Red-Hot in the Russian Night

When Matthew and I finally set foot in Russia-him in his 80s, me in my 70s-it felt like the last, uncharted territory in our lifelong, ever-wilder love affair. Despite our age, the fire between us hadn’t faded; if anything, it burned even hotter, fueled by decades of devotion and a delicious, rebellious hunger. Now, with the help of Cialis, Matthew could last for hours, his stamina seemingly endless, letting us indulge every filthy, ravenous urge. That little pill became our secret weapon, turning back the clock and letting him fuck me senselessly, again and again, for the entire month we wandered Russia.

From the moment we arrived in Moscow, Matthew would slip away to take his Cialis, and soon he was hard and eager, his cock thick and pulsing with need. In the shadow of Red Square, he pressed me against a cold stone wall, hiking up my skirt and thrusting into me with a vigor that belied his years. His strokes were deep, unrestrained, and relentless, my moans muffled in his scarf as the world bustled by just feet away, the thrill of being caught only making us louder, bolder, and dirtier.

We fucked in the golden halls of the Hermitage, sneaking away to a velvet-draped alcove where he bent me over a bench, fucking me hard and fast, the slap of skin and guttural sounds of our pleasure echoing among centuries of art. On the Trans-Siberian Railway, in our private sleeper, we rocked with the rhythm of the train, Matthew’s thrusts perfectly timed to each jolt of the tracks. With Cialis in his system, he lasted for hours, riding me over and over, my body shuddering with every climax he wrung from me, sweat and cum soaking the sheets.

By Lake Baikal, under the endless Siberian sky, we stripped bare and tumbled together in the grass, his hands greedy and sure, his cock filling me again and again, the cool air making our screwing even hotter. Sometimes, we were loud, our cries and laughter carrying across the water; other times, we had to bite back our moans, but always, we were insatiable; fucking like rabbits, never letting a day pass without devouring each other. He’d pin me down, force my legs apart, and take me hard, his voice low and commanding, making me sob with pleasure and beg for more. I loved the way he’d use his strength, his hands, his mouth-every part of him determined to make me scream his name, again and again, for hours on end.

Cialis gave Matthew the stamina and confidence to keep pace with my every demand, letting us lose ourselves in the mess, the sweat, the delicious ache of bodies that refused to be tamed by time. We explored every position, every fantasy, every raunchy impulse that flickered between us. By the end of that month in Russia, we had claimed every city, every landmark, every night as our own. When we finally came home, I was sore, swollen, and utterly satiated by my VERY well-hung husband, the memory of his cock sheathed to the hilt inside me-over and over, without worry or restraint-a testament to a love that was louder, dirtier, and more unbreakable with every passing year.