Planerskoe is a village on the Black Sea, the village is shit, the sea is shit. I myself came from Kostroma, but even there with us it is much better to relax and hang out, and more beautiful there without any mountains, sea, therapeutic mud and just mud.

Entering the Crimea, moving some muddy and viscous as a frit marsh, for some reason called a lake. Shaking for some steppes. The train is a rod before the front, then backwards, as if without having decided on where to have it. Stretching lethargic, he barely moves through dehydrated voids. Only tree freaks, small and gnarled, like victims of an incestuous communication crowd around the road. And only one heather at the most iron paths in blue pleases the shocked and dimmed eye.

Then suddenly the sea appears. Only the sea and the red coast covered with burnt meat of the guests. Here you can not see the slender hips and elastic muscles, huge asses and athletic ass. All merged into a single mass.

It does not stop here for a long time, and drive further to Planerskoe (Koktebel).

A poster on the road about which luminaries stayed here. Folk writers, honored composers, just fuck.

Compared with the steppes and Theodosia it seems to be a paradise, but not for long.

There is no sea.

The sea is there, of course. But there is no smell of the sea. There are smells of fucking pilaf, sturgeon shashlik.

On the wild beaches of nudists smells like shit. These nudist beaches are absolutely unpleasant sight. One pussy for ten huy, and she is busy. It smells (see above) shit. The bushes near everything are screwed up, go over them and walk in either a frozen pile of crap or scare a nihilist squatting to squirm.

From all this, I was in a booze for several days. I did not see anything around, drank and drank. My grandfather, whom we settled, did not have a soul. Even the ass had to wash from a hose on the street, under a general review. In general, it was all pretty sad.

But after a while, two families from Minsk came to see my grandfather. Two mothers each have a child. Boy and girl Mothers themselves were still quite young - about thirty years old. Although one cannot say about them that they have just come off the assembly line: they are not dented, shine and smell good.

One was called Julia, she was rather tall, with long, thin legs that had small blond hairs. She showed her legs every time, because she wore dresses with a slit down to almost the waist. She had a daughter, her name was Olenka.

The second woman was named Oksana, she was not so tall. Tanned face, curly reddish hair and what I could not help but notice wide ass and large breasts. The scumbags of her son was called Ilya.

It was the second and I got. I do not know why, maybe the look she was suffering and sad, like me.

On the first evening, we drank wine for an acquaintance, the children were interfering all the time, carrying some kind of nonsense. They talked about President Lukashenko, about how hard they have there, how much better things we have. At that time I was sitting next to Oksana and my dick was standing. I could not say anything clearly, unsuccessfully joked and, probably, did not leave a pleasant impression.

The next morning I got up early and went to piss, my grandfather had more people and his toilet, sometimes it was difficult to get there. I was walking around the garden whistling a song about a boy who wanted to go to Tambov, and I wanted to fuck Oksana, definitely. I thought about this all night.

I went to the toilet, grabbed the handle and pulled the door. Actually, I thought that there was no one there, but it turned out to be wrong. And the hook was weak and the door swung open.

Oksana sat over her eyeglass, lifting her skirt and pouring it neatly into the hole.

“Oh,” she said, and flushed to the roots of her pussy's hair.

“Oh,” I said, and blushed even more.

She stopped writing, jumped up and slammed the door. So I met her pussy.This meeting was the beginning of our rapprochement, I turned to Oksana with various small requests, helped her on trifles, but there was no question of a romantic meeting in the toilet. I could not stay alone with her for a long time because of her son, who demanded constant attention. Mom is, mom is.

However, thanks to him, I witnessed a funny scene. She washed Ilya under the hose. He shouted, screamed, called his mother his most terrible curses. How old was the guy. Six or seven - and his mother soap in the shower.

How nice it was to look at it. He is naked, skinny with a tiny cock standing under a cold stream. Oksana also busily soap him. Neck, chest, back. Underbelly. Takes a pipisuka, rubs it, washes testicles.

- Mom, ticklish.

- Turn around, Ilyushka.

Spreads ass, washes between the buttocks. From this scene, we together with the dick stuck out both. Oksana was squatting on her back to me, her huge swimsuit strapped by a swimsuit made me want to eat it, break off my panties, and cuddle up to a warm body and spend all my life. She turned around and was not surprised to see me. She called me over and asked me to hose it. You represent: Pour it out of the hose. Yes, it was a dream. She stood in front of me in soap stains disheveled, wet.

I started to water it. First, the back, She turned to me, I began to water the neck, chest. The bra heaved from the flow of water, still a little and he burst opening her chest. I continued to stream across the mainland of her body.

Belly, little tummy. Still, she gave birth to this guy. Be sure to visit the station navel. Water beats a small fountain from there. Here I will linger a little. Next, the interfluve of her feet. Here I have no right to linger, I do not have a green card, yet. The legs, they seem endless, the jet slowly drops to the feet. And to a small, sweet pink heel. This is the final stop. Barrier, cotton wall to the sky, there is no further road.

To calm down, I and my friend went to the mountains. The array is called Kara-Dag, I forgot the translation. With each bald top, there is necessarily some sad and touching legend, from which you can just burst into tears. Not one of them, I do not remember. It was hot, and since we were going to the mountains, it was necessary to climb up. And it was impossible to lag behind this flock of naturalists, because, allegedly, the men, who had all been fined for illegally visiting this wonderful reserve, had followed.

Huntsman, wearing a`lya clothes among the cannibals of Dr. Livingston, told about elks: elk and elk. Which could not meet in this huge nature reserves to get enough fuck, and increase the number of elks to the delight of tender tourists. Oh, what a pity ...

So, higher and higher, on the right view is awesome, on the left just a whoop. Even taking pictures, and never typing these photos is sickening.

Damn finger. Sticks out like a dick at the recruit in the discharge. Previously, climbers climbed on it. There was at least some benefit. Now only vacationers are bored by its appearance and are photographed at its foot. Either from far away, a finger is visible, but they are not dicked out, or close by - their burnt faces are visible, but the finger appears as a painted wall in the studio.

- Young man, take a picture of us. - And what the fuck?

We crawl even higher. Some ruins. Dead city. Scary to stupefy. Snarling and crawling on all sorts of things. Photographed. Showed in Koktebel, printed in Kostroma, failed. Well, shit. And suddenly thunder. Here it is fun. Over the head there is no roof. Below the sea. Around the wacky rocks, tinted in fantastic colors. Hooray. I have fun

But the fun ends. We get to the rooftop, there is a station there. All tired, but satisfied. We point the way down. It turns out that it was possible to safely climb the road, almost on the highway, compared with the paths of the Vietnamese communists along which we walked. It does not matter that its slope reaches 90 degrees. And cheerfully, running, because it was impossible to walk. Down to the valley.

Yes, I almost forgot the Golden Gate - the main attraction ...