Her name was Olga Vannacommover.  An accomplished gymnast, she was an alternate on the 1976 Soviet Olympic team.  Olga smiled and cheered wildly for her teammates as she silently wished that one of the little sluts would break an ankle.

At seventeen, Olga's breasts became too large for competitive gymnastics, but just the right size for Janis Ian.   Like many former Soviet athletes she became a coach.  Life was good by Soviet standards.  Olga was married to a KGB agent.  They had a large apartment, a car that worked, and unlimited supplies of vodka.  Every Friday night her husband's KGB friends would come over to get drunk, play "Twister" and laugh about how many people they had tortured that week.

Just before Olga was about to upgrade to a higher ranking KGB agent, her husband dumped her for a younger gymnast.   Olga's life quickly went downhill, and she yearned for a fresh start in the United States of America.  She signed up with a "Russian Mail Order Bride" Agency and Olga soon found herself the seventh bride of a member of the Church of the Latter Day New Orleans Saints.

Her prowess in the bedroom soon propelled Olga all the way up to second-string wife.  The Mormon bitches were jealous and they accused her of being a Socialist, a Muslim, and a Hawaiian.  Olga fled the polygamist compound and established a new identity.  She became a gymnastics coach again which is where our paths would finally meet.

My ex-wife had enrolled my seven year old daughter in gymnastic class and Olga was her coach.  I couldn't help but notice how well she still filled a leotard.  Olga complimented me on how nice I looked in purple leggings and a yellow trenchcoat.  Sparks began to fly especially after Olga found out that I was a divorced, American citizen.

A dinner date was set at Olga's bachelorette pad.  I brought a keg of beer, a case of KY Jelly, and a dozen avocados.

Olga's apartment was filled with her trophies and medals.  Her large bedroom did not contain a bed, only gymnastics equipment such as parallel bars, balance beam, pommel horse, and a vault.

"I hope you are flexible," were Olga's first words as she tossed me into the bedroom.

I landed on the pommel horse and Olga then landed on top of me.

"I want to ride you like a Siberian Yak," she whispered loudly in my ear.

"I didn't know that there were Yaks in Siberia."

"Shut up and commence intercourse relations!!!"

I don't remember much after that.  The EMT told me not to move as we sped in the ambulance to the nearest hospital.