The results are in...

And number 5 just pipped it - thanks for the response everyone, I was very pleasantly surprised by the amount of people who expressed an opinion, particularly the American lady who sent me her own account of being fingered to orgasm by a hitchhiker with her husband and parents in the dark car - very erotic indeed and filed in my mental bank of such material for "use" later :-)

So, my Russian adventure - well, actually my first Russian adventure...

I used to travel to Moscow several times a year for work - we had a business out there with whom we partnered and I was given the job of maintaining relationships and helping them to grow in "our" corporate mould.

At the time Moscow was a city dedicated to the pleasure of wealthy men. Capitalism had brought with it all the vices it was possible to desire, but none of the control or flimsy discretion of Western cities. My female colleagues and I became used to the direct approaches of newly fabulously wealthy middle aged Russian men, and became quite practiced at deflection and evasion - in many cases it would have been commercially damaging to piss them off, so we became diplomats, and good at it.

It was not unusual, not even rare in fact in those days, for a man to approach you, even when you were in company, and directly appraise you like he would a car or a horse - slowly looking you over from top to toe, circling around you and commenting on the parts he liked and those which he considered could be improved.

In restaurants notes would be sent to the table, or messages via the waiter, some had gone to the trouble of attempting a degree of introduction, most just told you straight out that they wanted to fuck you.

Now, I am, as you will probably have gathered by now, possessed of a somewhat unusual sex drive and appetites, and I'm definitely not saying that I didn't have lots of fun in Moscow and, sometimes, found all this attention flattering and even a little erotic, but on this particular evening I had business to do over dinner and was not in the mood for distraction.

There were 6 of us at the restaurant - myself and a male colleague from London, 2 from our Russian partner and a man and a woman from a potential customer. We had taken them to the most expensive place we had found - dark, expensive furnishings, a big name chef and a popular haunt for the Russian and Western super - rich, their mistresses and wives and the usual smattering of Mafioso.

Because we used a good fixer in Russia, we had a very good table - plenty of space for us all, right next to the floor - to ceiling street window and out of the way of the main walkway so we weren't getting constantly nudged and buffetted by people on their way in and out. The place had a gallery level, directly above us, and at the angle I was sitting I could see a large group of well dressed Russian men and their much younger, equally well dressed women sitting at a table identical to ours in size and shape.

I was wearing one of my "distraction technique" outfits - the chairman of the potential customer was exactly the kind of guy to wear it for, 50 something, handsome, lean and stylish - but vain. His vanity showed in the money he spent on himself acquiring a very unseasonal suntan, just a little too dark hair for his age and hand made suits he flew in from London, which he was keen to tell everyone who would listen all about.

My red dress was cut low enough that from the right angle above me it was just possible to discern my nipples - a bra was not possible with this garment. It clung to me in all the right places and tapered down to the top of my calves, with a long split on one side to allow me to walk. The split was useful for the strategic, "accidental" display of my black lace stocking tops if I needed to really turn on the charm.

The evening was going very well, laughter and flirting - business is all about flirting of one kind or another - eased along nicely by copious quantities of excellent Vodka and red wine. I was quite light-headed myself, having done what I always promise I won't and started smoking cigarrettes as soon as the first shot of Vodka kicked in, and lighting one after another ever since.

I was getting exactly the desired result from the chairman, sitting next to me on my left. I had had several private conversations with him, flicking my hair around with my fingers as I pondered a point he had made, making sure I didn't catch him staring down the top of my dress but also being certain to lean forward just the correct amount so that he would get a proper show. Of course, being me and being in control of the situation, I had started to get a little aroused and I could feel my nipples were hardening against the fabric of my dress, not helped by the fact that the position I was holding meant that there was a small gap between my breasts and the cloth, allowing it to brush lightly over the very tip of my nipple in a delicious way. The fact that I knew he had noticed and was staring at them made me even more excited and I had started to feel a little damp between my legs.

I was interrupted by someone asking me a question from the other side of the table and for several minutes my attention was engaged by the other members of our party. When I glanced back at the chairman I noticed his gaze was fixed rigidly upward - his head was only slightly tilted but his eyes were almost popping out with his efforts to look discretely at the table above us. Following the direction of his stare I found what he was looking at and was immediately captivated myself. 

Seated at the head of the table above us, with her right side towards us, was a very beautiful young Russian woman. She had, as many of them do, exquisite bone structure and long, flowing, platinum blonde hair. She was wearing a sleeveless, low cut dress and displaying the wealth of her boyfriend, husband or escort (you can never tell which) in the form of a long treble string of enormous pearls around her flawless neck. Her posture was perfect - she was sitting bolt upright and paying rapt attention to an older man who was relaying some anecdote about a farm he used to own (that's my recollection, but my Russian is not great to be honest). 

The point of interest, the delicious, erotic, thrilling sight which now had both me and the chairman absolutely captivated was under the table. From our angle we could clearly see that the man sitting to her left had his right hand in her lap - buried between her legs in fact - and was moving it rapidly from the wrist - his upper arm barely moving, as he worked on her pussy. I couldn't tell whether her dress was open in some way or if he was bringing her off through it, but it was obvious we had joined the action late in the day and she was coming.

She left her ankles together, I assume so as not to kick someone under the table or scrape her shoes on the floor and attract attention to herself, but splayed her thighs as wide as possible from the knee, allowing her own hand to drop to her lap she held his still and tight - I could clearly see the tendons on her knuckles strain. She tensed her entire leg, gave a tiny little buck of her hips, and slowly, slowly, relaxed and brought her legs back together.

The chairman and I just kept staring. The seating arrangement meant that although I knew what he was watching, I was sure he didn't know that I had noticed as well and in any case I think armed terrorists could have stormed the place and he wouldn't have paid them the slightest attention. I glanced quickly down at his lap - sure enough, a very visible erection was pushing against the expensive fabric of his suit. I fixed my gaze back on the woman - she really was beautiful - and then got a distinct shock as I locked eyes with the man who had just made her cum at the dinner table. We stared at each other, blank faced, for a couple of seconds, and then I smiled and slowly, deliberately, he broke into a wide grin and winked at me.

If I wasn't excited before I certainly was now. I felt heat between my legs and moisture being absorbed by my silk and lace black French knickers. I adjusted myself in my seat and, with a valiant effort, re-focused on the business at hand. I had made up my mind I was going to let the chairman fuck me tonight - whether we needed me to for the deal or not - I wanted to get laid and he was available. During the rest of the meal I kept hoping to find a discrete hand on my thigh, waiting to see if it would be knocked away, so I could grab it and move it to my crotch - but it didn't happen. Every now and then I glanced back up at the table above us, but never caught the man's eye again, nor was there a repeat performance of earlier.

Shortly before coffee arrived I excused myself and headed off to the ladies - I needed to check my makeup and maybe even relieve myself a little, plus my head had started to swim a little and I knew the only way to avoid a huge hangover in the morning was to head it off at the pass now with some migraine relief tablets I carried in my bag.

I stood and took my bag from the back of my chair and made sure I gave the chairman, if he was watching, a sexy wiggle as I walked to the back of the room to the ladies. I took my tablets, spent a few minutes re-adjusting myself, checked if I really was that damp between my legs, which I was, chuckled at myself a little shamefully in the mirror and headed for the door.

The doors from the gents and ladies toilets opened out onto a short corridor, at the end of which was another door to the main restaurant. Standing in the corridor, I assume waiting for the stunning blonde, was the man who had made her cum while we watched. I started a little as I realised who it was, but he didn't seem surprised to see me at all. He strode toward me and took my hand and, childlike, I allowed him to lead me back into the ladies. 

I remember being a little surprised that all the cubicles were empty - meaning he was not waiting for his companion, which meant... oh God - he was waiting for me..

As the toilet door swung closed he spun me around him and pushed me firmly back against it so that I completely blocked it with my body. staring straight into my eyes he kept his left hand gripping me tightly by my left shoulder and dropped his right hand to the hem of my dress.

Finding the split he pushed his hand inside my dress up to the forearm and his fingers were immediately working their way under the elastic of my knickers. His eyes widened a fraction as he touched my pussy lips and found them practically dripping with my own juices. Within another second he slid two fingers expertly inside me - the whole thing, from grabbing my hand outside to having his fingers inside me had taken no more than ten seconds. I gasped in pleasure as his fingers worked inside me - he was balancing the ball of his thumb on my clit, precise little movements making me drip onto his hand and sending bolt after bolt of little electric shocks up through my tummy.

The man increased the pace. I could feel his hardness pressing against me, but he pushed my hands away when I tried to touch it - the third time I sought it out he quite forcibly pinned my arm back against the door. Using the toe of his shoe he tapped my ankles to make me open my legs further, as far as possible, so that if his fingers had not been inside me I would have fallen.

His rythm was now fast and accurate, bringing his fingers nearly all the way out of me before pushing them fully back inside, curling them to seek my G-spot as he did so, whilst all the while his thumb circled my clit.

I was breathing hard now, moaning a little and mumbling to myself "God...oh God...Yes..". 

I was about to come and he sensed it - upping his pace yet again, his had practically blurred with the speed of it's movement. As I started to come he pushed his left forearm across my throat, moving his face to within millimeters of mine, staring intently into my eyes. He pushed me back against the door with all his strength, momentarily cutting off my oxygen, not allowing me to breathe.

Panic was quickly forgotten as a simply enormous orgasm crashed over me. I rarely squirt from my pussy when I cum, but I felt it happen this time, soaking the cuff of his shirt. My legs buckled, my nipples hurt like they had been burned, my whole body was shaking, held up only by his strength. I remember seeing little drops of my spit expelled forcibly from me as I opened my mouth wide, tilting my head back as the cords on my neck strained against his arm.

He gradually released the pressure from my throat and I sucked in air, gasping with relief that my muscles had started to relax. As soon as I could stand he removed his fingers with a very clear, wet noise and put them straight into his mouth, licking them clean. I again reached for his cock and he side-stepped me, moved me gently away from the door and left the room.

I spent a further 10 minutes re-arranging my clothing and cleaning myself up before I rejoined our table. The man was back at his seat - he was still there when we left, and we never made any further eye contact. As the waiter helped me into my heavy winter coat I glanced back up at the table one more time and was surpised to see the blonde carefully appraising me.  We looked into each other's eyes for a second or two, and then, with a very brief nod, she looked away.

I can only assume that, for once, I had played a minor role in someone else's fantasy - she obviously knew what had happened, or that something had happened between me and her man.

I've had several further Russian adventures, but this one is still by far my favourite and one I return to time and again as a masturbation aid - so I'm glad that I've now committed it to paper.

I never did fuck the Chairman, and we got the deal anyway... just shows you..

x