Stories in strap-on
7 stories · Page 1The door opens, you come in with your suitcase, take off your coat without looking at me. It smells of the road, perfume, a foreign city. I stand in the hallway, waiting. You finally look—and I understand everything in your eyes. You're not tired. You're not missing me in a human way. You want to. You put down your suitcase, without taking off your shoes, and come closer. Silently. You take my chin and turn my face. You look. I remain silent. You run your thumb over my bottom lip, pressing lightly. I open my mouth. You smile—briefly, without warmth, rather contentedly. "Did you miss me?" you ask. Your voice is low, calm. I nod. You let go of my chin and walk into the room without turning around. I follow you. The suitcase is still standing in the hallway. In the room, you click the locks, lift the lid. You take out something wrapped in black cloth. You put it on the bed. You unfold it. A belt. Leather, wide, with a buckle. I look at it, then at you. You don’t smile.
Andrei rented a one-room apartment on the fifth floor with no elevator. The building was old, paneled, with a perpetually smelly entryway and neighbors who listened to the television as if it were on full blast. The apartment was lousy, but cheap. And the landlady—a woman with a heavy gaze—wasn't intrusive into his life. Or rather, she wasn't until he stopped paying. At first, he just delayed it for a week. Then two. Then a month. He had money, but he squandered it: bets, beer, some idiot from a dating site who squeezed everything he had on his card out of him. And then she came. Tamara Ivanovna. 45 years old. Plump, with wide hips, a bob haircut, and arms that could clearly carry bags and much heavier objects. She didn't yell from the doorway. She walked into the kitchen, sat on a stool, and crossed her legs. Her high-heeled pump swung in the air. "Two months," she said. "Plus utilities. Total sixty-four thousand." "I don't have any right now,
I knew this visit would end badly. I knew it from the moment the guard at the tower's entrance looked at me the way one looks at a drowned man—disgusted and almost sympathetic. “To Mrs. Elena,” I said, trying to sound confident. The guard silently checked his tablet and nodded. The elevator took a long time to rise. The mirrored walls reflected my face—pale, with dark circles under my eyes from three sleepless nights. My jacket was awry, though I'd adjusted it a dozen times. The debt—a sum I wouldn't be able to raise in a year—was burning in my pocket like an IOU that too many people knew about. The penthouse greeted me with silence and cold light. Huge windows overlooked the city, but the sun didn't penetrate—the hue was gray, as if before a storm. “Alexander,” a female voice said. I turned around. Elena was standing in the doorway leading deeper into the apartment. Tall, wearing a figure-hugging dark gray dress, her hair slicked back. Next to her, slightly behind h
It was my first party at university, and I felt out of place. I, Vlad, a first-year student—skinny, shy, and bespectacled, who blushed at every loud word—had been invited by Lera. She was a third-year student and a real star in her department: a tall, brunette with a nose piercing and a perpetually mocking gaze. I didn't understand what I'd done to deserve the invitation, but I couldn't refuse the attentions of such a girl. The apartment where they gathered was a rented two-room apartment in an older building, but tastefully furnished. Besides Lera, there were three others: Katya, a redhead with freckles and a scattering of freckles on her exposed shoulders; Alina, a short, perky woman with a pixie cut; and Sveta, a taciturn, plump blonde with a huge bust who constantly munched on potato chips. The occasion was Katya's birthday. Someone shoved a glass of some sweet disgusting thing into my hand, and the evening went downhill. The girls chatted about their own things,
A warm summer evening enveloped our apartment balcony in a soft, velvety air. The city below shimmered with lights, and the starry sky stretched overhead, with only a gentle breeze occasionally carrying distant voices from the neighboring floors. You settled into a wicker chair, relaxed after a sultry day, wearing a thin silk robe slightly open at the hips and cozy, soft-lined slippers. I quietly walked out to you, without turning on the light, and knelt down on the cool tiles of the balcony. Your slippered feet were so close, so inviting. I carefully removed one slipper, inhaled the warm, slightly salty scent of your skin after a long day, and pressed my lips to the instep. Slowly, reverently, I kissed every inch—from toes to heel, enveloping them with my lips, sucking lightly, running my tongue along the curves. You smiled slightly, watching me, and placed your other foot on my shoulder, allowing me to remove the other slipper as well. I buried my face in both feet at once, inhali
A warm summer evening enveloped our apartment balcony in a soft, velvety air. The city below shimmered with lights, and the starry sky stretched overhead, with only a gentle breeze occasionally carrying distant voices from the neighboring floors. You settled into a wicker chair, relaxed after a sultry day, wearing a thin silk robe slightly open at the hips and cozy, soft-lined slippers. I quietly walked out to you, without turning on the light, and knelt down on the cool tiles of the balcony. Your slippered feet were so close, so inviting. I carefully removed one slipper, inhaled the warm, slightly salty scent of your skin after a long day, and pressed my lips to the instep. Slowly, reverently, I kissed every inch—from toes to heel, enveloping them with my lips, sucking lightly, running my tongue along the curves. You smiled slightly, watching me, and placed your other foot on my shoulder, allowing me to remove the other slipper as well. I buried my face in both feet at once, inhali
The next evening, when Alyona crossed the threshold, Andrei barely recognized the woman who had left that morning. A different being appeared before him—domineering, transformed. Her posture and gaze radiated an icy arrogance that took her husband's breath away. He was accustomed to the role of subordinate, but now that role was imbued with a new, intoxicating meaning—he stood before not just a wife, but a mistress. With a slight movement of her hand, she indicated that he should kneel. Then she revealed part of her body to him. Andrei pressed himself to her hungrily, tasting the unmistakable traces of another's presence in his mouth. His furtive glances at her face were met only by a cold disdain, visible in the upturned corner of her lips, making his heart beat faster. "Enough," came a voice from above, and he immediately pulled away. Alyona, adjusting her clothes, got on all fours, arching her back. "You know what to do." "Of course, my love." He p