I quietly stood in the kitchen and cooked for my favorite guys, with whom I shared a huge five-room apartment for the past nine years, a good, full-fledged lunch. They were all very good friends of mine, but in fact were members of two musical groups. One of them was my brother, and one was a man, the only one of this horde of carnivorous animals, entitled to fuck me. When and how much you want. This is probably love.

Clicked the lock. The bright warm sun flooded the kitchen, and I already wanted to break off and run to meet my darlings, alternately hanging around their necks and kissing in the substituted scarlet lips. But the hum and the noise of numerous pairs of shoes being thrown off at the same time did not accompany the door closing from the apartment. This put me on my guard - usually this happened rarely and was the result of the arrival of a maximum of two residents of this apartment. I turned around and saw in the kitchen aisle Dima. His appearance upset me - he was drunk. Holding on to the shoals, he was all beaming and his lust came to me along with the smell of alcohol he had drunk.

He went into the bowels of our huge kitchen, alternately looking into my eyes, then at my shorts, more like pieces of ribbon, tight buttocks. I scolded myself for so many frank choices, but then my thoughts were interrupted by Dimkin’s hands, tightly gripping me and his fiery speeches, intermingled with lingering moans and half-breathing from the irresistible lust that engulfed him.

- Why are you alone, my darling?

- The guys stayed, I left - said I want to be with you.

- Baby, I'm cooking dinner, see? The guys will come, they will want to eat.

- I ... I'll prepare everything myself ... Do you hear that? ...

This was followed by a presentation of his sexual views on me. In my plans it was nice to otshit him under the objective pretext of making dinner for our big and friendly family, motherly carefully undress him and put him to bed.

But he interrupted my drawing up the plan, grabbing me in my arms. I already knew the further way - a long corridor, then the extreme room to the left, or to the right. In the first case, everything will happen in my room, in the second - in the guys room, among several unmade beds with scattered sheets and rolls and magazines on them, among randomly worn jeans, belts and unwashed t-shirts with labels or screaming skateboard company labels.

- Dima, you're drunk as a beaver! I do not want...

- I'm dying ... I want you ... Please. I love you. I love more than life...

He supported all his arguments with skillful sharpened years of action. In the army, he would be the fastest - during the burning of the match, he would have time not only to undress himself, but also to undress the whole battalion with his commander.

No, usually there is a very provoking prelude, but today the dose of alcohol consumed was directly proportional to the size of his animal desire. Breathing in my face with pairs of his adorable martini and cognac, he quickly threw my legs over his shoulders. “The most beautiful legs are those that lie on my shoulders,” he said.

His penetrations were terrible. Deep and too fast. From time to time he would stick his tongue out of my mouth, in order to groan terribly and say something inarticulate, but judging by the blissful expression of his eyes, something very good.

My groans came out rough and jerky - I tried to tell him that I didn’t like all of this, but because of the completely crazy jolts the consonant sounds were not made.

Sometimes Dimka straightened my legs on his shoulders. I grabbed a three-centimeter tips in his back, feeling the abraded skin. There was no trace of our love joys on his left shoulder blade - it was completely covered with a tattoo, but his right shoulder always carried four long scratches.

He gasped and whispered something to me, his Prince Albert creating unpleasant feelings in an unprepared vagina - there was practically no lubricant without preludes.

- Dima. Dima, it hurts me.

He did not hear. From just an animal turned into some kind of fucking sex machine.

I felt hurt. I lay there and waited until it was all over, and I could go to the kitchen and continue cooking soup for my boys. And then theatrically build the offended princess, when we sit at the table and this blockhead will look in love with me with his hazy and contented look. And after that, the next sex will be equipped with just a startling prelude.

And now I lie with my legs upside down and I feel Dimkin steel member inside himself, his Prince Albert, touching the walls and heavy wheezing breath in front of his face.

The pace has remained unchanged. Where so much strength? And without that scattered sheets turned into a crumpled mountain. I noticed with satisfaction that I was starting to get wet and have fun. I closed my eyes and gave myself to the sensations.

The truth about my mouth Dima has already forgotten - he buried his face in bed between my neck and shoulder, and only his long sweaty hair fell into my mouth.

I immediately remembered the anecdote, in which the cow, with mournful eyes, looks at the zootechnician-inseminator, after his mission of leaving the barn, and asks: "But what about kissing?" I remember how I laughed to tears over this anecdote, I told the children, and for quite a long time this phrase became in our large family native and brings to stomach cramps.

Dima continued sniffing and pushed his penis into me as if his life depended on the depth of penetration. He now raised his face above me, and his hair covered my face with a thick screen. Finally, he remembered the unreasonably forgotten mouth, which led me a little. He began to moan simply intolerable, and I wondered if the windows in the room were closed.

Now I got almost full enjoyment. His completely animal screams drove me crazy - a woman loves with her ears. The rhythm became simply transcendental, and, knowing all his habits for several years, I realized that he would end soon. And then she remembered that she had not swallowed anything, and this dumbassin did not put on the rubber friend of all those in love. I just didn’t have time to advise me to finish at least on my stomach, but I felt the spermatogenic heat spreading inside me.

Dima instantly limp and leaned on top. I was delighted when I assumed that he had finally fallen asleep, but when I began to get out from under him, he clutched my temples with his hands and began to kiss eagerly, managing to say something that was divided.

- Let me go and go to bed! - I got angry and pushed him away.

His drunken lustful brain inflamed it and he began to lick me, leaving his sticky, but such native saliva on my cheeks, neck, hands. And I realized that this is not all.

Mixing everything with his story about how he loves me, in parallel, he urged me to allow him the beauty of anal satisfaction. As a person with unconventional views on life and on sex in particular, I preferred this kind of sex to anyone else, but in this situation I found it unacceptable and tried to get out from under Dimka and finally go prepare dinner for the guys.

But in his hands, nevertheless, there was a jar of grease, which always stood on the most convenient place, from where it could be reached with a simple movement of the hand. Even for decency, she was never hidden in a bedside table - so that at any moment she could come to the aid of my rectum. It overshadowed me. Substitute my ass under a hefty member of a drunken sweaty, albeit beloved, man, now I was not a priority.

I sternly said “No,” and once again tried to get out of the 80% tattooed body.

A stream of persuasion fell on me like acorns on a hog, and right there I was in the knee-elbow position.Dima's ability to do everything quickly and efficiently, I was always amazed.

I hung meekly ...