I decided, once again, to leave in my diary one of the most wonderful memories of my youth - I will re-read it when I hit 40, I laugh, cry ...

Three days later summer again. Again, decide where, how, and indeed - what for, go to rest. One of the most wonderful romantic stories happened to me last summer, 99 ”. The peculiarities of such incidents are that they always begin where you do not expect them at all.

I can not call myself beautiful, but there is something in me (however, like in any woman) that attracts men, especially with a visible difference in age.

Then, at 21, I wildly wanted to get away from everyone, get away, hide, including from sexual harassment, from annoying calls, invitations, I wanted to be completely on my own, forget about everything and relax. I decided to go to Anapa for two weeks - “international”! baby! the resort, whose name itself suggested that there should not be hachi crowds wandering around, and indeed, any representatives of the opposite sex.

For the first time in my life, my luggage looked human: just one bag. Well, what, men will not, most have to drag. A minimum program was planned - five weightless short dresses, two pairs of sandals, a pair of swimsuits and a tanning cream (besides any rubbish).

Although, at first, the men continued to complicate my plans, there was even an impression that everyone agreed: one of the friends was also going to go to rest in Anapa, refuse to travel together was not an easy task, and, referring to claustrophobia in one compartment, (stupid , but efficiently) I just took his Anapa address, which, in fact, did not commit anything. Then, as soon as I entered my train, unfortunately, I found a fellow student in my compartment, but, thank God, with my family. However, refusing to go “relaxing” with him turned out to be quite simple. (it was not easy then to prove to fellow students that we had nothing with him)

Upon arrival, as expected, the overwhelming majority of the inhabitants of Anapa turned out to be lonely, frantic mothers, with insane eyes switching views from rarely emerging individuals of the male sex to their children and back. In general - silence, tranquility, universal awe, in a word - paradise.

The boarding house on the seashore, too, turned out to be just a paradise - breakfast, beach, lunch, beach, dinner, beach, disco-type, hang up. For some demonic coincidence, it turned out that it was in this boarding house that only St. Petersburg people rest, however, this didn’t bother me much then. The first day was just awesome. And what a bliss it was - forgetting everything, lying on the warm sand from morning till evening, covering the nipples immediately found shells: and all do not care for you:

The cosmic mega-laziness spread in the air. Everything was lazy: it was lazy to rub itself with cream, lazily flop in the sea; lazily learning to swim, so I just bought myself a children's circle; lazily but vigilantly watch every ice cream seller lazily passing along the beach. And in the breaks, like a boiled fly with an idiotic, blind smile on your face, trudge up and back.

On the second day, at dinner, having sufficiently dissolved in the sun, with half-closed eyes sitting in Turkish at the table (causing indignant looks of mothers) and peacefully absorbing my compote: I was stuck in the back. He was surrounded by a family — a young, slim wife and a seven-year-old child, a little girl, who looked remarkably like her mother. A tall, moderately muscular man of 35, with shoulder-length hair, with a typical pirate face, with something surprisingly similar to Agutin. Considering that I have never, in my whole life, uttered a single bad word, my first thought was: What: ...: ..did he appear here? !!! He passed by, not noticing anyone, with a languid, pofigistichesky facial expression.

I realized that our invulnerable, well-fortified rear was suddenly attacked by the enemy, and it was time to prepare for battle. I did not recognize myself: I swore to myself still in the green youth, since my dad had been taken away from the family by a bitch that I would never look at a married man:

All relaxed awe went where ...

After waiting for dinner to end, everyone will disperse, and only his late family will remain, I took a plum, and clasped it with my lips as if I were doing nothing more or less - blowjob, stopped His gaze on myself, and in turn, a few seconds looking at him with a mischievous gaze, stomped past, waving his sandals, as if nothing had happened: O God: to catch the curious, lustful gaze of a youngster on yourself - never compares with THAT's look: admiring, full of surprise and diligently disguised from family, the strongest desire of the experienced mature men:

While I was rushing to my room, I was sneaking in incomprehensible hysterical laughter. I do not know what I was counting on then: that he, as a decent husband who loves his wife, would not pay any attention to me, or vice versa. The next morning, before breakfast, I asked the neighbors at the table to change places with me, I sat down so that I could see him well. What was my surprise when I discovered that he, having just transplanted everyone at his table (wife, child, neighbors), was already sitting looking at me. I could not help but smile at him across the room, for which I received an embarrassed, titanic effort that hid from everyone and only a smile addressed to me, and a warning nod toward my wife, appealing to understanding and caution. I immediately made a summary: Goat. But which one: ahhh:

It was beyond my strength; I don’t remember that I had ever felt a similar desire at first sight for anyone. Never before have I behaved so brazenly, “dissolutely” as with Him, I reveled in my condition. I wondered a thousand times about the morality of my behavior, about the consequences, about his wife, put myself in her place: but I could not help myself. In the end, a man who looked so greedily at the first girl who came across his eyes in the presence of his wife and child could well bear the proud name “Goat”, if not me, the other one would certainly have seduced him.

My situation was aggravated by the fact that his wife, just like a human being, I really liked. Not looking at the fact that He never told me anything about her, I had my own impression of her. I sympathized with her, in my solidarity with all women who are madly in love with the type of handsome men - “goats”. I really wanted her to understand: “Well, after all, these guys are just for fun, well, fuck him, have fun, but why spoil yourself for the rest of your life and marry, you’ll just be doomed to rush with him like a child: "She was one of those women in whom it was very easy for men of this type to develop masochism to the immense size, which for the sake of a beloved, even a complete goat, were ready to put everything: Their beauty, youth, charm, all their free time, not a moment about the consequences. She was tall, looking like an elegant Spaniard brunette, so tanned that she was easily confused with a black woman. She always tied her hair back in a ponytail and never took off her black glasses, hiding non passing bags under her eyes. And even though the chest in her 32 was not the first freshness, the figure itself was Be - here you are! Her whole being radiated some kind of ineradicable kindness and humility, and she apparently liked her existence. She seemed to satisfy herself with the phrase: “Yes, even if I’m not so beautiful as I was in my youth, but I have such a peasant, and I will do everything to keep him near me.”

I decided that I have every right to “mock” him as I please.For all the breakfasts, lunches, dinners, I continued to bring him sweet innocent smiles, mischievous glances, etc. On the beach, I almost fainted when I saw him in swimming trunks, and each time glaring at his hands or buttocks, or ...