Tatyanja

The next morning I got awake by the smell of fried bacon. The door of 
the bedroom was open and I could see Tatyana at work in the kitchen. She 
was naked, except for a cute little red-and-white chequered apron that 
only covered her belly.

I got up and went to her. Then I coughed, whereupon she turned.

"Dobraye ootra (good morning), darling," she said. "Have you slept 
well?"

"Morning, baby. Like a log."

I kissed her and she kissed me back.

"Me too. As you see I'm making breakfast. How do you like your eggs?"

"Lightly stroked, please."

"What? ... Oh, you dirty fellow! Can't you ever think of anything else?"

I was still naked and closed my eyes with pleasure as she stroked my 
balls.

"Mmmm ..." I said. "There are moments I can think about something else 
that sex, but in the neighbourhood of a nice bum like yours, my hormones 
are running riot and get the better of me."

I caressed her bottom and kissed her again.

"My buttocks thank you for the compliment, but as to the eggs, fried, 
sunny side up?"

"All right," I answered, "because you are so persistent, although the 
idea is horrible. Will you eat them, or am I the one who has to do it in 
an act of self-cannibalism?"

"You'll eat them yourself, of course. What do you think of me!"

"Okay, I'll comply. But cut it short, please. Don't let me suffer too 
long."

"Just a minute". 

She took a big sharp kitchen-knife and showed it to me, smiling 
mischievously. Then she cut two eggs with it, which she dropped in the 
frying-pan. 

"That was quick and not too painful, I hope?"

Five minutes later we sat in front of each other at the breakfast-table. 
She had taken her apron off and was naked, like me. (Oh, those 
magnificent breasts!) We ate silently, smiling at each other. After a 
few bites she stopped eating and sighed. 

"Harry, this was the most wonderful night I ever had. Never before I 
have felt so ecstatic, so full of joy, so free of inhibitions, so whole 
and complete, so safe and secure, so one-flesh-and-one-mind with another 
person." 

She stood up, came to me and pulled me against her. We hugged and kissed 
for a while. Then we sat down again.

"It was so fantastic and, Harry, you were so sweet. Oh, my darling.... 
oh, dear God ... I have no words ... Our last lovemaking ... I wished it 
would have lasted forever ...That feeling of your growing penis inside 
me ... and your heart throbbing against my chest ... and that 
bitter-sweet endless waiting ... How did you like that?"

"I never experienced anything like that before," I said. "Bitter-sweet 
is definitely the right expression. The urge to get relieve was 
agonizing and maddening, almost unbearable, but at the same time very 
exquisite and delicious ... My God, where did you get the idea?"

"I read about it in the Kamasutra, the old Sanskrit book about the art 
of sex. The idea is that getting and bringing orgasm is not the most 
gratifying aspect of sex, but the joining of body and soul. Male 
ejaculation should be delayed as long as possible, if not avoided. It's 
called 'askanda', non-spilling, which is part of 'maithuna', sacred sex. 
I never had sex like that before. Mostly I'm too impatient and 
passionate, but with you, after that dream, I felt like trying out. It 
was very, very satisfying, wasn't it?".

"It was like heaven and you are the most wonderful woman I've ever met. 
You're a great artist in more than one way. You're not only one of the 
finest cello-players in the world - I'm serious - but also a very 
talented young lady in the art of lovemaking. And what's more, you have 
the gift to reach out and join me in my dreams."

"The last also goes for you. You were in my dreams too."

"True, but in both dreams you had the initiative. You reached out to me, 
touched me, made love to me ..., which I appreciated very much, I assure 
you."

She laughed. "Whatever. But you know, I'm a little bit embarrassed about 
that second dream. I did a very strange thing, don't you agree. I 
stroked and kissed the scroll of my cello as if it was the head of a 
penis! And my cello groaned with pleasure. Oh, my God! That's fodder for 
psychologists."

"After that you went to me ..."

"And did the same to your penis. What does that mean? What is the 
message?"

I asked a counter-question. "What does your cello mean to you?" 

"It's my vocation, my love, my passion, my universe. I would rather die 
than stop playing that wonderful instrument. I live for my music".

"And ... uh ....."

"You? I see ... That dream means ... oh, my God ... that I have to 
choose between my music and you ... But that's impossible. Oh, Harry, 
I'm in love with you from the first time I saw you and I don't want to 
lose you, but neither can I give up my music." 


She looked at me with tears in her eyes.

"Tatyana", I said, "Tatyanushka, come here, my darling. She came and I 
pulled her on my lap. "You don't have to give up your music. Of course 
not. I would never ask that from you. I would rather give up my own job 
for you. I'm madly in love with you. Oh, my dear Tatyana, we are meant 
for each other. Like magnets our spirits are attracted to each other 
with a force so strong that barriers don't exist any more. That's why we 
have those mysterious common dreams. It's written in the stars. Be mine. 
We belong to each other."

"Oh, I wish that would be true, darling, for I love you so much, so 
much, but I can't ask you to give up your job for me."

"You know I'm a lawyer. You have a great career before you, I have no 
doubt about that. I think it's time for a break-through and I could be 
your manager and solicitor. I can make you world-famous, if you want."

"To be famous is not important for me, Harry. I'll never make 
concessions to gain popularity and make a lot of money. I want to be a 
true servant of my art, but at the other hand, a solo career for myself 
is one of my dreams. However, your sacrifice would be too big. I don't 
know if I might accept that."

"Think it over darling, this is our chance. And no sacrifice is big 
enough for the woman I love. Those dreams were not for noting, I 
strongly believe that."

"I don't know. I met you only two days ago. It's al so confusing. Give 
me some time, please."

"Any time you need, darling, for it's a big decision."

"When do you have to go back to Holland?"

"Tomorrow morning," I answered. "It's impossible for me to postpone my 
flight. I have to appear in court the day after tomorrow. I'm sorry."

"I understand that. Oh, Harry, I'll miss you, for you are so sweet, so 
sweet."

She looked into my eyes, smiled and gave me a deep kiss. Our tongues met 
and began to play, and, damn, my penis reacted immediately, rising 
boldly against her pussy.

"Oops," I said. "Sorry, my hormones again."

"I have my own hormones," she answered, "and they are also beginning to 
work. I'm dripping wet again. Oh, darling, maybe you think I'm a 
trollop, but I love sex. You can wake me up for it in the middle of the 
night. It's so delicious and so much fun. And because you are leaving 
tomorrow we have to grab any opportunity, don't you agree? So here we 
go!" 

Without waiting for an answer she rose, stepped over, turning her back 
to me, and impaled herself upon me.

Oh, my God, what a delight to be in that familiar warm juicy pussy of 
hers again!

Half-standing, half-sitting on my lap she began her up-and-down 
in-and-out movements, her head backwards, her eyes half-closed with 
passion.

In the meanwhile I kissed her neck and shoulders and caressed her 
breasts.

This time no Kamasutra, but a wild ride at full gallop, with the 
ecstatic rhythm of lust, in pursuit of the ultimate gratification of 
release. Faster and faster she rode, like a Cossack in the steppes of 
Siberia, moaning and panting.

Her vagina tightened around my rock-hard penis and, screaming loudly she 
came, time and time again.

My penis was ablaze and exploded in an endless series of delicious 
spasms. Out of my mind with pleasure I filled her up with the riches of 
my loins. 

When all was over, Tatyana stood up, stumbled to the bedroom and dropped 
prostrate on the bed, trembling and completely exhausted.

I lay down beside her and hold her, softly stroking her back and her 
buttocks. After some time she got quiet and we took a shower together 
(the third one!).

We washed each other's back and private parts. She even draw the 
foreskin of my penis back to wash its head. Luckily for her (and me) the 
little man kept quiet this time.

We put our clothes on and finished our interrupted breakfast (cold eggs 
- the chicken ones - and cold coffee). Tatyana was in a haste. She told 
me she had a rehearsal at the conservatory at 11 AM. In the afternoon 
she had a radio recording (Dvorak's Cello-concerto) and in the evening a 
meeting with Sofia Gubaidulina, whose composition: "In Croce", for 
violoncello and bayan (a sort of accordion), she would perform on next 
Good Friday. "Wonderful music," she said. "A masterpiece."

I was impressed. "Gubaidulina, one of the greatest composers of our 
time," I said with awe.

"The best we have nowadays in Russia," she said. "And a woman!"

"I never underestimated the fair sex."

"You'd better not. But, darling, you will understand we can't be 
together any longer today, but tomorrow I'll meet you in your hotel to 
accompany you to the airport and to say good-bye. Oh, my God, I'll miss 
you."

"And so will I."

She began to weep and all of a sudden my vision got blurred by tears in 
my own eyes. Snivelling we kissed good-bye.

When I was down on the street, I saw her behind a window, waving with a 
handkerchief, the same she later dabbed her eyes with ...

I went back to my hotel to shave and change clothes. After that I 
visited some Art Noveau subway stations, for which Moscow is so 
renowned, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

Oh Tatyana, Oh, my love.

That evening I went to Arbat Street to visit the street market. You can 
buy anything second hand there: samovars, icons, books, trinkets and so 
on. I even saw the uniform of a Soviet Army general, complete with 
badges, for sale. The cap looked like an aircraft carrier, so wide was 
its top.

There were also many artists at work and, in the presence of a large 
audience that roared with laughter, I had a caricature of myself made. 
Horrible, but it was definitely me.

I also bought a very good oil-painting, "Arbat Street on a rainy day", 
from a young artist. It was just finished and the paint was still wet. 
He asked $ 50 for it. I gave $150, still not much for such quality. He 
thought I was mad, which was not far from the truth (Oh, Tatyana!).

After that I went to the bar of my hotel, where I met some guys from 
Uzbekistan. They were already rather tipsy and invited me to join them 
in a drinking-bout. I drank more vodka with them than was good for me.

At the end the Uzbeks got sentimental and one of them started to shed 
crocodile tears.

Neither did the booze cheer me up. On the contrary, I got more depressed 
than I was before. Stupid Uzbeks, stupid me!

The next morning I had a light hangover. However, after a hot bath, 
orange juice and strong coffee I felt a lot better.

I just left the breakfast room when I saw Tatyana enter the lobby. She 
went up with me to my room, where she threw herself in my arms. We 
kissed fervently. Tatyana trembled with passion. 

"Have we time for a quickie? " she asked.

"One hour," I answered.

"Kharasho (good)," she said and began to strip as fast as she could.

Oh, my God, what a nice body she had, I realized again. Once more I 
feasted my eyes on her calves, her thighs, her smooth buttocks, her full 
pussy-lips, her flat belly, her breasts (oh, those nipples!), her 
slender arms, her shoulders, her neck, her mouth, nose, eyes (oh, those 
eyes!)

When she was completely naked she began to undress me.

When she saw the bulge in my underpants she said: "Mmmm, the one-eyed 
snake is awake! Let's set it free," and pulled them down.

Once freed my half-erect penis jumped forward and slapped against her 
cheek. She laughed and took my penis and balls in her hands, studying 
them from every angle.

"Mmmm, I like your genitals, I like them very much indeed. Seeing them 
make me horny as hell. They are in one word beautiful. I think it's the 
part of your body I like the best, by far the best, sexually I mean."

She caressed my penis softly with her fingertips, while she tickled my 
balls with her nails. Then she put her lips around its head and sucked, 
while flicking with her tongue.

In no time I was rock-hard. With a delighted smile she climbed on the 
bed, on hands and knees. 

"Would you like to take me doggie-style?" she asked, offering me her 
well-shaped bottom.

"Through the back door?" I asked baffled, for I abhor anal sex.

"Heavens no, through the front door of course. I never had it the other 
way. However, if it would please you very much and if you will be very 
gentle ..."

"No, no," I protested. "I prefer the front door."

"In that case you are more than welcome. Please, open the door and walk 
in. No, wait, I have better idea, I'll hold it open for you."

She spread her pussy-lips for me and I saw the alluring pink entrance of 
her mysterious love grotto. When I slid in I felt her moist warmness 
enveloping me. Shivers of pleasure ran down my spine. 

"Oh Tatyana," I sighed, "your cunt is the best place on earth. I could 
stay there forever".

"Isn't that a tiny bit too long? I can't think so far ahead in the 
future. I only know that I want you to fuck me now, and as hard as you 
can."

The moment I started to move, she began to finger herself. I bent over 
and cupped her breasts. I felt her nipples harden in the palms of my 
hands. I rammed her again and again, growling like a beast, while she 
encouraged me.

"Yes, yes, that's it ... go on, big bear ... oh yes, oh yes ...oh my 
darling ... oh my God, this is good."

She started to tremble. "Oooooh, I'm coming ... go on .... yes ... 
YES!!! AAAAH!!!" With a cry of joy she climaxed time after time. 

When I was about to come she detached herself from me, turned and took 
my penis in her mouth. Not long thereafter I squirted my semen deep into 
her throat. She swallowed all of it. 

"Mm, that was good," she said and gave me a deep kiss, which smelled and 
tasted after my sperm.

Half an hour later we were in the back of a taxi, holding hands, on our 
way to Sheremetyevo Airport. I felt sick with sadness and, judging by 
the expression on her face, Tatyana felt likewise.

She looked at me with moist eyes.

"Darling, I'll phone you every day," I said.

"You'd better not, sweetheart," she answered. "I love you and of course 
it would be nice to hear your voice now and then, but our relation is a 
something I have to think over on my own. Give me some time to 
straighten things out. I'll write or phone you when I have reached a 
decision, whatever that decision may be. In any case I'll decide before 
my concert trip to Holland next month. Okay?"

"Of course, honey. I understand you perfectly. You are absolutely right. 
It's a big decision you have to make, so take your time."

"Thank you, you are sweet ... Oh, Harry, don't look so sad. You make me 
cry." 

I did my best to smile - like a farmer who has a toothache, as they say 
in my country. 

At the airport I checked my luggage in. We had half an hour before I had 
to be at the departure gate. We drank coffee and talked about our lives 
and family. She was an only child. Her mother lived in Zagorsk, about 45 
miles north of Moscow. Her father died three years ago in a car 
accident. Her mother, who had only a small income as a piano teacher, 
was financially dependent on her. Her salary as a well known cello 
player was much higher.

"I'm glad I can help her," she said. "I owe her so much."

I told her I about my parents, my brother and sisters and about the law 
firm I had set up. 

"You can't give that firm up. It's your life-work."

"Oh yes, I can," I said. "My partners are very competent, so the firm 
can do very well without me. Maybe it would also be possible to stay in 
the firm on a part-time basis."

"Mm, if you say so ...". She smiled at me, a little bit uncertain.

"Until now my work has given me very much satisfaction," I said, "but 
being with you is far more satisfying. I'll tell you that much."

"That's another sort of satisfaction."

"True, but nevertheless."

"Passengers for KLM flight 904 to Amsterdam are requested at gate B 23," 
suddenly echoed through the hall. 

It was time for me to leave. We kissed and kissed and kissed, 
desperately clinging to each other, murmuring sweet words. Then I left 
her standing there, full of misery. She wept openly and my heart ached.

I looked back and made a thumbs-up gesture. She smiled through her tears 
and blew me a kiss. Then she waved with her handkerchief.

Unbelievable, I met her only tree days ago and yet she was already so 
familiar and so dear to me.

Going on I looked back again. She still stood there waving, this time 
with both arms, the woman of my dreams, my love. Then she was out of 
sight. 

I never felt so sad in my whole life. 

Oh Tatyana, what have you done to me!

Back in Holland I lost myself in my work, to prevent myself from 
thinking all the time of Tatyana, for I was obsessed by her. When I 
closed my eyes I could hear her soft melodious voice, see her pretty 
face and almost touch her perfect naked body. 

Once, at home, I heard the cello sonata of Rachmaninov on the radio. Oh 
my God! My throat felt constricted and tears streamed down my face.

About ten days after I came home from Russia, on a Saturday, I went for 
a hike in the Veluwe, a wood and moor region that borders on the place 
where I live. It was a sunny day in the beginning of September and I 
enjoyed the purple colours of the blossoming heather. Birds sang, 
crickets chirped and bees hummed.

I lay down on the heather and thought of Tatyana. A little drowsy I 
closed my eyes to get her image before my mind's eye. In my imagination 
I saw her on the platform of a big concert hall, playing the cello ... 

Suddenly I realised that actually someone was playing cello music. I 
looked around but saw nothing. The music came from behind a group of 
trees. I stood up and walked in that direction. 

Then I saw it. A group of people watched a naked girl playing the cello. 

TATYANA!!!

A ran as fast as I could, but then, to my disappointment, I saw it was 
somebody else, a girl with red hair, playing Irish folk melodies.

Dejected and depressed I turned and went back. After I had walked for 
about ten minutes I came near an old barn. When I passed I saw a woman 
standing in the doorway. She looked outlandish, wearing a loose black 
garment that covered her head and body. I greeted her, but didn't pay 
much attention to her. She however gestured that I should come in.

Once inside the barn she called my name and loosened her dress. She was 
naked underneath. Then I recognized her. It was Tatyana! 

"Hello, dear," she said with a weak voice.

She looked like a ghost, pale with hollow eyes, and she was skinnier 
than I remembered.

"Tatyana," I stammered. "What are you doing here? How did you find me? I 
thought you were still in Russia. And you don't look very well. What's 
the matter? Are you ill?"

"I had to see you and your neighbour told me where I could find you," 
she answered. 

"Oh darling, I missed you so much. I can't work any more, I can't eat 
any more. In the night I lie awake, longing for you. I lost a lot of 
weight. I can't live without you." She began to weep.

I embraced her, patting and stroking her. "Do you still want to marry 
me?" she asked.

"Y-y-yes, of course," I stammered.

She threw her dress off and stood naked before me. "Kiss me," she said.

I took her face between my hands and kissed her lips, her cheeks, her 
eyes, her front, her chin, her neck. "You have decided!" 
"Yes."

"And it's yes?"

"Yes, and we should celebrate, I think.". She pulled my T-shirt over my 
head and took my pants and underpants off. As she saw my erection, she 
said: "Mmm" and took it between her hands. "Beautiful. I get already 
wet, just by seeing it."

Then she embraced me, sprang up, wrapped her legs around my waist and 
impaled herself upon me.

And while I was standing and holding her, we fucked like mad. Up, down, 
up, down, moaning and panting, growling like beasts. And when finally we 
came ...

I heard a thunderclap and felt big raindrops falling on my face. I was 
lying in the heather, climaxing. 

During my sleep the weather had changed. There was a thunderstorm now. I 
sprang up, but it was already too late. I was dripping wet when I 
reached my car. I drove home, took a hot shower and put dry clothes on. 

Damn, that dream again! 

Time for a drink. I had just filled a glass of scotch, when the phone 
rang.

"It's me," she said. 

Oh, my God! 

"It's true," she added.

"I don't understand. What is true?"

"What I said in that barn."

"You had the same dream!"

"For a week I had hardly slept, but this afternoon I dozed off. Et 
voilą, I found you. Every word I said is true. Like you said, we are 
meant for each other."

"So it's yes?"

"Of course it is, silly. I said so already."

"Darling, I'll take the first KLM flight tomorrow to Moscow. I have to 
see you."

"Oh sweetheart, that would be wonderful. I'll welcome you with open arms 
... and legs!".

"Mmmm, sounds great," I said. "By the way, can I bring you something?"

"Well ... some sexy undies would be nice. The underwear they sell here 
is horrible."

Epilogue

We married two months later and settled in Laren, near Amsterdam. We got 
three children, two girls and a boy.

One year after our marriage Tatyana's break-through came. A CD with the 
cello concerto of Dvorak won the Grand Prix du Disque and an Edison for 
the best soloist of the year. She is world-famous now. I am her manager.

Her beauty has ripened and she is now gorgeous. She is the smartest, 
wittiest, sweetest and sexiest wife you can imagine. 

We are very happy. The dreams never returned.