Dannii, the drunkest Russian slut ever

I didn’t know that yet, but it already explained a heck of a lot of things. Like every girl called Dannii, or at least every girl I ever imagined being called Dannii, she was slightly taller than usual, had long, straight, blond hair, a fit, sporty body and a face that begged for a bucket full of the stickiest cum to be thrown all over it.

Dannii was looking at me. That was a strange realization, ’cause I wasn’t necessarily the best dancer, nor did I run around topless showing off my crazy muscular body, like some of the other guys were doing. She ignored them and looked at me once more, then turned away and shook her hips.

Now, before you think I don’t know how this works: I do. And I did back then. But it’s not every day a stunning young Dannii-like girl wants you to come over, stand behind her and dance with her. In fact, I don’t think it had ever happened. So I was a wary, to say the least. Wary she hadn’t actually looked at me, but to some bloke standing somewhere near me. Wary she was just thirsty and needed my wallet for another round of drinks. Wary she was on mind-enhancing drugs that made her think of me as a semi-god. Actually, that last thing wouldn’t be so bad.

I sent my three quarters of a pint through my throat, shook my face, danced around on one leg for a bit until my vestibular system knew what was what again, and then walked towards her. It was quite the long walk, in between weirdly dancing teenagers, topless bodybuilders, bald oldies that were just there to feel young again and the occasional fella on speed. I reached her eventually, just in time to fend off another guy who had had the guts to walk up to her – without even being invited. How dare he.

As I grabbed her, Dannii quickly turned around to see whether it was actually me who had touched her hips. She seemed to be satisfied with the answer and continued dancing ferociously. I had no idea how to dance along. (Guys! Right?! Chicks dance in a certain rhythm we just can’t follow, even if you’re the drummer of, say, Coldplay. It’s so damn weird). Luckily, I didn’t have to for too long, as Dannii turned around and grabbed the back of my head. She buried her face into my neck – I could swear I felt a tongue somewhere – then whispered in my ear:

“Took you long enough already!”

That wasn’t exactly what she said, but it was the main gist. In reality, she blurted out a sentence that consisted for over fifty percent of Russian words. I smiled, pointed at the crowd and said:

“Looks like some people don’t want us to be together.”

Hysterical laughter. Russian girls can laugh like they’re having an orgasm, shaking their entire body, taking it ages for them to ease down. This is exactly what happened her. Obviously, this seemed like the proper time to offer her a drink.

She ordered the most expensive drink in the entire galaxy. Okay, she ordered a large beer, but prices here were mental. I do, however, want to fuck every girl on this planet that orders beer when given the chance, so I did not complain, called a garcon, handed him a tenner and told him to keep the change. Dannii already looked bored.

The following conversation sort of went down like this:

“What’s your name?”
“Dannii.”
“Where are you from?”
“19.”
“No, where are you from?”
“From?”
“Country?”
“Росси́я”
“Say what?”
“What?”
“Do you like anal?”
“Yes!”
“What really?”
“At the beach!”
“Anal at the beach?”
“Is hotel beautiful.”
“You know what, Dannii, fuck this shit.”

I kissed her. She jumped in straightaway, grabbing my neck with one hand, trying to balance the beer in the other. It was a classic club kiss, with a lot of tongue outside our mouths, bumping into strangers, and shouting “WHOOOOOOOOOO” afterwards.

Dannii wasn’t the brightest of souls. Her knowledge of the English language was not special, and holding a fair conversation about politics or the economy was very far out of reach. But she did dance like a minx and kiss like a porn star, so hey, I went with it! Fuck me, right?

“Hey Dannii,” I said during a slow music moment, “would you like to go outside so I can try and get into your panties?”

“What?”

I raised my beer, held two fingers above it, and slowly dipped them into the glass, and back out again, and back in again, and so on, until her facial expression went from “Dude what you doin'” to “Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh I see what you’re getting at.” She choked her beer, grabbed my hand and guided me through the crowd. Outside, I offered her a smoke. She took it gladly, put it in her mouth, dropped it, laughed hysterically, put it back in, waited for me to light her up, breathed in, coughed badly, turned around and finished coughing, looked at me, and said:

“No smoke me.”

No shit, Sherlock.

We walked along the road on which most of the clubs were situated. I had no idea where we were going, and I bet she thought I would take her to my hotel, unaware of the fact that that was situated on the other side of town. I tried some smalltalk, but every last one of my questions was met by a completely illogical and highly unsatisfying answer (“How long you staying?” – “19” – “Is your hotel nearby?” – “I not know” – “Have you ever found yourself in a position in which you got torn to shreds by no less then 44 well-hung men, with your mom tied up in a chair and being forced to watch you, while seven professional cameramen captured every last square inch of your body, including the insides, until all of them came over you at the same time, including the cameramen, drowning you in an ocean of pearly white cum, making you squirt?” – “Of course!”).

I decided to take a random turn to get away from the biggest crowds. She gladly followed me, into a street with mostly food stands, and another with mostly houses, and another one with mostly high walls, and even into another one that wasn’t even wide enough for the both of us. That’s where I held still.

“Look,” I said, “you are a stunning young lady who is probably slightly tipsy as well, and I would hate myself forever if I did not go and try to get your clothes off, and then mine, and make us engage in a beautiful summer night of love-making, as romantic as that gets in an alley like this, until both of us could go back to the party in great satisfaction.”

She looked at me like I was speaking Russian.

“Look,” I said, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer towards me. “Fuck?”

“Vak?”

“Never mind.”

I grabbed my belt and unbuckled myself. She looked up at me, smiling, then down, then up at me, smiling even more, then knelt down in front of me and helped me get my dick out. The fair amount of booze I had had made it slightly hard to get the blood to where it needed to be, but her lips helped out a great deal. I was so relieved I could finally just stare into the depths without having to try and make conversation. My hands followed the movements of her head, as I felt myself grow to agreeable size inside her mouth. She had a way of sucking that reminded me of the only other Russian girl I had fucked, years before, as if there was a school 18yo girls had to go to to learn the basics of giving head. That thought made me fully hard.

Now, call me selfish, but I had no intention to kneel down in a dark alley, with the boom-boom sound of the nearest club echoing against the walls, only to make her properly ready for me. So I pulled her up by her hair and turned her around, something she more or less nullified by turning her head towards me – although it was a heck of a sight. Her kneeling had already made for her low-waist jeans to creep a fair bit down her butt, showing two moon-shaped bits of skin between her pants and her thong, that had not yet started the descend. I yanked the edge of her jeans, pulling it down over her ass. I saw a few fingers peeking between her legs, pulling her panties aside. Works for me! I wasn’t even gonna try to feel her up, ’cause frankly, at this point, I did not care one bit about the amount of moisture that had made its way out of her body and onto her (very fucking tight!) pussy lips. I guessed where the hole sorta must have been, grabbed her hips and pulled her towards me.

It slid in like a hot fucking knife through fucking butter. At first, I wasn’t even sure I was inside her, until I heard her first moan. My dick, which had gotten slightly softer during the turning around phase, immediately grew to full proportions again. I laid my hands on her shoulders and made her arch her back to be sure I wasn’t going to slip out. I fucked her, sliding out of her for about three quarters before I slammed myself into her again. The moaning stopped, but instead, she started to mumble random Russian words, or at least they sounded random to me. I shuffled my feet a bit closer to make sure there was enough of me inside her, then pushed her lower back down to arch her body even more. She screamed very unintentionally, but that only made me aware of the fact I was hitting the right spot. Up until this point, I had only moved my hips, but now I was starting to get my entire body into it. Fucking her slowly but deeply, I put my arm around her neck, slightly bent forward, and pulled her upper body against mine. The perfect angle was gone now, but I was in so deep neither of us even cared about that. My entire body moved towards her, the tip of my dick hitting the very far edge of her insides, so deep I barely even had to slip out much before the next strike. It felt so mother-fucking-good, I realized jizzing was close.

I tried to hold back, but then realized there was no need. In between bangs, I said out loud:

“Dude! … Why you … holding … back … you’re fucking … the hottest … girl … in the club … making … her … cum … is the least … of your … priorities!”

I got out just in time to not ruin this moment by impregnating her. I turned her around and put her up against the wall, grabbing both her buttcheeks with both hands, pulling her upwards. She screamed something in Russian when I lowered her back onto me, then hid her face into my neck as if she was feeling awkward about what she had just screamed. She held onto me for dear life, but that didn’t stop me from squashing her body against the wall. The scratches that gave her must have been worse than the ones she gave me with her fingernails, but I’m pretty damn sure I felt them better.

That didn’t however stop me from getting where I wanted to be. Life could have thrown seventeen ninjas onto me that would chop off my dick if they saw one drop of cum oozing out, I would have been a eunuch for the rest of my life. I pushed Dannii up against the wall even further and let my dick slip out of her just in time for me not to have a crazy awkward conversation about why I came inside her. Various waves of cum hit her in the lower belly, onto her bald mons Venus, against her finally flourishing pussy lips, and down her thighs.

Dannii clung onto me for a bit longer, then loosened her grip and put her feet on the ground. She ran her finger over her belly, scooped up a bit of cum and rubbed it over her lips, putting her tongue out to taste it.

“Good,” she said.

“Fucking A that was good!” I yelled, my dick still twitching.

Dannii bent over, gave me a kiss on the tip (cleaning it from the final few drops that weren’t lucky enough to get flung out towards the crazy girl), grabbed her pants and pulled them up. She didn’t even bother cleaning herself, she just hid the evidence of our little adventure inside her jeans. Then she grabbed my hand and took me out of the alley, back onto the bigger street, and the bigger one, until we ended up between a shitload of drunk people either going home to their hotels or hitting the next bar. Back in the club, I ordered two more beers. We stood there just like before, dancing like crazy, me trying to engage in smalltalk, her misunderstanding every word I was saying. I finished my beer and gave her the glass.

“Hold onto that tight, Dannii,” I said, with her looking at me like I had made up a new language. “It’ll be the last you’ll ever see of me.”