Kali Banc:
Thanks for the grammar... Russian is a cool language...but the grammar is a killer!
MM: keep the faith bro. And keep the photos coming....
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Kali Banc:
Thanks for the grammar... Russian is a cool language...but the grammar is a killer!
MM: keep the faith bro. And keep the photos coming....
Guys actually the correct form is u tebya yest padruga (girlfriend) or u tebya yest padrugi (girlfriends). Podruga is in nominative case here :)
Mangusman: Sorry if I gave you more headache... You have been supplying us with an endless stream of the devushki you fucked, which is great. I thought maybe you can also tell us more about the accompanying memories- where and how you hooked up with them, how much you paid etc. It might help you to overcome your "back to home" syndrome. The Moscow/St Petersburg sections are full of information, but there are hardly any info on other cities, Kharkov, Minsk, Lvov etc and it seems that you hang out a lot in the provincial cities...
Gents,
Have searched the forum for info about Novorossiysk, but could not find anything. Dont know if my spelling is correct.
Any FR's from the area? Would appreciate it since I am visiting the area within a few months.
Hey guys,
Will go to Ekaterinburg the end of July. Has anybody been there and if so, would reccomend some hotels and some addresses?
Any action there?
Would it be better to be in a flat rather than hotel
Manuel
Hey Heddy.
Grazie for the comments, brat. I thought I was already expounding on the pounding. More dirt couldn't hurt, I suppose. But oh, what we all wouldn't give to know life's best kept secret, to be an R.Smellie or a Skankydorkmeister or a TranvyCat, to actually be paid for a job that sends you to places where you can get jobs of a delightfully different sort.
Motherfuckallsonofabitches, you guys are making the rest of us eat shit sandwiches. How Skanks, tell us poor schmucks, what obligatory task gets a working monger sent off to Odessa? Your fans gather you're not just there for pleasure . You're financing, or importing, or some shady scheme that deposits you on streets that are paved with poontang. You damn bastard you.
Druga, drugu, drugy? What are you on drugs?
Would somebody please tell Manny where he can get his tally wackered in YeKatrinafurberger, and somebody else tell Marcopolo where to bury his pole in Novosuckysisk, which is really at the end of the end of the line. In a place that far 'out', considering the scarcity of any decent opportunity, you'd have to think that any enterprising dyev, a/k/a waitress/ticket taker/store clerk, would be open to guiding you down her treasure trail.
We've already discussed scouring gazettas for 19/174/52 , and the mangling of the language, and asking Vlad the security guard to ring up a thing
or two. But we need a lot more than that. We need the rest of the story.
Maybe its not for you, but this monger could require serious amounts of research to live the experience, learn the spirit of these important cities. Vega, I gladly give you unlimited lifetimes to wander America. Its the perfect place for you, and you know all the names too!
Give me Omsk, Tomsk, Kursk, Pinsk, Perm, Tula, Tuva ,Tver, Ufa, Lvov, and Orel. Then check back with me in about 3 years. Lvov Orel ? I certainly do !
I'll be in a city called Cheboksary in two weeks.
Does anyone have any hobby experience there?
I'll be staying at the Hotel Dis. Any reports on the hotel out there?
Explorer88
Well, I had an experience with college student from Cheboksary, but not in Cheboksary. People over there are Turkic, so many girls have black hair and dark eyes. I started exchanging emails with a girl form Cheboksary before my first trip to Russia. When I got to Russia, she came all the way to Moscow to see me. I picked her from the train station, and oh my God, she was SO different than the girl in the pictures she sent. Don't get me wrong, she was beautiful and everything, but she dressed so vulgar and tasteless, she was totally "provincial", if you know what I mean. I was embarrased to be seen with her in Moscow. I didn't know what to do. Initially I planned to let her stay with me in my apartment but my plans changed rather quickly. I took her to hotel Tsentralnaya on Tverskaya. The whole weekend we went out only twice to buy vodka and some other necessities like extra supplies of condomes. She was a total ****. She gave me the best blowjobs ever in my life- she used gyrate her head while going up and down on my shaft and sucked my it so gently. Brrr! Then we went for a walk to one of the parks in Moscow and ended up doing it in the park... In the night, we fucked in the balcony overlooking Tverskaya with a view of Kremlin. That was great too. I still remember her :)
Have fun in Cheboksary, and tell us how it was.
Magnus Opus Man
I will let you in on a little secret ... Myself, Skank and CaliTrav did not just get lucky and land jobs that take up to Moscow et al regularly. We all (as far I can recall) actually shaped our jobs so that we were 'required' to travel to Russia / Ukraine as regularly as possible. Its a human engineering thing.
Everybody gets what they want out of life.... if you want to travel to Russia / Ukraine regularly, you just have to shape your career around that desire. You have to create a reason to be there all the time.
rm... right on! I remember back in grade school thinking... Man, if I could just grow up to be an International Arms dealer, I could spend the rest of my life playing "pin the tail on the dyvushka" in the USSR!
Failed miserably with the Int'l Arms gig, but damn if I didn't come up with something else... Too bad it's so damn much work though! :)
OTOH, the opportunities abound...
BTW, found a great club, Paris Nights, that is a cross between Voodoo and Karma Bar. It is primarily a Russian dance club and it is pretty much devoid of Xpats/tourists and is packed with beautiful girls. It's a late night place though... opens at 2300 until 0700. It's been packed everytime I've been there. It also just happens to be just around the corner from one of my apartments.
See you soon!
Roger the Artful Dodger.
If you check, you'll see that I've never said anything about you and the other 2 ruling members of the triumverat politburo being "lucky". I know only too well that you're all self made in the wild wild east of the post-commie capitalist dog eat dog system.
I personally know one that you might consider in your category, Victor, the young german entreprenuer destined to be the Donald Trump of Kiev. He started with one flat, now he must own 10 percent of the center. Inside connections no doubt facilitated his rise.
I merely qualify as an acquaintance and temporary tenant to Victor, because for all realistic purposes, it'll never be more than a CA grade school dream for fat bald 40 something unconnected white collar hobbyist who was tryng to find a bride 5 years ago and stumbled into the candy factory.
As if there were but the remotest chance I could uncover my niche at this so very late hour where I could even clear half of the six figures I'm handed for being number one in my company of 43, I'd resign and defect tomorrow. 30 kopecs for banging out Can't Buy Me Love in the undergound will get me a beer, but that leaves me S.O.L. on rent and scholarship funding, so its back to the grinding race o' rats for 48 weeks of WSG Skank stories. It could all change if she'd ever come back with me, but so far, my cash ain't nothing but trash.
Why I'll be back.
mm... it could be worse... doc could find love and the skank stories could dry up! Then, I'd have to stop working so damn hard and start playing a little more!
Hi All,
Anybody know of any action in Yaroslavl?
Spoken to a few girls in chat room that come from there.
Any info much appreciated.
Crompton.
MM - send me the contact detail please for your buddy, Victor the German. When I am next in Kiev I will have a chat with him, and rent one of his apartments.
Cheers mate
I will travel to novosibirsk next month. Could anyone pass some infomation on where to find girls there, as well as girl friendly hotels? Thanks.
Steve
unusual punting experience in the altai mountains south of novosibirsk towards the chinese border. once more i was astonished at the variety of adventures and the endless availability of gorgeous women to be found in russia, if you only go looking for them and actively seek them out. since it is unlikely that many will find their way out to this place in the altai, detailed hobbying information is relatively meaningless, but i hope this report can give a flavour of the delights and frustrations of traveling in a huge country as well as an account of some of the action. if you just want the action, accept an apology and scroll down to below the asterisks.
by way of background i always prepare my annual adventure in russia well in advance, and it is not intended solely as an erotic trip, but as a mixture of tourism, adventure and these fantastic russian women. in russia i find my own and until this year have not paid. the most fruitful path is a cluster bomb technique: contact a good 15-20 women all from a particular area (this year, as in the past two years in fact, around novosibirsk in central siberia) from one of the many internet friendship sites, and spend much of the year emailing and flirting them into submission. the three or four you really like you can then meet when out there. by the time you see them for real, you feel you already know them, you know they are hot, and you know they really want to meet you. the great thing is you can choose from the thousands available really beautiful ones exactly to your taste. they are often even more stunning in the flesh. and although i made an exception this year (irresistible opportunity sidetracked me for two days in st. pete), i generally avoid the cosmopolitan girls from moscow or st. pete. i find them – even before i have met them - more wised-up, demanding and generally harder to please. the provincials are all well-educated charm, femininity, smiles and fun, with few material expectations. and a guaranteed fuck.
one of the chosen few this year i persuaded to take me out into the mountains for a few days. irina organized a package from novosibirsk and all went very well. distances are huge and this meant an overnight bus trip out. on the map the road is shown as eventually leading to ulan bator, but this is no doubt only possible with a four-wheel drive. we went as far as bus transport can take you, about 600 kms south-east via barnaul and bisk to where the tarred road gave up. indeed, the last kilometer we had to walk.
unfortunately the coach model i had been expecting, air-conditioned, smoothly shock-absorbed, with stretch-out beds, on-board hostesses, caviar and champagne bar and luxury toilet, was unavailable that evening, so we had to make do with a poorly sprung boneshaker with unreclining seats and non-functional toilet, imported in used condition from finland at least twenty years ago and hammered into the ground ever since. the sort where the floor threatens to arrive before the rest of the bus. there was a tv, but i’ll be buggered if they could get it to show portugal – england.
our hostess was a fat young charmer called svetlana in a tight sweaty t-shirt and badly dyed red hair, who took a quick roll-call, bawled the rules to the guests (no smoking, no alcohol, no sex, so far as i could gather) and then promptly fell asleep noisily in the seat in front of me for the duration. the driver was a “russian male” type, playing the contemptuous professional, unsmiling, imperturbably cool, chain-smoking, and a hell-raising danger to all other road users. “road”? no, you don’t want me to describe the road, save one spectacular incident on the way back, when a motorbike hit an enormous pothole at full speed on a bend on the outskirts of novosibirsk. all might have been ok, if it had not had a side-car and they had wedged babushka into it satisfactorily. it had; and they hadn’t. fortunately, on the way out to the altai it was night and i was mostly unaware of how close to death i was.
the other travelers intrigued me: mostly surprisingly young, despite the high bus price, long-haired youths with shirts shouting ronaldinho or gucci or holland (pronounced in russian of course as golland, as in gamburg, gannover, gollywood, or my favourite, adolf gitler), and their gorgeous slim girlfriends in designer jeans and miniscule tops. in short, a busload of good humour made its way happily out into the mountains, if without much sleep. of course i devoted a lot of my time to irina under her blanket.
the place we were staying at, a village called ored, and the hotel complex a drearily named ored1 (pronounced ariyed-adin) is a newly built attempt at a tourist trap. that is, they have the western tourist prices, but have somehow not quite matched up yet on the services front. oh, who cares? imagine an atmospheric, wooden, alpine-style hotel in a long, steep and forested river valley, with lawns leading to a rushing, crashing boulder-strewn mountain river called kuba. very beautiful, especially when the sun shone, and you can go for great walks along this and other rivers and streams.
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ok, sorry. i am getting there, i promise. but now you have the setting. rooms ok, restaurant a disaster, but two superb examples of siberian woman were working there. one, the tall, long-legged receptionist, grey blonde and warm-hearted. yes, i finally found one, a smiling, helpful russian receptionist. almost certainly unavailable. but the second, about 19 i guess, a brunette with straight shoulder-length hair called olya, smooth slav cheekbones, another wide smile and fine arse, who worked in the bar and was to turn into the unexpected heroine of this story.
but for the first 36 hours irina and i spent an idyllic time getting to know ored1 and each other’s bodies and all went just as i had promised myself on the drawing board. my gonads were truly sizzling. unfortunately on the second evening, irina started feeling unwell, and was confined (even longer) to bed. i had a few hours to wait for holland – sweden (1.30 a.m. kick-off these parts), so we decided i should go alone to the bar. it is an outdoors bar with a wooden terrace overlooking the splendid river, and that is where i spent a couple of hours drinking sibirskaya korona (one of the great beers of the world) and listening to the execrable music. saturday night, and the local band was “entertaining” us to an endless series of awful loud russian songs. i am afraid that with few exceptions russian popular music makes my vacuum cleaner sound like mozart. i suffered.
suffered, that is, until it started getting dark, and who should come over to sit down beside me but our bargirl, olya. she said she always tried to find time to talk with any foreign guests who turned up in ored, and would i mind? certainly not, and my eyes even less, as they roamed over her lovely smooth smiling face and medium-sized breasts beneath the bar apron. not too tall, but a wonderful apparition nonetheless.
nothing ventured, nothing gained, and so after a decent ten minutes chat i asked her when the awful music was due to finish and what was she doing after it did. i think she was half-angling for this anyway, but she had no idea when the music would end, but thought she could slip out for half an hour or so for some “razvlechenye”. (you certainly could not describe what followed as “relaxation”, but even russians must be allowed their euphemisms). “give me ten minutes to fill the other guests with a couple more vodkas, and i will be with you. where?” ah! couldn’t be my room, i explained (she smiled). and did she “expect anything?” oh, you will give me a small sum, like a friendship present. hmm, difficult. with the restaurant and bar charging six times local prices to the tourists, what was she really expecting? but prices out here must be rock-bottom, surely. in my pocket i had 700 roubles (about eur 20). oh, well, here goes. shrugged, proffered, pocketed, smiled. “are you very religious? i give you key to chapel. ten minutes. be quiet.” toscana’s eyes bulged, but she had slipped away.
i knew the tiny chapel, it was two minutes walk among trees along the river, but up on a small promontory overlooking the river from quite a height. the first key opens the chapel gate, and the second the chapel itself. i wandered up there, heart thumping, and waited beside the chapel door. surely not inside! it was pitch black. suddenly she was beside me. i hadn’t heard her coming. she took the keys, went back and locked the gate. she’d obviously done this before, because it was not going to be in the chapel, but beside it on a small terrace, and she rustled a condom by my ear. giggle. again, “be quiet”. there was a small wall round the terrace about half a metre high, and this was going to save us both from death. i could see the headlines: “bar waitress falls well fucked into river”.
i wish i could describe how her breasts or her arse looked. but i could see nothing but vague outlines. no moon, and only the noise of the rushing water below. but i could feel everything. she slipped my hand onto her breasts, and beneath her bar overall she now had nothing on. she was unshaven. we were immediately all over each other, making out with kissing and very heavy breathing, both incredibly excited. well, under the circumstances, you will understand that subtle technique had to give way to more animal athleticism, but we were soon doing pretty well. she found the stone chapel wall, backed up to it and, now naked, swung her legs up round my hips. hadn’t done it like this for ages. demon kisses. one arm to support the arse, one to roam where it could. when i tired, she dismounted, leaned over and placed her hands firmly on the lower promontory wall round the terrace. i spent the next ten minutes pumping bravely from behind, shorts still round my ankles and my mind wandering in a darkened, dream-like state from one erotic vision to another. i do not know whether she came, but she was groaning away trying to keep quiet, and by the end i was almost staggering as the last strength left my knees. amazing stuff. wonderful stuff. finished, she giggled in my ear, bit it gently and we went. locked up, left separately, and i did not see her again.
so thanks olya for that adventure. and saints elena and konstantin of that small chapel up there on the promontory? i murmured my thanks to them too. hoped they had turned their heads, forgiven a miserable sinner, and while they were at it, would do their best to get him safely back to civilization on next day’s bus.
so, if you ever find yourself 600 kms into the altai mountains in this one horse village by the river (in fact it had two, for the tourists), you might like to try olya from the river-side bar.