Names and events, of course, traditionally fictional, coincidences, as usual, intentional: What is the first female name that comes to mind? So, Natasha. We were acquainted with her for a long time, and from the very beginning the acquaintance was tempting and ambiguous. Nearby we didn’t have anything special, but we didn’t forget to lick the flesh on occasion. Did I love her? It is hardly possible to call it that. And it is unlikely that this can be attributed to the simple desire of the flesh. There was something more than that, but nevertheless, the answer to the question “whether I want it” can only be positive. However, not wanting her is quite difficult - she is beautiful with classic female beauty. Light brown, slightly red-haired hair to the shoulders, barely noticeable wavy, blue eyes, neatly contoured lips, high neck, rounded shoulders, full, but not loose arms. At the same time she is tall and slender, and the chest ... and the hips ... and the legs ... But - everything in order. So, the story took place at one of the parties, which we had a lot.

It all started is banal - however, everything interesting always begins is banal. The company still young people (leaving their children at home), gathered to drink wine and: And that’s what happens. We drank, we sang, we went to a dance, to look at the young, the young turned out to be gray, we had to remember the youth ourselves: And then, on returning, it began. It was summer, and the heat was all days, and not just days. And after dancing everyone wanted to wash. And since they drank a lot already and in general everything seems to be their own, then they didn’t feel particularly embarrassed about it - they both got out of the bathroom with a little roll in towels, and sat down to drink.

And here I am sitting, so cheerful and joyful, and Natasha is sitting opposite - her shoulders are white, her breasts just fall out from under the towel, her face is a little pink, my legs are practically resting with my knees, and are covered so that it would be better to have anyway then legs and feet (I did not see her legs or what?), and then under the edge of the towel is about to be guessed, but I don’t see it. And we sit like that with the whole crowd at six digs, and about something otherworldly weed. And my own eyes will walk along her legs, then along her shoulders, or even stick to the edge of the towel - top or bottom. It seems to be embarrassing - he was exposed as a schoolboy, but on the other hand I didn’t want to control myself. I just had a casual look on my face, awkwardly, somehow staring. We chat, we chat, only hypnosis comes up - and then I cling to the corner of my eye for her look. Once cling, the second - and stop.

She looks into my eyes - and I look, and the eyes of both are sly and the expression on the muzzles - there is no place for the protocol. And smiles crawl to the ears, even stitches sewn. And in the head hop and complete emancipation - why, I think, not to hold her knees? Well, put the palm. ABOUT! - says Natasha - and kiss? And my knee-high sea is easy, I say, all the more I have long wanted. Well, I kiss - not arrogant (her husband is sitting next to her and she and her wife are whispering conspiratorially, a snake). “Not,” says Natasha, “this will not work.” Not even slapped. Let's. Attention - the second attempt! Well, everyone is watching, naturally, but I don't care - like sports, demonstration performances, that means you can. I take her hands and kiss her properly - with tongue and with pleasure. And with my hands I naturally stroke the accessible places. And somehow I suddenly realize that a fig is not a sport or a theater, but I kiss a young, hot woman, almost naked, and I want her completely serious. And she does not just like that, she really drags and is excited no less, and indeed the excitement in the room is in the air. The third couple have already got under their clothes (or rather, what replaces it), but they don’t care, they are husband and wife, but what about us? It would be desirable, a pancake, and it is pricked - our halves are not somewhere, but here they are. Kissing too, damn it, and in the twilight, sort it out, for the sake of Hochma, we should be in spite of or seriously.But here Natasha did not lose her head - in general, at times, it is quite brutal, and the more embarrassed - the more brutal. “- Igor, are you like there, seriously or for a long time?” She seemed to inquire from her husband, but tugging at the edge of the towel, while still covering my wife’s figure — or are you well without us? The husband replied, “We are good at everything,” but she was not going to stop there. - Unastetic, wrapped in towels, hid in a corner, no erotica! Get out, and what we are on the chairs of some curves, the sofa is, move over. "Move over" referred to the owners of the apartment already located there. The guy was clearly not averse to having fun, and the girl was embarrassed by outsiders - even though they were friends, but somehow we did not have to fuck with each other. - And what for? Investigated at least briskly tongue husband. “Show me everything and teach me - as if waiting for these words, Natasha unfolded the edge of the towel, revealing her chest.” Wow, I immediately wanted to grab at her - but much more than the reaction of her husband I was interested in the reaction of my wife. However, she willingly supported the game - "Our answer to Curzon" - she proclaimed and put both of them under twilight lighting. Natasha's chest is, of course, larger, but my Lenka is more interesting in shape - a smooth pear-shaped profile with defiantly protruding nipples. From the look of them, I realized that she, too, was just not bouncing from excitement, and finally allowed herself to relax - to move the palm stuck on Natashkin's splendor on the terry-towel waist. Igor did not think of lagging behind my example and also grabbed Lenka closer. Oshalev ceased to rest against such arrogance of Svetka, and Sanya also moved “closer to the body”, and since he had nothing to think about and his wife knew, they quickly caught up with us and overtook them, “they heard noise, sighs and murmur kissing ", As Lermontov wrote about a similar event. In the meantime, I managed to free the second Natashkin's chest, kiss them once, soaking up the unusual sensations, climb along the hips to the no-longer toweling waist, although with the latest propriety - without tearing off the notorious integuments completely. However, once having pulled off the stopper, Svetka halfway did not stop and turning around on her moan, I saw her already racing, sitting down on Sanka’s sofa laid across the sofa. Such an inspiring example did not leave us indifferent, I got to my feet and lifted Natasha, shaking off her unwound towel. Her skin seemed cool to me, her arms were hot, and the elastic flexural bend of the place felt by the palms of the place where the back is no longer the back, but the butt is still not the butt, and the mind is completely clouded. As we were on the couch - I do not remember. I just don’t remember everything. Yes, what the difference? Natasha lay in front of me, white in the gray light of the lanterns from the window, with high billowing breasts, luxurious thighs, and black triangle of hair in the appropriate place. I froze, not knowing which way to approach this cake. But she was not going to wait, took me by the arms and pulled me over, bending back. I almost fell on her, lay down, pushing her legs apart, not noticing anything next to me — neither jumping Svetka, nor suspiciously (although what suspicions, everything is clear with them) Igor who had quieted down with Lena, dismissed him with a short movement from his towel now only because he had something to cling to - a standing member behind the post. Natasha was already wet and I entered as soon as I got there. She started, it seems, only now, finally realizing what was happening, that I was not Igor and everything had already begun, but neither she nor I could stop - we intertwined and began to move. One of her hands remained in mine, and I also grabbed my other hand, as if stretching it under me, but with my free right I stroked her chest, then ran along the squirming side to my thigh and knee. She started moaning, then moaning out loud, then suddenly stretched out even more and wrapped her legs around me. It seems that less than a minute, as it shook from the first orgasm.I paused a little bit - the wine has a different effect on men and women - and even began to realize again the reality. Next to me, through the scattered hair, Sveta's shoulder stuck out, and I could not resist the desire to kiss and stroke him, but my impulse didn’t support Light, it seems her shyness has returned. On the other hand, silently, closing my eyes, lay my Lenka. Igor took her from behind, putting her breast on the sofa. From the fact that my wife fucked my wife like that, I felt a new rush of excitement and immediately finished, pressing Natasha to me and nuzzling her spicy-smelling fresh sweat in my armpit. We kissed a few more times, tasty and happy, but already without fire - because there was no love between us, and the passion extinguished as suddenly and quickly as it lights up.

This night had no consequences - we still meet with the company, sometimes we get drunk, but nothing like that happens anymore. Sometimes I think that night I had a dream - and if it were not for Natasha’s sly face and strange views exchanged sometimes Lena and Igor - I would be quite sure of that.

Makc K-113, 1999—2002