Soviet Superwoman – Spectres of the Past

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Maia was just finishing up washing her hair. The busty red-haired amazon figured she still had about twenty minutes before Olga came back from her patrol; plenty of time to dry off and get into her clothes for the evening. She closed her eyes as the hot, crisp water ran down her face and hard muscular body. The woman known to Angel Falls and the world as Walkiria let out a gasp in the steam filled air as she rinsed the conditioner out. She chuckled at the idea that something as mundane as showering could feel so good. It reminded her of that commercial; the ones where the women were almost orgasmic as they washed their tresses. Maia couldn’t remember what brand it was they were shilling, just that the ads were funny and at times highly accurate. It felt good to wash the worries of the day away in the confines of a steamy-hot shower. A noise from outside the door drew her attention. Her eyes flicked open and she vaguely saw the outline of her Russian lover through the haze. Olga must have come back early. She closed her eyes and washed the remaining conditioner out, letting the sudsy white foam slide between her toes and down the drain at the bottom of the shower.

The door clicked open after a moment, letting in a blast of the cool air-conditioning from their penthouse apartment. Olga slid into the shower with her, her super-toned body glistening as the first spray of water hit her, dewing up across her massive breasts. She was carrying a bottle of her infamous imported vodka and two fluted glasses. On her lips danced a mischievous smile.

“Well don’t you look like the cat that swallowed the canary.” Maia chuckled playfully, “Take down Savant while you were out? I thought you were going to go easier on that stuff in all seriousness.”

Olga nodded . “I am my Возлюбленная, I promise this…but tonight we celebrate!”

Maia arched an eyebrow as her Soviet spouse pressed her body up close to hers. Olga’s nipples were rock-hard as her breasts pressed heavily against her own. The hot water ran down and in between their massive tracts of cleavage. “What exactly are we celebrating hmmm?”

Olga held the bottle up, cutting her eyes towards it like it was a trophy of some kind. “Tonight my beautiful American lover, this is last bottle of my beloved Moskovskaya vodka I will be drinking unless it is for other celebrations.”

The red-haired woman smiled and cupped her hands around her lover’s tight, muscular buttocks. “We aren’t going to be making up holidays and un-birthdays are we?”

“Nyet. I have come to a realization about myself. Talking with you about things I had never spoke of to another living soul…Sajmište, my family…my times during the War…it has been a sort of catharsis for me. I have had a chance to see myself from the outside looking in.”

“And what did you see?”

Olga looked away for a moment. “What I saw was a person I did not recognize. A person who was so swallowed up by her own doubts and fears that she forgot who she was and why she was given these amazing abilities. Someone who buried herself in alcohol to make the pain go away.”

Walkiria looked deep into her sapphire eyes.

“But now, I have found myself again, thanks to you my Возлюбленная and people like Claire and my friend Osipenko. I simply had to remember and in a way, the Voyevoda did that. He confronted me with my inner demons and hoped they would shatter me. Instead I have faced them down. No more will I let them dictate how I act and who I am.”

Maia pulled her arms up and wrapped them around her powerful shoulders. “God Olga, you have no idea how wonderful it is to hear you say that. I…I was so worried about you. Who’s Osipenko?”

“I will tell you all about him later.”

The Slavic juggernaut hugged her back tightly before pressing her lips against hers and enjoying a long, wet kiss there in that steam-drenched shower. After what seemed like an eternity she pulled back ever so slowly and poured the two glasses with the clear alcoholic liquid. She handed one of them to Maia and held her own aloft.

“A toast my love, to us and to our long future together.”

Maia smiled and the two married women clinked glasses and tossed back the expensive Russian vodka. The same expensive Russian vodka that Olga then up-ended and poured out into the drain, the cold alcohol splashing against their ankles and feet.

“Olga! You didn’t have to do that!”

“Shhhh!” Olga smiled and winked, “Is symbolic. Do not make me think about it more than that or I may cry a bit.”

“Still you didn’t have to that. I know you can do anything you put your mind to hon.” Maia replied as she moved back to press her hard body up against her wife’s.

The dark-haired Russian slide a hand down her thigh and ran it along her lover’s now infamous tattoo. Maia purred her obvious pleasure and the Soviet Superwoman continued downward to dance her fingers downwards until they rested on her slippery, wet sex. Both women kissed for a second time. Walkiria reached back and cut off the water as Olga knelt down and placed the now empty bottle on the floor of the shower. The muscular woman turned and opened the door to the shower, letting in a blast of cooler air and letting a cloud of steam escape. The mirrors immediately began to sweat in the sauna like conditions.

“I am thinking we should move this to the bedroom my Возлюбленная and then we should go out and get something to eat. Someplace where I can perhaps enjoy a giant rare American burger or two with a beer.”

Maia stood behind her and draped her arms down over her six-pack abs. Olga exhaled and ran her fingers over the sides of her arms as they rubbed across her washboard stomach.

“Next thing you’ll be telling me you want to become a citizen of this fine country and get fat and comfortable.” Maia smirked.

“Nyet,” Olga laughed over her shoulder, “If anything I want to get into better shape. I want to get bigger and stronger. I want to push my abilities to their limits.”

“Well my only interest right now involves you pushing something Olga and it isn’t that.” Maia said as she leaned over and gently brushed the tip of her tongue against her wife’s earlobe. “Let’s make the walls shake baby.”

Olga couldn’t refuse her. THE END

Soviet Superwoman - Spectres of the Past, 4.8 out of 5 based on 5 ratings

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