Chapter 14: Mike and Elizaveta's Excellent Adventure, Part VII

June 16, 1985, Paris, France

On Sunday morning, Elizaveta and I slept in as our Seine boat tour didn't start until 9:00am, and we'd all agreed we'd have breakfast before meeting at the departure point. We had our first 'large' breakfast of our trip, courtesy of Lara and Hôtel Le Bristol's room service, took leisurely showers, and left the hotel at about 8:00am to walk to the Métro, which would take us to Place de la Bastille. From there, it was a short walk to Port de L'Arsenal, from where the boat would depart.

We met the other four, bought our tickets, boarded the boat, which would have commentary in both English and French and took seats towards the front.

"Another two-hour tour!" Pete grinned.

"Same answer," I chuckled. "If we see those kinds of waves on the Seine, we have much bigger problems than being stranded on a deserted island!"

"Ginger or Mary Ann?" he asked.

"Elizaveta!" I declared resolutely.

Elizaveta beamed.

"Nice one, Petrovich!" Clarissa exclaimed.

"Self-preservation is strong with this one!" Sandy teased.

"Pete prefers Ginger," Abby said. "Mike prefers Mary Ann. Fits both their personalities."

Elizaveta looked daggers at Abby for voicing something which I had intentionally left unsaid. Clarissa frowned and apologized to me with her eyes, and I replied with a slight nod of acknowledgment. I decided it was best not to say anything and simply took Elizaveta's hand. Abby was starting to get on my nerves, and I simply could not let that happen because I loved Clarissa far too much.

The cruise was fun and interesting, though I was much more impressed with the portion of the cruise which took us into the Canal Saint-Martin. There, we passed through locks which were fascinating to watch, and saw parts of the city we might not otherwise see. The part of the cruise on the Seine hit all the high points — Notre-Dame Cathedral, the Jeu de Paume, The Louvre, the Conciergerie, where the guide told us Marie Antoinette spent her final night, and the Jardin des Tuileries.

When the cruise ended, we walked back to Place de la Bastille to see the Colonne de Juillet, and then the couples parted ways. Clarissa and Abby were going to the Jeu de Paume, while Pete and Sandy were taking a bus to the Palace of Versailles. I was somewhat tempted to ask Elizaveta to go on that tour, but given how insistent she'd been on spending the afternoon and evening together, I kept that desire to myself.

"What is Abby's problem?" Elizaveta asked. "Is she trying to make us angry?"

I shrugged, "If she is, I'm not going to take the bait."

"But to say what she did was obviously an attempt to provoke a fight!"

"I know," I replied. "I feel the same way. If you're OK with it, I'll spend some time with Clarissa and talk to her about it. But the one thing I won't allow to happen is for Abby to interfere with our marriage or with my friendship with Clarissa."

"Clarissa might have to make a choice," Elizaveta said quietly.

"If she does, Abby will not like the outcome."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. Clarissa and I promised to go to medical school together, do our Residencies together, and work in the same hospital together."

"If she had been straight..."

"Nobody knows what would have happened," I replied. "I'm not sure a mythical straight Clarissa and I could have built the kind of relationship we have. And I know for a fact she explained all of that to Abby before they started dating seriously."

"I'm obviously OK with you talking with Clarissa, and I don't want you to lose your friend."

"Thanks. Shall we grab lunch?"

"Yes!"

We stopped at a café for a light lunch, then took the Métro back to the stop near the Hôtel Le Bristol. We quickly walked to the hotel, took the elevators up to our floor, and walked into the room. Elizaveta began undressing the moment the door was closed, so I followed suit.

"I'm going to put one of the robes by the door for later when we order room service," I said.

I went to the bathroom and got one of the long, plush white robes the hotel provided and put it on a chair not too far from the door, then walked over and took my deliciously naked sixteen-year-old wife into my arms.

"Do you plan to dress for dinner or sit on the balcony naked?" I asked.

"Uhm, I think people could see!" she replied with a nervous giggle.

"I realize that, Kitten!" I said with a chuckle. "That's why I asked!"

"I suppose we have to put clothes on for dinner," she replied.

"Or eat inside."

"No, the balcony is SO romantic!"

"Then we'll dress, if that's what you prefer."

"You'd sit out there naked?!" she gasped.

"My 'naughty bits', as they called them on Monty Python's Flying Circus, would be hidden by the tablecloth! Your lovely breasts, on the other hand, would be on full display!"

"And you're OK with that?!"

"You aren't, so what I think doesn't matter!"

"But..."

"I'd prefer to be the only man who was permitted to see them in all their glory!"

Elizaveta laughed softly, "They aren't that big. Sandy and Clarissa are bigger."

I shrugged, "That does not make yours any less attractive!"

"Thank you!" she replied, giving me a quick kiss.

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"Rub flavored body oil on each other and lick it off!" she declared.

I released her and went to the bedroom to get the bottles.

"Bring the new toy!" she called after me, giggling.

I laughed, shook my head, retrieved the two bottles of body oil and the flogger, and went back to the great room. I put everything on the table in front of the couch, then took Elizaveta in my arms.

"The oil might make a bit of a mess," I said. "Maybe we should play in the bedroom. The sheets can easily be changed if we call the maid service."

"Then why are we standing here?" she asked impatiently.

I responded by scooping her into my arms and carrying her to the bedroom. I had to set her down so we could turn down the bed, but then I picked her up again and put her in the bed, then went back to the great room to get the bottles of oil and the flogger. I was positive Elizaveta was going to enjoy her toy, so I decided I'd get in the first whacks, so to speak. As a bit of deception, I put the flogger and the green-apple-flavored body oil on the nightstand.

"Turn on your stomach," I instructed.

She complied without a word and, as luck would have it, turned her face away from the nightstand. I quickly picked up the flogger and, with extreme caution, lightly smacked her butt with it.

"Hey!" she protested. "That's MY toy!"

"No, young lady, it's OUR toy!" I said firmly, whacking her again, slightly harder.

"Hey!"

"What? A «бабушка» (babushka) can dish it out but not take it?" I teased.

"Just wait, husband!"

"For what?" I asked, smacking her a third time.

"Hey! I warned you!"

"This is me shaking in my boots," I chuckled. "Well, if I was wearing boots!"

"Aren't you supposed to be putting body oil on me and licking it off?" she demanded, trying to sound cross, but she couldn't help giggling.

I set the flogger aside, unscrewed the cap from the bottle of cherry-flavored body oil, put my fingers over the mouth of the bottle, and tipped it to coat them. I ran the two fingers down Elizaveta's spine, from between her shoulder blades to the cleft of her butt, then back up again. I set the bottle aside, then moved to straddle my wife's legs. I bent down and ran my tongue along her back, tasting the strong cherry flavor of the oil and causing Elizaveta to shiver and moan softly.

I got more oil from the bottle, this time pouring a small amount into my palm. I rubbed my hands together, then used them to coat Elizaveta's firm butt cheeks with the oil. Once they were covered in a light sheen, I shifted a bit and began slowly licking the oil from her sexy butt.

When I finished, I shifted again so Elizaveta could turn over, then moved between her legs. I poured oil into my palm, rubbed my hands, then began gently massaging the oil onto her breasts and stomach. I poured a bit more into my palm, coated my fingers, and gently rubbed the oil along her labia. I set the bottle aside, then lowered my mouth to Elizaveta's breast and gently sucked a cherry-flavored nipple into my mouth.

Elizaveta shuddered and sucked in her breath sharply, then moaned softly as I licked and sucked and savored the cherry flavor which coated her lovely breasts. I did the same for her flat stomach, paying special attention to her navel before lowering my head to her mons. I savored the combined flavor of the cherry body oil and her copious juices, gently probing her tunnel with my tongue before closing my mouth around her clit. I sucked gently and ran my tongue over her button, and a moment later, she bucked her hips and groaned loudly.

"Mike!" she gasped. "I need you in me!"

I moved up, positioned my rock-hard erection, and pushed into her with a single firm stroke, sliding all the way in until our pubic hair meshed.

"Oh, God!" she groaned.

"Can I do something for you?"

"Fuck me, Mike! Hard!" my wife demanded.

She wrapped her legs tightly around my thighs and pushed her hips up in encouragement. I pulled back and pushed firmly in, and we began making a very energetic 'beast with two backs'. Because of all the foreplay, it didn't take long for Elizaveta to have a very good orgasm, which only served to make her movements even more frenzied. We were breathing so hard we could no longer kiss, so I put my head down and fucked my wife harder than I'd ever fucked her before.

When Elizaveta had her second orgasm, she actually screamed, tightened her arms and legs around me, and almost unbelievably began humping even harder. Her third orgasm was tremendous, and the strong spasms of her pussy brought me over the top. I slammed deep into her, groaned loudly, and blasted her full of cum. When our orgasms passed, we lay together, panting, trying to catch our breath.

"Wow!" I said a few minutes later.

Elizaveta giggled, "When you smacked me with the flogger, I got super wet and turned on! And then you licked me, and I just had this uncontrollable urge!"

"I thought you might throw me off the bed," I chuckled.

"Why do you think I was holding you so tightly?!"

"What do you like better?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What we just did, or more soft and gentle?"

"It kind of depends on my mood, I guess. Is there a problem?"

"Not at all! I was just curious."

"And you?"

"The same, though I basically go with what you want."

I'd almost said 'with what the girl wants', but that would have likely resulted in her not just throwing me from the bed but off the balcony.

"But you should tell me what you like," she protested.

"It really does depend on my mood. Sometimes just slow and gentle, and then cuddling and talking; sometimes more vigorous and doing it a few times before falling asleep; and, occasionally, fucking ourselves nearly unconscious the way we just did."

"That last orgasm I had was huge! And I felt like you were pumping gallons of cum into me!"

"Gallons?" I chuckled. "Maybe a couple of teaspoons!"

"I said what it felt like! Your huge dick was like a firehose!"

"And I enjoyed the vise-like feel of your pussy on my dick!"

Elizaveta giggled, "Words we can NEVER use except in private!"

"May I say I'm surprised at your expanded vocabulary?"

Elizaveta laughed, "Oh, sure, I suck you and swallow your cum, but I can't say 'fuck' or 'dick' or 'pussy'?"

"I just didn't expect it because of how prim and proper you were!"

"I was until we went to Niagara Falls, and I learned just how much fun sex can be!"

I finally softened enough to slip out of Elizaveta, and she pouted.

"On your stomach, husband!" she ordered.

"I am! I just happen to be on your stomach, too!"

"On the bed!"

"Yes, Dear."

I moved next to Elizaveta, lay on my stomach, and waited for the inevitable. It came a few seconds later in the form of a soft swat with the flogger, which didn't hurt at all.

"Twenty-two smacks!" she declared.

"I think I'm going to regret buying you that!"

"Actually, no. Twenty-one smacks. I can't fault you for Jocelyn."

She smacked me again, slightly harder. I felt it, but again, it wasn't painful. She counted off the swats, and when the last one was struck, it HURT.

"OW!" I gasped.

"If you think I'm going to apologize for that, husband, you're wrong!"

"Will you at least kiss it and make it better?" I teased.

"You're impossible!"

"Thank you!"

"But I will kiss it and anything else you want kissed!"

She did as promised, following the same basic pattern which I had, culminating in a sensual blowjob. The French kiss afterwards tasted of green apple, and when we broke the kiss, Elizaveta snuggled close.

"I was thinking," she said, "that when we make a baby, we should make love tenderly. I want our babies to come from love, not sex."

"Uhm, making love IS having sex!" I teased.

"But you know what I mean, right?"

"Yes, of course. But no matter what happens physically, they'll be conceived in love."

"I want to start trying on my birthday; you know, when I turn eighteen."

"With lots of practice beforehand?"

"Obviously!" Elizaveta declared emphatically. "Ready to go again?"

"Just say the word."

"Fuck!" she giggled.

Which is what we did four more times, with a relaxing bubble bath between the second and third, before calling room service to order our romantic dinner. We elected to shower and dress for dinner, with Elizaveta putting on a skirt and blouse while I put on slacks and a polo shirt. We'd brought them along on the chance we'd go to church, but that wasn't likely, except, perhaps, when we were in Greece.

Once we were dressed, I called down to housekeeping to have the sheets on the bed changed, and a few minutes later, a maid arrived to change the sheets. She was very efficient and completed the job in less than five minutes.

When our food arrived, the waiter set up everything on the balcony, including candles, which flickered gently in the soft evening breeze. I'd ordered a bottle of moderately-priced champagne to go with our meal, and the waiter uncorked it, putting it in a silver urn which was filled with ice.

"It kind of felt weird not going to church today," Elizaveta said after I gave the blessing over our food.

"It did," I said, "but we have the blessing of the bishop to enjoy our honeymoon. And for me, it's really next week when it will hit me because I don't think I've missed two Sundays in a row in my entire life, let alone a complete month! But, as I said, with the bishop's blessing, it doesn't bother me. After all, marriage is one of the mysteries."

Elizaveta laughed, "So making love is like going to communion?"

"In a sense, yes. It's when we become one flesh. And it is the consummation of that union, which is blessed and ordained by God."

"Nobody ever said anything like that!"

"But they did call it a 'mystery' or 'sacrament', right?"

"Sure. But they didn't draw the parallel of communion. How will you teach that to the teens and young adults?"

"Very carefully!" I chuckled. "But if you think about it, it does impress upon them the church's teaching about sex and marriage."

"Which you ignored!" she said accusingly.

"I did. But sin doesn't disqualify me from teaching or ministry — to say otherwise would be Donatism, which is a heresy."

"So, in effect, you get away with it?"

"In the same way every sinner 'gets away with it'," I replied gently. "That's the entire point of confession because without any chance of «metanoia», we're all going to Hell."

"And if you intentionally sin?"

"I don't think there are any accidental sins," I replied. "In fact, I'm sure about it because Jesus was pretty clear that it's the intent that matters."

"You mean what he says about looking at a woman and lusting for her being adultery in your heart?"

"Exactly. And it's the same with Ananias and Sapphira in the Acts of the Apostles. Do you remember the story?"

"Yes. They lied about how much they made selling their land and told the Apostles that they were giving the entire amount when they weren't. They wanted everyone to think they were more generous than they were."

"And could they have given the lesser amount, so long as they were truthful?"

"Sure."

"So the sin which was found was their intent to deceive. And, despite everything, she was given a chance to repent. So was Saint Dismas. And so was I."

"May I ask how Tasha reacted when she found out?"

"She assumed I'd been with Jocelyn, but when she found out there were other girls, she was very unhappy. She actually got into an argument at school with one girl and later told the girl that her «пизда» (pizda) must be pretty rotten because after I'd had it, I came back to Tasha, and Tasha was still a virgin!" ("pussy")

"No way!" Elizaveta said, laughing. "Wow!"

"That was when I finally understood Tasha wasn't who I thought she was."