Costco Blues Ch. 02

Just so we're clear: every character's 18+, consenting, and fully on board for this ride.

======

Jake's apartment.

After taking a very long shower, Anya sat down to eat.

She wolfed down the beef and broccoli stir-fry Jake had picked up on the way home, inhaling it like it might disappear.

Most of her stuff, three suitcases, had been stolen at the homeless shelter. When Jake found out she had nothing to sleep in, he ran down to a 24-hour CVS pharmacy and bought her pajamas. A onesie.

She stared at the blue, fluffy thing. It had smiling giraffes on the chest and a hood shaped like an elephant's head, trunk included.

"Very sexy," she grinned. "Viktoria's Secretion vibe."

"The other one they had your size was a Hello Kitty."

She leaned in and kissed his cheek, tender and sincere. "I like it. First gift from first husband."

"How many are you planning to marry?"

Later, she stretched on his small bed, her long body in the silly elephant onesie conquering the white sheets like some mystical creature.

"Ehh..." Jake scratched his head. "I think I'll use the couch."

"In Moldova, man sleep on couch only after cheating or farting in church."

"This is America."

"You sleep with me."

"I don't think so, Anya."

"Okay, I set couch for you. Blanket, pillow, divorce papers, romantic setup."

"Jesus. That's my life for the next four years, huh? I don't get a say about anything."

"Don't be sad, little Jake." She rose, picked him up like he was a rag doll, and dumped him on the bed, scooting in next to him. "Of course you have a say. I mean, you could always do what Anya say straight away. Or you give your valued opinion, argue, and then do what Anya say. I'm okay with both."

Then she curled around him from behind, spooning him like a starving dragon curling around treasure it never planned to share. One leg hooked over his hip. One arm banded across his chest, clutching him tight like he might try to escape.

"You are soft," she whispered. "Stupid elephant suit! These giraffes ruin everything. I can't even feel your cute little ribs."

Jake sighed. "Can't believe I married a lunatic."

She nuzzled the back of his head, triumphant. "Yes, but now you're my lunatic."

"How come you work two jobs and still can't afford rent, Anya?"

"I'm illegal. Get paid half your salary, under table."

"No taxes?"

"IRS don't know I exist. Like secret agent, but with mop and broken dreams."

"Still."

"I need money for other things than rent."

"Very mysterious."

She kissed his neck. "What is life without a little mystery?"

"It's not feeding a meth addiction, is it? Just trying to peek behind the drama curtain before ICE knocks on the door."

"What?"

"I think I should be in the loop. In case the ICE investigator asks where the money goes and I say 'crystal,' and you say 'snow,' could be an embarrassing moment, Ouch!" he cried as Anya squeezed his balls.

"Drugs? I can't even afford antidepressants. I cry natural, very organic."

Jake hesitated, then said quietly, "I saw you the other day in the restroom. You were crying. I wanted to hug you later, but you pretended everything was fine and I was too embarrassed to tell you."

She didn't answer at first. Just went still.

Then, softly, without a word, she slipped her arm around him, under his, and laced their fingers together against his chest.

"You saw nothing," she said finally. "Now shut up and sleep, little husband."

Jake didn't argue. He just let her keep his hand.

"Thank you," she suddenly said.

"For the onesie?"

"For everything."

"You're welcome."

======

Anya dreamed about her grandma's house.

"Just like that, Anushka."

She was ten again, barefoot in the backyard, the dirt warm between her toes. A wooden crate sat beside her, half-filled with dusty potatoes. She crouched in the soft soil, tiny fingers tugging stubborn tubers from the ground.

Her grandmother stood nearby, bent over with a scarf tied around her head, correcting her grip with a patient laugh.

"Don't bruise them, my little squirrel. They're for winter."

She felt warm. She felt safe. She felt loved. She'd been chasing that feeling, all her life.

She woke up to the smell of brewing coffee, freshly baked bread, and sizzling bacon. She felt warm. She felt safe. And for the first time since she was ten, there was a slim, but very real, chance of the third.

Anya jumped to her feet, peeled herself out of the silly elephant onesie, gave it a kiss, and folded it on the chair. Jake's apartment was one room, tiny, ancient, and held together by stubbornness. The shower came in the deluxe mildew edition, and the bathroom wasn't exactly sparkling.

On the plus side, it had a nice view of the park.

She stepped out of the room wearing a tank top that barely contained her breasts and the boxers she borrowed from Jake last night.

Jake was sizzling bacon in the tiny kitchen. She padded over barefoot and hugged him from behind, holding him tight, breathing him in, nuzzling his neck.

"Smells good."

"Good morning, Anya. Sleep well?"

"Mmm..." Her hands slipped under his shirt. They weren't lovers, or really married, but Anya believed in manifesting reality, with stubbornness and a stranglehold.

"Is that a marriage certificate in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" Jake leaned back into her, just slightly, enough to feel her warmth, enough to let her know he didn't mind. He was smiling.

"It's morning wood." She kissed the back of his neck. "Don't tell anyone, but I have a penis and a vagina. The whole deluxe set."

He gave a slow, appreciative whistle.

"I'm a futanari," she whispered.

"What's that?"

"You know how some women come with baggage? Anya come with luggage. Full-size. I break expectations. And sometimes furniture."

"You should meet my mother then, she'd love to hear all about it."

Anya flinched.

"Too soon?"

"I've met people like your mom all my life. I wipe with their opinion and flush twice so their shame doesn't clog the toilet."

She was still hurt from yesterday. Jake could tell. But it was easier for her to slip into her favorite game: pretend I'm the toughest bitch from here to Moldova.

Then she let it go, because the table was laid out with fresh coffee, butter, still-warm bread from the bakery downstairs, smoked salmon, olives, cheese, two doughnuts, and squeezed orange juice. It made her heart flutter. No one had made her breakfast since her grandma died.

"Slept okay?" Jake asked.

"Like baby on vodka." She gave a happy sigh and sat down to devour the food. She had trouble deciding where to start, it all looked so good and smelled like heaven. She made herself a toast with butter, olives, smoked salmon, and cheese. Took a bite. Then another one, this time with cherry jam. Another bite. Then a long sip of coffee, before leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. "How much time we have before capitalist trauma mill?"

"The what now?"

"Corporate meat gulag. I clock in, my will clocks out. The deli."

"Oh. We're ten minutes from work, so... fifty minutes." Jake pointed at her crotch, where her morning wood looked like a teepee tent. "This looks painful."

"Does it bother you, little Jake?"

"Eh... No. Not anymore."

It pained her that he hesitated. "I would get it if it did bother you. Considering the house you grew up in."

"I'm not my mom."

She nodded. "I can go and put something on if it bothers you."

"Will you stop with the insecurity already? We're supposed to be married for, like, four or five years. I need you to trust me. I need you to feel comfortable."

"Then why did you even point it out in the first place?" She put down her coffee. "If it doesn't bother you?"

"Anya, stop."

"I need honesty, Jake. I need to know where I stand. What you really think of my body?"

"You're hot."

She leaned in and kissed him gently on the neck, wanting very badly to turn it into something deeper, something like yesterday. She took a breath and pulled back. "You were hesitant yesterday. Be honest. Does it repulse you?"

Jake shrugged. "What do you want me to say? That this feels natural and easy? I'm trying. I still have a hard time wrapping my head around you... us... whatever. But I did touch you yesterday. All of you."

"Out of pity?" She reached for her salmon toast, but her hand shook. She put it down. "You have a generous heart, Jake. I saw it. First day we met, you stood between me and drunk customer who called me freak. You didn't even know me, and you almost got punched. Then I knew."

"Knew what?"

She looked away, eyes hard now. "But I'm not some charity case. Or a project. I prefer the alley to pity."

"Jesus, you're proud."

"I don't got money, I don't got house, I don't even got underwear that fits. So if it's all same to you, I hold on to my pride before someone steals that too. And... what the fuck...?" Her voice rose as he reached for her boxers, carefully peeling them away to reveal her impressive erection. Her nine-inch shaft sprang up with a sense of pride, the motion causing it to lightly smack against his hand. It was almost smooth; her bush was blondish-white. The head was cut, reddish, slightly purple. It heaved when exposed to the light.

Anya started to pull the boxers back up, but Jake gently stopped her.

"Have you ever eaten sausage and cherry jam, Anya?" He dipped his knife into the large jar of cherry jam.

"A what now?"

"Me neither." He shrugged. "But I'm always open to new experiences." He pulled out the knife and grasped her cock with his thumb and forefinger.

Anya gasped.

He moved slowly, almost ceremonially, careful not to let the knife graze her skin as he drew a long stripe of jam, precise and teasing, over her entire length. The metal of the knife was cold against her heated flesh, making her cock jump. The jam clung to her skin in a thick, glistening ribbon, deep crimson against her pale flesh. Small chunks of cherry caught the morning light, turning them into tiny rubies.

She sucked in a breath, her pulse skittering. "You play with fire, little Jake."

"I play with my food." He dipped his knife again and slowly drew another stripe of jam along the underside of her cock.

She didn't stop him. Couldn't. He had soft hands, green eyes, and a smile that filled her nights. She'd liked him from the start for standing up for her. But over time, that first spark had grown into something deeper, something that pressed hard against the strong walls she'd built around herself.

The jam was cool against her skin, shockingly so. It made her shiver, not from the temperature but from the intimacy. Goosebumps prickled up her thighs as the sweet stickiness slid along her, a slow, teasing contrast to the heat rising inside her.

"Messy," she said, her head already half-spinning.

"I'll clean it all, I promise."

Jake's eyes locked on her cock. His lips parted. He pushed the small table aside and dropped to his knees between her legs.

"Jake..."

He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as he pressed a soft kiss to the base of her shaft, his tongue flicking out to taste the cherry jam.

Anya moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair.

"Still think I'm repulsed?"

"I..." She wanted to lean back and let the pleasure devour her, melt into it like sugar on a stove. It caught her off guard, completely. Her eyes fluttered shut like a lazy, purring cat but snapped open a moment later. No way was she missing a second of this.

He gave her length a testing lick with the tip of his red tongue. Then another. Then a few more. Like a kitten, his tongue flicked and lapped, tasting. "Hmmm... yummy." Jake looked up, his lips slightly stained red, eyes meeting hers. "Better than I expected." His tongue flicked out again, catching a small chunk of cherry that had clung to her tip.

Sweet.

Sticky.

"And I'm lunatic?" she gasped, her breath catching in her throat, voice thick with heat and disbelief. Her chest rose and fell fast, like she was trying to argue while drowning.

He began to lick up her length, his tongue dragging lazily through the sticky sweetness. The sound of his lips smacking against her skin echoed in the room, wet, obscene, intimate enough to make the cherry jam itself blush.

Anya felt her cock twitch in response, growing harder with every pass of his tongue.

"Fuck, Jake," she hissed, her hips rocking forward as he reached the tip.

"Tell me if I'm doing good. I need some feedback."

"Want Yelp review or just five-star moan?"

His lips wrapped around the head of her cock. He sucked gently, his tongue tracing lazy circles around the sensitive ridge where cherry jam still clung in sticky patches.

Anya's breath came in short, ragged gasps, her fingers tightening in his hair.

He pulled back slowly, agonizingly slow, his lips making a soft pop as they released her. They glistened now, shiny with a mix of cherry jam and her precum, stained slightly red like he'd been sipping wine.

She moaned, leaned forward, and kissed the top of his head. "Take it in," she whispered.

Jake didn't hesitate. He swallowed her cock in one fluid motion, making her gasp. The hot, wet suction of his mouth sent her eyes rolling back, her spine arching as he took her right to the back of his throat. His tongue worked magic, massaging the underside of her shaft in ways that made her giddy with lust.

"Good, baby. So good." She stroked his hair, her fingers trembling slightly. "Now moan."

"Hmmm?"

"Moan."

He did as she asked, humming deep in his throat. The vibrations traveled through her cock, up her spine, and spread beyond her borders like illegal aliens.

"Look at me." It was the true kicker, the thing that would push her over the edge. She pushed his hair back from his forehead, needing to see his face. "Look at me while you suck me."

He stared up at her. His green eyes sparkled, screaming, I want your cum! He could've just held her there, and she would've pumped it right down his throat, but he bobbed on her, slurping as she slipped in and out of his lips.

"Take my balls now, baby."

He lifted his head off her shaft and cradled her heavy balls.

"Nope, with those beautiful soft lips."

He devoured her balls. Dutiful. Smiling. His slippery tongue was everywhere, stretching deep toward her taint.

His tongue grew bolder, slipping lower, tracing the sensitive skin between her balls and her entrance. The wet heat made her thighs tremble. Jake hummed against her flesh, the vibration traveling from her balls to her tight stomach.

"Jake..."

He smiled and released her balls with a wet pop. Then, without warning, he swallowed her cock again, taking her deep into his mouth in one fluid motion.

Anya erupted.

The first pulse shot straight down his throat, thick and hot. Jake's eyes widened in surprise, unprepared for the volume. He pulled back, coughing slightly, but her body wasn't done. He tried to take her in again. It felt like she pumped a gallon of jizz into his mouth, and he struggled with the sheer amount. He coughed, pulled back, and the next spurts painted his face, her own cum mixing with the cherry jam drenching his hair.

"Oh, fuck! Oh, Jake. Oh. Oh." The fountain took time to ebb, and by the end, Jake looked like a kid who'd dived headfirst into a cream cake.

"Wow." He wiped one cheek with a napkin.

"Wow." She huffed. "I want to suck you, little Jake."

"Not little, and I'm not done yet. You're all sticky. I promised I'd clean you."

"That's okay."

"I'm the man of the house, and I'm putting my foot down. So be an obedient wifey, or I'll have to discipline you," he said. His tongue slid up the length of Anya's softening cock, lapping up the sticky remnants of her release and the sweet tang of cherry jam. His lips closed around the tip, gently sucking as if savoring every last drop.

She felt herself twitch faintly in his mouth, her body still humming with the aftershocks of her climax.

His hands cupped her balls, fingers massaging them softly. Then he dipped lower.

"Jake, you best husband ever, ever, ever."

He nodded, one of her balls in his mouth, then spat it out and took the other.

Anya's breath hitched, her fingers threading through his hair again as she watched him with half-lidded eyes. "Mmm, Jake... so thorough," she murmured. "Like you try to find Waldiot."

"Trying to find what?" He licked the sticky substance from her thighs.

"Waldiot. Blyat, striped shirt, glasses, like mayonnaise with legs."

"Waldo?"

"Yes, Waldiot. He hide inside own ass till you find him. I spent three hours looking once. Found nothing. Burned book. Felt better."

She felt his tongue trail lower, exploring the space between her balls and the soft curve of her slit. His hands gently lifted her heavy sac, exposing the delicate folds of her pussy.

"Oh, you do have the full gear." His tongue flicked out, teasing her entrance with a feather-light touch that made her shiver.

"Yummy, you're delicious," Jake muttered, pushing every button she had. He dove in, his tongue pressing deeper, exploring her with slow, deliberate strokes.

She clenched around his tongue, gasping as electric currents raced through her body. Her thighs trembled against his palms where he held her steady. Despite having just climaxed, it was like he'd found the switchboard to her nervous system, every nerve ending alive and singing.

"Your clit is massive," he said. "It's like another little dick down here."

She couldn't think of a coherent answer, so she just moaned at his silly words.

He alternated between broad, wet swipes focused on her clit and teasing flicks against her shaft, which was inflating again.

Anya's head fell back, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Yes... just like that," she breathed. "Such good husband." Her cock began to stir again, thickening slowly as Jake's tongue worked its magic.

Jake pulled back slightly, glancing up with a wicked grin. "Not done yet."

He reached for the doughnut still sitting on the table. He slid it over her cock, the sweet pastry gliding down her length with a few gentle pushes, the hole stretching to accommodate her.

"I married total freak."

"Hey!"

"Anya like." She gasped, her hands tightening in his hair. "Fuck, Ja... incredible," she moaned, her hips jerking slightly as he began to bob his head, sucking on her cock. His lips stretched around her girth, his tongue swirling around the tip. Then he dove down and licked the doughnut.

"Oh my god, Jake."

Jake moaned around her, sending another wave of vibrations encircling her cock. He tried nibbling on the doughnut without using his teeth, failed, and nearly choked. It sent them both into a fit of laughter.

"There will be no mocking!" He raised his palm. "I can do this."

"I have total faith in you, Jake."

"You do?"

"Just not when you think, speak, or do."

He worked her cock with a mix of suction and gentle bites, his lips and tongue moving in perfect harmony. No technique, just novice enthusiasm and over-the-top attempts. Yet each movement drove her wild. Her legs trembled, and her breath came in quick, shallow gasps.

"Jake... I'm close again," Anya whispered.

He swallowed around her, the tight, wet heat making her moan loudly. His lips stayed sealed around her shaft as he pulled back, only to sink down again, repeating the motion with increasing speed.

Anya's legs lifted instinctively, her feet resting on the edge of the table as she spread herself wider for him.

He suddenly stopped.

"Hey!"

Without pulling away from her cock, he slid one hand down to grip her hip, his fingers brushing against her backdoor. She shivered, the sensation unexpected but not unwelcome.

He pulled off her cock with a wet pop, his lips swollen and glistening. "You're fucking perfect."

Those words, raw, stupid, honest, hit harder than anything else. Her breath hitched. That single sentence nearly undid her completely.

He leaned in, his tongue tracing the curve of her ass before flicking against her tight hole. The sound she made was a mix of surprise and pleasure. Her hips jerked as he pressed his tongue against her, exploring with slow, deliberate strokes.

"Jake..." Anya gasped, her hands clutching the edge of the table as he ate her out with the same enthusiasm he'd given her cock. His tongue was relentless, circling her entrance before pressing inside. The sudden wet heat made her moan. He added a finger, working it in alongside his tongue, the dual sensation pushing her closer to the edge.

Her cock throbbed, untouched but still hard and leaking, as Jake focused on her ass. His free hand started pumping her length.

"I'm gonna..." she started, but the words caught in her throat as her body tensed. Climax hit like a tidal wave.

Jake groaned against her, his tongue still flicking at her ass as she came. Her cock twitched and spurted against the table. He stayed with her, working her through it until she slumped back, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

"I wanna marry you again, Jake, maybe twice more."

======

The ten-minute drive was taking much longer than expected.

"We're gonna be so fucking late," he groaned.

"Easy, General Salami. Nobody give you Purple Heart for stacking ham."

"Anya..." he murmured, his voice already strained. "You're gonna make me crash."

"Then pull over." She swallowed his cock again, then rose, humming happily, before pulling back. "Or don't. Up to you."

Jake moaned, his head falling back against the seat. "Anya, please... I need..."

"Good things come to those who wait," she tsked, her thumb brushing over the head of his cock, spreading the precum gathered there. "Better things come to those who fake ID and cut line."

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, his hips thrusting into her hand. "Anya, I'm not gonna last if you, "

She stopped abruptly, her hand stilling, and Jake let out a frustrated groan. "Anya!"

He was an explorer in a new land where she was the master.

Her tongue flicked out, licking a slow, torturous path up his shaft, and Jake's entire body tensed. She took her time, savoring every inch of him, her lips soft and wet against his skin. When she reached the tip, she paused, her breath ghosting over the sensitive head, and Jake let out a strangled moan.

Every time he felt himself getting close, she pulled back, like she had a perfect tune and knew his body's timing.

"Oh God," he moaned, his head falling back. "Anya... that's... so good..."

Someone honked behind him.

He couldn't care less.

"Anya!" he cried out, voice desperate. "Please, don't stop... I'm so close..."

"Patience."

"You're least patient person I know, Anya."

She shrugged. "I try patience once. Took three hours. Nothing happen. Never again."

"Jesus, we've arrived."

Anya rose from his lap and opened the car door.

"Are you for fucking real?"

"You the one who cry, 'late, late, Anya.'" She mimed air quotes. "You know what I love about deli?"

"What?"

"When you die at eighty and never have to do it again."

"Please, I'm dying here."

She laughed, then dove back to his lap and swallowed him whole.

=====

"I need to crash at your place again, Jake," Leroy said during their lunch break. "Just a few days, promise."

"Don't tell me Angel kicked you out again?"

Leroy made a face at his sandwich like it had personally betrayed him, then took a bite anyway. They were sitting on the back loading dock, the usual lunch spot for anyone avoiding the break room's moldy microwave and passive-aggressive fridge notes.

"It's a silly misunderstanding this time. Nothing serious. All I did was Like this post from this girl who decorates drums and guitars with African imagery."

Jake nodded. "Kalisha. I know her Insta page."

"Cool stuff, right? Angel freaked out. You know how she is."

Anya came back from Sand Shack, the greasy little sandwich joint tucked behind the supermarket that everyone went to for lack of a better option. She handed Jake a foil-wrapped sandwich with a victorious smile.

"Here. Chicken parm, extra sauce, no onions."

Jake held up both hands. "Thanks, but I'm trying to cut down on salmonella."

Anya took a fearless bite of hers without missing a beat. "In Moldova, stomach is as strong as goat or you die. Survival of the most stubborn. By the way, Leroy, this girl, Kalisha, who paints drums with Africa, what was she wearing when you Like her post?"

"Maybe... a bathing suit? Don't really remember."

Anya smiled sweetly. "Maybe?"

"Okay, a red G-string. But I pressed Like for the drum! Not my fault Instagram doesn't have separate Like button for ass and art."

Anya cocked her head. "Leroy, your brain inside a goat would make it walk backward into traffic and start humping a mailbox." She turned to Jake. "He can't crash with us. We are one doughnut away from being declared a Japanese train car during rush hour."

"What do you mean?" Leroy stared at Anya then at Jake. "What the fuck is going on? Are you two...?"

"Yes, we live together now," Anya said triumphally. "With benefits."

Leroy opened his eyes. "You guys have taken the fake marriage thing way too seriously."

"Let me stop you right there." Jake raised his palm. "No more fake marriage shit. If some dude from ICE comes and asks about us one day you gotta say we're more legit than Barack and Michelle Obama."

"You don't expect me to lie under oath?"

Anya shook her head. "God forbid! You don't expect me not tell Angel about Amani from Milton-High you Like in real life, last week?"

Leroy face whitened. "It's totally platonic."

Anya took a bite of her sandwich. "Leroy, if what you and Amani did in the staff bathroom was platonic, then my left nut's a Buddhist monk. He meditating real hard right now... on how full of shit you are."

"You can stay with us for a couple of days, Leroy," Jake said. He glanced at Anya. "He's a friend in need."

"He's a friend with problematic libido," Anya muttered, twisting her mouth. "You lucky Jake has golden heart. That's why I marry him in first place."

"You married him for the Green Card."

Anya shrugged and took another bite of her sandwich, then spat it out. "Jesus. Sand Shack getting worse every time. I swear, next week they just take dump in bread and call it 'vegan brisket surprise.'"

"What can you do?" Leroy said, chewing his own sandwich with resignation. "There's nothing at a decent price for miles. The owner knows we'll buy whatever crap he makes."

"Maybe not for long," Jake said, smiling.

"You've got inside info?"

"I've got my grandpa's money coming up. And a dream." He sat up straighter. "Don't laugh, okay? I've thought about this forever. Like, Jake's Place." He mimed a sign above a door. "Real name. No puns. Just me. A hole-in-the-wall diner, open late. Wood paneling. Coffee strong enough to melt a spoon."

"Cool," Leroy nodded.

Anya dumped the rest of her sandwich in the trash and popped a stick of gum. She chewed with the detached boredom of a cat watching a mouse give a TED Talk. "So far, sound like every gas station in town."

Jake chuckled and leaned in. "Yeah, but the food will actually be good. No frozen crap. Everything made from scratch. I've been working on that chili recipe for weeks. You're my guinea pig tonight."

"Lucky me. I always dreamed to die for love."

"No, seriously. I've got four things I want you to try. Chili. Matzo ball soup, but with turmeric and fresh dill. Not that gray cafeteria slop. And the mushroom melt? God-tier. Might be illegal in some states." His eyes lit up. "I'm thinking mismatched mugs for the regulars. A wall for Polaroids and notes. A place for old folks, broke students, hungover DJs, it's for everyone. You walk in and you feel seen, you know?"

She smiled despite herself. "I like when husband dream small."

His voice softened. "I just... I want to show my mom and Dad I'm not a loser. That I built something real. That I made people feel good. That's all."

Anya stared at him like he just stabbed her in the heart. "Jake," she said, voice hoarse with something deeper than lust, "if you ever call yourself loser again, I will strangle you with bra strap and marry your corpse." Then she kissed him. A kiss that melted the cheap fluorescent lights and turned Leroy's soda flat from sheer shock.

Messy, loud, tongue and teeth and the full weight of her ridiculous, chaotic heart behind it.

Leroy gawked. "What the actual f-"

======

"Can you give me six more bags, please?"

"There you go, sunshine." Anya counted six plastic bags with the grace of a card dealer and dropped them on the counter. "Pro bono. On the house."

The woman who asked was Middle Eastern, mid-thirties, with glossy hair and a toddler in her shopping cart licking a breadstick.

Then came the voice, icy, nasal and judgmental. "Why only six? Why not sixty? You do realize the impact of these bags on the planet?"

Jake looked up from slicing pastrami and winced. Her again.

The hipster lady stood like she owned the counter, arms folded, jaw clenched, radiating the joy of a DMV line in July. Today she wore oversized wire-rim glasses, a slouchy oatmeal sweater over a vintage band tee. A skinny jeans tucked into weather-worn combat boots. The accessories screamed look how effortless I am, right down to the smirk.

"Madam Unacceptable," Anya muttered, adding two more bags out of spite. "So good to see you again. Amazing. So many types of annoyance in a single person. Such a spectrum, so much richness."

"You do realize we have only one planet, Mrs. Anya?" Hipster lady said.

Anya shrugged. "I thought we had like seven or eight."

"Very funny," the woman snapped. "You know who thinks it's less funny? The sea turtles. When they choke on those bags in the ocean."

Anya tilted her head. "Okay Greta Thunderberger. What do you know about turtles' sense of humor? Maybe it cracks them up?"

"Very mature. Those bags take 500 years to decompose."

"Will you be done riding my ass by then?" Anya beamed. "Who knows? Maybe the turtles? Take a few more bags, on the house," she smiled at the Middle Eastern woman. "Spoil the turtles."

Jake brushed against her when the annoying hipster lady was gone. "I just love it when you handle these types. Swallow them whole and shit out humble pie."

Anya grabbed his butt cheek. "Makes you wanna buy more doughnuts?"

"You liked?"

Anya grinned and took a bite of his neck, then grabbed his ass again. "I think tonight we can give doughnuts a rest. We can play another game."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Red October docking at back port."

"Huh?"

"Smuggling contraband past the velvet checkpoint."

"What?" Jake laughed.

"KGB surprise inspection. No warrant needed."

"Never heard of it."

"They all same game. Chernobyl pipe test, just pressure, no meltdown. Sending the diplomatic envoy to secret rear embassy. Stuffing the Thanksgiving turkey, Anya-style." She laughed at his blank stare and decided to use innuendo closer to home. "Filling your pierogi from wrong side. Reverse-stuffing cabbage roll."

"Sounds like a fun game." Then his face twisted as it dawned on him. "Oh... Okay, sweetness, like I told Leroy, let me stop you right there! Let's get this clear so there'll be no misunderstanding. Ever. This is my bum." He pointed at it, and Anya squeezed. "Sometimes yukky stuff goes out. Nothing, and I can't stress this enough, nothing ever, never goes in. Not a finger, not the KGB, not Red October or Green November, and especially not you, Anya."

Anya pouted.

"Never."

"With a single exception." She patted her crotch. "Comrade little Anya."

"Not little, and specifically not him, her, whatever."

"Her pronouns are 'Hell, Yes, Oh, My, God.'."

"Still a no!"

"So only on weekends?"

"Never."

"You don't know what you're missing, little Jake."

"Never!"

"Never say never. I know excellent lube that make-"

"Never, Anya. Not even kidding."

She sighed and hugged him. "You break Anya's heart."

"Tough."

Not long ago, she was drowning slowly, surviving one hopeless day at a time, just trying to breathe. And now, suddenly, she felt that elusive, mythical thing people called hope. That maybe, just maybe, things were finally looking up. It felt greedy to be annoyed at such a small thing. She kissed his cheek. "I respect boundaries. But if you ever feel like breaching them..."

Then her phone rang, snapping her back to reality.

"Gotta take this, Jake. Important call."

Anya locked the bathroom stall behind her and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Anatoly?"

"It's me," came the voice on the other end, trembling with tears.

Anya stiffened. "Sofia? What happened?"

"I missed my insulin. Yesterday. And again this morning. I thought I could stretch it, but... I can't feel my fingers. My vision's going blurry."

Anya's hand flew to her mouth. "Why didn't you take it?"

"I was trying to make it last. I thought maybe it could hold until the end of the week."

"Where's the new box? I sent money. You should've had a refill days ago."

"Anatoly said you didn't send anything this month."

Her stomach dropped. "That fucking alcoholic, limp-dicked, lying pig."

"I didn't know who to believe. I didn't want to cause problems."

Anya's voice softened. "Sweetheart, listen to me..." She closed her eyes, steadying her breath. This wasn't the first time Anatoly had skimmed off the top, but this time he'd taken it all. Her blood boiled. Sofia was his niece too. "Don't cry. I'll fix this."

"How?"

"I've been putting some money aside." That part was a lie. "I talked to Zara, remember her? She has a spare room in Chișinău. You'll move in with her. I'll send money directly to you from now on, for rent, food, medication. Everything. You won't have to deal with him again."

"When?"

"Soon, dushenka. I just need a little more time... Now put that pig on the phone."

A pause. Shuffling. Then his voice, smug and casual as ever.

"Ah, Anya. Good to hear from you. This whole thing's a misunderstanding, "

"You told her I didn't send money?" Her voice dropped to ice. "She almost passed out, Anatoly."

"Well, technically, you did send it. But things are expensive now. The pharmacy-"

"You drank it. Don't lie."

"It wasn't enough," he muttered.

"She's your niece. I'm your niece. If Mom were alive-"

"She probably would've drunk it too."

Anya clenched her jaw so hard it hurt. "I'll send more tonight," she hissed. "But this is the last time. If you lie to her again, I swear to God, I will fly back and microwave your balls on high for twelve minutes. No defrost."

"You can't fly back. They won't let you back into the States if you do."

Anya let loose a full minute of rapid-fire Russian and Romanian profanity. She cursed his manhood, his liver, his smell, and whatever demons were still willing to share a room with him.

"You done, Anushka?"

"Just getting started."

"Send four hundred tonight."

======

Anya washed her face with cold water until her hands went numb, pressed her cheeks dry with cheap paper towels. Then she forced her expression into her usual mask. The one Jake and everyone else got to see.

She stepped out of the bathroom stall into a different kind of punch.

There, by the counter, stood Sandra.

All smiles with post-shift happiness and a short slip dress, leaning a little too far over the register. Gravitating toward her fake husband.

Jake looked flustered but flattered. Not resisting. Not exactly inviting it either. Just basking like a dog in the sun, letting it hit him.

Anya froze for a second. Long enough.

Of course. Of course Sandra would choose now to come sniffing around. She used to enjoy Jake's harmless crush like a daily vitamin, sweet little ego boost. And now that he had stopped looking at her like a lost puppy and started treating someone else like home, she wanted the leash back.

Anya knew Jake didn't love her. To him, this thing between them was just a business arrangement, sex, immigration papers, a few laughs, maybe chili on good nights. But she hadn't expected the reminder to sting like this.

She took a long break outside, used the time to scrape together all her resources. It didn't even amount to two hundred dollars.

By the time she came back in, Jake was alone.

"What did that braless bubblehead want?"

"Sandra?" Jake bumped her with his elbow. "She asked me out. Coffee and Eduardo Kobra's street art exhibit. Cool stuff."

"No kidding," she said, dry as dust.

"Seriously." Jake nodded, a little too enthusiastically. "Said she waited forever for me to get the courage to ask her out. Who would've thought?"

"Who?"

He gave her a look. "Come on. I know what this is really about."

"You more clueless than goat in fog."

Jake shrugged. "It's just... this is the first day I didn't act like a smitten puppy around her. She's thrown off. Everyone always says you gotta play it cool. Hard to get. Wait a full day before texting back. Turns out, game theory works."

"Huh. Look at that. Seeing you getting women is like chicken learned to play chess. Still loses, but I'm impressed."

They worked in silence for a while. Anya waited for the rest of the conversation.

It never came. Jake stayed busy wiping down the slicer, tossing the trash, running through the usual end-of-shift routine.

"So what did you tell her?" she finally asked, once the silence turned heavy.

"Who?"

"Who?" She imitated him, her eyes sharp.

"Oh, you mean Sandra? I told her I can't go out with her. I'm married now."

"It's fake marriage."

"Sandra knows it's fake," Jake said.

"So?"

"Are you jealous, Anya?"

"No, no, go. Date skinny cashier with eyebrows like two feral caterpillars in a lightning storm. I wish you all the meh."

"Cool."

"Cool."

She felt like crying. "Cover me for half an hour," Anya muttered. "I need to get early to Rack-Shack."

"What?" Jake stopped cleaning the knives and turned around, brow furrowed. "Don't tell me you're going to that shitty strip joint tonight?"

"I need to work."

"Are you fucking serious?" He dropped the cloth and stepped forward, looking like someone had just slapped him. "You can't go there. It's humiliating. Don't go there! I forbid you to go there!"

"Last man who bossed me now walks with limp and avoids eye contact."

"Anya!"

She turned on him, hands on her hips, eyes blazing. "You not really my husband, and even if you were, you don't tell me what to do." Her voice rose with heat. "Nobody does."

"You're full of shit, Anya."

"Me?"

"You act like... You act like you don't care. I don't buy it. You walk around all tough, but I see right through you. You're scared."

She gave a fake laugh. "Scared of you?"

"Scared to admit you want this fake marriage to be something more than just convenience and sex. Scared to say you're jealous. Scared to ask me to tell Sandra to fuck off. You're so used to bullshitting your way through life with that bullshit armor of yours, you don't even remember what it's like to be honest."

Anya stared at him, her mouth half-open like a slap had just landed. For once, she didn't have a comeback. No smartass line. No joke. "I don't..." she started, but the words tripped. Her voice dropped. "You think you know everything, Jake?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying! I don't know anything." To her shock, he stepped forward and tried to hug her.

She shoved him back, but he didn't flinch. He just gently reached up and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

"That's exactly the point," he said again, softer now. "I want this to be more than fake. But it's missing the most important ingredient." He pointed at her, then at himself.

"What?"

"Trust. Honesty. Relationship means trust. You don't trust me, Anya."

"I do," she whispered.

"Not where it counts. I don't know anything about you, Anya. Why you sleep in an alley. Why you work at that dump even though it kills you inside. What you need the money for that makes you walk into that strip joint. I saw your face last night, Anya. I saw how much it disgusted you. Why do you cry in the staff bathroom, then walk out like nothing happened?" He paused, eyes burning now. "When you're in a relationship with someone, you trust them. You let them help. You don't just keep pretending you're fine and push them away when they get close. You don't trust me with jack shit."

Anya looked down, arms tight across her ribs like she was holding herself together by force. She swallowed. "I do trust you," she said quietly. "I do, Jake. I just... I never had anyone to trust before."

He didn't say anything. Just watched her.

She shook her head. "You think it's easy? You think I want this life? I hate Rack-Shack. I hate this stupid deli. I hate being scared of getting caught. I hate it all." Her voice cracked. "I was sleeping in alley because it was better than being touched by men I don't want, for money. I ate leftovers from trays because I send every dollar to Moldova. You know how much I send my uncle? Eleven hundred. Every month, half of what I earn."

Jake blinked. "Jesus."

"My sister, Sofia... she's sick. Diabetes. Health system in Moldova more broken than people who visit Rack-Shack. You want medicine for chronic disease? You pay. She's 17, still a child. And that pig Anatoly, he drink the money. Say I didn't send. She nearly passed out yesterday. I can't even-" Her breath hitched. "I want to stop pretending this is nothing. I want it to be more than nothing."

Jake nodded. "I know."

"And I am jealous. And I want you to tell Sandra to 'fuck off'."

"Already did."

She blinked. "You did?"

"Yeah."

Something flickered inside her, quick and stupid and dangerous. Hope, maybe. "I'm just scared if I say it... you'll laugh. Or worse, you'll say it means nothing."

He stepped forward and hugged her. This time, she let him. His arms wrapped around her, firm and warm, and she let her head rest on his shoulder.

"See?" he said softly. "Wasn't so bad. I want it to be more than nothing too. I saw your face this morning, sleeping in my pillow. It felt like you belonged there."

"Thanks." She wanted to tell him how much it meant to her, but he was right. Being stripped of shields and sarcasm was scarier than the darkest alley.

"Don't go to the titty bar tonight," he said softly. "I'll send your uncle the money."

"I'm not taking money from you, Jake." She shook her head. "You're not my sugar daddy. I want real relationship."

"Please?"

She shook her head again. "Sorry, Jake."

"Can't you stop being so fucking proud for once?"

Her voice dropped. "Pride is the one thing I have left."

"Can't you let it go, just this once? For me?"

She shook her head. "Especially not for you. You matter too much."

"Okay, then. A deal."

"What deal?"

"A little bit of my dignity in exchange for yours," he said.

"What you talking about, little Jake?"

"I'll give you what you want."

"What?"

Jake rubbed his butt like it already hurt. "Your... Jesus, I can't believe I'm even saying this. If you let me take care of your uncle, and swear you won't go back to that titty bar, I'll let you... you know..."

Anya raised an eyebrow.

He blushed like a fire hydrant. "Put your Moldovan USB into my B-Type American slot. B stands for bum. I mean..."

It hit Anya like a slap made of joy and lust. She blinked. "You serious?"

"Probably gonna regret it. But... yeah. It only hurts the first couple times, right? I mean, Nathan and Mark are always doing it in the staff bathroom. How bad can it be?"

Anya laughed, a long, wet, messy release of tension. Then she bit her lower lip.

"Deal?" He offered his hand, still pink in the face.

"My foot never stepping in that titty bar again," she said. "Stupid place. Who needs it?" She grabbed his hand and yanked him into a deep, lusty kiss.

======

"I think this pretty good for first time, no?" Jake rubbed his bare ass, eyes wide with regret. "I got the form down, right? Let's quit while we ahead, not behind."

Anya grinned. "Why you so nervous, little Jake?"

Jake was on all fours on his sad little twin bed, completely naked. His spine was stiff with dread, his dignity clinging to the fact that he'd just saved a young girl in Moldova. "This," he muttered, "probably the worst deal I ever made."

Across the room, Anya was naked too, but in a cheerful mood, whistling as she set down an economy-sized lube canister that looked like it belonged in an industrial auto shop. Next to it, she plopped down something halfway between a medical instrument and a mad scientist's bedside drawer find. At its base was a smooth silicone bulb, thick and oval, connected to a slim nozzle by a narrow neck. Attached to the side was a small rubber pump, like one from a blood pressure cuff, ready to inflate the insertable part gradually.

Jake turned his head slightly. "What the hell is that?"

"Anal dilator."

"A what now?" He panicked.

"Training device," she said with a grin. "We do this easy way... or even easier way. Like bowling alley bumpers. Keep you from emotional gutter."

"That's not a thing."

"Now it is."

"The fuck, Anya," he said, poking the thing with the tip of his finger and recoiling. "You can't afford rent, but you buy this... this... anal distributor?"

"Dilator," Anya giggled. "Not buy. Borrowed from Igor's sex, guns, drugs, make-laundry, peep-show shop." She pumped the pump twice, whistling happily.

"What you even whistling?"

"Soviet marching song before battle."

"Oh God." He flinched.

"Better you pray to Saint Vaseline."

"Can you just get it over with?"

She stopped pacing and stood with her hands on her hips, her spear already hard and directed at him. "What is this, fast food? You want number three with extra shame?"

"Maybe you want go to titty bar after all?"

Anya sat on the bed beside him. "Nah... Tonight slow night anyway. No tips." Her smile deepened. "But you get massive tip," she winked.

"Ha ha. Ah!" he yelped as her tongue darted out, licking a stripe along his sensitive skin. "What the hell you doing?!"

"Relaxing you." Her tongue traced lazy circles around his entrance, and despite himself, Jake felt a shiver.

"Anya, ohhh..."

"No clenching!"

"What you mean no, Ohhhh," he said as her long tongue entered his ass. The soft worm wiggled and burrowed into his tunnel with confidence. Jake trembled as it hit new places inside him. "Oh God. That's... wow..."

"Not wow. Say 'ahhh,' Doctor Anya inspect deepest issues with tongue now."

"Ahh..." he moaned, his hands fisting the sheets.

Anya hummed in approval, her hands gripping his hips to keep him still. "That's it. Let go. You in safe hands. And very unsafe tongue. Kidding. All unsafe, hope you got good insurance."

He didn't think it was possible, but a second later, he gasped an emotional "ahh" as her tongue burrowed deeper. He froze, then slowly relaxed, enjoying the wet creature exploring his insides. Surrendering completely, he let the tingling sensation spread from his inner tunnel to his cock. He gasped when he realized he was hard as titanium.

"Your ass just give me passport, visa, and Green Card."

The sensation was different from anything he'd ever felt before, but it was overwhelmingly good. He was shocked; he'd never really let anyone near his ass before, but he was so overwhelmed by lust and passion that he just kept moaning.

Anya withdrew and gave his naked bum a loving kiss.

Jake heard the unmistakable sound of lube being squeezed out. "Oh. Okay. Cool. Ehh... Maybe enough for tonight?"

"Oh, we do this," Anya said, her tone full of mischief. Her slick fingers pressed against his entrance, and Jake nearly jumped off the bed.

"Easy, easy." She patted his back like calming an agitated puppy. Her slick finger remained pressed against his entrance, not pushing in yet, just resting there like a question. She spread cool lube on his trembling starfish. Then she took the lube, pressed the nozzle to his tight entrance, and squeezed. The cool substance filled his hole, soothing and smoothing. She gave his bottom another kiss, and her left hand, slick with lube, reached around and started slowly edging his erect cock.

Her fingers lovingly squeezed, making slow milking patterns. The room filled with wet, squishy sounds. Her right hand rested on his butt, her finger lazily circling his rim, sending little jolts.

"Fuck, you're goo, hoo, hoo, ohhh..." he cried, his body tensing as her finger suddenly entered him. She didn't hesitate and hilted it all the way.

"Ooh, fuck. Ooh, fuck. Ooh, fuck."

"Relax, baby, breathe," Anya cooed.

"That's dumb advice. I always breathe," he said.

"Just checking. How else I explain to police later, cause of death?" She applied steady pressure inside him without movement, resulting in a profound, grounding feeling. She paused, her finger nestled deep within him, unmoving yet pressing firmly against his inner walls. The stillness was electric, a deliberate choice to let the sensation build without distraction.

Jake's body responded instantly, his muscles clenching and releasing around her, adjusting to this new rhythm. She stopped working his cock, but the lack of motion paradoxically heightened every nerve ending. He breathed less heavily, relaxing around her.

"Better?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Still breathing?"

He nodded again.

"Great, so Anya make you come-hither, now."

"You what, ha, hoo, ha!" He nearly collapsed as Anya curled her finger upward in a come-hither motion, teasing against his prostate with gentle, insistent pressure. Every nerve in his butt lit up like fire. Jake clenched, almost collapsing on the bed. Anya steadied his body, letting him relax before "calming" him again with another come-hither. Jake writhed on the bed as her finger played, scraped, and pressed against his prostate. Her left hand slowly milked his cock, and Jake felt jolts of pleasure surging from within and without.

"Oof, ha, ha, I'm..."

He came like a geyser, his body convulsing, his head exploding. Anya kept her merciless finger pressing and scraping his prostate. Every time he tried to collapse, she raised him back up. Strong, dominating, and loving, forcing him to milk every ounce of it. When she was sure nothing was left, she let him collapse on the bed.

Jake lay there on his stomach, panting, his skin glistening with sweat, trying to register what had happened. His ass was naked and suddenly empty, letting him breathe.

"That was... Wow!" He inhaled deeply. "I never..."

Anya slapped his butt, leaving a red mark. "Was? We only start."

More lube. Her finger slipped inside his ass again.

"Wait, Anya... Oohh."

She targeted his prostate immediately, circling it, pressing lightly, sending lightning bolts straight to his softening member. She massaged it slowly, lovingly, and Jake, whose head was still partly in the clouds, felt himself hardening.

Then she withdrew, and something new pressed against his ass, the head of the teardrop-shaped plug with the attached inflator. The tip was pointy but quickly widened beyond what her finger had prepared him for.

"Oh, God." Jake's breath caught as the unfamiliar pressure increased.

Anya lovingly screwed it in like a cork, twisting counterclockwise and clockwise. Each rotation pushed another fraction of an inch into his virgin territory. His muscles protested, burning slightly at the stretch, until, with a little pop that made him gasp, the widest part slipped past his rim, and the rest wedged deep within.

"This is too much," Jake breathed, his forehead pressed against the mattress. "Wait."

"Breathe."

"I always breathe."

"Plug build character. Soviet tradition. We improve from bottom up."

"I thought the Soviet Union had died a long time ago." Jake was slowly adjusting to the feeling in his butt.

"Yes, USSR dissolve before Anya born. But Soviet habits? They stay. Like mold in shower. Or Aunt Ludmila."

Jake turned his head, catching sight of the rubber pump connected to an elastic tube disappearing between his cheeks. Anya gave it two quick squeezes.

He squealed, actually squealed, when he felt it inflate inside him, the pressure expanding against his inner walls in a way that made his toes curl involuntarily.

"Oh, God," he whispered, his voice strained and breathy.

Anya's finger hovered over a small release valve attached to the tube. She pressed it with deliberate slowness, and Jake gave a long, shuddering sigh as the bulb deflated. His muscles relaxed around the suddenly smaller intrusion, the burning stretch easing into something almost pleasant.

The relief was short-lived. Without warning, she pumped again, one, two, three, four, five deliberate squeezes. Jake felt the balloon-like head growing inside him, stretching him from within, pressing against places he'd never known could feel so intensely. His thighs trembled with the effort of staying still, his knuckles white where they gripped the sheets.

"Okay, little Jake-"

"Let me guess. You want me breathe."

"Yes. Congratulations. Tomorrow we learn 'walk' and 'chew.' Big day." She waited, rubbing his ass lovingly, then slapped it before deflating the plug. "You might ask yourself, little Jake, why all this fuss." She inflated it again, more gently this time, watching his reaction carefully.

"I... Oh, God. Oh, God." His words dissolved into panting. "I concentrate on breathing, Anya. I thought we gonna... That you gonna... Put your..." He couldn't bring himself to say it, but his cock twitched against his stomach at the thought.

"Eager?"

"Not really." But his body betrayed him, his erection returning despite having just come minutes ago, his hips making tiny, involuntary movements against the sheets.

"You act like NATO now, all boundaries and rules. But soon, Jakey, you beg for invasion. And guess what, I not send tanks, just one powerful diplomat."

"No."

"Yes."

"God."

"At first, America say no to Sputnik, then everyone want space." She didn't deflate the plug; instead, she gave it several more pumps until Jake thought he'd burst. "You say no now, Jake, but trust me, soon you want orbit around my moon. Your little hole already know what coming. It keep winking at me."

"Oh, Jesus." The pressure was building to something unbearable, yet somehow he didn't want it to stop. His cock throbbed painfully against the sheets, fully hard again.

She pumped twice more.

"Shit! Too much."

Anya immediately released the valve, and the relief was so intense he nearly sobbed. But before he could fully recover, she started pumping again, slower this time, letting him adjust. His world narrowed to the sensation of fullness, of being stretched. Each time she inflated the bulb, she pushed a little further, a little more.

Soon, Jake felt like a balloon ready to burst. His hard cock leaked constantly onto the sheet.

Then, without warning, she left the device fully inflated and settled cross-legged in front of him. Her own erection stood proud and thick between her legs, the head glistening with precum. She pointed at it with an exaggerated frown. "This is problem."

"This is the problem? My stomach's about to pop." His hand reached for the tube sticking from his ass, but Anya slapped it away.

"Don't be a baby. Suck on me, Jake. Will take your mind off butt."

"Seriously?"

Anya nodded. "I take you from behind like USSR take Eastern Europe, firm, thorough, with full cultural exchange. You not walk straight, but you walk enlightened. But like this," she playfully slapped her raging cock, "I last maybe ten seconds. Need to deflate and inflate Anya."

She inched closer, her thighs spreading wider on the bed. She positioned herself directly in front of Jake's face. Her cock stood proud between them, the head swollen and flushed a deep pink.

A single bead of precum glistened at the tip like beer foam.

"Open," she commanded, leaning to kiss the top of his head.

Jake felt the plug inside him, stretching him in every direction. The pressure was overwhelming but no longer entirely unpleasant. It had become a constant, throbbing presence.

Anya took her shaft in hand and guided it toward his face. The heat radiated against his cheeks as she pressed the head to his lips, smearing them like lipstick.

"Mmm," she hummed, tracing his bottom lip with her tip. "Pretty mouth. Made for this."

Jake's tongue darted out instinctively, giving her an encouraging lick from the sensitive underside to the tip. Anya tasted like chaos, sweet and messy. His own cock throbbed in response, trapped between his stomach and the sheets.

"Good boy," Anya purred, her fingers threading through his hair. "Now take more."

She pressed forward gently, the head of her cock slipping past his lips. Jake's mouth stretched around her, the now-familiar weight on his tongue making him acutely aware of his vulnerability, ass plugged and mouth filled.

"Look at me," she whispered.

Jake raised his eyes to meet hers, loving, powerful, and hungry. Her pupils were blown wide with desire, her cheeks flushed. Her tongue darted out, and she licked her lips, waiting.

"You like sucking?" she asked, her accent thicker with arousal.

Jake couldn't answer with his mouth full, but he gave a small nod and took her deeper, his tongue swirling around her shaft.

"Fuck," Anya hissed, her hips jerking forward involuntarily. "Your mouth is heaven. Like warm, wet Moldova in spring when snow melt."

Jake hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder, drawing a strangled moan from her. The bulb in his ass pulsed in time with her thrusts, creating a rhythm that had him rocking back and forth between dual sensations. His tongue worked the underside of her shaft, tracing the thick vein running its length.

"Fuck, Jake, your mouth..." Anya gasped, her words coming in slow bursts. "Like vacuum cleaner with PhD."

Her fingers tightened in his hair, nails scraping his scalp as she held him in place. He felt her thighs trembling against his cheeks, her muscles tensing with each thrust.

"Coming," she warned, her voice barely a breath. "Coming now, little Jake."

He braced himself, but nothing could've prepared him for the flood. Anya slammed forward, burying herself. Her cock pulsed violently against his tongue as the first hot jet hit the back of his throat.

Jake's eyes widened as a second surge followed, then a third.

Too much, too fast.

He tried to swallow, his throat working frantically, but her release overwhelmed him. Hot, salty fluid filled his mouth, spilling past his lips and down his chin in thick rivulets.

She gripped his head tightly, her fingers like a vise, as if afraid he might escape. Her hips jerked forward with uncontrolled, primal thrusts, each driving her deeper into his mouth.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck," she growled.

Her body convulsed, shuddering against him as wave after wave poured from her. Jake felt each hot pulse against his tongue, the salty-sweet fluid filling his mouth faster than he could swallow. His throat worked frantically, muscles contracting as he tried to keep up. She threw her head back, eyes squeezed shut, her face contorted in intense pleasure that almost looked like pain. Her grip on his hair tightened to the point of discomfort. Jake barely noticed, too overwhelmed by the sensation of being used, filled, claimed.

"Nnngh, " Anya made a sound like a wounded animal, a mix of a whimper and a roar. Her knees trembled on either side of his face, her stomach muscles clenching visibly with each new spasm. "Oh God, oh God, oh, "

It trickled from his chin onto the sheets beneath them, leaving sticky traces of her seed.

"Blyat!" she cried out, her entire body shuddering. "Oh, fuck, Jake!"

The plug in his ass throbbed in sympathy with her release, the pressure intensifying as his own arousal built.

She pulled back slightly, letting him catch his breath. Her cock still twitched, releasing smaller spurts that landed on his lips and cheeks. Jake gasped for air, his face a mess of her release, his chin dripping with cum.

"Beautiful," she sighed, collapsing onto the bed and pulling his head to rest on her belly. Her chest rose and fell, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Jake was still recovering, grappling with what had just filled his mouth. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, then kissed her stomach. "You're fucking wild, Anya."

"Tak. We do this every day."

"No, we not." He squinted up at her. "What does tak mean?"

"Anal plug," she giggled.

"No, it doesn't. Take it out."

"Tak. Of course." She smirked. "But first, we eat."

======

"Oh," Jake smirked as Anya returned from the kitchen, the jelly jar in her hands, her long cock, now soft, dipped in it.

She gave her most innocent smile. "This how you eat in USA, no? You teach Anya this morning."

The plug still stretched him impossibly full, making every slight movement a reminder of what was about to happen. "You're crazy," he said, but he was already leaning forward, drawn to her like a horny moth to a female futanari moth.

"I want hear those sweet lips," she said, her voice playful as she guided her jelly-coated cock toward his mouth.

Jake's lips parted, and he took her in slowly, savoring the sweet-salty combination. The cherry jelly was cool and sticky against his tongue, a sharp contrast to the warm, velvety skin beneath. He slurped noisily, drawing his mouth from base to tip in one long, wet pull.

"Mmm," Anya hummed, her fingers threading through his hair. "Good husband."

His tongue swirled around her, cleaning every trace of jelly, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked. The sensation of fullness in his ass made everything more intense, more focused. He felt her beginning to harden again against his tongue.

"Wait," she said suddenly, pulling back. "Let's try something else."

She turned around on the bed, presenting her round, peachy ass to him. With deliberate slowness, she scooped a generous dollop of jelly from the jar and spread it across her cheeks, letting some drip down her crack.

"Dessert is served," she announced, wiggling her hips.

Jake stared, mesmerized by the glistening trail of jelly. The plug inside him shifted as he moved forward, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain up his spine.

"Jesus, Anya," he breathed, his hands gripping her hips.

"No Jesus here. Just Anya and sticky situation."

His tongue darted out, tasting the sweet cherry from the curve of her ass. He licked a broad stripe across one cheek, then the other, the jelly smearing across his face.

"More," she commanded, reaching back to spread herself open.

Jake's tongue traced the line of her crack, lapping at the sticky mess. The plug in his ass felt even bigger. Full. His cock hung hard as steel between his legs, leaking.

"Fuck," he gasped, coming up for air. His face was a mess of jelly and sweat. "We're gonna need to torch these sheets after all this."

"Worth it," Anya moaned as his tongue found her entrance. "Is like Jackson Pollock painting."

"Who?"

"The artist who throw paint at wall. My cousin also throw paint at wall, we call it tantrum, not art. Never mind, Anya hard now." She jumped off the bed, her cock bouncing between her legs like a pendulum. She positioned herself behind him, her strong hands gripping his hips and shifting him to the center of the bed. She was strong, this fake wife of his.

"Perfect position," she murmured. "Like art. I call it 'American Boy About to Learn Geography of Eastern Europe.'"

She gave the valve a gentle twist. The pressure inside him decreased slightly, just enough to make him gasp with relief. Then her fingers wrapped around the base of the plug, and he felt the first experimental tug.

"Wait, Anya, " His words dissolved into a strangled moan as she pulled with deliberate slowness.

The widest part of the plug stretched his rim on its journey outward, the silicone dragging against his sensitive nerve endings. It was like someone playing his asshole like a guitar string, each millimeter vibrating.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," he panted, his fingers clawing at the sheets.

She stopped pulling, holding the plug at its widest point, right where his rim was stretched to its limit.

"I don't, I can't, " His cock leaked a steady stream of precum onto the sheets below.

Anya pushed the plug back in slightly, then pulled again, creating a rhythm that had Jake's entire body trembling. Each tug played his rim like a cello. His muscles spasmed around the intrusion, clenching and releasing in time with her movements.

"Ooh, I think about this sweet thing around my Moldovan eggplant," she whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss between his shoulder blades.

"Anya, please," he begged, though he wasn't sure if he was begging her to stop or continue.

The plug inched outward again, the pressure building as the widest part approached his entrance.

"Ready for finale?" she cooed, her free hand reaching around to stroke his leaking cock.

Boom.

With a final, deliberate pull, the plug's widest part breached his entrance. The sudden release as it popped free sent a shockwave through his entire body. His rim contracted around nothing, pulsing and sensitive in the cool air.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"So eager, Anya love. Little Jake ass is open for business, needs new plug."

And suddenly his world narrowed to a single point of pressure, the blunt, slick head of Anya's nine-inch cock pressing against his exposed, twitching entrance. The air left his lungs in a startled yelp as she aligned herself, her strong hands gripping his hips.

"Wait."

But she didn't wait. Her hips rolled forward with deliberate, slow control, each millimeter of penetration stretching his lubed ass. Her giant cock sent jolts of pain and lust. The initial breach was a shock of sensation that made his toes curl and his back arch. The plug had been one thing, this was entirely another. This was Anya, hot, alive, and Moldovan inside him.

"Jesus."

His body struggled to accommodate her girth, his muscles clenching and releasing in confused spasms. The burning stretch intensified as she sank deeper, her cock filling his ass. It was too much, it was everything, it was impossible.

And yet she kept going.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted, each word punched out of him as she pressed deeper.

"Almost there," Anya said, her voice strained with restraint. "You do so good, Jake. So brave."

One final push, and she was fully seated, her heavy balls resting against his own. The sensation of being completely, utterly filled made his vision swim. He could feel her everywhere, the weight of her against his back, the heat of her inside him, the pulse of her cock throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

Anya moaned, a deep, guttural sound vibrating through both their bodies. "So tight," she groaned, her fingers digging into his hips. "Like fist around Anya. Is perfect."

Jake couldn't speak. His mouth opened, then closed, but no sound came out. Without her hands gripping his hips, he would've collapsed.

"Oh look, sausage finally made it into roll without tearing plastic," she said, leaning forward to kiss her way down his spine. "You okay?"

"I, " he tried, his voice breaking. "I'm... Yeah. You?"

"You have no idea how long Anya wait for this moment."

"Like two hours," Jake huffed. "Since the shift ended and I said I'll do it."

"You sweet, dumb potato. " Anya laughed and rubbed between his shoulder blades, then gave his ass a loving pinch. "If you were a little more naïve you ask Nigerian prince where to send check." She pulled her cock out just a tad, and Jake cried out as the pain-pleasure duo bloomed again. The ridge of her head hit him low and climbed higher, pulling his breath with it. She pressed back in slowly, the thick vein on the underside of her shaft dragging against his tender walls.

"My little husband have most perfect ass in world. Mom should be proud."

She pulled out again, her cock scraping the tender walls of his ass. The slick, wet sounds of lube filled the room as she withdrew almost completely, leaving just the tip inside. His sweet spot got strummed by her monster, and Jake moaned, a deep, guttural sound that surprised even him.

"Oh fuck, Anya," he gasped.

She began fucking him properly now, doggy style, slowly at first but building both the length and intensity of her strokes. Each time she pushed back in, her cockhead high-fived his prostate, making his own cock dance and leak beneath him.

"Oh, baby," she whispered, pressing her entire length in, her heavy balls slapping his. "Tell Anya how you feel."

"It's... ahhh!" Jake couldn't form coherent words as she hit a particularly sensitive spot. "God!"

The wet, obscene squelching of lube grew louder as her pace quickened. Her balls slapped against him with each thrust, adding rhythmic percussion to their symphony of moans and gasps.

"If your mother know you do this, she faint. I proud of you anyway," Anya purred, her hands gripping his hips tighter, pulling him back to meet each thrust. "Like you made for this."

Jake's arms gave out, his face pressing into the mattress as his ass remained raised, impaled on her shaft. The new angle let her go deeper, the blunt head of her cock expanding his tunnel.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck," he chanted, each word punched out of him by her thrusts. His cock swung beneath him, untouched but ready to burst.

Anya leaned forward, her breasts pressing against his back. "Tomorrow you tell Sandra I take my break, right inside you," she murmured, her breath hot against his ear.

The dual sensations, her cock stretching him impossibly full from behind, were overwhelming. Jake felt his entire body tightening, coiling like a spring. His nerve endings fired in chaotic patterns, unable to process the overload of stimulation.

"Fuck, Anya," he gasped, his voice barely recognizable to his own ears. "I can't, I'm gonna, "

The pressure built at the base of his spine, radiating outward in waves that made his thighs tremble and his toes curl. His balls drew tight against his body, ready to explode.

"I'm gonna, I can't, " he gasped.

"You can," she insisted, her rhythm relentless. "Feel it, Jake. Feel me inside you."

His world narrowed to a single point of pressure, his entire being focused on where they connected. Each thrust sent shockwaves through him, building, building, until,

"Oh my God!" he cried out as his orgasm crashed over him. His cock jerked, spurting thick ropes onto the sheets without a single touch. His ass clenched around Anya's shaft in powerful spasms that seemed to go on forever.

"Holy shit," he gasped between pulses, his mind struggling to comprehend what was happening. "I'm, fuck, I've never, "

"That's it," Anya crooned, slowing her thrusts to match his rhythm. "So beautiful. So perfect."

Jake collapsed forward, his cheek pressed against the mattress, his body still trembling with aftershocks. His mind reeled, trying to process what had just happened.

"Did I just, " he panted, unable to finish the thought.

"Yes," Anya said, her voice filled with pride. "You come from just my cock. No hands. Like true champion."

"Fuck," he whispered, a delirious laugh bubbling up from his chest. "That was... I didn't know that could happen."

Anya leaned forward, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. "Many things you not know yet, little Jake. But Anya teach you all."

She didn't pull out. Instead, she gripped his hips tighter.

Before Jake could protest, she started moving again. Long, deep strokes that made him gasp with oversensitivity. His body was still humming from his orgasm.

"Wait, Anya, I just-" His words dissolved into a strangled moan as she pulled back and slammed forward.

"No wait," she growled. "In Moldova, we ride until wheels fall off."

The headboard banged against the wall with each powerful thrust, boom, boom, boom, a steady rhythm echoing through the tiny apartment. Jake hoped it stayed contained.

"Oh God," Jake whimpered, his body jerking forward with each impact. "The neighbors..."

"Let them learn something," Anya grunted, not slowing her pace.

Her thrusts grew faster, more erratic. Her breathing was harsh and ragged in his ear. "Jake, I'm, " She made a sound like she'd been punched, a strangled cry that might've been his name. Her entire body went rigid, her cock pulsing deep inside him.

Jake felt it, the hot rush of her release flooding him, filling his ass. It was strange, intimate, and overwhelming, this sensation of being claimed from the inside out.

"Ya konchayu. Ya konchayu," she chanted in Russian, her hips jerking with each pulse, with each new spurt of her release. Her fingers left marks on his skin as she poured herself inside him.

The warmth spread through him, her hot seed filling him up. It felt like gallons, like forever.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered, feeling her still twitching inside him.

Anya collapsed on top of him, her weight pressing him into the mattress. Her breath came in ragged pants against his neck, her heart thudding hard against his back.

"Hey guys, I think your door... Woops."

They both turned.

Leroy stood frozen in the doorway, his dark face turning crimson as he stared up at the ceiling. "Sorry, didn't know you were busy. The door was open."

"Yeah," Jake moaned into the sheets. "The stupid landlord promised to fix it ages ago. Unless it's locked with a key, it swings open."

"Cool. Sorry."

"No worries, come in, bring snacks," Anya growled, raising herself up. "Gonna be your last meal, pizda, standing there like tourist in Chernobyl."

"What?"

"Wrong place, very wrong time."

"Sorry!" Leroy yelped and slammed the door shut behind him.

"Jesus," Jake muttered, burying his face in the pillow. "You can get off me now."

Instead, Anya dropped her full weight back onto his back and started kissing his neck. "Never. Never. Never. Never getting off. You now certified device. Comes with sticker. 'Anya Inside'."

======

Three weeks later...

Money.

That thing artists scoff at as "the whore's applause," yet everyone chases like a vegan at a free hummus tasting. Grandfather's house sold in no time for five point two million.

It was the first time the bank manager ever called Jake.

He said things like "private program," "investment options," "personalized services."

He also happened to mention that his daughter, Nora, who apparently remembered Jake from high school, was still single.

Who would've guessed?

That life he dreamed of, being rich and respected, he could sniff it just around the corner. The nice house. The sports car. His restaurant. The trophy wife.

Okay, mark that one off. His wife was a volatile smokeshow who scared him as much as she excited him.

But there was something growing there.

And even though he wasn't willing to admit it, not even to himself, that something wasn't just an erection with good PR.

On the downside... Some days he needed a pillow to sit down. But overall things were suddenly going according to plan.

Or so he thought.

Because as Anya puts it: "Man makes plan, and God giggles like John Bolton with a box of matches."

======

"Jesus, Anya, there are customers."

"What?" She pressed herself against his back. "I was slicing ham and thinking of your lips, Jake. Now I need cold shower and HR training."

"You need a muzzle."

"Kinky." She nibbled his ear. "Igor also sells animal equipment."

"Is there anything he doesn't sell?"

"Only thing Igor don't sell is peace of mind. You go in for milk, come out with tattoo, switchblade, and mild PTSD.

Tonight we go to him, buy champagne, two love pills, and have little party in bed."

"What's the occasion?" he asked. Not that Anya ever needed an occasion to party in bed.

"Sofia turned eighteen today."

"Cool." Jake turned, surprised. Anya didn't talk much about her family or past, but he knew she loved her sister. A lot.

"Can... Maybe I'll send her a 'Happy Birthday'? Or, I dunno, buy her vodka online? Does she even know I exist?"

Anya's face turned apologetic.

"I see."

"It's for a good cause," she said gently. "If Uncle Anatoly knows I have American husband, he demand more money. He think all Americans live in mansions and shit gold nuggets. But it all ends today."

"We're getting divorced?"

"Don't be silly." Anya giggled and slapped his butt. "Anya is like Amazon Prime. Eternal, with no cancellation."

She kissed his shoulder. "But now Sofia can open a bank account. Can sign contracts. She no longer needs Anatoly. I can send money straight to her. No drunken middleman, no random tax. My friend Zara will rent her a room. She can finally be out of that drunk piece of shit-" Her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

She pulled it out, smiling. "Speaking of the devil. Zara, my love..." She answered, voice playful, eyes sparkling. Jake watched her pace a few steps away.

Then her smile stopped mid-sentence. Like someone had flipped a switch behind her eyes.

Her back stiffened. She started speaking fast, in Romanian.

Jake couldn't understand a word, but the tone didn't exactly scream world peace and lottery wins.

Anya turned further away, heading toward the refrigerator. Her voice dropped to a low murmur.

A pause.

Then:

"No. No. No. No."

The color drained from her face. She clutched her hair, winding it tight around her fingers like she was trying to strangle the panic. "Oh my God."

She hung up. Just stood there. Still. Phone in hand. Breath shallow.

Jake approached, slowly. "Anya?"

She didn't look at him.

"He found out I cut him off. So he sold her."

Jake blinked. "What? What do you mean, sold her? Who? Anatoly?"

She turned to him, finally. Eyes dry. But gone.

"Sofia. My sister. Eighteen for five minutes, and he sold her. To one of those nightclub pigs. The kind with a private yacht and security guards. She's gone, Jake. Just... gone."

======

To be continued...