Mail Order Bride - Part Two
By Wanderer
My new Russian friend.

Copyright 2006 by Wanderer

This is adult material. Please do not read if you are under age 21 or laws
in your country forbid you to do so.

(Part One of this story may be found on the Wanderer bookshelf.)

Tara gets to the top of the second flight of stairs, still carrying her two
heavy bags and Stevie slung over her right shoulder, all two hundred pounds
of me. Now Tara can't hold me because her two hands are occupied with
holding her luggage, a big bag in each hand. So I put my two hands around
Tara's waist from the back just to make sure I don't fall off because it's
a long drop to the bottom of these stairs. I'm marveling at how tight and
solid that waistline seems to feel to my two hands, not soft and squishy
like most women. I mean, I've had three wives so I know what soft and
squishy is. From my position slung over Tara's back I also get to admire
Tara's pert ass. Through her skirt I can see each glute flexing as Tara
moves to the next step. Now this is a pretty sexy looking ass, nicely
rounded, solid looking, a pleasant handful for each hand should the
opportunity arise. A little harder for me to understand was my fascination
with her enormous calves which I was viewing closely from an upside down
position. I had never had the opportunity to experience this type of view
before and I was intrigued. I know I have a normal size calf for a man, but
side-by-side my calves would look puny by comparison with this woman's. And
yet because of the graceful shape of her entire leg I found it appealing,
even sexy. Now this was confusing for a male with a normal amount of ego.
Shouldn't my calves be bigger? Should I be riding up this flight of stairs
- stairs that normally leave me breathless when I reach the top - over the
shoulder of a woman who was carrying two heavy bags and my two hundred
pounds while breathing normally and showing not the slightest sign of
distress? Aha! I know why! It was her years of gymnastics training!
Evidently her years of performing had led her to develop a large lung
capacity, making this type of task effortless for her. If I had been a
gymnast I was sure I would have been able to do the same thing - I hoped.

Tara gets to the top of the second flight of stairs and bends down to let
me off her shoulder so I can open the front door of my home. "Stevie like?"
she asks. "If Stevie like maybe Tara do same all the time from bottom of
stairs because next time Tara no have to carry bags. That is, if Stevie
decide to keep Tara," she says, with a little blush. Then she giggles,
looking at the enormous erection pressing against the fabric of my pants,
"Stevie must like - that biggest - how you say in America? - that biggest
boner Tara see in long time. Whee, scary, Stevie do that all the time? Tara
make Stevie happy, maybe Stevie make Tara happy too," she kept giggling. I
could learn to hate that giggle.

But now Stevie is embarrassed by the visibility of big boner. Ordinarily I
am able to control my mental responses that lead to this type of physical
manifestation - a whopping big hard-on. Also Stevie is feeling quite
intimidated. Stevie is big strong American man who has to stop for a couple
minutes to catch his breath half way up his stairs to his home and small
Russian girl offers to carry him up the stairs so he doesn't tire himself
out, probably so they can have super sex that night. The thought of sex
with this gorgeous Russian gymnast rejuvenated me. Imagine what positions
she could get herself into. Just that thought alone was keeping my erection
going and growing.

So I opened the front door. When can we start the sex? No, I have to be
patient and polite. She thinks I'm a gentleman so I have to act the part.
When you build a home on top of a hill there's only so much room, so I have
only two bedrooms. One is mine and the other I've converted into an office.
If I have guests over I use a convertible sofa in the living room for them.
Tara carries her bags through the front door and looks around.

Smiling, she says "Very nice home. In Russia whole apartment same size as
Stevie's living room. You have upstairs too?" She seems awed.

"Yes," I say. "My bedroom is upstairs. I can fix up this living room couch
for you to sleep on. Or maybe you'd like to stay with Stevie in Stevie's
bedroom," I add, a little timidly, but hopefully.

"Oh, Tara stay in bedroom," she says, boldly. Tara not fifteen year old,
Tara grown woman, know about sex. Tara not afraid of  Stevie. Stevie afraid
of Tara?" she giggles.

"No, no," I say. "I'm sure you're a very nice, thoughtful, gentle,
considerate girl," I say. "I'm sure we'll get along just fine," I add.

"You need see Tara body," she says. "I different." Now what the hell does
that mean? Somehow Russian women seem odd to me. Must be the cultural
difference, I guess. "Maybe I show you later," she chuckles. Now that's
encouraging.

So without saying anything else Tara picks up her two bags and starts up
the stairs to my bedroom. "Bedroom is on the right," I say. "The door on
the left is for the bathroom."

"And bathroom downstairs too?" she asks.

"Yes," I answer.

"Ooohhh, two bathrooms," she giggles. "In Russia apartments only have one
bathroom. All family and relatives use."

I can see she's going to be easy to please.

So I open my bedroom door and show her in. I've got a big king size bed
because I like to spread out at night. Plenty of room to add a five foot
five inch girl.

About a year ago I had a burst of enthusiasm to get myself in better
physical shape, so I went on the web and got a good deal on a two hundred
pound weight set. It had two of those new efficiency dumbbell handles. They
were a little longer than the standard dumbbell handle so you could use
them with one hand or with two hands placed close together so you could get
some of the effect of using a barbell handle. But I rapidly got bored doing
weight exercises and I stopped. The night before my new friend from Russia
was supposed to arrive I had another burst of enthusiasm. I'd work out a
little doing dumbbell curls and pump up my biceps. I'll bet she would be
suitably impressed. So I put five pound plates on each end of the dumbbell
handles and with the seven and one-half pound handle I pumped out three
sets of ten curls with seventeen and one-half pounds. It was hard to get
through the last set but I figured all that exercise had pumped my biceps
up to at least twelve inches - pretty impressive for a stock broker who
sits at a desk all day, if I do say so myself. Next morning as I was
tidying up and getting ready to go to the Chicago airport to greet my new
Russian friend I realized I had left the plates from the weight set
scattered around the bedroom, so I hurriedly loaded all the plates onto one
of the dumbbell handles. Naturally I couldn't pick it up since it totaled
two hundred pounds so I rolled it into a corner of the bedroom with my
foot. I figured Tara would be impressed with my athleticism, and she was.

When we got into my bedroom so Tara could put her bags down she noticed my
dumbbell set sitting in the corner and a smile lit up her face. "Ooohhh,
Stevie big athlete. I like. Stevie use weights to be big strong man. Tara
lift weights too. When I six years old and gymnastics coach put me on team
he say 'I teach you, you be good. But you get strong you be better. Win
medals. Win trophies. Win for Mother Russia. You win you get bonus from
State, maybe free apartment. Here, you pick up weight. Ten pounds. You do
this. You bring it up to chest. Then let down. Then bring to chest. You do
ten times, I give you gift. I give you candy.' So I do. I do ten times with
right hand. Then I do ten times with left hand. Coach look at me like I
crazy girl. Remember I only six years old, and I pretty small, too. He say,
'Here, you do same with this,' and he give me bigger weight. It twenty
pounds. I do same. Right hand ten times. Left hand ten times. Coach mouth
open. He say, 'You boy, not girl?' I say I one hundred percent girl, you
want to see?

"He get red in face, say, 'No, no. Here, you try this one.' It say 15 kilos
on outside, over thirty pounds. Now I not do so good. I only do eight times
with right hand, only seven times with left hand. Coach evidently not
happy. He say 'Enough. Here, you try this. He take me to big long bar with
big plates on each side. He say called barbell. 'OK,' he say, 'you do same
thing with two hands you just do with one hand.' I lift, do ten times, on
side it say same as one hundred pounds. I do OK? I ask

'You do good,' he say. 'You try this one.' It one hundred twenty-five
pounds. I only do six times. I say I sorry, please no throw me off team, my
mother be very disappointed in me.

'Well,' he say, 'you do good for six year old, maybe I keep you on team.' I
never know until I ten years old that I do better than good. When I ten we
start training with boys team. I use barbell. It say two hundred pounds. I
raise ten times. Biggest boy on boys team - he twelve - he do eight times,
but take off two plates, it only weigh one hundred fifty pounds. Boy mad at
me. He swear at me in Russian. I hit him on chin. He fall down. He sleep.
We no train with boys team again. I ask coach. He say, 'Boys afraid.' Make
me feel good, boys afraid of me, ten year old girl. So I happy Stevie use
weights. He be big strong man. Tara still use weights too. We train
together. Here, you pick up, do dumbbell curl."

"Err ... no, Tara, it's too heavy," I laughed. "With all those plates on it it
weighs two hundred pounds. Nobody can curl two hundred pounds with one
hand."

Tara laughed also. "Oh, no, Stevie big American kidder. See, I show you."
She walked over to the two hundred pound weight, picked it up and pumped
out a right hand set of ten curls with two hundred pounds without even
warming up. In the process her right sleeve shredded.

I couldn't speak.

Then Tara switched hands and pumped out ten reps with her left hand with
two hundred pounds. In the process her left sleeve came apart.

I still couldn't speak. I had to sit down on the bed.

Tara got a look of concern on her face. "Stevie OK?" she asked me.

"No, Stevie not OK" Stevie said. "What did you just do?"

"What you mean, Stevie? I do dumbbell curls. You do too, no? Here. You take
bar," and she brought the two hundred pound dumbbell over to me and she
dropped it on my lap as I sat on the bed

"Aaaggghhh," I yelled as the weight crushed my right thigh bone. I tried to
get up from my seat on the bed but I was pinned down. Tara had a look of
alarm on her face. She picked the weight up off my lap with one hand and
bent at the waist and placed it gently on the floor. Then she came over to
the bed, put one hand behind my back and one under my knees, easily lifted
me into her arms and sat down on the bed, placing me on her lap. She ran
her soft hand over my forehead and brushed my hair back. I didn't need it
but it certainly felt good to have her comfort me like that. I thought I
would play it up a bit.

"Ooohhh," I moaned, "I think maybe my thigh bone is broken, ooohhh."

"Oh, I know what help," Tara said. "Hot bath very good, soothe muscles, or
tell if bone broken if still hurt." So she gets up, still cradling me in
her arms and carries me into the bathroom. This five foot five inch girl is
incredible. My two hundred pounds is nothing to her. She can handle a two
hundred pound dumbbell with one hand so my two hundred pounds is child's
play.

She sits down on the toilet seat with me still on her lap and she starts to
undress me. "What are you doing?" I ask.

She chuckles. "No can take bath with clothes on, silly Stevie," she
chastises me.

The shirt comes off easy, but I fight her over the pants. I don't know why
- maybe it's my male ego, being forcefully undressed by a woman. It's a
losing battle. The belt comes off, she unzips my pants, pulls off one pants
leg at a time, and then why bother with shorts? She just rips them off,
picks me up with ease, and carries me over to the tub. In the meantime here
I am, no clothes on, and being snuggled up to Tara's ample bosom. I'm
getting this fantastic erection.

"Ooohhh," Tara says, you ... how you say in America?...well hung. Tara like.
Maybe Tara use that after Stevie take bath. Maybe Tara break other leg for
Stevie. Tara not mean left leg, Tara mean one in the middle," she giggled.
"Tara turn on water, push buttons," which she did after she bent over and
placed my body in the tub.  "Ah, Stevie rich, have own whirlpool bath. In
Russia whirlpool only in gym. Tara also take whirlpool. Tired after long
plane trip from Moscow."

"Sure," I said, "I'll probably be only five minutes or so, my leg is
feeling better already."

"Oh, no," Tara said. "Big tub, plenty room for Tara. We do whirlpool
together," and she started to remove her clothing.

"No ... no," I said. "We don't even know each other yet. We only met two hours
ago." Wow, wasn't I the idiot, but I was trying to appear like a gentleman.
A gentleman with a big boner.

Tara giggled. "Stevie very modest," she said. "But Tara athlete. Run around
girls' locker room with no clothes on. Lose modesty quick. Man coach see
Tara with no clothes on, only bikini bottom. Coach like my breasts, get big
erection. Tara learn what big bosom do to a man. Stevie like?" And then
Tara put her hands on her hips, took a deep breath, threw her shoulders
back, and the buttons on her blouse popped and the material shredded to
pieces. Her chest was big to begin with but with her lung expansion it was
just enormous. It certainly had an effect on me.

"Ah, Stevie like too. Big penis for Tara," she said as she watched my
erection grow. "Very fast," she commented. "Tara see Stevie much fun," and
she playfully grabbed my penis between her thumb and forefinger and waved
it around. I instantly erupted with a stream of come that I guiltily felt
almost filled half the tub. Maybe that's an exaggeration but the come sure
kept coming.

"M ... m ... m ... m," Tara said. "Tara need to teach Stevie more self-control. But it
compliment to me. Tara like. Stevie erupt and never even see all of Tara.
Tara show Stevie now."

Well, I was embarrassed. I had never met anyone this aggressive before. Not
even any of my three wives had ever had this kind of effect on me. In the
meantime Tara was removing her jacket with the now shredded sleeves. Her
twisting and turning to get the jacket off was so sexy that it was like a
professional strip tease. She moved with the ease and grace and fluidity
and sensuality that only a trained gymnast can exhibit. I was getting
another erection, and normally I never recovered that fast. Off came the
jacket and next were the remnants of the shredded blouse, although the
shreds of material still pretty much covered her assets. And they were some
assets. She pulled the blouse open and her two magnificent breasts popped
into view. No bra! My eyes probably got wide as saucers because Tara
answered my unspoken question. "Forty-four double D," she assured me.
Instantly my erection popped straight up in the air, sticking up through
the tub water like the periscope of a submarine on a torpedo run.

Tara pulled her right sleeve off her arm, then her left sleeve. Her entire
upper body was exposed to me. The big solid balloon sized breasts, the
striated pectoral muscles, the broad shoulders - very broad, capped off by
massive, solid looking deltoids and topped by trapezius muscles rising up
her neck toward her ears, and her arms swollen to unreasonable size by
humongously large biceps and deeply cut triceps. My mouth went dry, my
erection flopped. I couldn't speak. Tara saw the reaction I was having.
"Stevie frightened?" she asked. "No worry, Tara not hurt Stevie. I like
Stevie. If you scared of Tara when you see top of me wait until you see
bottom of me," she giggled.

Hell, yes, I was scared. I had never seen muscles like this on a woman
before. I don't think any guy ever had. I was astonished. I knew gymnasts
had well conditioned muscular bodies but this was beyond all reason. Tara's
body had to be more muscular than any gymnast, even the male gymnasts, and
she would certainly win any female body building contest, hands down, or
biceps flexed, and she would probably win the men's side, too, if they even
allowed her to enter. But I wasn't about to admit to a gorgeous, sexy,
maybe-wife-to-be that I was scared of a mere girl. I had already seen her
calves. I figured her thighs couldn't be any more impressive. I was wrong.

Tara dropped her skirt. Here comes my erection again. I don't know why,
except her legs just looked so sexy to me. She does a pirouette, puts her
right leg out, flexes, her quadriceps jump off her leg, striated and long,
does a lat spread and then a double bicep flex. By now my erection was
sticking up out of the water far enough for destroyers a couple miles away
to notice and begin their depth charge run. Tara also took notice.

"Mmmmm," she says, "Stevie make Tara - how you say in English? Horny. Long
time since Tara have fun. Russian men afraid of Tara, go limp. Not Stevie.
Stevie get bigger and bigger when he look at Tara muscles. Stevie must
like. We test now," she declared.

Tara stepped into the tub with me. The tub was plenty big and there was
room for both of us. But what does she do? She gets in and lifts me onto
her lap. I can feel her silky soft skin under my thighs, but I can also
feel the steely hardness of her thighs. My penis is having an unbelievable
reaction to this erotic contact with her muscular thighs and soft skin.

This leads Tara to ask, "Stevie like sit on Tara's lap?"

"Well, since my wife rejected me (Tara still thinks I've been married only
once before, not three times) for another man just because he had more
money than I did it makes me feel good about myself to have someone want to
hold me close this way" I said.

"Stevie should feel good," Tara says. "He big man," meaningfully putting
her hand on my erection.

Most American women want more," I said.

"More than this?" she asked, incredulously, still holding my erection

"No, this OK, but most American women want more, like bigger cars, big
homes, diamonds. Need to impress girl friends," I explained.

"I no need to impress girl friends," says Tara. "All my girl friends in
Russia."

"Thank God," I mumbled under my breath.

With me sitting on Tara's lap she can plant little kisses on my neck and
play with my erection at the same time. She gets it all inflated, and then
on a whim, just to see how I react, she flexes her right bicep right in
front of my eyes. A rock hard mountain of muscle erupts. It looks gigantic
on a five foot five inch girl, especially after just having done curls with
my two hundred pound dumbbell. She couldn't stop giggling as she flexed her
right arm back and forth and felt my erection grow even bigger and get rock
hard in her left hand in response.

I could feel my muscles contracting as they got ready to ejaculate my
semen. I buried my head into her neck, feeling the hardness of her
trapezius with my lips, and I put my left hand on her flexing right bicep
to feel the unbelievable hardness. "How big is this?" I mumbled.

Only twenty-two inches," she says. "That normal for me. Of course now,
after exercise with Stevie dumbbell, it twenty-four inches. Too small for
Stevie?" she asked, knowing full well that I was totally impressed. She
could feel it in my penis as I ejaculated my semen all over the whirlpool
tub. I didn't know it before, and I never would have guessed it about me,
but I guess I like muscles on a woman. She wasn't just a recipient of my
sexual advances - with my three ex-wives it had been ho- hum, I guess I can
tolerate the oversexed bastard for another night - Tara was a giver. She
gave as good as she got. She was a participant. But right now I was totally
drained and exhausted. I threw my hands around her neck and rested my head
on her hard shoulder and I collapsed into her arms, sitting there in the
whirlpool tub on her lap with the water from the jets swirling all around
us.

"Poor Stevie,"" says Tara. "Here, you feel better, Tara give you a pick-me-
up. You take nipple, you feel better, I feel better too," she giggled.
Saying that, and still holding me on her lap, she raised my legs with one
hand and lowered my upper body with the other so that I could get my lips
around her nipple. It was a good solid nipple of maybe a half inch length,
something that I could wrap my lips around. Immediately I felt better and I
could hear Tara sighing so I guess she was feeling pretty good too.
Suddenly she shifts my body off her lap and she climbs out of the tub.

"Time for Tara to find out if Stevie make good use of equipments," she
giggles. She puts her hands under my armpits and lifts me bodily out of the
tub. Then she extends her hands full length straight up in the air so that
my equipment is at eye level. Well, of course I've got another raging hard-
on and she inspects it for a few moments. "Hhmmm, I think Stevie ready for
big test," she says. So Tara puts me down, sits on the edge of the tub,
takes my big fluffy bath towel and dries me off as I stand there between
her legs. She turns me this way and that, making sure there's no moisture
left on my body, and she's taking extra care around my testicles and
erection. I think she's just teasing me, but whatever her purpose my penis
was back at full attention.

"OK, time for big test," she says. Tara gathers me up in her unbelievably
muscular arms and carries me out of the bathroom to the bedroom. I felt
pretty foolish, being carried around like this by a little girl. Up my
stairs, into my bathroom, out of my tub, into my bed. I didn't know what
the purpose was. Was she trying to show me that she's in charge? Dominant
in our new relationship? That she was pretty strong and I had better not
challenge her? Or that she would make a strong, capable wife for this
lonely American? I didn't know, but whatever it was I wasn't going to
complain right now and ruin my chance of one hell of a night of orgy, and
orgy we did all night long. I think I passed the test.

End of Part Two.


Can Tara qualify as wife number four? Is she a keeper? Read part three of
"Mail Order Bride," coming soon.