Chapter 1

The four of us were at the Athens Airport waiting on the charter jet taking us to Philadelphia to do the install of the software on the servers Paul had purchased. All of our luggage and gear was locked up in secured embassy cases that not even the TSA could open without a warrant authorized by the secretary of state, or so we were told. Not having to bother with laptops and other junk, which I normally hand-carried to keep “the airline” from destroying before they lost it, getting through security was a breeze. We were all sitting back at the bar waiting for me to get the call to tell us which gate to find so we could get down to the chartered jet.

Was Gordo really the cause of the crap I kept having whenever I travelled? How would I fare if I tried to get a first class seat on “the airline” now? I wonder if accounting had a better chance getting us a good set of hotel rooms this trip or if we were still going to get screwed in the end.

These things were running through my head when Linda slid up next to me while Calvin and Roberta were off getting something from the buffet that was included with our flying on the chartered jet service.

“Joe if you don’t think it will make things weird between us, I would love to see if I could screw you into the ground in exchange for not making me have sleep in the same room as Roberta. Her snoring sounds like a dozen crosscut saws going at the same time just inches from your head. Ear plugs help a bit, but she also turns the bathroom into a toxic waste dump,” Linda told me while watching for the two to come back. “Calvin is a great guy and between the two of them, he is a better option to share a room with, even if I had to share just a twin bed with him. Not that you want to hear it, but he is really well hung, so that is a plus. Too bad his trigger is barely a bit longer than a premature ejaculator. He barely gets a few inches inside and he is done for the night. Some girls I had heard talking say that you will go for hours with the right motivation.”

Figures ... Linda might be a damn good fuck if I knew she would not blab it from the rooftops the first chance she got. I don’t need even a tenth of the shit Clinton got for fucking one of his interns. She was pretty damn bold to come out to tell me that. That is a good sign for her making it as a female coder. No embarrassment or modesty. I bet she would code naked if that was allowed in the dress code.

I leaned in to say, “Linda as much as I would love to take you up on that offer, I doubt I will be able to get into it enough to even get hard. When I am on these trips, I make myself focus on the job at hand so that I don’t risk embarrassing the boss or our company in front of the client. I know I won’t be the good company you are expecting on this trip.”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying. I need it so bad right now,” she said looking dejected.

I wonder if we have a co-pilot this time. Linda might get really lucky if we do given their normal clientele on the flights out.

As she was leaving I reached out for her arm.

Pulling her close to me I whispered in her ear, “If we have a co-pilot today I bet the pilot would be willing to help you join the mile high club. I just started using their service, but on the trip back from Philly I found the pilot was a standup guy and had enough miles on him to know what a woman needs. I would bet that all of their pilots and co-pilots are very well trained in more than just keeping the plane in the air.”

Well there is that spark I see her get when she is locked in on something. No way is that pilot not getting laid if at all possible without risk to the flight.

About the time Linda grabbed a table with Calvin, Roberta came over.

They must have come up with a schedule to get time alone with me.

Of course the talk with Roberta was completely different. She spent over ten minutes trying to pump me for information that would verify that Katie and I were having sex. That girl didn’t seem to get that I don’t talk about what I do in bed, especially not with interns. Sure she was damn good at finding the exact modules where a bug exists, even if she doesn’t have the programming skill to actually figure out the cause or fix it. If Roberta was not so good at troubleshooting I would have not let her come back for a second internship.

If only the girl could pick up coding she would be a home run, if we could pay her enough to keep her from being poached by the head hunters in Atlanta. Well those in India head hunting for people to work jobs in Atlanta.

“Roberta,” I said to her quietly to get her to give up on this quest for knowledge. “You have seen Katie naked, touched parts of her very intimately, shared her bed and shower. If she has daydreams about me that gets her going and you get the benefit, I don’t get why you want to rock the boat. She is damn smart. When she wants something, she goes after it like a cheetah after a gazelle. If I end up on her hunting list you are going to lose out on what you have going with her because she won’t be coming back to play you on your team.”

What? You didn’t think about that did you?

When Calvin made his way over I was sure they had worked this all out between themselves.

There is something to be said for their ability to work well as a team.

“Joe, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you made sure we had separate rooms. Linda is plain crazy in bed. I don’t mean the good wild nymphomaniac crazy. She is bat shit, around the bend, insanely fucked in the head crazy. Every single time she gets a guy in bed she works him to be point of getting off dozens of times before she will let him fuck her. No guy can take that shit when a girl has a virgin tight pussy. I don’t know of any guy on campus that had gotten more than an inch inside her before he busts a nut. Once that happens she is a complete ice bitch. I made sure one night that nothing was going to get me off and then she went psycho when I didn’t cum as soon as I got inside her. She was completely cold to me for the next two weeks at work and school. If I had to share a room with her on this trip I would be too drunk to be any good to you at the client site,” Calvin told me. “If I thought I could score it I would drop acid instead. Beer goggles and all that.”

Well at least of the three he is honest about where he stands.

Putting a hand on his shoulders I said, “That is a perfect example of why you don’t get involved with coworkers. Things tend to get messy after a while no matter how good it starts out in the beginning. Just consider it a good lesson. If you decide to code professionally you will run into plenty like Linda. Many have their own kinks and sexual twists. Just remember that if they come to you for sex, you can usually be sure that you will get laid. Watch out for any coders that happen to look like gymnasts or body builders. Any woman that can keep up with that workout regimen while keeping their skills up behind the keyboard, to stay competitive with their male coding peers, are going to be a lot to handle. I know a few that get off hard on showing you that you can’t match their stamina in bed and that they are better coders than you to boot.”

He heard what I said and still won’t take any of my advice. I should text Tatyana to see if she has any of her gymnast teams up in Philly.

I worked on my beer as I fondly remembered how I came by the wisdom I had given Calvin.

Back when I met Tatyana I was only a year or two older than Calvin, horny and very stupid about women. I knew quite a bit about sex, just nothing about women. Work had been going well and I used my tax return to go on a week-long vacation. I did a good bit of research that showed two weeks after Spring Break in Florida was slow time for the parks and hotels. No schools were out for the summer yet, so every hotel and resort were pretty much fighting to get anyone in their rooms. I found a four-star hotel right on Daytona Beach. Two weeks before the rooms had been going for five hundred a night with a two grand non-refundable deposit which didn’t apply toward the room rate. My room was five hundred for six nights with no deposit. I was always one of those people who could get a decent tan going really quickly and keep it into late fall. I figured I might as well get a good start with a nearly empty beach.

Best made plans.

By the end of the first full day at the beach I was just on the edge of being sunburnt and subsequently bored out of my mind. The beach was not completely empty, but I could be tanning on my back in the nude and the nearest person would not be able to tell. There I was too close to crispy to go back out to the beach, saw no women around under seventy and had nothing to do. I did what any other young guy in his twenties would do, I hit up the bar.

Thirty bucks went pretty far back then. I was able to get a good buzz going and then work on a pitcher or two of beer to keep it going.

I was on my third beer when this petite, nearly flat-chested, dark-haired girl with incredible green eyes walked in and grabbed a seat at the bar. There could be no way she was old enough to drink, she did not even look like she had hit puberty. Sure she exuded the confidence to give it a try anyway. With a heavy accent she ordered Stolichnaya vodka, straight up. The bartender didn’t even card her. She downed it and two more before she just told the man to leave the bottle. Four more shots were gone as fast as she could pour them.

No way can someone that can’t even weight a hundred pounds in a soaking wet parka handle that much alcohol. She is going to fall off that stool as soon as the Vodka hits her system full strength.

When she slid over to me and asked me if I wanted to share the bottle with her, I found out that Tatyana was a Russian who grew up drinking vodka because the water where she lived was unfit to drink. She was also a coach for a small gymnastics team visiting here from Russia to train in a warmer climate to better compete in various parts of the world.

“Why would the climate make a difference,” I asked () her now that my dumb question filter was getting affected by the vodka.

She told me, “Zee moisture in air and few degrees Celsius change how equipment behave.”

As I enjoyed the buzz I had going, she went all into how the moisture change gave just enough variation in the amount of sweat on a gymnast’s palms. A perfect run at home turned to a disaster here. I had seen gymnasts getting chalk on their hands before a run, but never knew there were a lot of variations in how they prepared for a competition in a high humidity climate. Before long I learned more about how even the temperature of the mats, what was inside them and the ways they wore down from use depends on the part of the world where they are used. By training anywhere in the world where her team might find themselves competing, they would be much better prepared to counter the slight variations.

Once she was done going into a lot more detail on climate affecting competitions, she got around to asking me what I did. I explained that I was a programmer for a small company. I figured that even if she had a slight buzz that this was the end of our chat. There were enough guys in here now that were obviously in a lot better shape, looked a hell of a lot better and had a lot more money than I did to spend on women.

Damn I have to quit drinking so fast if I hope to talk to any women longer than getting to what I do for a living. Can I even make my job sound sort of sexy somehow?

She did walk off, but left the bottle and her glass. I expected to get stuck with the cost of the Vodka. I knew I wasn’t going to be drinking anymore of it by myself, so I called the bartender over to have him put however much we drank on my room bill. I would be paying off my credit card for years and did not even get laid out of it.

“No charge,” he told me. “That woman brought in their own private supply just for her and her gymnasts. That is way above our top shelf selections. Count yourself blessed if she bailed and left the bottle for you.”

Well that was different. Guess I will have a few more shots of it then. Best date I have had on this trip.

I had taken three more shots when she came back with two more girls. “Joe,” Tatyana said. “I give you Sasha and Anja, who also train with me. I tell them you program. They program too.”

That is interesting.

Both Sasha and Anja had such thick accents that I had a hard time understanding the three of them. Forget about even trying when they were speaking Russian.

From the best I could gather, all three of them were funding all of the training for their team through their own programming work. It was expected of them to use their talents to really work the prospective Olympic athletes over hard or else. At first it was funded by the government, but then as their economy started tanking they had the same requirements with less money. Having so many decades of Communism, it was ingrained into their very beings that no excuse would be accepted for failure to do that which is expected of them. Oddly enough the three of them were just natural geeks, so programming worked really well for them. Just like every other programmer, they had assigned projects with delivery dates. With the Internet, even back then, it did not matter where or when they did their work, just that it was submitted for peer review before the deadlines.

Tatyana and Sasha mostly wrote () run of the mill modules for existing software, pretty much like what I had been doing lately.

Anja was a hardware hacker. She would be shipped some random device and be told to code it up to do some designed function. The challenge for her was that most times the hardware was never designed to do what they wanted her to make it do with code. Instead she often had to spend hours hacking the gear to make it work. Her eyes really lit up when she talked about the various electronic supply houses in the US. When they were here or could at least have a two day layover, she would really stock up on everything she thought she might need. Anywhere else they traveled was a real hassle to get anything, especially in Russia. It seems the old school Communists were very demanding in knowing why a gymnast had any need for something as trivial as resistors, solder, flux and LEDs. If they did let her purchase what she needed, it was normally twenty times the U.S. price, at a minimum. Luckily for her, the company where she did the programming knew the Russian prices too, so when she gave them a list of what she purchased, they would always reimburse her at the higher rates. They never asked if she bought them from anywhere else. Over the last few years she had managed to purchase thousands of dollars in gear in the U.S. Normally only the Russian engineers would get to use that gear in a secured lab under the watchful eye of men with machine guns.

I was shocked as hell that I really hit it off with the three of them so well. After we finished the bottle between us, they suggested we all go out to get something to eat. It was decided that we would meet in the lobby in half an hour to go to this place they wanted to try out. Knowing my normal luck, I expected to be stood up. Still, I went to change into some Dockers and a Polo shirt. I only hoped that I would have enough to pay for my share. From the way they talked, I expected this to be some sort of five-star restaurant with small two bite fifty dollar rolls and hundred dollar salads in custard cups.

Is this a dream? Did I get my brain fried laying out in the sun?

Well that was what I thought at the time when I came down to find the three woman talking excitedly as they waited for me to arrive. I had rushed to get dressed and I was back downstairs in ten minutes. Even geek women in the U.S. take more than ten minutes to get dressed up to go out, even if that is only to put on jeans and a t-shirt. These gymnasts were definitely not American girls playing around with fake Russian accents!

All three of them were wearing skin-tight mini dresses that conformed to every curve of their bodies. Tatyana had a bit of cleavage showing and Sasha had small breasts that left no question that she was braless. Anja looked every bit of being maybe twelve with just her finger sized dark nipples and areola not much bigger around than a quarter. I knew that none of them could have more than ten percent body fat and suspected that Anja did not even have five percent.

None of that really mattered to me since I was happy as hell to just be asked to go out with them. All three were dazzling and I was sure I was bringing down their beauty by being near them. But what does my opinion matter if they were the ones that wanted to have me along.

Dinner turned out to be a real blast once I found out that they really loved screwing around with the staff at the restaurant.

Right off the bat the hostess asked me if Sasha and Anja wanted children’s menus. That was the start of the hilarity.

“Uncle Joe, may we have grown up menu? Yes,” Anja asked sounding just like a little Russian girl begging for something special from a favor uncle.

Smiling I said, “Yes my dear Anja, you two can have the adult menus.”

That got a really big, silly little girl grin from both of them. I knew right off what was afoot here and played along. Once we were seated and the waitress came to take out drink orders, it got really interesting.

Anja requested a bottle of Stolichnaya with four glasses. The waitress did not even blink as she said that was very expensive Vodka and in the U.S. children were not allowed to drink alcohol, not even wine. She did not even bother to ask for ID. Her mistake.

Not backing down Anja demanded, in a very thick, almost unintelligible Russian accent, “You will bring manager to table, yes?”

When the waitress just ignored her to ask us for our drinks, I told her Anja asked for the manager. Would she be so kind as to go fetch them for us?

As it turns out this was a regular occurrence for them when they went out. Anja looked to be only twelve, but she was twenty-two. Sasha was eighteen and Tatyana twenty. When the manager did come over, looking pissed off that he had to be bothered over some kid trying to get alcohol, she made the same request for vodka and he gave the same answer.

“Age for permitted drinking of alcohol is twenty-one in your country, yes,” she asked the manager. “Here is passport. I am twenty-two. I drink here under law, yes?”

Not that it mattered anyway. The age on their passports was written in Russian versus a numerical date of birth. I found out later that these were some sort of Russian ID papers that looked just like passports, given for them to use instead of passports. Evidently after some Russians defected during an Olympics they gave them these papers to make it hard to be able to defect since they were not passports. Specifically they could not use it to prove to any official authorizes they were even Russian. If they were arrested the cops had to send copies of the papers and fingerprints to verify their identities. All three had their real passports on them too, if really needed.

Damn they are geek girls! They are playing these snots like pros.

Oddly enough, it turned out the restaurant had a cook from Georgia and one from the Ukraine. The manager asked the one from the Ukraine out to verify the ages. He talked to the three in Russian, looked at the papers and then told the manager they were all over twenty-one. The manager was also made aware that all three were very important gymnasts sent here by the Russian government to train.

It did not seem to make a bit of difference to the snobby manager, but the waitress really got friendly and polite all of the sudden. We had the bottle of vodka quickly. Our food came out shortly thereafter.

We started with something they called zakuska, appetizers as it turned out. It had smoked fish, cold meats and a salad having veal tongue, caviar, crayfish and some sort of bird that they could not find a way to translate the name into English. I was afraid to really find out what it was anyway for fear that my mind would somehow diminish the taste of this amazing exotic salad.

Maybe it is some old crow. Had a lot of them around in Florida. That was for sure.

After that we had some more caviar.

Man I am going to be in debt for ten years paying for this dinner.

Following the caviar was some sort of soup. I asked if this was borsht, but was told it was something called Ukha, an amber colored fish soup made perch or sturgeon. For the main courses we were brought out a plate that was half Beef Stroganoff and half Chicken Kiev. I had eaten Beef Stroganoff before, but it turns out that I was mistaken. What I remembered eating was hunks of chewy, fatty meat with some sort of brown gravy all over it and laying on a pile of flavorless noodles. The meal I had here had a flavorful creamy sauce covering the noodles and tender, melt-in-your-mouth chunks of meat. For desert we were given something that looked like a fried cheese pancake that had been covered in honey with apple sauce on the side.

Given that we finished off the vodka as we had dessert, I was so pleasantly buzzed that I no longer cared that I could take what this meal was going to cost and use it for a down payment on a house. When the bill came, Anja took it and gave them a Master Card.

I tried to say it was only fair for me to pay my part and was shot down instantly. They had invited me out as their guest. Even then they would insist they pay for it since all of their meals were funded by the Russian government. That was the only thing the government picked up for them and they went just short of extremes to run up a huge bill at each meal. So far they had no complaints from any officials.

“Few times we get telegram that ask us if we eat enough. Bill not large money they expect. Say we not feed us and gymnasts well. We must each eat much more,” Anja explained. “Now we try to eat most expensive meal we find.”

When we got back to the hotel Anja asked me to talk with her a minute while the other two went to the bar to get another bottle of their vodka for us to share.

In nearly perfect English and almost no hint of an accent now, Anja said, “Joe, all of the members of our team train very hard. We are far from our homes and lovers. Girls who are too young to have interest in men share each other to take care of their desires. Those who remain have need for a discrete man. We three find you are a man with whom we find stimulates our minds, which has stimulated our bodies. If you have interest in sharing your bed with those in our troop who are also in need of what only a man can give, you need only come join us in the bar.”

Hot, hard bodied Russian gymnasts asking if I wanted to drink expensive vodka and telling me they wanted me to fuck them? What downside could there be? How many others did they have that needed to get laid too?

I did not even think about it as I held my arm out for Anja.

Big mistake, well sort of.

After we finished the bottle of vodka, keeping my buzz going great, we headed up to my room. By the time the door slammed shut, all three women were completely naked, as if by magic. Sasha laughed at my surprise as she explained, still with a heavy accent, that when they were doing exhibition shows they had to change in seconds. I never knew that in addition to training, some of their group was pulled off to do acrobatic shows whenever some official ordered it to make him look important. That was yet another reason they tried hard to keep out of Russia training abroad as much as possible. They had stripped me naked by the time Sasha had finished.

Before anything more was done, the three of them stepped back to give me a good look at their naked bodies. It was hard to believe that Anja was twenty-two, Sasha twenty and Tatyana, the leader of their team, eighteen. I had expected Tatyana to be the older right off the bat with her almost b-cup breasts and widened hips. Sasha barely had enough boobs to push out from her chest. Anja just had slightly raised places under her areolas and crinkled nipples. All three women were shaved bare.

The scents from their very wet pussies had Little Joe pointing up toward the ceiling as they were doing their own inspection. With the buzz I had it was surprising I could even be hard. It did not stay that way for long.

One lesson I learned quickly about gymnasts was how strong their petite looking bodies really were and how much stamina their training gave them in bed. In the blink of an eye I went from standing in front of them to being on the bed with dick fully buried in Tatyana with Sasha’s pussy being lowered over my mouth. Things got a little fuzzy for a while after that.

Was it being suffocated with pussy that made me pass out or did the alcohol wipe my short-term memory? Do I really even care?

From when I had been pushed down onto the bed to when my dick refused to get hard again, I know that I licked a lot of pussies without ever getting to see exactly who was fucking me. I knew that at least four others on the team came in to get licked because those four had different amounts of hair around their vulvas and clits.

My second lesson was that with gymnasts I could not use the size of their breasts, width of their hips or tightness of their vaginas to tell anything about their age or if they had been virgins when they pushed my dick inside themselves. I knew no gymnasts of their skill would still have a cherry, even if they were virgins. Every single one of them could have been a virgin or could have screwed the entire Russian army. With all of their training and workouts, their vaginal muscles seemed as toned as the rest of their bodies.

I was half asleep when I made it to the bathroom to piss and wash my dick off.

Did I just dream that I got laid by a bunch of Russian gymnasts?

I was sure that I must have. When I came out of the bathroom I found the bed was made up as if nothing had happened in here over the last hours. I would have believed it to be a dream if not for Anja coming into my room wearing just a robe.

“Tonight we sleep. Tomorrow you make me a woman. I haven’t ever been penetrated by a man in the front or back. It is something I wish explore in private,” Anja told me as she slipped into my bed naked.

She may had looked like a twelve year old, but in my bed her muscular body was all woman. Given our differences in stature, she was a perfect fit where she spooned up against me as we went to sleep. My morning wood couldn’t tell the difference either. The head and part an inch had magically sought out her hot, wet entrance in my sleep. It seemed good to her too because she used her finely tuned body to push most of it up inside before telling me to go back to sleep, but neither of us did.

As much as I would love to say we both worked hard to make her first time some sort of romantic, loving, caring sex she was going to remember for the rest of her life, I can’t.

Joe you know that isn’t exactly true. She will remember her first time for ever because of you and you know it.

What started with my morning boner turned into all out, no-holds-barred fucking. We went at it until we were both completely exhausted, showered, called room service, ate and then spooned up again. As soon as we were rested up, well as soon as she was rested up and I could get hard, we were back to fucking again. I only had a vague concept of time.

It was finally Tatyana that came to rescue us both. Once Anja was exhausted again, Sasha got her dressed and pretty much carried Anja from the room. I passed back out and slept the rest of that day and through the night.

In the morning Tatyana was there in bed with me. She told me how worried she was that other than the one time, Anja and I had not eaten anything. It did not affect me much since I had a little extra around the ... well everywhere. For Anja it really did a number on her reserves. The upside was that Tatyana got me up, dressed and took me out to eat with everyone on the team, except Anja and Sasha, who was watching over Anja.

“Girls with natural abilities like Anja get older, but do not always mature. She focus on loving with you and not wise about too much of nice thing. Sasha knows ways to help her,” Tatyana told me.

I know she told me more, but I was surrounded by gymnasts from ten to nineteen. Right from the start I was flanked by Nika and Sonya. Both spoke perfect English with almost no Russian accent at all. Both were wearing loose cotton shorts and sleeveless shirts with open sides that when they turned it let me see that they both were still little girls underneath. Three other of the younger girls wore button down shirts that had the buttons undone to the middle of their stomachs. With them tucked into their shorts it kept them looking modest while still showing a lot of skin. All three enjoyed teasing me with showing me they had the start of breasts.

Well if nipples now the size of nickels slightly raised off their chests was the starting of breasts.