Joseph Silver woke up because his legs were numb. He woke up, consciousness turned on, but he was in no hurry to get up. “First, why is it so dark? Night? ... No, not really, to night. Something else. But what? ... And why are extraneous sounds muffled? ”- he argued for a long time, idly and habitually using words. The characteristic sense of disgust, burdening the soul and body, reminded him that yesterday he was drunk, like a pig - and that was all he could remember about yesterday. It turned out that he was lying completely naked, with his head covered with a blanket (this is where the darkness and muffled sounds come from), the window is wide open, the morning breeze drives the ash from the cigarette butts that fell from the overflowing ashtray on the window sill (on a bare wall) hotel room), on a narrow bed by the opposite wall, with their backs pressed, two people, wrapped in one blanket, sleep: the one that is closer to the edge of the wall, sticking a part of her face out from under the blanket, slept with her mouth open, the second could be guessed only by tangled strands of hair, scatter Anna up the pillow. Yesterday he “shot a doublet” (as he called this phenomenon). I could not resist, I called. A standard sadomasochistic set of sexshows was scattered across the carpet: whip about several tails (did he portray a martyr yesterday? I wonder how he did it?), A “victim” leather mask with a zipper on his mouth (similar in this case to the severed head of a man who died terrible death); women's boots, thrown at different angles and bottles, a lot of empty bottles, located on the floor in all variations. “If, once I wake up, I see something similar and find out that I’m in hell, I won’t be surprised,” thought Silver. He silently covered his legs with a blanket, continuing to lie with his eyes open.

Right outside the window hung a bright sun. It hit Silver in the eye, he tried to dodge, but to no avail. “I love the sun,” he thought, “but not in this, forgive the sight.” He covered his head with a blanket and was again forgotten by a delusional half-hearted.

He was awakened by cautious steps and pent up girlish laughter. A half-naked blonde strode around the room, smoking a cigarette, continually approaching the locked window, dumping the ashes on a mountain of cigarette butts that were overflowing with an ashtray. She was joined by the second, entering the room with a wide towel in her hands, where she dipped her face, shuddering slightly and tapping her teeth. It was a brunette with shorter body shapes, with a mongoloid eye slit. The blonde was about a dozen centimeters taller than her partner, her thighs were thin and elongated, some stoop was noted; she was wearing a narrow band of panties with a fabric triangle in the groin, to put it simply, “napir”, her breasts were small in size, with hard-looking, narrow brown nipples. Metiska had her back. The musculature of her back was developed to be beautifully and harmoniously, almost like a man, was even and smooth; only somewhere near the neck two or three fresh pimples were reddening, which, however, did not spoil the impressions. Her body color was not dark, even pale. From the linen on her, there were also only cowards, white, openwork, which overhanged her left side over the buttocks, opening one of the hemispheres, shuddering as it moved with jelly. The girls stood and smoked, looking out the window, talking about something slurredly, obviously and often using the mat. Silver watched all this through a small embrasure made by him in a blanket.

Finally, they took turns to put out cigarette butts. The blonde slowly lifted the boots and leather mask from the floor and, sitting down on the empty bed, began to pull it on herself. The brunette walked over to Joseph, covered with her head. Very close to her loomed with a thick fatty fold belly, several shiny black hairs at the navel, leaving the path in the direction of the groin. “Hey. Get up. Get up. Hear, ”she did not quite confidently touch Joseph’s head, thinking, probably, that it was a shoulder.Not so long ago there was a completely mundane situation where two half-naked men were talking peacefully - and now again some kind of performance. “Well, we will play by the accepted rules,” thought Joseph, pretending that he had just come to his senses and did not understand anything. He pulled the blanket away, sat up in the bed, feigning regenerating eyesight, rubbing his foot against the leg, chilly.

He asked the blonde to get rid of the boots, to keep the lash away, as it was becoming vulgar, tasteless. He flatly refused the proposed condom, violating these instructions.

The organ of the writer, thick but brief, surrounded by a network of venous intricacies, with a massive head hidden under the foreskin (so recently Joseph himself slept) was brought to working condition with dry, firm lips, erecting strictly horizontally somewhere to the north-west. He entered the blonde with the bottom, wetting her crotch viscous, fragrant spittle. He was hitting his body against her body, and short waves ran through the sides and buttocks. Standing on her bed on all fours, she indifferently laid her head on the elbows of her arms, intertwined; she seemed to be thinking. Joseph's penis flickered and slid into some kind of warm irrelevance; I had to press hard and go deep to feel a kind of ring-shaped obstacle - apparently the mouth of the uterus - which, however, was too malleable (too much!). From having nothing to do, no matter how crazy it sounds, he began to examine the bulges of the girl’s ridge, believing that it would be desirable to correct some vertebrae (from time to time he himself used the services of a skilled chiropractor). A Mongoloid girl did her job, fussing somewhere behind her, tickling the ends of Joseph's heels with the ends of her hair, covering his shoulder blades and neck with kisses leaving behind herself moisture and cold.

By the way, the girls had names: the blonde was called Barbie, the metisco was Margo. “That, after all, is also hidden behind pseudonyms,” Joseph reflected. - An interesting situation: all three under other names! ... They also have pseudonyms, as they, too, have their own art, they also work for the public and their names should be sonorous. In this field of art there are also mediocrity, their geniuses - whose fate is pitiful, since their genius is subject to modest oblivion and is not imposed on the general public. If so, let's talk about art and geniuses of milkmaids! They, however, do not have pseudonyms, but nonetheless. A weighty argument. Oh, please, that's enough! ... Enough! Pretty crazy! ”He pleaded with himself, struggling to ejaculate, straining his hips, sweating, eyes closed, modeling imaginary situations where he has acts with his mom, an alleged 12-year-old daughter, inadvertently asleep in assembly hall ...

Then there was a slanting Margo. He left her in his underpants, sticking them out so that one could see a unfolded clean anus, wrinkled to the wrinkles, trimmed with a fine black bristle, a crotch with soft goosebump - here is the point of the birthmark - and finally a pale pink crevice beyond which there was already a visual anatomy, where everything was in expanded form, hung like an seafood, an exceptionally large clitoris.

He interfered with her right like that - through his pants, which were protruded onto one side, held by a thumb hook. Margot, unlike the phlegmatic Barbie, moaned, shook her head and, standing on all fours, scratched the sheets, gathering them into folds. Silver wanted to finish at the same time with this exotic creature; even something like this several times miraculously and sweetly knocked at the very root of its trunk, but, laughing, ran away. At the same time with a member, he plunged into the hot, sliding hole of Margo two fingers at once - the index and the shameless. He felt the movements of his penis - hilly and tense, he touched his secret work. He got the idea to masturbate directly into the vagina. It was new. Anticipating the wild pleasure, the long-awaited ejaculation, he began to immerse one by one - the nameless ...