Amazing - close
MOTHER'S CURSE
But Lida Davydova told me the most fateful story of her life herself.
- DAMN YOU!
And the curse, like God’s punishment, began to act soon...
I have known the heroine of another story, not invented (unlike the scripts of numerous television series), Lida Davydova, for a long, long time from general campaigns, and more recently from concerts in a private music salon
“At FLORA” (by the way, Flora is a popular female name in Tatarstan, like Flyura).
Lida was first our neighbor in the dacha, and recently she received a two-room apartment not far from us. And he lives alone with his 45-year-old unmarried son Vladislav, a tall and outwardly handsome guy, whom I, however, only saw briefly when I entered the apartment...
I’ve been meaning to write about it for two or three years. I seem to know her biography well: her first husband, a pilot, died when her son Vlad was five years old. Then she was married, but not for long. And she lived almost her entire life as a free woman. Her character is cheerful, her appearance is not bad, her education is secondary technical. The woman is sociable, not stupid, but quite proud and at times harsh (she cuts the truth openly). Doesn't like criticism addressed to him. Perhaps that’s why she wasn’t very lucky in her personal life. And now my health is failing me, so I recently had to leave my light, but now burdensome, job.
When I was about to write about Lida, I suddenly discovered that I didn’t know something important. For example, her exact age, whether her pilot husband was an officer or a civilian pilot, died in a plane crash or otherwise. Her relative Alevtina (all names and surnames here have been changed) recently helped me out. A relative came to visit her summer resident-daughter for the day (Lida sold her land to her). Alevtina is a school friend of my wife Delhi since FIRST grade. So I have known Alevtina (Alya) for many years.
Alya and I, together as fellow travelers, once walked from the dacha community to the landing stage of KLACHISHI. We talked about health (both of them have noise in their heads due to hypertension and “worms” swirling in front of their eyes). And then I asked directly:
- Alya, I want to find out a little about your cousin Lida...
- Gena, she’s my darling sister!
It turned out that the lovely retired women had the same mother (she died recently at the age of 93), but different fathers. Alya was born before the war (in 1936), and Lida - in 1941. Lida’s husband was a civil aviation pilot and had an accident on the ground: he crashed on a motorcycle. That was in Primorye, in the Far East...
From there, Lida returned with her child to her homeland in Kazan immediately after the death of her husband. And very soon, her friends and relatives found a suitable match for her: Major-widower Efimenko had a daughter the same age as Vlad, and was a promising officer, serving in the Perm region.
The persuasion yielded results. The marriage took place. But it lasted a year and a half. Then Lida got bored in a military town near Perm. She was tired of the same “faces” (her own expression). She returned with her son to Kazan to her mother and began working as an engineer in the laboratory of one of the large Kazan technical colleges (I don’t name it for “conspiracy”).
Here she liked the lifestyle of a free woman: there was no end to the institute’s men, many strove to get close to her. I asked Alya:
- Was Lida beautiful in her youth?
- Yes, perhaps not, I just lured men with my coquetry and temper...
Well, then as usual: the men flirted willingly, but no one was going to leave their wives. And Major Efimenko received a referral to Moscow, to the academy. And when Lida came to meet him in the capital, it turned out that he already had another woman. I realized it too late!
After that, Lida was not legally married to anyone. We saw, for example, her at the dacha with the youthful retired military representative Mikhail. It seems like a suitable guy, with housing. But this connection did not become strong. Alevtina believes that Mikhail was not a completely mentally sane person.
But Davydova told me the most fateful story of her life herself.
She told me about 10 years ago, when I visited her on business at her summer cottage (Del’s wife was away). We talked in the mood, completely sober.
A rare story from her life has surfaced. It turned out that one day, while working at the institute, Lida was returning from a business trip in Moscow. And she found herself at night in a compartment alone with a young man, almost a guy. He impudently “climbed” her, trying to RAPE her.
Lida was not used to this kind of treatment. I called the conductor and asked the police. Both were dropped off at some station, and a criminal case was opened against the guy...
The trial took place, and the lustful rude man was sentenced to several years in prison. Before the trial, the boy’s mother, with tears in her eyes, persuaded Lida to withdraw her statement from the court. This option would probably be humane. But, obviously, this is where Davydova’s HONORS and pride took over (although others will say: a woman should value her human dignity).
When persuasion did not work on Lida, the grief-stricken mother uttered cruel words:
- DAMN YOU!
And the curse, like God's punishment, began to act soon.
Lida's son Vladik (she still calls him this way, diminutively, and not Vlad or Vladislav Ivanovich) at the age of 16 was caught in GROUP RAPE and was sentenced to several years in a colony for juvenile delinquents.
Upon leaving the colony, he became interested in DRUGS and almost went blind from drug abuse. Having settled in Moscow, he seemed to have settled down and lived with a woman and her child from his first marriage. But he had too much alcohol, and she drove him away.
Returning to Kazan to his mother, Vlad got involved with some robbers, because he constantly presented his mother with pendants, watches and chains of dubious origin. Then he seemed to work, but did not get out of court, either because of broken other people’s cars, which he drove, or because of shortages of money and valuables in the company that hired him.
Even today, all his earnings go to playing at slot machines, these one-armed bandits. His gambling addiction has remained stable for several years.
Photo from the Internet
Lida has long been tired of her son, but loves him. Moreover, he does not offend her (at least she never complained about this to her friends). And she obediently endures all his vices and quite seriously considers them to be God’s punishment, which was brought upon her by the CURSE MOTHER of the failed rapist...I have several photographs of Lida Davydova (she posed for me more than once, and the two of them were photographed at the opera house in April), but for ethical reasons I am not attaching them here. The corners of her mouth and eyelids are downcast, her facial expression is constantly sad.
The mood is rarely cheerful. Does she regret that she once put a young man behind a wire? I never asked her directly about that...
Each of us has a pattern. The country whose reality we compare with the Ukrainian one. A kind of standard, the experience of which we consider the norm. And time after time we apply this stencil to our everyday life. To then angrily condemn this everyday life.
We condemn our reality because it is not like a heroic epic. That in five years corruption and inefficiency have not disappeared from our lives.
We are outraged by roads, tariffs and bribes. Negotiations, delays and lack of breakthroughs. And every time we nod to the example of other countries, being convinced that their path to freedom and sovereignty was smooth and without bumps.
The only problem is that we have no idea what they went through.
Finland
Do we want to be Finland? Defeated the Soviet Union, built a comfortable environment, created one of the best educational systems in the world?
Absolutely yes. And we remember how the Finnish army defeated the Red Army, defended independence and won its right to sovereignty.
An example of a 3.5 million David and a 190 million Goliath. It warms the soul and makes you believe in miracles. But is Ukraine seriously ready for the Finnish experience?
Their pre-war defense spending ranged from 16 to 25% of GDP. Half a million residents passed through paramilitary structures. Not only men, but also women and teenagers received basic military training.
The Soviet-Finnish war looks like an undeniable victory for Helsinki only from our time. And in the spring of 1940, our assessments could have been completely different.
The losses of the Finnish army exceeded 70 thousand people (killed, wounded and missing). More than a quarter of the personnel. As a result, the country lost 11% of its territory. It evacuated 430 thousand of its citizens.
Yes, Finland defended its independence, but after World War II it turned out to be a de facto satellite of the USSR. Kirill Danilchenko writes in detail about how Finnish foreign trade was tied to the Soviet market.
However, not only trade - diplomacy and economics also had very limited sovereignty. The collapse of the Union caused the “domino principle” - the Finnish economy found itself in a crisis, from which it took a long time and hard work to get out of it. And it became part of the EU only in 1995.
The Finnish scenario for Ukraine is a legislative renunciation of the occupied territories. Recognizing them as part of. Evacuation and resettlement of residents of Donbass and Crimea. Returning the country to the economic orbit of Moscow. Abandoning NATO and the EU.
Everyone can try it on themselves and decide whether they are ready to pay this price.
Israel
We use the Promised Land as an example even more often. Israel, who fought bravely against everyone. Won the wars and created the most comfortable oasis in the Middle East. We want to be like him and copy his recipes.
So they are in the palm of your hand. You just need to mobilize 40% of the working population into the army and auxiliary units. Lose four thousand soldiers in battles with a total starting army size of 30 thousand.
Yes, the Israeli army quadrupled during the war of independence, but in relative terms the losses are many times higher than those suffered by the Ukrainian side.
The “Israeli experience” is the Orthodox protesting against the war in their settlements. The most severe conflict between “left” and “right”. War of the regular army against friendly volunteer units.
Eliminating uncontrollable radicals - who, by the way, survived World War II and the Holocaust. Desperate debate about whether to accept compensation from Germany.
The “Israeli experience” means defense spending at the level of a third of the budget. Card system until 1959. A distribution system that deals with groceries, everyday goods, and even electricity.
The economy regime is controlled by the state - inspectors go door to door. The Ministry of Standardization and Supply was created. Hyperinflation reaching several hundred percent per year.
Nobody created a military-industrial complex for Israel. It was born as a reaction to the arms embargo and the threat of sanctions. Nobody built the economy for him; it was created not so much thanks to him as in spite of him.
Corruption scandals, accusations against the political and military leadership, double standards - all Ukrainian birthmarks were characteristic of Israel in its infancy. Moreover, in comparison with it, Ukraine today lives in a space of total comfort.
Open final
We love to use other people's experiences as an example. But all our historical analogies work only because of our illiteracy.
We have a very vague idea of what the struggle for independence looked like in those countries that we like. We compare their war period with their modern times - and we think that these two dates are connected by a smooth historical highway. In fact, everything is exactly the opposite.
There is nothing easier than setting a certain ideal as an example for your own country.
The only problem is that this is an invented ideal. Inside each “recipe for success” was everything that we see around us today. Blood, sweat and tears. “Zrada”, which looked like “peremoga”. “Peremoga”, which turned into “zrada”.
Reforms and relapses. Mistakes and betrayals. And also a dark tunnel of state construction, the exit from which could, at best, be reached by grandchildren.
Everything that surrounds us is not much different from what those countries that “succeeded” had to go through.
The only difference is that we are only at the very beginning of the journey. And the trials we experienced are only a tenth of what both Finland and Israel had to go through.
Our frustration is born of high expectations. We refuse to believe that the creation of an effective state takes generations. We want a bright future tomorrow. We are not ready for the costs and dream of a one-time thing.
But in fact, we just live inside the script. The outcome of which will determine whether we will ever be held up as an example. If we lose, then all our current problems will become a recipe for defeat.
And if we win, they will be included in the encyclopedic victory list. As proof that the path to sovereignty is doomed to be winding – as it was for the countries we love. But our current starting conditions themselves do not doom us to anything. Neither for victory nor for defeat.
As you know, my mother’s friend’s son is smart, athletic, polite and caring. And it doesn't exist.
Pavel Kazarin
Ukrainian truth
I had just turned eighteen when my mother fell ill and was admitted to the hospital for surgery. I don’t know what they found on her, something feminine. My mother’s friend Aunt Tosya invited me to stay with her until my mother was discharged, but I refused, saying I’m not a little girl.
Aunt Tosya came to me every day, and in the evenings she also called and asked if everything was okay with me and what I was doing.
Two days before my mother’s discharge, Aunt Tosya said that she had taken a day off and would do a thorough cleaning of the apartment. Of course, with my help.
We fussed with her all day, and late in the evening all we had to do was hang the curtains on the windows. It must be said that my mother and I lived in an old house, pre-revolutionary, with high ceilings. To remove or hang curtains, you had to climb a stepladder.
I would have hung them myself, but Aunt Tosya said:
- You won’t hang it like it should. I’ll climb in, and you hold the stepladder and secure me.
She took the still wet curtain. She had to climb onto the very top step. I held a stepladder and was able to observe in detail everything that she had under her robe, namely her slender legs and, where they met, a narrow black strip of panties.
I remembered a conversation I had with my mother a long time ago. I was ten years old at the time, but I imprinted their words in my memory. They were watching TV. I don’t remember what they showed. They just started talking about maniacs attacking women.
“Eh, someone is lucky, but not you and me, Sima,” Aunt Tosya said to my mother. “I would make him fuck me so much that he wouldn’t want to attack women for a year.”
It must be said that they were both lonely. My father left us when I was not even a year old, and Aunt Tosya never married.
I know that my mother sometimes dates men. I won’t say anything about Aunt Tosya. Most likely, she also has lovers. She is a prominent, beautiful woman, with a great figure and an excellent bust. True, the last time I saw her live, without a bra, was about nine years ago. Then she began to feel embarrassed about me. But I remembered her large brown nipples, as well as the conversation about maniacs, and Aunt Tosya’s words that if she was raped, she would simply relax and try to get maximum pleasure.
While I was looking at Aunt Tosya from below and getting excited, she hung up the curtains and began to go downstairs.
“Hold me, boy,” she said. - Otherwise I’ll crash...
“Wow, boy, you’re not a miss,” Aunt Tosya exclaimed and went down another step so that my hand was under her butt. - And what next, prankster? – she asked.
If i knew. But I was not a spoiled boy. I just froze.
Aunt Tosya smiled:
– Is it true that I have a firm butt?
I raised my hand higher, placed it on one of her buns and squeezed lightly.
“Y-yes, elastic...” I answered, feeling how shamelessly my rod rose higher and higher under my tights. Aunt Tosya couldn’t help but notice this.
- What do you have here? – standing on the floor, she asked, grabbed me by the “pyramid” and demanded: “Come on, show me...
I flushed, I was hot and sweaty. She knew WHAT I had THERE. She couldn't help but know this.
Aunt Tosya pulled down the elastic band of the tights, and with it the panties, and lowered them.
- Oh, what a delightful thing! – she exclaimed, as if she had seen male flesh for the first time. - This is what I understand - a tool.
She grabbed him with her hand and continued to admire:
- How hard he is. Like a bone... can’t be bent... And this bud... I just want to... kiss it...
Aunt Tosya knelt down and, indeed, kissed the crimson tip of the rod. I definitely got electrocuted. And the whole body was filled with languor...
- You like it? – asked Aunt Tosya.
“It’s nice,” I admitted.
Aunt Tosya put the rod in her mouth. I felt the caress of her tongue and went crazy...
My nonsense was interrupted by Aunt Tosya.
“Let’s go, let’s find a more comfortable and cozy place,” she said.
She took me to my mother’s bed and as she walked, she took off her robe and asked me to unfasten my bra. With difficulty, but I separated both hooks.
“Kiss my boobs,” Aunt Tosya asked. - In the papillae. Caress them with your tongue...
I obediently and willingly complied with my aunt’s request, simultaneously getting my hand under her panties. There I felt a crack covered with hair. She was damp...
I began to get impudent and pulled my aunt’s panties down... I longed for the main thing, what until that moment I only knew about by hearsay and from some photographs that came into our class through the hands of my friends who were more advanced than me. I couldn’t wait to “insert” my rod into my aunt.
“Wait, boy,” said Aunt Tosya. - I myself...
She turned me onto my back. Throwing one leg over me, she knelt down and, taking my tool in her hands, slowly inserted it into the desired hole, into a humid and hot cave... Her soft walls gently clasped my shaft.
And I again began to plunge into sweet languor... I drowned in it, completely detached from my surroundings. It was just us - me, Aunt Tosya and pleasure.
The explosion, or there is no other way to describe this sensation, happened unexpectedly for me. A wave of deafening bliss covered me... I think I screamed, or Aunt Tosya screamed, or we both screamed...
... “So you have become a man,” said Aunt Tosya when I came to my senses. - Congratulations. I'm glad I did it... Now I can have a snack. You're probably hungry...
We went to the kitchen without getting dressed.
© Copyright: Kazantsev Kurten, 2013
Certificate of publication No. 213052500057
In the spring of 1999, I came to the editorial office of the SCH-Stolitsa newspaper and brought the story “The Death of the White King.” After the newspaper was published, the public liked the story so much that I began to write further, trying to make each story look like a real report from the life of the city. And people believed that everything that was written actually happened, and alarmed citizens called the editorial office all day long. People passed newspaper sheets to each other, and they passed from hand to hand, and their fame spread far beyond the borders of Cheboksary. “He’s not Stephen King yet, but reading his stories...
Stories by William Faulkner
These Thirteen (1930) Victory Ad Astra They're All Dead Those Old Pilots The Cleft Red Leaves A Rose for Emily Justice Hair When Night Falls Dry September Mistral Divorce in Naples Carcassonne Dr. Martineau (1934) Smoke Full Turn Around Wash Come Down, Moses (1942) Was Fire and Hearth Black Harlequinade Old Men Autumn in the Delta Horse's Move (1949) Hand Outstretched on the Waters Error in the Chemical Formula Seven Stories (1950) Arsonist Tall People Bear Hunt Mule in the Yard...
Requiems (Stories) Lyudmila Petrushevskaya
The cycle of stories “Requiems” initiates the reader into the problem of death as a separate, independent subject of artistic depiction. At the same time, the concept of death is considered by L. Petrushevskaya in a variety of manifestations. This is the death of marital love (“I love you”), and the collapse of the bright hopes of youth, the loss of optimism in life (“Jewish Verochka”), and the dying of the soul, spiritual degradation (“The Lady with the Dogs”), and the loss of compassion for someone else’s misfortune (“ Who will answer?"
The Sorcerer in October (collection of stories) Mikhail Babkin
The collection “The Sorcerer in October” includes 12 short stories by Mikhail Babkin. They are all about how magic bursts into our everyday lives without asking and what comes out of it. Accordingly, fairies, demons, sorcerers, Santa Claus, the serpent Ermungand and even V.I. Lenin himself suddenly appear among the characters - the most ordinary people.
Scary tales about Shgar. Story five: “about... Rustam Niyazov
Despite the fact that in this story about the glorious city of Shgar, we will talk about a completely different city, no less glorious, the terrible story will not become more gratifying, and the thought of how strong is the habit in us of judging loved ones, not giving them the opportunity to defend themselves from our court - this thought is depressing, without any doubt...
Stories of the Hedgehog Victor Dan
This book is about the adventures of the Hedgehog. In his stories, Hedgehog will share life observations and conclusions from meetings with the inhabitants of the garden and its surroundings: the Mistress, the Worm, the Snake, the Magpie and many others. For children of preschool and primary school age, as well as for adults who will read the book to their children and grandchildren.
Stories, feuilletons, pamphlets Jaroslav Hasek
The first volume of the Works of the Czech writer Jaroslav Hasek (1883-1923) includes stories, feuilletons, and pamphlets written in 1901-1908. Translation from Czech Compilation and notes by S. V. Nikolsky The text is printed according to the edition: Hasek Yaroslav. Collected works in six volumes. T1.– M.: Fiction, 1983.
The Canterbury Tales Geoffrey Chaucer
“The Canterbury Tales” by the English poet Geoffrey Chaucer (1340? – 1400) is one of the first literary monuments in a single common English language. The book clearly demonstrated the remarkable qualities of Chaucerian humanism: optimistic life-affirmation, interest in a specific person, a sense of social justice, nationality and democracy. The Canterbury Tales is a framed collection of short stories. Taking as a basis the pilgrimage to the tomb of St. Thomas Becket in Canterbury, Chaucer painted a broad canvas of English reality...
White and Black (Stories) Leonid Sergeev
The writer's new book contains stories about animals. Some of them are cheerful, they contain the joy of communicating with living beings. Others are sad because we are talking about people who treat animals cruelly. But all the stories are united by the author’s concern for the fate of “our little brothers.” CONTENTS: Buran, Polkan and others Grass near our house At the forester Gray Trickster Anchar A fairy tale for Alyonka White and Black Ryzhik My hedgehog friends Menagerie in my apartment
Pirx's story by Stanislaw Lem
Pirx is flying again. Towing scrap iron from Mercury's orbit is not the most interesting thing. Especially if the crew is assembled from a pine forest. But even in such an ordinary flight, a completely unexpected meeting is possible. And you will have to decide what to do with her, with this meeting... © Jolly Roger “Stories about the Pilot Pirxa” - 7 - Pirxa’s Story / Opowiadanie Pirxa [= Guest from the Abyss: Pirxa’s Story] (1965)
Life is a dog and a cat. Tales and stories Vladimir Svintsov
For four-legged friends: shaggy and smooth-haired, tailed and tailless, lop-eared and not, and most of all for their loving owners - this book. Contents: To my friends - shaggy and eared... STORIES A DOG'S LIFE The owner went to war On a duck flight A childhood dream A link in the chain Greetings from home A test of malice One day in the life of a dog Diana the huntress The Ermuth Triangle John Erhard Kopani The unsmiling Maria Vasilievna A wise decision A faithful heart Tommy Baba Manya and Sharik Tigger striped How to raise a mistress LIFE OF A CAT Baron Our...
8 ... In the evening, guests gathered in honor of my birthday. Among them was our family friend Fred, one of my dad's partners in the company. He was a tall, handsome man, 45-48 years old. When Dad was away, Fred often visited our home and we all loved him. Together with him, his son Ram, a university student where he studied law, came to us for the first time. He was a handsome guy, about 22 years old. He came from England on vacation. We were introduced and together with Marta and other girls we formed a cheerful company. The guests left late, and I invited Rem to visit me at the dacha, to which he agreed. Two days later dad left for Oslo, and in the evening Uncle Fred arrived. He was in a good mood, as always, and brought with him several boxes of films. He was a big fan of it and narrow films were his hobby. We used to watch his films together, but today for some reason my mother told me to go visit Marta, and they would watch the films themselves. Previously, when my mother sent me out for a walk, I did not have any suspicions, but today some kind of mistrust crept into my soul and I decided to cheat. Pretending that I was going for a walk, I deliberately slammed the door and quietly slipped into my room. After a while, I heard the device chirp and the sounds of soulful music were heard. I slowly opened the door and looked into the living room. There was no one there. The sounds came from my mother's bedroom. I looked through the loosely closed door and saw a small screen that hung opposite my mother’s bed. What I saw on the screen left me in a state of extreme surprise. A completely naked man with his penis sticking out high was hugging a naked woman. Then he laid her across the bed, raised her legs high, which were on his shoulders, and began to push his huge penis between her legs. Then he did something else with her. I stood there petrified, unable to take my eyes off the screen. Suddenly the tape ran out and the device automatically stopped. I looked over and saw Mom and Fred. My mother, the sweet, beautiful, wonderful mother whom I admired, was sitting on the bed, completely naked, in the arms of a naked Uncle Fred. With one hand he held my mother's chest, and his other hand was somewhere between my mother's legs. In the pinkish light of the floor lamp, I clearly saw their naked bodies. Fred pulled his mother closer to him, their lips met in a long kiss, and mother sank onto the bed, spreading her bent legs wide. - 2 - Fred lay down on top of his mother, and both of them began to breathe heavily. I almost screamed and I don’t remember how I found myself in my room. What I saw shocked me, there was a noise in my head, my heart was beating so hard that it seemed to jump out of my chest. True, I saw similar pictures from Martha in magazines, but they were pictures, and this is reality and... my mother. I involuntarily touched my genitals with my hand and immediately pulled my hand away; it was wet and hot. At night I dreamed of naked men and women. I woke up in a state of incomprehensible anxiety, and again fell asleep anxiously. In the morning, my mother called me for breakfast. I looked at her carefully, but did not notice any changes. She was fresh as always, and today she was especially beautiful and was in a great mood. I even began to wonder if I was dreaming all this. I walked alone in the forest all day, and in the evening I went to see Martha. She was glad to see me and pulled out a whole bunch of new magazines, which we began to look at greedily. Now I looked with particular interest at various details of the pornographic photographs, comparing them with what I had recently seen at home. I was very excited and told Martha about the movie I accidentally saw yesterday. Naturally, I didn’t say anything about Mom and Fred. Martha listened to me with bated breath. After that, Martha and I did not see each other for several days, since she and her mother left for Copenhagen. I walked with my friends, afraid to share my impressions with them. In the evening, Uncle Fred arrived in his car and brought a letter from dad. Now, knowing about my mother's relationship with Fred, I was on guard and already knew what would happen in the evening. After dinner, my mother casually asked what I was going to do. I replied that I would go to the park with the girls and would come back late. Just not very much, my mother said, and I went to get dressed. Just like that time, I decided to deceive them. Going out into the corridor, I slammed the front door and wanted to hide in my room, but some devil spurred me on, and after thinking, I ducked into my mother’s bedroom, hiding behind a heavy curtain. My temples were pounding from fear and excitement, but I didn’t have to wait long. Soon Mom and Uncle Fred entered the bedroom and quickly began to undress. Fred wanted to turn off the light, but Mom said: “You know that I like it in the light,” and turned on the floor lamp. The room was immediately filled with a pinkish, pleasant light, in which the naked bodies of the lovers were clearly visible. Uncle Fred kissed my mother and sat down on the edge of the bed, right next to me, and I clearly saw his big penis sticking high out of his head of hair, just like the ones I had seen many times in magazines and movies. My mother came up to Fred, knelt down in front of him and, clasping his penis with both hands, began to stroke him, calling him affectionate names, as if he were a living person. And then the worst thing happened. Mom suddenly lowered her head and grabbed the head of the penis with her open mouth, began kissing it and gently sucking it like a big pacifier. From my hiding place I saw how her lips enveloped the head of my penis and what a happy face she had. At this time, Fred gently caressed her breasts and all this happened two steps away from me. From the excitement that gripped me, I could barely stand on my feet, but it was impossible to give myself away, and the interest in what was happening was great. But then my mother, my beloved mother, whom I considered the purest woman in the world, released her penis from her mouth, began to kiss and thank Fred. Uncle Fred stood up, and Mom lay down across the bed, her legs spread high in the air. Fred stood between his mother's legs, which suddenly appeared on his shoulders, and began to push his penis into his mother's - 3 - vagina. At the same time, he quickly moved his lower abdomen, and I saw how the penis entered and exited into my mother and heard a squelching sound during this plunge. At the same time, my mother moaned protractedly, and then began to breathe heavily. This went on for several minutes, which seemed like an eternity to me. But then mom let out a long, drawn-out howl, jerked her whole body sharply and lowered her legs. Fred took his penis out of her, began to kiss her and sank down next to her on the bed. At the same time, his penis continued to stick up and his mother pulled and stroked it with one hand. So they lay on the bed for about ten minutes and mom thanked Fred for giving her the opportunity to “come well.” I thought they would get dressed now, but I was wrong. Fred said something to mom, she stood at the edge of the bed, rested her hands on the bed, and Fred stood behind mom, spread her thighs with his hands, his dick immediately entered mom. After that, he began to slowly remove and again push his penis into my mother’s vagina. Mom stood calmly at first, but then she turned her pelvis and moaned passionately every time the penis plunged into her body. Suddenly Fred and Mom started rushing around. Mom began to move her butt towards the penis, which entered her faster and faster. Fred screamed something, pressed his lower belly tightly against his mother's butt, and they both fell onto the bed. I realized that I had witnessed a real sexual act between a man and a woman, and I also wanted to experience it all for myself. Of course, what I did with Martha gave me a lot of pleasure, but obviously intercourse with a man should bring a lot of joy. I read a lot about this and heard from older girls who already lived with boys and told me a lot of interesting and exciting things. Mom and Fred lay there for 15 minutes and began to get dressed. “Fred, you need to go,” Mom said, “Betty will come soon. She’s already grown up, and I don’t want her to think anything.” As soon as they went out to the car, I quickly slipped out into the yard and came home 10 minutes after my mother. At dinner, my mother looked as if nothing had happened and calmly told me that one of these days Uncle Fred’s son, Ram, whom I had actually recently invited to come to us, would come. Obviously, I was extremely excited by everything I saw, because my mother noticed my excited face and told me to quickly go to bed. In bed, I thought why mom was cheating on dad. After all, my dad is so big and handsome, and he can probably do everything with mom just like Uncle Fred. This morning I got up with a severe headache. I realized that my serene childhood was over and a new mysterious life of a woman was beginning. I was painfully afraid to open this new page. Is there something waiting for me? What? Several days passed. Marta was still in Copenhagen, although I really wanted her to return. Soon Uncle Fred arrived with Ram. I had a good rest and was glad they arrived. Ram was a handsome, charming guy. He behaved casually but correctly, and I felt good with him. We swam, played badminton, and ran through the forest. In the evening after tea we went dancing with him. He danced very well and I was pleased when his strong hands lightly touched my chest. After the dance we went home. In a dark alley, Ram stopped and hugged me. I didn’t interfere with him and his lips first touched my temple, then slid to my eyes and we connected in a long kiss. Yes, Rem’s kiss was not Martha’s kiss... While hugging me, Rem, as if by accident, touched my chest. I didn’t push his hands away and Ram’s wide palm slipped under my blouse and began to gently caress my breasts. We stood for a long time huddled close to each other near the old oak tree and I felt a hard, excited penis pressing against my genitals. I felt Ram’s hard thighs and didn’t have the strength to tear myself away from him. We stood in the dark for a long time, our lips were looking for each other and there was no desire to leave. We came home quite late, and after saying goodbye, we went to bed. Ram went up to his room, and I climbed under the blanket and, squeezing my legs tightly, indulged in my thoughts. I understood that Rem would not limit himself to such a relationship and decided: let it be what will be. Early in the morning we had breakfast. Uncle Fred went to the city, and Ram and I went to the river. In the evening we went dancing again, and then near the old oak tree Ram hugged me close to him. His strong hand again penetrated under my blouse and, lifting my bra, began to squeeze my breasts. Then Ram completely unbuttoned the blouse, freed her breasts from the now unnecessary bra, and dug into her. When I felt Ram’s hand go along my thigh, penetrate under my panties and his fingers touched the tubercle and slid over my wet lips, I was scared and barely breathing, I whispered: “Don’t.” But Ram did not seem to hear my words. His hand continued to stroke my body, and although I squeezed my legs tightly, his fingers touched my crotch several times. “Don’t,” my lips whispered again, but it was only a whisper. Ram's hand touched my chest while the other continued to walk all over my heated body. And I craved and craved this caress. The recently seen pictures in my mother’s bedroom floated before my eyes, and I thought... let it be. Hugging me, Ram pressed me to the tree and began to pull down my panties with his hand. Here he is,| ← |