didn't know you were such...  such an
artist."

   "We Rodels are all craftsmen and artists," he told her, "musicians too.
You want me to play the balalaika?"

   "You have one?"

   "No," he grinned, "not here.  Many of us Siberians learn such things,"
he explained, "because of the long Winter months...  to counteract the
boredom, you understand."

   "Yes, I see."

   "So we make art," he continued, "read, write books, poetry...  tell
stories and sing."

   "It must be fabulous!"

   "Yes.  It's a good life there.  We make our own amusement.  Only," he
added, "not many women up there.  Not, I think, pretty ones."

   "You must find Novogorod...  a revelation?"

   "Revelation?" he considered, "maybe not revelation.  But there're many
pretty girls, here." He stared briefly at Benin.  "But not," he added,
"many like you."

   "Oh now," she blushed, "you haven't been looking very hard.  In any
case, you're married, kids?"

   "Yes," he agreed, sighing, "a girl who is my cousin...  It was arranged
when my Father thought it was time I got married.  I had very little
say..."

   "Oh, come now," Benin told him, "you could've refused.  What?  Your
Father held a gun to your head?"

   "Oh, no!  Don't get me wrong.  I could've refused, but why should I? 
Who else was there?  She is good woman...  fine Mother."

   "But you still want to cheat?"

   "Ah," he shrugged, "it's like a boy who falls asleep one day.  He wakes
up suddenly and finds he is a grown man.  He doesn't know what to do...  so
many things he feels but doesn't know what to do...  how to live in this
new World."

   "I see," Benin replied, "so you've suddenly gone from the wilderness to
civilisation?"

   "Exactly, see?  I often wonder just where all these people came from...
all these pretty women.  You maybe think," he continued, "you might try...
maybe again?  I treat you nice, you see!"

   "You want me to sleep with you?" Benin asked.  His doe eyes were fixed
on her expectantly.  "No prison cells, dirty beds?"

   "No!" he said, emphatically, "nothing like that, I sorry, I..." Benin
smiled at his discomfort.  She felt herself starting to weaken.  Maybe it
mightn't be too bad, she thought, so long as she had control.

   "Have you a bath?" she asked.

   "Sure," he acted surprised.

   "You use it?"

   "Sometimes," he told her, "every few weeks or so."

   "Then I think it's about time you had one, yes?"

   "Sure!" he smiled, suddenly cottoning on.

   "Then if you did that," Benin grinned, "perhaps I could help you?"

   "Tonight?  Yes...  I think that sounds a brilliant idea!"

   -----------------------------

   Gas supplies in Moscow were sporadic and apt to fail at unexpected
times. It was extracted from Coal, but now the main supply, the Dombass and
Donets regions in the Ukraine, were under Nazi occupation.  Coal had to be
railed from mines deep in the Urals and, what with the war, there was huge
pressure on the railway system.  War materiel and the transport of troops
had first priority.  And that on a railway network that was old and
suffered from years of neglect and inadequate investment.

   At least, as the Red Army slowly regained territory, they found the
Germans had replaced the railway with the Standard German gauge and had
supplied it with brand new locomotives.

   But no matter how Moscow suffered from food and gas shortages, the rest
of Russia suffered more.  The capital city, and the 'centre' in general,
was always a priority and much better off than the rest of the country.

   The gas ring in Jana's apartment spluttered and died and the hissing jug
began to cool.

   "I have..." Jana told John, falteringly, "a little milk...  maybe a bit
of vodka, kvass brandy?"

   "Sounds fine," he told her.  'Kvass' was a Ukrainian rye bread beer. 
Enterprising Russians, suffering under a shortage of booze, distilled the
beer in their cellars to make a powerful grain spirit.  It was certainly an
acquired taste.  John thought it was like sipping aviation gasoline and in
the morning you felt like you'd been kicked in the head by a draught horse.
Good kvass brandy was overproof and, it was said, you could run an engine
on the stuff quite successfully.

   Jana splashed a little in glasses for them both and they smiled at each
other as they bolted the volatile liquid.  "Shit!" John screwed his face
up.

   "You pussy cat," she told him, laughing, "can't take a little Mother's
milk?"

   "Mum's was never like that," he laughed, "or they would've had me
pickled in a jar!"

   "Aw!"

   He advanced on her then, smiling, and placed his hands on the front of
her shirt.  He kissed her, caressing her breasts over the cotton.  "Milk
doesn't excite me as much as the dispensers," he told her.

   "Perhaps," she told him, softly, "we ought to rest in bed?  It must have
been a tiring journey." She played with his collar and stroked a hand down
his chest.

   "Not that tiring," he said, kissing her again, "that I haven't any
energy left for you."

   -----------------------------------

   Pavel Rodel had made himself some tolerable quarters out of the
Boilerman's Room.  The boilerhouse was detached, and used to provide
heating for the police station and attached cell block.  Now, with coal in
short supply, the boiler was fired up only in the evening for 2 hours. 
Even then, wood was sometimes substituted for fuel.

   The Boilerman's Room provided the Boilerman with a place to sleep
between shifts and some rudimentary cooking facilities.  Against one wall
was a Russian stove, which could be made to run on Diesel Oil.  It roared
out a tremendous amount of heat, proof against the severest Winter.

   It was built with solid, red cavity brick some time at the turn of the
century.  Its Tsarist Police Crest had been crudely chiselled off over the
doorway.  No-one bothered to replace it with Soviet one, it being a purely
utility building, and the scar remained with its steel rods bent and bare.
Such buildings, those conveniently placed near the river, provided handy
blockhouses for snipers, machine-guns and light cannon.  They were proof
against anything save a direct hit by a German FlaK 88.

   Benin looked around as she slipped out of the main building.  A sentry
was wandering slowly by the perimeter fence, flapping his arms to keep the
circulation going.  She waited until he turned his back then, bent double,
made a sprint for the boilerhouse.  A sudden flurry of snow was her friend
and she wasn't spotted.

   Pavel quickly opened the door and let her in.  The heat in the room hit
her like a wave.  The Captain was in his shirtsleeves, so warm was the
interior.

   "So glad you could come," he told her in such a formal manner it made
her smile.  He was clearly doing his best not to make any mistakes.  He led
her past the red-stained iron boiler to a door off the side.  Coal crunched
underfoot and he apologised for the mess.

   "It's all right," she told him, "compared to conditions on the Ebro,
this is a Tsar's palace."

   "On the where?"

   "In Spain...  the Revolution...  against Franco and the Nazis?" He
nodded, feigning knowledge.  He'd clearly never heard of the Civil War.

   "I have bath, see?" he showed her.  It was set in the middle of the one
room.  Hot water was already steaming steadily from it, coating the walls
in condensation.  "You maybe like something before?  Maybe some tea, kvass,
vodka?"

   "Tea, yes," she replied, "with perhaps a splash?"

   "Of course," he grinned a toothy grin.

   Benin sat somewhat self-consciously on a battered couch at one end of
the room.  Pavel's old grammaphone was set carefully on a wooden stool
beside her.  On the wall was a hanging in bright Siberian colours sitting
next to a brown sepia of Josef Stalin.  Scattered about on the only table
were a number of figurines, chisels and other handcraft tools.

   He returned from the sink with a mug of tea.  Benin caught a powerful
whiff of alcohol in the brew.  If it was a splash, it was a very large one.
She took a sip and felt the warmth course through her body.  Soon her
tension had abated somewhat.

   "We take a bath now?" he said eagerly.

   "Sure," she told him, "go ahead."

   ------------------------------------------

   John and Jana made their way into the bedroom still kissing.  John
kissed her mouth, nose and throat.  Before they'd made it to the bed, he
had started to kiss over the spots on her shirt where he imagined her
nipples would be.

   Jana sat down on the bed and lay back, giggling.  John watched her as he
slowly undid his shirt buttons.  She aped his movements, fiddling with the
metal buttons of her own shirt.

   She sat up, shirtless.  Folding her arms under her breast-filled bra,
she watched John undress, licking her lips and grinning.  Absently a hand
crept down and rubbed between her legs.  She was hot and had been since
before meeting John off the train.

   Her eyes followed John's pants to the floor.  She never tired of the
sight, although she'd seen it more than once.  His bulge thrilled her, his
muscled torso still worked its magic on her.  He had a magnificent body.

   "May I?" she asked, reaching out her hand towards his underpants.  He
obliged and moved closer to the bed.  Jana reached out and peeled them
carefully down over his cock.  It unfolded in front of her face, she
smiled, again.  "Mmm," she hummed.

   John watched her boobs, transfixed, as they jiggled with the effort. 
She felt his eyes on her, and lifted them a little higher for him.  He
brushed the back of his hand over the swell and pushed his index finger
down her cleavage.

   Jana lightly stroked his erection as John continued his exploration of
her breasts.  She knew how much men liked them, and how, in particular
John, could hardly stop themselves wanting to touch them.  His
ministrations was having its effect and her body came alive with desire. 
She scrabbled with her trousers, eventually pushing them down to her knees.
John helped by pulling them off her feet.  He then fell on her.  'At last,'
she thought, 'at long last!'

   ---------------------------------------

   Pavel quickly stripped as Benin watched from the sofa.  He was a big
man, she noted, but there wasn't that much blubber.  The man was reasonably
well toned from an outdoor life in the wilderness.  She watched as he bent
over to test the water.  His acre was as broad as a T-34, she thought, with
thighs like pit posts.

   He stepped in and settled gingerly into the water.  Lying back, he threw
her an enquiring look before lying back and closing his eyes.  Obviously,
he awaited the 'help' that she'd offered.

   Benin slowly got to her feet.  Any feeling of eroticism had waned.  She
didn't feel particularly sexy.  Pavel didn't have a body carved like a
Greek statue, such as John's, and it did little for her.

   But most of all what was missing was the fun.  Her and John had fun
teasing, cajoling and joking with one another, laughing at their
clumsiness. Pavel appeared to be lying there expecting some sort of
performance.  He waited for her to do things to him, like an Khan waiting
on his slave girl.

   Nevertheless, she'd agreed to all this and she felt some obligation. 
Perhaps she could avoid having full sex with him, she thought?  He may just
be satisfied with a little playing.  Another consideration that was going
through her mind as she walked over towards the bath, was that he was her
senior Officer.  As such, he would be making reports on her performance and
conduct.  It wouldn't be a good idea to disappoint the man too much if she
wanted to be promoted to more interesting work in the service.

   She slowly sat on her haunches behind him.  Dipping her hands in the
water, she scooped some soap in her hands and began to massage his broad
shoulders.  He was matted with black hair, thick enough to entangle her
fingers.

   "Soft hands," he murmered.

   Her hands travelled over the expanse of his chest.  There, his body hair
was as thick as the Northern forests.  He put one hand over hers and
lightly stroked it.  The man could be gentle when he tried, Benin thought.

   Pavel had his knees up so he could fit in to the tin bath.  Foam covered
him up to his navel, thick and already flecked with a dirty scum.  Benin
though she saw movement where the water pooled over his crotch.

   She scooted around to the side to pay proper attention to his chest. 
Pavel opened his eyes and smiled at her.  He lifted his hand and stroked
her face, as if, Benin thought, she was his pet Arctic fox.  The man was
earthy, as if he'd blended with the wildlife around him in his native
habitat.

   "You, ah," he said, nodding towards her, "um." She knew what he meant.
'Are you ready to strip,' his eyes asked her, 'I want to feast on you.'

   In response, Benin undid her shirt, conscious of him watching her very
movement in detail.  She quickly shed her shirt, lest she lose her resolve,
and tossed it towards the sofa.  She held her bra straps for a brief
moment, as if deciding if she had the courage.  Finally, with one movement,
she peeled them down her shoulders and twisted it around to undo the clasp.
At last she was topless and submitted herself for Pavel's examination.

   Her small, perky, brown breasts stood out from her chest.  Her nipples
had distended, as they always did when exposed to the air.  As if in a
dream, Pavel brushed one with the back of his hand, whispering
appreciation. Benin continued to pretend she was soaping his chest,
increasingly conscious of the lust in his expression.

   Not only his expression, for there was now definite movement below the
water.  Presently, the head of his cock rose out, like a porpoise breaking
the surface of the sea.  Pavel looked down and laughed.  Despite her
missgivings, Benin smiled too and eventually took up his laughter.

   She pushed at it with her finger, then grabbed it in her fist.  Pavel
caressed her breasts with more urgency, and she covered his hand, asking
him to be more gentle.

   Suddenly he rose up out of the water and stood, his prong jutting out
just above Benin's head.  She was taken aback, and sat staring at his cock.
She looked up and saw he was smiling at her discomfit.  He was so proud of
himself, she thought, and imagined him bringing home an elk to her on his
back wearing the same expression.

   He tipped his head towards her.  She understood the silent suggestion
and took his cock, once again, in her hand.  She put her lips to the
underside of the bulb.  It tasted of soap, and she took the jug of fresh
water placed by the bath and tipped a little over it to rinse it.  She then
touched it again with the tip of her tongue.

   Feeling a little more relaxed, Benin continued, putting her mouth over
his dick and her arms around his big butt.  She sucked him tentatively at
first, but increased pressure as she felt his excitement mounting.  Pavel
hummed and sighed, making a noise at the back of his throat that sounded
like a growl.  She was getting into this more, Benin decided, and made a
decision to go with the flow.  She hadn't, yet, made up her mind whether
she wanted him to fuck her.  That depended on her own level of arousal.  It
was mounting, but hadn't yet reached a need.

   "You Spanish women," he gasped, "know many things!" Benin doubted he'd
ever encountered another Spanish lady to reach a comparison, but decided to
let it go.  She squeezed and manipulated him, sucked him softly and then
harder in a technique she'd long practiced on John.  Eventually, she felt
him rising towards orgasm and quickly took her mouth off him.  She then
squeezed until the crisis had passed.

   Pavel was puffing like a steam train.  Beads of sweat ran down his
forehead.  She stood, let him go, and he stepped out of the bath to towel
himself.  Now dry, he walked slowly over to the bed and laid down on his
back.  His cock stood up like a flag pole.  His big belly was now flattened
and seemed to exaggerrate the size of his tool.

   There was little room left on the bed, so Benin knelt beside it.  She
felt the urge to lick that big chest of his and did so, his hand on the
back of her head.  After a while he pulled her up to his face and kissed
her, long, and with mounting fierceness.  Her tongue shot past his teeth
and played with his.

   Benin couldn't mistake the tickle between her legs.  She pulled herself
out of his clutches and undid her belt.  She pushed her trousers and
panties down together.  Pavel moved up his hand to finger her.  She guided
him with her own hand, as he seemed vague about a woman's anatomy.

   She sat astride him on his legs, his stiff prick directly in front of
her pussy.  She stroked it some more, feeling his legs twitch as he started
to thrust at her.  She put her own hand between her legs and continued
where Pavel had left off.  She shuffled forward until his cock was touching
her and she could work it with both hands as well as adding to her own
excitement.

   His mouth was open and he breathed in rasps.  Benin doubted that he
could hold on much longer.  She stroked herself faster trying to catch up,
but realised he was well ahead of her.  With a roar he spouted a great glob
of goo high in the air to land on his stomach.  More followed, pulsing his
sticky liquid everywhere so it splashed all over them.  Benin rocked
herself faster against his balls and the base of his cock, but she just
couldn't quite get there.  Pavel watched in fascination as she tried to
please herself, but eventually she gave up.  Her hand was tired and she was
still a long way off.  Instead, she lay along his body feeling his big arms
come around her.

   "You like?" he asked.

   "Yes," she smiled, "me like." He seemed pleased and held her fast to his
body.

   --------------------------------------------

   It was not long before Jana felt John pushing his cock into her.  She
liked that first sensation and gasped, spread her knees, and grabbed his
arse.  He moved steadily and insistantly, timing himself to her level of
excitement.  She undulated against him, encouraging, and setting the rhythm
she liked best.

   Her eyes moistened, she nibbled his shoulder and pulled him into her
harder still.  She thrust back at him harder and harder, begging him to go
faster.  Growling he cannoned his seed deep inside her as she clung onto
him in her orgasm.

   Afterwards she didn't let him up.  Instead she held him as if he was a
life buoy and she was lost at sea.  She told him she loved him, that she'd
never had a man such as him.

   "You're repetitive," he told her, "you've told me this before."

   "I know," she said, "but...  but I wanted you to know again, before..."

   "Before?"

   "Before I have your child!"

   -------------------------------------------

   KATZMAREK (C)