Chapter 5
UHMMM, YES....
At the spy school, Nickie mastered courses in killing and sabotage with ease.
For his superb performance in Advanced Lies, he was awarded a medal. Alas, however, lays gave Nickie more trouble than lies.
He was almost flunking beginning seduction.
The first morning of the class wasn't really so bad, but the single teaching aid the instructor used for his lecture should have warned Nickie of what was to come. The teaching aid was a life-sized picture of a naked woman.
As for the instructor, he was a wiry little fellow with a wiry little mustache, and he looked about as satyrical as a grasshopper.
His very first words belied his looks. "This," he announced, his voice rising to a screech, "is a woman." He paused. "Are there any questions?" There weren't. The instructor looked pleased that the class understood so far.
He whammed the poster with his pointer, an action which delivered a powerful whack to the female's erotic triangle. The paper boomed and rattled. Its thighs seemed to quiver. Its bosom jiggled, the gaily painted red tips dancing.
The instructor wrapped the poster again on its intimacy. "This is the target," he said, spitting out the words. "It is the most erogenous zone. Between the legs here you will find, if you look, two soft pink petals of flesh. You must squeeze these. You must bite, one after the other. You must throw your tongue between them, so that it is caressing the insides of both at the time. It is the most direct method of securing the entrance to the channel they guard.
"In theory, it is much the same as hitting a sentry over the head or getting him drunk.
"The woman's little petals will become giddy at your touch. Of course, there is a certain biting technique you must use. It will render her as defenseless to your advances as if you had pressed a vital nerve.
"Of course, there are other ways. There will be lectures on thighs, breasts, stomachs-" Whap, whap, whap, the poster did a jig as the professor bashed his pointer irreverently against each of the named areas.
"Ah, but too much of this talk. I am not one to waste talk when we can have sex. I will leave all this to your instructors in intermediate seduction. Here we will concern ourselves only with basics."
He glowered. "Tomorrow we will begin practical application."
Nickie gulped. Did he mean...?
The next morning the poster had been replaced with a couch. The professor brought in a plump, rosy-cheeked girl. Obviously she knew what kind of class it was. She was panting her mighty bosom heaving under her cotton blouse, the material was straining, the buttons about to burst.
The professor grimaced. "I have picked this girl on purpose," he said. "She repulses me. See-she is built like an ox. Her breasts are too heavy-like blocks of cement. And her fat legs have no suntan. Chances are when we undress her we will find she has varicose veins."
"But comrades, this is the sort of thing you must be prepared for. You must allow yourselves to be disconcerted by such discoveries. When you undress American women, for example, you will find that their stomachs are red from being all trussed up in their girdles."
"Girdles-humm-well, in Intermediate Seduction you will learn how best to remove them. It's beyond me."
Nickie glanced at the girl to see how she was taking the instructor's insults. To his surprise, she was grinning; her big thighs were rubbing together.
The instructor began by flicking his hand across one of her breasts. He let it move away, then, slowly, tantalizingly, he brought it back, pressed gently, then squeezed. The girl had followed his hand with her eyes. At his squeeze, she let out a little squeak.
He squeezed again, and again she squeaked.
He repeated the procedure with the other breast. He touched it lightly with his fingers, then let them wander away as if disinterested. Finally, he brought them back to wrap themselves around the breast and squeeze.
The procedure was even more titillating than the first time. Again the girl emitted a passionate squeak as he squeezed. One more squeeze produced a fourth squeak, just as if the instructor were squeezing the bulb of a horn.
The professor turned to his class and gave a little bow. Everyone applauded.
Nickie let out his breath. His lungs were almost bursting, but he hadn't realized until that moment that he had been holding his breath.
"You see, students," explained the professor, "if a woman has large breasts, they are always an excellent place to begia All women whose breasts are bigger than field peas are inordinately proud of that fact"
"She will be delighted that you find them so pleasureable, and even if she does not intend to let you make love to her, she will let you play with them. But her vanity will be her undoing. Or I might say, her unfastening."
"Because, while you are playing with them, your skill will produce such an ache between her legs that she will be unable to resist you when you move your hand down to relieve her symptoms. You will become expert at judging when these symptoms are at their peak."
He turned back to the girl and put one hand under the swell of her breast. With the other hand he worked his way inside her bodice, unfastening two of the buttons which had already strained half way out of their holes.
The instructor explained to the class that the heat of his hand on the underswell held her simmering with desire while he worked his hand inside.
Yes, he replied to a question, it was possible that she would have let him put his hand into her blouse anyway, but anything worth doing was worth doing right and there was a right way and a wrong way to make a woman.
Any man who did not do the deed scientifically was no more than an animal. It was science that made men higher than beasts. When science had progressed sufficiently there would be no more need for such an outmoded device as sex.
Imagine, he told them, the very fact you live at all depends on your mother's nipples having got all fidgety under your father's touch! The whole systern bordered on insanity. Soon the great government researchers would have it figured out Until then-well--
He gave his attention once more to the girl who had looked downcast during the lecture. She brightened as his hand wiggled inside her bra. It was easy to tell that her nipples must be all jittery. The professor gave her a little shove and she collapsed as he intended her to, on the couch, her knees bending under her easily like folding table legs. Now the instructor removed her blouse altogether. A gasp went up from the class as her enormous globes came into view. They were larger than anyone had guessed. The girl beamed. She appreciated the adulation she was receiving. The instructor's hand moved now to the clasp of her overburdened brassiere.
"Always do this yourself," he said. "It will show you to be a true master of love, since it is one thing that few men do correctly. You must not pop the breasts out without undoing the hooks. That would constrict her breathing."
"Neither should you fumble around with one hand as interesting as it may be to use the other one elsewhere. No, you must use both hands, one on either side of the hooks."
Nobody paid much attention to this informative bit of esoterica. Everyone was still looking at the breasts.
The girl stretched languorously.
The instructor was not impressed. She was altogether too fat. He was a little man and she made him feel insecure. He knew that soon he would have to insert himself in this female. She was so big. It would make him feel like Tom Sawyer lost in the cave.
Nonetheless he did not flag in his duty. He was a master lover and for years he had been training men to the service of country and of love-starved women as well. The day he failed to satisfy a woman he would be removed from his post and sent to Siberia.
Some days he almost thought it would be worth it to go.
He fitted his mouth expertly over one of the breasts. His hand was busy on the other one. Then, abruptly, he took off his clothes and stood up. The students were amused to see that the instructor's anatomy was unaroused.
"You see," he explained, "I told you she did not interest me. But I have complete control over my body. I do not need to depend on a freak of nature such as sexual attraction. Watch."
They watched in fascination. So did the girl. The professor stood stock still facing the class. A hush came over the room. Slowly, surely, the professor's anatomy began to change.
It rose as though it were a snake being charmed. Nickie almost expected to hear oriental music. A murmur ran through the room as the eerie performance ended with the professor in perfect lovemaking condition.
He sat down again beside the girl. His lips pressed against hers. While her eyes were closed in the kiss, his hand wandered to her thigh. It traveled up. The students saw her hips begin to twitch. Now her skirt was being unzipped. It seemed to float away from her to the floor. There were only her panties left.
It was a tense moment.
Slowly the professor pulled them down, yanking them by the material between the legs. Her little crater of a navel appeared, followed by the rest of her heavy gelatin stomach, and finally-at last, the be-curled moment of truth, the lower of the curls already wet with passion.
There they were-naked, both of them, the professor, despite his virile condition, still looking inconsequential and tiny beside this mammoth pile of pulchitrude. Was it possible that this little spindly-legged, mustached man could satisfy the girl as she had never been satisfied before? Or would she simply make mincemeat of him?
Poor little guy.
He spread her legs and pushed her back on the couch. The girl flung her arms about his neck and pulled him to her. He came, taking care to bite her stomach and breasts on the way.
They joined. The girl's legs rose and closed a-bout the professor's back, seeming to crush him in their embrace. In fact, one had to look hard to see the professor at all. But then the students were looking hard.
There wasn't much to see now, though. Just a sort of gentle heaving of bodies. The movements of the girl were cow-like, sluggish. Minutes ticked by. The bell rang for lunch, but the students stayed on. After all, they had not been dismissed by the professor.
Suddenly she gave forth a cry-a cry that every man in the world recognizes. Her stomach heaved upward and her legs unfastened at the same moment. The professor clutched her, timing his own release to hers. She heaved again and he tumbled by, sliding onto the floor.
The suspense was broken.
The class leaped from its chairs noisily. They surrounded the girl, some of them dipping hungrily into their lunch pails and beginning to munch on sandwiches. The girl still lay as if in a trance. She was thoroughly, completely, utterly satisfied. Her face wore an expression of bliss.
The professor picked himself up with befitting dignity and stepped into his polka dot shorts. "Are there any questions?" he asked. "Class dismissed then."
The days that followed were much worse. And looming always before the would-be spy was the prospect of the final exam. Nobody had told him exactly what it was to consist of, but he knew. Oh, he knew. And Nickie's love apparatus did not work well under pressure.
Nickie was worried.
His first class demonstration was less than a success. The girl was young, pretty and above all slender. Her breasts were small and firm, her hips wide, trim. The professor was starting his students off easy. This girl even wore a sexy low-cut dress. She had big green eyes and full, sensuous lips.
Nickie approached the problem in the manner he had been taught. He flicked his fingers over her breasts. He let his hand wander away and then back. He squeezed. There was no squeak, in fact no sound at all, but her eyes widened.
The instructor reassured the nervous Nickie.
It was all right. Some of them just reacted differently. So far, so good. Nickie was encouraged. He squeezed the other breast and got the same reaction, only this time accompanied by the slight parting of her full lips. Nickie's ego inflated. So did another part of him. By golly, he was doing wonderfully well.
He got his hand into her bodice and caressed the soft springy flesh inside. He felt her nipples tighten under his fingers. Her blouse came off. Next her bra, one hand on either side of the hooks, just as the professor had explained. The dainty globes toppled forward and he dropped the brassiere to catch them in his hands.
How delightful she was!
He kissed her breasts gently, sucking them to draw the tips out to their full length. Her hand went into his trousers and she sighed rapturously.
"Stop!" cried the professor. Nickie could scarcely hide his annoyance as the professor explained that the girl was breaking the rules. The pupil had to do the job all by himself. No cheating!
A sullen expression came to her face as she withdrew her hand from Nickie's trousers. Nickie moaned. Well, if she could not put her hand in his pants, he would put his in hers. He slid his hand down her smooth thigh and under her skirt.
What? She wore no panties!
Well, so much the better. He put his head under her skirt and began to kiss. It was nice, and it gave him a sort of privacy from the observing students.
After a while, he took off his pants. "Ah," said the students. They were all glad to see his condition. Surely he would pass the test.
Nickie took off her skirt as well. Her stomach was flat and soft, inviting. Her thighs were sleek. And she trembled with desire. He spread her willing legs and, having planted final kisses on the under-swells of her breasts, he plunged in. She thrust her pelvis upward to meet him.
The union was something of a shock.
She was altogether more than he had bargained for! Her interior was a foaming, boiling pool of lava. Nickie gasped. Several ecstatic moans escaped his lips. He churned frantically for a moment and then with a cry he rolled aside, his body heaving and shaking with the force of his release.
"Pig!" said the beautiful girl in disgust.
The instructor was angry. And he agreed with the girl. Nickie was nothing but an animal. Had he no control? No fortitude? Was he simply to be swept along by events? Great Lenin's mustache! A master lover must take command. He must be in command at every moment!
"How?" Nickie asked. He was blushing with humiliation.
"Simple. But of course, it takes practice. Skill. When you are close to explosion, you must think of something unpleasant. And the other way around of course. When you flag, you must think of something extremely pleasant. Apple pie, for instance.
"Now I will have to finish her myself," he added. "Your arousing her has spoiled her for any more demonstrations today."
But, gradually, Nickie learned. He even had a go with the plump, hugh-thighed girl. Though his grades still hovered at a gentleman's C, that was passing, and passing meant America instead of Siberia. Nickie never forgot that for a moment.
The course drew to a close, and everything depended on the final examination.
The morning of the examination, Nickie sat on a wooden bench outside the examination room. With him sat the other members of the class, all of them passing around a bottle of vodka which they mixed with cod liver oil in paper cups.
One of the group had asserted that the combination was a fine aphrodisiac, and nobody felt sure enough of his prowess to pass it up. It tasted awful. Nickie's stomach began to roll.
The first several students went in one at a time and came out smiling with relief. Those waiting heard nothing but a few moans, the sound of a chair overturning, one long drawn out scream of ecstasy.
After the scream the waiting students looked curiously at the man who came out. He was a man who would go far in the Soviet regime. He surely had made an A.
The instructor called the student next to Nickie. "Well, wish me luck, comrade," the man said to Nickie as he got up. He disappeared into the room. Nickie had another drink of vodka. This time he drank it without the cod liver oil.
He listened intently. There were no sighs. The student came out looking horror struck. He was marched outside. There was a sharp noise.
Just a car backfiring, Nickie assured himself. It couldn't have been a rifle shot.
"Nicolas Alexi Mravinsky?" The instructor was calling his name. Nickie's knees trembled as he went into the room. Fate was not entirely against him, he saw with relief. He had drawn the slender girl with the dainty breasts and the big green eyes.
"Standing up, comrade," said the instructor, indicating the manner in which Nickie and Green Eyes were to make it.
Green eyes giggled. Nickie gulped. His hand shook as he brought his fingers against her breast She sighed. "Once more into the britches," she murmured, proving that she was a very well educated girl and could more or less quote Shakespeare.
Nickie shushed her by placing his lips over hers and tickling the roof of her mouth with his tongue. He did not want any coaching, being afraid that the professor might think that was cheating, too. And of course, he knew her comment was irrelevant. She did not wear panties.
His hand delved into her bodice. "Oh!" she said. He knew it was not passion that prompted this outburst, but the shock of his hand, icy with fear, on her hot, tender nipples.
He thrust his fingers into her cleavage to warm them. Slowly she began to respond. He felt her heartbeat increase below her fluttering breast. Nickie yanked away her blouse. The lovely breasts bobbed up at him, happily encased in a little low-cut bra.
Oh, how exquisite they were! Two warm mounds of cream lying half tucked into their little beds of lace. Nickie was sorely tempted to pluck them out and sink his teeth into them.
He half-lifted one. It glistened up at him, and the nipple enlarged before his very eyes! But he forced himself to remember his instructions. Never pop them out; always unfasten the bra.
His hands sped quickly to her back. The unhooking movement was superb, so smooth and rapid that the girl looked surprised as she saw the garment fall from her. The professor was making marks on the evaluation sheet. Brownie points for old Nickie.
Filled with glee, Nickie unzipped his pants. "Oh!" said Green Eyes again and this time it was not because of his cold hands but because of the enormity that poked its way eagerly from his fly before he could even strip off his pants.
Nickie pressed her to him, feeling her belly tremble against his manhood as he divested her of her short skirt. They were altogether naked now. Green Eyes was panting with eagerness, and Nickie's manhood was all a quiver. All the same, Nickie was stalling for time. He had spent all night memorizing his lecture notes. Everything he needed to know-positions, techniques, procedure.
But somehow he could not quite remember the correct way to do it standing up.
He tried to fit his equipment under her, but she wasn't tall enough to give him good leverage. The touch of his passion against the flesh of her soft cup drove her into a frenzy of feverish activity.
She rose on tip-toe, her hands clutching for his manhood, squeezing it to the point of pain as she tried to shove it into her depths. But the fire hose was too short to reach the fire. She groaned, a look of desperation came to her eyes, and she writhed a-gainst Nickie.
The instructor frowned.
Nickie took a hand off her breast and grabbed for his manhood. If he were ever going to proceed scientifically, he would have to get it away from her. Green Eyes moaned and looked fierce. She did not want to let go.
There was a short tug of war, which Nickie won, though he felt a bit stretched out of shape at the finish. Oh well, a little extra length never hurt in a case like this, he thought. Once inside her he would be sure to be able to penetrate the full length of her channel and press himself against its rear wall.
The professor had taught him that there was nothing more sexually disturbing to a woman than the feel of a man thudding against the end of her love tunnel.
At last Nickie remember what to do. He ran his fingers over one of her throbbing thighs. He raised it, encouraging her to wrap her leg around one of his. Ah! Perfect! With trepidation, he entered the storm that raged inside her burning body.
It was even hotter than he remembered! He shoved and churned tempestuously, struggling to cause her to spill forth her pent up ecstasy before he suffered the disgrace of premature climax he had suffered during his class demonstration with her.
He felt himself on the point of explosion! He thought of unpleasant things. He thought of the smell of sour cabbage. He thought of getting shot.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Nickie felt her insides convulsing. Her back arched stiffly and her mouth flew open. He gave one last lunge and let his own excitement erupt into bliss. He released Green Eyes and allowed her to sink to the floor in her delirium.
Nickie himself remained standing, quivering only a little. His gasping subsided and he began to breathe easily once more. Proudly he stood before the vanquished girl as the full import of the situation washed over him.
He was in control! He had passed the course! He would not be sent to Siberia! And last but not least, he was a master lover. A certified, stamped and approved Soviet master lover!
On to America!