("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
                     `6_ 6  )   `-.  (     ).`-.__.`)
                     (_Y_.)'  ._   )  `._ `. ``-..-'
                    _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
                   ((('   (((-(((''  ((((
                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
		_________________________________________
		                WARNING!
		This text file contains sexually explicit
		material. If you do not wish to read this
		type of literature, or you are under age,
		PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
		_________________________________________




			Scroll down to view text













Archive name: karakol.txt (MF, rom)
Authors name: Ximenes (ximenesgreek@yahoo.co.uk)
Story title : Karakol by Starlight

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

Karakol by Starlight (MF, rom)
by Ximenes (ximenesgreek@yahoo.co.uk)

***

True story - a magic evening in Central Asia. About a 
lake, a beach, a line of mountains and a vast plain.

***

It was August, a month of sultry heat and occasional 
thunderstorms on the plains. We had been trekking 
through the Tien Shan mountains, and at the end of our 
trip had come to Karakol to relax before flying home. We 
- around a dozen of us plus Russian guides - were 
staying in a complex of chalets linked to a restaurant 
which made up a lakeside hotel. Very post-Soviet-Union 
in all ways - peeling paint, dated d‚cor and buildings, 
run down, slovenly service. But luxury nonetheless after 
a fortnight's hiking and camping at high altitude.

In the morning we had visited the bazaar, bought vodka 
and fruit, and resisted the temptation to buy all manner 
of bargains like carpets, which we knew we wouldn't be 
able to carry home with us. Now in the afternoon we had 
slumped by the shore of Karakol lake (Issyk Kul) - a 
huge inland sea of fresh water, with snow-capped 
mountains on three sides. Where we were sun bathing 
there was a shallow bay, so that the water - glacial in 
most of the lake - had been warmed by the sun. Like a 
tepid bath. Infinitely pleasant to swim, splash and 
generally mess around in.

Groups of Kyrghiz and Russians from Karakol town had 
also come to the lake, and some were staying in the 
chalet complex around us.

Our group was mainly men, with two married couples who 
after a fortnight's close confinement with the rest of 
us had decided to find somewhere private for a swim and 
sunbathe. Under our sunshade, courtesy of the nearby bar 
and "borrowed" by us, we were all male.

Three shapely Russian girls drifted past us, self-
conscious in their shades and wraps. They managed to 
look incredibly chic among the drabness of the other 
locals, yet also vulnerable and lacking in confidence. 
Two were around twenty years old, the third somewhat 
younger and evidently a younger sister. They sat down 
near us. We made comments; they ignored us. We swam, 
they watched us while affecting boredom. They swam, we 
watched them avidly while making small talk about sport, 
politics: high-falutin' stuff about the future of the 
new Central Asian republics. 

The two young Russian guides with us struck up a 
conversation with the girls, who were curious to know 
who we were - Westerners were very rare indeed in this 
part of the world. We discovered that all three girls 
could speak some English. But maintaining a conversation 
was hard work and we had to constantly refer to one of 
our guides to help with translations. None of us, of 
course, could speak a word of Russian.

After an hour or so we had established that the girls 
were living and working in Karakol, and that they were 
bored. Their families had been part of the managerial 
class during the Soviet era, but now that Kyrghistan was 
an independent country preference went to local ethnic 
groups, and these Russians were trapped - unable to 
afford the return to mother Russia but with no suitable 
role in the new reality of tentative independence. 

They had established that we were a motley crew of all 
ages and backgrounds who had only met up at the start of 
the trek and would disperse afterwards, probably never 
to see each other again.

By early evening we parted amiably and went back to the 
hotel to eat. None of us thought any more about the 
girls. I suppose we assumed they had other arrangements 
for the night ahead and wouldn't deign to even think of 
us the moment we left their field of vision. How wrong 
we were - or, at least how wrong I was.


It was later in the evening. The sun had set, and the 
dome of the heavens was splashed with stars. After the 
meal and a few drinks at the bar we had exhausted the 
possibilities of the hotel. The TV was in Russian and 
looked to be old films with cartoon interludes. I felt 
bored and jaded. I went for a walk to the lakeside to 
clear my head. 

In the few hundred yards to the lakeside the noise of 
the hotel had faded to a distant buzz. The dim lights 
around each chalet were obscured by bushes. There were a 
few fisherman around the sandy lake shore, each man 
marking his position with a paraffin lamp. The inlet by 
our hotel was presumably too warm for fish, and was 
deserted. 

A rickety wooden jetty ran out a hundred yards or so to 
where two motor launches were moored. These vessels - 
probably patrol boats in the Soviet era to police the 
waters and stop smuggling - were now paid off and 
abandoned. Their cabins were locked but access to their 
decks was easy and they had made a natural diving 
platform during the afternoon. Now, at night, they 
creaked as they jostled against the breeze. Little waves 
slapped against their hulls.

The moon emerged from broken cloud and flooded the lake 
with light. It was a calm night with just the tiniest 
breath of air making dainty ripples on the water. The 
waves swashed against the sandy beach in a constant 
murmur, and fishermen's lights splintered into dozens of 
glints on the wave tops. 

The air was warm, and with just enough movement to keep 
away insects. A car droned distantly as it crawled 
across the vast plain beyond the lake shore.

I stripped down to my bathers - I had deliberately put 
them on under jeans and t-shirt before leaving the hotel 
- and swam out into the lake. Floating fifty yards 
offshore I was spellbound by the panorama of stars. With 
a clearing sky and no man-made lights around, the sheer 
volume of stars and their brightness was a revelation.

Eventually I returned to the jetty, hauled myself out 
and lay on my back to dry under the warm breeze and look 
again at the stars.

I heard voices approaching. A low buzz, then women's 
voices. Young women's voices. As I sat up, three shadows 
emerged from the dark of the bushes and walked onto the 
jetty. The three girls. I was totally surprised to see 
them - I'd imagined they would be out with men friends 
drinking or dancing. They had seen me as they approached 
the jetty and recognised me from the afternoon. Having 
decided I was harmless they made for me. Within a few 
seconds we were all in the water, diving in from the 
jetty, doing bombshells to each other, ducking each 
other.

Satisfied, we climbed back onto the jetty and towelled 
off next to a redundant gun mounting on one of the 
boats. They were desperate to practise their English. I 
was flattered to have the undivided attention of three 
very lovely young women! 

It was a weird conversation. They were desperate to get 
out of the backwater of Karakol and into the West. But 
their image of the West was romanticised and partial. 
They had no idea of the realities - the pressure, the 
cost of everything, the aggressiveness needed to 
survive. In Karakol life was dull, slow, but 
predictable. Nobody starved, but everyone was getting 
poorer.

Viktoria, the eldest of the three, spoke the best 
English, and after a while the others went back to their 
chalet and she and I were left chatting under the stars. 
A slight breeze was whispering through the reeds inland 
from the beach, and waves quietly slapped against the 
boat's hull.

Worn out with the difficulty of trying to understand 
each other, we went back into the water. Soon we were 
holding each other, playfully at first, then more 
urgently. Her swimsuit was a one-piece but daringly cut, 
and felt like a second skin on her. Under the gaze of 
millions of stars, but sheltered from the world by the 
boat and jetty, we kissed, and kissed again.

When I tried to ease the straps of her costume off her 
shoulders she resisted, but as we kissed one strap 
slipped off of its own accord, and Viktoria stood 
passively as I eased both down to her waist.

She looked at me anxiously, fearing rejection. I kissed 
her again and told her she looked beautiful - and she 
did, even by starlight. Tall and dark, the white skin of 
her breasts shone and glistened with water droplets 
falling from her hair. Her breasts were small, and the 
nipples very small and very dark, like a pair of 
buttons. As I ran my hand lovingly over her chest and 
felt the taut firmness of breasts and the stiff wiriness 
of her nipples, she pulled me to her.

Suddenly this girl, confident and commanding when 
clothed and with her friends, had become unsure and 
anxious. 

"Stop; we might be seen. Men will think I am a 
prostitute."

"Don't worry, Viktoria, let's move round to somewhere 
out of sight," I replied.

We swam round behind the boats to a patch of warmer 
water, just within our depth and beyond sight of the 
shore - not that there was anyone there watching us, but 
in case someone did arrive.

It seemed silly to be wearing anything in these 
circumstances, so I pulled off my bathers and put them 
on the deck railings of the gunboat.

This seemed to panic Viktoria. She thought I was about 
to take her by force. I had been crass and misread the 
situation. She was trying to get away to the jetty steps 
and escape.

It took a while to persuade her to stay.

"No sex" she said, over and over again.

"Yes, OK, no sex," I answered. "I'm sorry, Viktoria, I 
didn't mean to frighten you."

For some minutes we didn't touch at all. We swam around, 
doing handstands and diving through each other's legs. 
Eventually she trusted me and we cuddled, her back 
nestling into my front, and my hands holding waist and 
belly.

We talked more. She was the oldest of four girls. She 
was twenty one. She worked in an office. There were no 
Russian boys she fancied in Karakol. She clearly had an 
acute case of the "small town" syndrome and couldn't 
wait to get away to somewhere bigger and livelier: she 
had simply outgrown Karakol. From what I had seen of the 
town I could see her point of view.

While we talked, my hand was massaging her stomach. 
Soothing and exploring. Starting at her soft navel I 
slowly spiralled outwards, moving her costume further 
down, until eventually I grazed her bikini line. She 
half turned, looked sharply at me and rested her hand on 
mine.

"OK, I understand, I'll stop. I'm sorry," I said.

"No, it's OK," she said, and turned again to nestle into 
me.

We moved again to find a patch of warm water. I began my 
spiral massaging again. This time, when I reached her 
hair line Viktoria didn't flinch. As I gently probed 
downwards she adjusted her legs to give me easier 
access, and leant back to kiss me.

I gently felt my way through a dense crop of hair, 
trimmed to a compact bush, and to the top of the cleft. 
As I arrived there, Viktoria sighed and moulded herself 
closer into me. She lifted a leg a little to give me 
complete freedom to explore her, and closed her eyes as 
I kneaded and opened her. My penis was hard against her 
back, stiff as iron and jumping with pleasure. It was a 
magical moment.

Her costume was pushed down and lay like a thick elastic 
band across the top of her thighs. I bent down and 
gently removed it, looking at her the while to see if 
she would object. She didn't. She had wide, strong hips 
and sturdy, straight legs. Her entire clothing was now a 
narrow band of beads across her waist.

I carefully draped the costume on the gunboat and took 
Viktoria into my arms, facing me. My penis was bobbing 
against her belly.

"No sex, remember?" she murmured into my ear as she 
kissed me.

In the distance a cow bellowed. Geese honked somewhere 
way out on the lake.

I held her loins and motioned her to lie back and float. 
Opening her thighs wide, her vagina was at my face level 
and while she held on to the side of a boat with one 
arm, I rested her thighs across my shoulders and started 
to tease her vagina with my tongue.

The water was warm, we were completely hidden from sight 
by the boats and sheltered from the night breeze. We had 
all the time in the world. Carefully opening the outer 
petals of her labia I licked across her clitoris and 
tongued into her depths, the warm musky smell of her 
arousal mixing with the pondy smell of the lake water.

Viktoria was getting thoroughly aroused by now. She 
locked her legs behind me and used her free hand to 
point me to where she needed to be stimulated. We were 
both very close to climaxing and I was certain I would 
shortly come into the water and ruin the occasion.

I had no idea how things were going to move.

Viktoria suddenly pushed me away from her, disengaged 
her legs and swam to the jetty steps. For a few seconds 
I thought she had had enough and was running away.

Then she beckoned me to follow her.

As she climbed out of the water the moonlight gleamed 
and glistened across her skin. I followed up the steps, 
to see her run to where we had dropped our clothes. She 
gathered her things and my towel and returned up the 
jetty. Nimbly she climbed on board one of the gunboats 
and spread our towels out on the only sizeable piece of 
deck, out of the breeze and out of sight of the shore 
and hotel. She lay down on the towels and motioned to me 
to join her. I didn't need telling twice.

Rummaging through her bag she produced a small foil 
package. A condom. She gave it to me and made herself 
comfortable on the towels.

"We fuck. OK?" she said

I nodded, and tore open the foil. I could hardly believe 
this was happening to me. I genuinely expected this 
lovely girl to say that she'd gone as far as she would, 
and now it was time to go home. And I would have been 
satisfied, too. But this, to have this beautiful girl 
who could have the pick of any man in the area, to have 
her on my own and her being willing to make love, this 
was what dreams are made of.

I undid the foil and under Viktoria's watchful eye put 
on the condom. We were both raring to go, and I have to 
admit I entered her with minimum foreplay. For an 
experienced girl, Viktoria was very nervous about being 
penetrated. I could see she wasn't happy with missionary 
position, and I was enough of a gentleman to want to 
make her enjoy proceedings.

So we used the remnants of the gun mounting. I draped 
our towels across it to make a cushion, then arranged 
Viktoria face down on the towels, then entered her 
(relatively) easily from behind.

Once more, things nearly ended in disaster. Viktoria 
wasn't used to this position. She fought at first - she 
thought I was going to take her in her arse and wasn't 
going to have any of that! But when I hit the right mark 
and with soothing words reassured her and waited for her 
to relax, she surrendered to me. As she relaxed I slid 
in.

There's something about making love alfresco which is 
infinitely satisfying. This particular occasion is one 
of those experiences you remember all your life, and 
remember in every detail - sight, sound, smell, touch.

The moonlight reflecting and refracting on the lake. The 
fishermen's lights, and the lurid glow of the hotel 
lights. The reflection of snow from the Tien Shan 
mountains. Billions of stars above us winking us on.

The sharp slap of waves against the hull, and the longer 
hiss as they spent themselves on the beach. Very distant 
noises of traffic, of animals and wildfowl.

The reedy smell of the lake, the hotter smells of 
arousal.

The silky soft, warm, moist, enfolding feeling of being 
inside a woman's body.

We both neared our climax again. The boat was rocking 
now to our rhythm and we were making our own animal 
sounds as we thrusted, me in English and Viktoria in 
Russian and neither of us understanding the words but 
each of us understanding their meaning.

At the last minute Viktoria motioned that she wanted to 
change position. Facing me, she pulled down. I sat 
heavily on the gun mount. Urgently she swung herself 
over me, pulled my penis into her and pumped up and down 
on me as fast as she could. She was shaking her head 
furiously, her hair was flying, her nipples and breasts 
were grazing my face. It was all I needed to come. I 
clutched her buttocks tight and rammed harder and deeper 
into her as I came time and time again.

Spent, we lay side by side, our hearts pounding. I could 
hear the blood pulsing through my ears, and Viktoria's 
small breasts bobbed to her heartbeat.

As we cuddled together she murmured again into my ear:

"No sex!" and laughed.

Feeling the cold now, we collected our clothes, dressed, 
and walked arm in arm back to the hotel. We couldn't 
sleep together because we were both sharing our rooms 
with other people - Viktoria with her mates and me with 
another member of my trekking group. It was long after 
midnight and not a soul seemed to be about, but Viktoria 
didn't want to be seen out at this hour with a stranger 
so we quickly went to our separate beds.

In the morning we had about ten minutes together before 
my group left for the long journey to Almaty, then 
Moscow and home. We swapped addresses, promised to write 
- all the things you do in these circumstances but never 
follow up.

But all the way home I was in a dream. I'd gone to one 
of the remotest places on earth to climb mountains. I'd 
gone to the lake for a swim and to relax. But to have 
been befriended by such a lovely girl and to have made 
love to her despite all the difficulties of language and 
culture and lack of time ...

Karakol by starlight is a magic place. You must go 
there.

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 25