spilled. In this look was everything. And favor, and interest, and even lust! Yes, lust! It could not be confused with something else. I didn't manage to collect my thoughts and say a worthy congratulation. I mumbled something, I wanted standard goods, then I hesitated, because I couldn’t come to my senses. And then Arslan conquered me completely. He wittily picked up my ragged wish and twisted it out, in such a way as if we had originally conceived a joint toast.

As a result, we were redeemed in a stormy applause, and praised for the cunning move. And after that Arslan, again, became indifferent to me, forcing me to doubt that which at first seemed certain to me. He again did not notice me. Again, I ignored my hidden views that threatened to give out my enthusiasm with the "guts". I will not say that I suffered from this. In the end, I still did not count on anything. Even with the presence of counter sympathy between me and this adult man nothing could happen. I couldn’t even admit such thoughts. It would be too immoral, and absolutely not in the spirit of my upbringing. And yet, in spite of everything, vanity, to a certain extent, was hurt. The mood was spoiled and I, apologizing to the birthday boy, left the celebration, citing poor health.

Mansour was very upset, but did not dissuade. Silently escorted me to a taxi, and asked to report as soon as it became better. He even expressed the hope that I will come back. The guy definitely planned the next evening a little differently.

Upon returning to the hostel, I was greeted by three pairs of puzzled eyes roommates. The clock showed half past eight, and the girls could not really understand why I had come home so early, and even with an acid mine. They hadn't expected to see me before morning. And the absence of a statement that Mansur and I, from now on, did not recognize the official couple at all. They had to lie and that I was not well. Not to tell was about the “laid eyes” on his (Mansur) father.

That evening I wasn’t given me peace for a long time, asking out more and more new details of visiting the family of the future groom. It's funny, but none of the girlfriends, even the thought did not admit that in our relationship with him a different outcome is possible. I did not prove them otherwise. Let them think whatever. I was only concerned with the only question: when will they finally go to sleep and leave me alone, with their thoughts ... and fingers.

Yes, fingers! At that time, I still didn’t know men's caresses. Our town is small. Even if you do not take into account the obstacle in the face of mom, then to part with virginity and keep it secret, it was still not with whom. But I perfectly studied my body with my hands. I don’t know exactly at what age I discovered the joy of masturbation. But it happened very early. Long before the first menstruation.

Since then, almost every night before bed, I pulled off my panties, hid under a pillow and indulged in a voluptuous masturbation session. Due to the need to maintain an elevated level of conspiracy, I learned to caress myself and stop completely silent, regardless of the degree of brightness of the orgasm.

"Break away" in full, it turned out only when I was alone at home. Then in the course was memorized by heart video tape with pornography "Tarzan", once acquired by a girlfriend. And she, in turn, pulled her to rewrite from the father's collection. True, she then flew weakly for it. As it turned out, my father memorized (or recorded, I don’t remember the details) where I stopped playing.And we had not guessed it before, and left everything as it was. In general, my friend flew in, but I still have a copy of the record. Left to drive me crazy, showing over and over again the tireless Rocco Siffredi.

They say that girls prefer soft-porn. That is a demonstration of sex, with a bias on the lyrics, tenderness and romance. Probably, it is, I can not say the opposite. But regarding my preferences in porn I will say that this is definitely not about me. From an early age I was interested in sex, focused on animal passion and lack of equality during sexual intercourse. I liked to present myself in the full power of a man. Imagine how he will take possession of me as he pleases. Represent the rudeness and vulgarity of the situation in which, at the same time, I will find myself. That's exactly how Rocco did on the screen with a number of his partners.

And just so, in my fantasy, Arslan also behaved. That night I rubbed my clit for an hour and a half, and dreamed of the member of the man I liked. I imagined myself lying on the very table where we had dinner, hugging Arslan with her legs. And he fucked me, not kissing. Fucked long and hard, on the verge of violence. I did not know the feelings of a woman who had this way, but very vividly imagined her feelings and finished. Finished, finished and finished. Five or six times, probably finished. And then, completely exhausted, she fell into the abyss of sleep, from which she returned in the morning when the alarm went off, and it was time to get together "for couples."

I didn’t want to go to the university. The idea of ​​having to see Mansur was unbearable. All because of what was done last night (albeit in fantasy) with his father was terribly embarrassing. I always have that. Much of what does not seem to me a blatant outrage at night, in the morning and throughout the whole next day, makes me blush for no reason at the mere recollection of this. On the other hand, if you do not appear in class, Mansour decides that I am still unwell and will come here to visit me. And it will be even worse than a few minutes of conversation in the corridor of the academic building.

So, I had to get up and shake my studies. Fortunately, the weather was warm, and did not have to wear something warmer than a raincoat and favorite autumn boots. About a semi-broad with a wide collar under the throat, and comfortable jeans are not even worth mentioning. That fall I liked this style of dressing the most. The first tape stretched unbearably long. During it, I firmly decided that today I would take a ticket home and run away for a few days from Tashkent. I had to change the situation.

Immediately after the first "couple" I resolutely moved towards the dean's office, intending to solicit from the deputy. Dean's permission to leave for a good reason. As she walked and invented it (good reason), my mobile phone rang. Rummaging in her purse, she took out her beloved “Nokia” and looked at the black-and-white screen. The room was undefined. I wonder who it could be, I thought. No one has ever called me from an unspecified number. I moved aside and picked up the phone:

- Hello ?!

- Hello !! Irina? You? (familiar voice)

- Yes ... Irina ... And who is it? (puzzled)

- This is Arslan Batyrovich, Pope Mansur. Are you comfortable talking now?

- Yes ... convenient ... (still puzzled)

- How is your health?

- Ok ... thanks ... (now surprised)

- It is good that it is good. Yesterday you left so unexpectedly and not at the right time. Mansour said you felt bad. And I just wanted to talk to you about something. Can we meet today?

- Mo-can ... (stumbled). But why?

- I'll tell you later why. The conversation is not telephone. Are you very busy right now?

- In principle - no. I have English now, I can skip it if necessary.

- It is necessary, it is very necessary. I'll be waiting for you near the second building in ten minutes.

- Ok, I'll be right there.

While going to the second building, I didn’t lose consciousness due to the tension and excitement.Why did he call me to the meeting? What do you want to talk about? We are not even really familiar with him! What common topics can we talk with? And then it dawned on me. Well, of course!... Read more →