I thought to myself, where the actual fuck am I? As my car suddenly screeched to a halt under the watchful eye of a Soviet-era tank surrounded by heavily armed Russian troops.
I was on the road to Tiraspol, Transnistria. That’s where! Before lockdown, I sought sexual delights in a new place and planned a road trip through Moldova and Ukraine.
I started the morning with a gun in my face and interrogation from the world’s last-surviving KGB secret police force.
I was cleaning a nymphomaniac Russian whore’s squirt out of my beard after some vodka-fuelled sex by the end of the day. But more on that later.
Because for a man who is more well-versed in the sex scenes of Europe, I neglected my post-Soviet history lessons. So initially, I was blissfully unaware of Transnistria’s existence.
So one icy morning, when I was leaving the Moldovan capital of Chisinau for the sleazy Black Sea port of Odesa, I had no idea I was diving headfirst into a frozen conflict zone.
Here’s what I should have known before I had a high-calibre weapon pointed at my rental car in a short but bizarre history lesson.
Introducing Transnistria: The Country That Doesn’t Exist!
When the Soviet Union collapsed, Moldova erupted into a short but bloody civil war between ethnic-Russian separatists on one side of the Dniester River and ethnic Moldovans on the other side.
Russian soldiers backed the separatists with arms and troops. So naturally, the pro-Russian side eventually won, declared independence and carved out a de facto breakaway territory for themselves, known as Transnistria or the Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic.
The Transnistrian Civil War killed over 1,000 people, split Moldova in two, and devastated the already battered post-Soviet economy for decades.
Today, Transnistria is a land in limbo but is generally a fully-functioning state that exists next to Moldova. Heavily armed Russian Peacekeepers are stationed in this unrecognised country.
“I’d attracted the attention of all the Russian soldiers around. Was I a mad Moldovan who had single-handedly come to reclaim Transnistria for my people armed with nothing but a high sex drive?”
It has its own government, military, police, currency, and judicial system. But it’s entirely unrecognised by the world aside from their fellow breakaway states such as Abkhazia and South Ossetia.
Overall, this frozen conflict zone is a Soviet-style relic that gives you an insight into the days of the USSR mixed with Wild West Capitalism.
Hammers, sickles, and statues of Lenin exist on seemingly every corner of Transnistria. Along with the ever-present Sheriff Corporation, the still-functioning KGB is dotted throughout the territory.
Ok, history lesson and introduction to Transnistria over with. Let’s get stuck into the filth I got up to whilst I was there!
Welcome to Pridnestrovie! What The Fuck Are You Doing Here?
Nervously winding down the window of my rental Mercedes (a great way to pick up girls in Eastern Europe), I was hit by the smell of cigarettes, coffee, and cordite from the local troops.
Upon seeing a surprise checkpoint that wasn’t on my GPS, I had screeched to a loud stop next to a Russian BTR-80 troop carrier. What not to do at a military checkpoint 101.
I’d attracted the attention of all the Russian soldiers around. Was I a mad Moldovan who had single-handedly come to reclaim Transnistria for my people armed with nothing but a high sex drive?
A bang on my car window and an appalling conversation in broken Russian confirmed the opposite: I was a naive (sex) tourist who didn’t know what he was doing.
My passport was taken by the Russian military, and I was spoken to by a Transnistrian official who bore the letters ‘KGB’ on his Cyrillic ID tag. He didn’t know much English, but he did know: “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Pissed off with my level of Russian, my passport was returned, and I was set loose in the unrecognised country. Transnistria, I’m cumming!
What Do You Do in Countries That Don’t Exist?
My first stop in Transnistria was at a local coffee shop. I lined up next to some Russian military troops and local militia to grab a coffee, change currency, and smoke to calm my nerves after my border escapade.
After looking deeper into the country, I decided to stay a few nights in the capital of Tiraspol. I booked into a depressing Soviet behemoth called the Hotel Aist.
My footsteps rang out across the enormous lobby of the hotel that still had faded Soviet propaganda signs on the wall. It was almost completely deserted.
The lone receptionist in this seemingly empty hotel rose from the three solitary chairs in the middle of the lobby and gave me a tour of the rooms in high-speed Russian.
I had three options when it came to my Soviet-style accommodation in Tiraspol:
- The $20 standard room: Two single beds and a balcony. The heating was broken.
- The $25 luxury room: The same as the first, but with heating and a box TV.
- The $30 Honeymoon Suite: A vintage room with a hot tub, a huge tiger stripe bed, and a large living room topped off with golden curtains.
Living life in the fast lane and not wanting to freeze to death in the night, I booked the honeymoon suite and paid in the local currency which included some weird plastic coins.
As I settled in, which took all of two minutes, I sat on the bed to see it had a mirrored ceiling above it. Nice! On the wall was the Transnistrian flag with hammer and sickle, what a turn on!
In the bathroom, I was admiring the early-noughties hot tub when I saw two bright red used condoms behind the toilet. Someone’s been having fun in here, I thought!
I explored the capital of Tiraspol, which consisted of tons of Soviet stuff, tanks, a flea market, and many men in camo. Fascinating territory to explore, to say the least.
But as I sank my fourth local beer in a restaurant literally called Mafia, I was taken aback by the beauty of the local female population here.
From thick and busty women to slim and petite MILFs, there was something for all tastes. This de facto territory has seen many military conquests over the years and different empires have certainly planted their seed!
I’d also tried a few shots of the local vodka by this point. Looking at the hammer and sickle on the Transnistrian flag on the wall, my mind was wandering towards finding some sex with Transnistria’s unrecognised women.
Sadly, my day game fell flat here. The girls were naturally interested in a foreigner in such an explored land, but their English was abysmal. Poor internet also hindered my translation app.
Now more than a little tipsy, I headed back to my hotel with a defeated face. I thought, how cool would it be to get that proverbial Transnistrian flag under my belt.
Little did I know, all of my dreams were lying in wait back at the hotel. All contained in one hot, warm, and exceptionally wet package of a debauched Russian whore.
Does That Count As a Transnistria Flag or a Moldova Flag?
The lobby of my hotel may have been empty in the afternoon, but it wasn’t now. Sitting on the three desolate chairs were three women sitting cross-legged and playing on their phones.
They were dressed for the winter but in a very easily removable outfit. Suppose you know what I mean. Walking past, they flashed me a look which quickly returned to their phone screen.
Waiting for the deathtrap elevator to the top floor, I discreetly turned around to see them still staring at me. What the fuck? Are they hookers? I thought to myself.
It just struck me as a surprise. In such a tightly controlled state like Transnistria that still has the KGB, I didn’t expect to see blatant prostitutes in one of the only hotels in town.
In my later travels through Russia and other former Soviet states, I learned that this is more than common and the concept of hotel prostitutes itself a relic of the USSR.
Fuck it, I thought to myself, let’s have a go! I approached one of the girls. She was slim with raven black hair and a nice set of pert, natural tits. Her working name was “Nastya”.
Nastya was wearing boots, fishnets, a miniskirt, and a tight leather jacket that opened to reveal her Russian tits. She was a textbook hooker. In broken Russian, I asked for the time.
Looking back at me with gorgeous dark eyes, she reeled off a conversation started that went right over my head in a voice that had been battered by years of smoking and, probably, cock.
Sensing my bewilderment, she pulled out a Chinese smartphone and tapped a paragraph onto Google Translate. It went a little something like this:
“For one-hour consultation, the price is $40. Everything included. I am an entertaining girl. Gan-don only!”
I later found out that Gan-don was Russian slang for condoms. $40 was a cheap gamble. I passed her back the phone with a wink and beckoned her to follow me.
The discreet receptionist didn’t even lookup. Then, I had an awkward elevator ride to the top floor whilst she finished a game of Angry Birds on her phone. Yep, they still play that here!
The elevator ride was a good chance to have a quick perv. She was probably in her mid-30s. But holy shit, her body was tight!
As she discreetly browsed her smartphone, I could see a knowing, sleazy grin on her face as she felt my eyes imagining how she looked naked and on my cock. In a few minutes, I’d know!
The Real Taste of Tiraspol!
As the door to my room closed behind us, I handed over the money for the consultation and we both began to undress.
I requested that she leave her knee-high leather boots on but she sadly refused as she claimed it would be too hot. Shame, as I do love a girl in leather boots!
Now undressed, Nastya revealed an immaculate body with curves in all the right places. Her all-natural tits were incredible. Her perfectly round, pink nipples were the jewel in her crown!
The Russian whore began making herself at home by hopping into bed and turning on the TV to her favourite music channel. She knew her way around these rooms like the back of her hand.
With her eyes fixed on the TV and a cigarette in hand, she licked her petite hand to cover it in spit and slowly began stroking my cock to the beat of Russian dance music.
Now, I can only imagine how many cocks her lips had been around, but they were too good to resist and I was pretty drunk at this point. We moved closer and shared a sloppy kiss together.
The taste of cigarettes, vodka, and cheap chewing gum filled my mouth. As I tried to pull back for air, she bluntly sucked my tongue like it was a cock. This girl was hungry!
Sensing I had no qualms about it, she rudely pushed my head down between her legs and pulled off her panties to reveal a perfectly trimmed slit that glistened with pussy grool.
The sweet musty scent of this whore’s gash filled my nostrils. Before I knew it, her pussy stubble was grinding against my cheeks as I went tongue deep inside her.
Her moans drowned out the Russian dance music in the room as her hips thrust wildly against my face and she grunted like a wild animal. I couldn’t get enough of her sweet, fleshy hole.
When I needed a break, I’d move further south and tease her asshole before dragging my tongue from her rosebud to her engorged clitoris.
I sucked on her clit for all I was worth. Over the course of twenty minutes, I felt my mouth fill with her sweet juices as she convulsed in orgasm three distinguishable times.
I moved back slightly to gaze between her smooth legs and admire my work, her twitching slit was now slightly gaped open from my tongue fucking. She was ready for cock.
“Davai!” she slurred in a raspy voice with lust plastered over her dark Asiatic eyes, beckoning me forward with one hand and offering me a Russian condom with the other.
Breakaway State Sex Is Insane!
At this point, my cock was a twitching beast. Her well-used pussy had teased me for long enough. After a quick suck on her soft, natural Russian tits, I slowly slid inside her aching slit.
Despite the condom, I felt every inch of her love cave caress my cock as it went in until her pussy stubble kissed my crotch to let me know I’d fully docked. Fuck, it felt incredible.
Before I could decide on my rhythm, she locked eyes with me, flicked out her slutty tongue and bluntly demanded what I assume was something along the lines of ”fuck me hard” in Russian.
I began to throw the full length of my cock into her slit as hard as I could. How I didn’t cum in seconds, I’ll never know. Perhaps it was the local alcohol powering my cock forward.
Her petite hands gripped me by the back of the neck as she gazed down with pride at some random foreigner’s dick ploughing her beautiful hole underneath her bouncing tits.
After a few minutes, I pulled out and descended to see the damage. Fuck me, she gaped. Once again, I instinctively plunged my tongue deep into her quivering love hole for a few seconds.
Flipping her over, I tried her pussy in doggy style and wasn’t disappointed. When he felt my energy dropping, she would take over and slam her ass back onto my dick.
Then, she started moving around the bed and ordered me to lay back. Now on my back with my meaty pole rudely quivering in mid-air, she did a Slav squat onto my dick.
If you’ve been around the former Eastern Bloc, you’ll know that squatting is an art form here. Rather than stand, most locals will opt for a more comfortable squat and can do so for hours.
I never correlated this with sex, but holy shit, this girl could ride! Grinding and sliding, she knew how to handle cock in a squatting position and had a lust-fuelled look on her face.
The muscles of her thighs were so toned and she bounced down on my cock like a woman possessed as I gripped her stocking-clad legs for support. I was in heaven.
A few minutes into riding me cowgirl, she began to rub her swollen clit with her eyes fixed on me. Then, an unwell, slightly angry look appeared on her face as her breathing increased.
The sound of lustful moaning and sloppy crotches slamming into each other filled the room as she bounced on my cock harder than ever. Then, she abruptly pulled off violently.
Her pussy was in mid-air and pointed right at me, I saw a trickle of liquid begin to pour out as she released a low guttural moan. But that was only her version of pre-cum.
The low moan turned into a primal scream and the trickle transformed into a stream of sweet, pussy squirt that coated my stomach, chest, and lower face in its divine goodness.
She was now a quivering, highly sensitive mess. Her hair was stuck to her face and her pussy was still releasing droplets as she shakingly lowered herself down and crawled off my cock.
VKontakte and Pridnestrovian Moldavian Throatpies
Her eyes were closed and her body was still convulsing. That was what I call an orgasm. I was sticky with her pussy squirt.
To give her a break and reward her for the show, I licked her trembling, fleshy pussy for a few minutes until she lay on her side and guided my cock inside once again for a lazy side fuck.
With my energy now sapping and her completely spent, I was content with watching my cock slowly defile her sloppy, messy pussy from behind.
After her orgasm, she sparked up a cigarette as she was being fucked and got her smartphone out to browse VKontakte which is basically the Russian version of Facebook.
As her soft asscheeks kissed my crotch and her sticky thighs caressed my balls with each thrust, I watched in amazement as she flirted with local Russian guys on social media.
If only they knew that the girl they were sending kisses and horny emojis to was being filled up by cock, I thought.
“As soon as the first rope of cum burst out of my cock, she slammed her throat down until her chin squeezed against my balls. As she violently gagged, her pussy contracted and trapped my tongue inside.”
Spotting the time, she signalled through sign language that it was time for me to cum. I didn’t need to be told twice. I let her take the lead as she tore the condom off my now waining cock.
What followed was one of the most gentle and arousing blowjobs I’ve ever had. Her mouth felt like a pussy and the urge to fuck her throat and impregnate her stomach was overwhelming.
I knew I’d be cumming very soon, so I reached around to play with her pussy. Taking the initiative, she threw her hips around and within seconds, her gash was lowering onto my face.
Her pussy lips caressed my cheeks as I ate the mess I’d made of her pussy. The taste of her sweet juices, the feeling of her soft, stocking-clad legs, and her loud gagging sent me over the edge.
My balls began to twitch as her mouth caressed the head of my cock. My tongue was as deep in her pussy as it could be. So much so, that my nose was partially inside her asshole, too.
As soon as the first rope of cum burst out of my cock, she slammed her throat down until her chin squeezed against my balls.
As she violently gagged, her pussy contracted and trapped my tongue inside. I involuntarily moaned as I underwent what seemed like the longest orgasm of my life.
Her body convulsed as my seed went straight down her throat. As it did, I could feel beads of pussy juices sliding down my trapped tongue.
I was only released when she pulled off my cock with a sloppy pop and a gasp for breath. As she lit a cigarette, she unceremoniously handed me some wet wipes from her handbag.
Pillow Talk With The Daughter of Soviet Union Hookers
With a few minutes left of my time, we chilled in bed arm in arm. Using the power of Google translate, we had some pillow talk and she showed me some of her pictures.
From what I understood, her mum and grandmother were both working girls in the USSR. That’s right! This girl learned all of her skills from Soviet prostitutes.
Fuck me, she was pure filth. Her phone was teeming with homemade porn she had made with various men both in the Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic and abroad in Russia, Moldova, and Ukraine.
Facials, creampies, and a lot of hard anal. This girl was certainly no prude. Judging from some of the anal gapes in her pictures, no wonder my nose slid inside her ass during a 69.
It was only at this point I noticed Nastya was wearing a wedding ring. I wonder if her husband knows what she gets up to on the ”night shift”, I thought.
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But sadly, my time was up. It was an experience to remember and I gave this hardcore hooker a generous tip.
We shared a hug and a final sloppy kiss before I watched her ass sway down the corridor before disappearing into the lift. Her cheap but alluring perfume lingered long after she’d gone.
She had wiped me out. Avoiding the large wet patch we’d made, I fell into a deep sleep in the tacky honeymoon suite.
The next morning, with the scent of her pussy all over my body, I masturbated and came hard reminiscing about last night’s antics.
Spasiba, Transnistria and all glory to the Russian whore! I’ll never forget my visit to the Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic!
