hands do not immediately open the lock. On the threshold, I try to kiss you again, but you, carefully dodging, whisper "wait." I close the door, breathing hard. Yes, if I’d run through these floors, or even carry you in my arms, I’d blow away with less steam ... But no, if I’ve got arms, that would be one plus the second. You take off your coat, rise a little, hanging it. At this point I can not resist, I embrace you from behind, palms below covering my chest. You almost angrily (and again, in a whisper again) say “well, wait a minute,” but your body thinks differently, arching under my palms. I kiss you on the neck, again and again, you throw your hands back, trying to pull me around my waist, but stumble upon a bag still hanging on my shoulder. Inevitably, I interrupt, I take off my jacket, I pull out my shoes, cooling off a little. Yes, waiting in a few months is an insidious thing, it’s impossible to lash out like this, spoil everything nafig ... The idea is pretty sobering up, I’m almost calm, tune in to be limited to hugs and kisses today ... I drive, we will not be limited, still as we will not be limited!

We sit at the table, gnawing Aleksinsky gingerbread. I wondered for a long time whether or not to take some leaven patriotism, but it is delicious, and it seems to be a sign of attention ... And the reason is to sit at the table so as not to frighten each other out of unnecessary haste. In the elevator and on the horn, we had a little bit crazy, felt each other, reactions, temperament ... You really are sweet - but not like sugar syrup, but another sweet, a little spicy, but just a little. You do not seem to kiss, but allow yourself to kiss, but with all this it turns out that it is still unclear who is leading. This is unusual, new and very interesting. After the storm of the first minutes, we sit suspiciously quiet, only slightly touching the hips and knees. But we still breathe unevenly, and the gingerbread does not save. I stare at you and see how you are exactly the same, you squint, you squint, you squint, and suddenly you smile, press your shoulder and rub your cheek. This time I clearly hear your "Mur-rr." I turn, take my hand to your ple-cho, embrace and kiss, no longer like in the elevator, but with short gentle kisses. You cling closer, I feel your chest, there is no coat on her anymore, just a thin sweater - a “water-climbing” covering the figure and emphasizing it. My hand slides off my shoulder as if by itself, I stroke your chest and neck, and you throw back your head. Kisses become strong, breath from both escapes with noise, tenderness gives way to passion, you tear my hair, I move from my lips to cheek, ear, neck, shoulder and collarbone, don't care that they are covered with a fleece fabric. My hands slide lower, after your shoulders and chest, your waist seems very thin and moves so delightfully under your palms when you suddenly stretch your arms upward so that after a second they are wrapped around my neck. We press again, as tightly as possible, until it is impossible to breathe. From your neck it smells like perfume, subtle, a little noticeable - I didn’t even feel it before, until I buried my nose. Dodgy, nadu-shilas precisely so - so as not to "captivate at a distance," but so close. The fact that it was done only for one person - the one who snuggles up kissing like that, turns the head even more strongly, although it seems to me that much stronger ... I whisper something, I know that nonsense and you whisper the same nonsense, the words are not important, the words will come later, someday, and now we are well and without them - the highest point, the unity is not physical and not even spiritual, but some kind of supra-worldly, inhuman. And we are long and long this moment, to other moments, also beautiful, but different, there will be time later. They will not pass by, and this moment is too short, too surreal to neglect them even for the sake of what will be later - soon will be, you already smell of desire, not with your nose, with your nose not to sense it, this is some kind of mysticism,whether mysterious ferromones, or bioenergetics that has been completely bitter in the shamanism of TV magicians ... Now it does not seem to me to be a ridiculous fiction, “fooling for the people”, I just feel it, and I don’t care what it looks like just another investigator of yogis or vice versa Kashpirovsky ...

Somehow this long moment of something incomprehensible, strange merger imperceptibly ended. There are no regrets about him, he was and remained with us, and now he will remain for a long time. I pull you up, we rise and, without saying a word, move into the room. You go ahead, and along the road (the road is five meters, but still) I stroke you on the shoulders, run your hands and arms along your hair ... In the room you take the initiative, push me towards the sofa the corner. I was dragging you along with you, but you dodge, take your hands and go to the music center in the opposite corner.

I do not like something boring, now it seems to me that something quicker is better suited to meet our passion ...

I look at you, and you know that I look, and you know how I look, and you walk somehow especially, not some kind of “model step”, there is no ordinary step, but the consciousness that I openly admire you imposes some kind of imprint. And the turtleneck, and the skirt on you are black, and under a black, short skirt without whiteness in white stockings just blind, it is impossible to look at them, but it is also impossible not to look. The first time I see you like this, and I try to absorb, remember, capture these ten short steps ...

As I love these moments, it drives me crazy! I want you to remember me, remember me forever, I want to drive you crazy, as I lost it.

You turn on something, switch the timbre for a few seconds, looking for the most delicious combination. I do not stand up, jump up and somehow instantly (well, I didn’t jump five meters, but I didn’t remember how I was walking) I’m close by, grabbing my waist, holding me close. The right hand goes up, between the breasts to the neck, and under the left, the thigh noticeably trembles under a very thin, almost non-existent layer of stocking. You lay your head back on my shoulder, I kiss my ear, cheek, finally I get to my lips, and then you turn right in my arms, hold your belly, chest, hips. Without interrupting kisses, we kind of dance, and our hands feel as if they themselves are stroking everything they can reach. I suffocate, barely having time to inhale, for a moment tearing off my lips, my heart is preparing to jump out again, and through the strange fog in my eyes I see that the same thing is happening to you. Having lost patience, you do my T-shirt because of the jeans belt, I do not lag behind, and the first rags that have become unnecessary fly to the floor.

How do you want to feel you all. How the clothes interfere! It seems that there is no more strength to take it off and feel it, I just want to tear it off from you.

At the moment when your stomach touches mine, I almost growl in my voice, kiss you on the neck, chest, dimple between the clavicles, with shaking hands, feeling for the buckle on the back. At the end of the clasp, it gives up, my lips move lower, into the hollow between your hemispheres, I take them in my hands, elastic and hot, a whole naughty protruding nipples. You do-doh-moan escapes, your hands press my head, I kiss with my lips, I touch my tongue, and my hands are already under the skirt, I hold you by the hips, with fingers covering my buttocks.

Oh, your hands, I have been waiting for this for so long, it seems that for many years this wait lasted, the desire to become unbearable, only one thought pulses into consciousness: I WANT YOU, I WANT! TAKE, TAKE ME FULLY !!! I make a loud moan.

I'm trying to whisper something, although nothing comes out, except for the choked-up quick-talk, but it seems that this is exactly what is needed. You, too, whisper something, moaning, I lift you up and, staggering, carry me to the couch.

We almost do not fall, I put you on your feet again, and I myself kneel down, kissing along the way my chest, hollow, stomach ... Behind the curtains drawn in the half-light, and in the half-light against the background of the burned body, your breasts shine with beacons. I press my face to them, my nose digs into the hollow between them. My hands can not cope with the clasp of your skirt, and you help, we unfasten it ... Read more →