forces tried not to get ahead and do not interfere. With one hand, he climbed into his pussy, drenched in a sticky gravy, with the other he grabbed frantically galloping hips, trying to keep them running. Dasha squeezed his shoulders to crunch and grinned in a desperate grimace that stretched her smooth face into a beast-faced muzzle; a piercing squeak escaped from her, and Gennady Petrovich hastily slapped her mouth with a kiss, absorbing this squeak into himself like a sponge, and he himself screamed at Dasha, pouring into her a new geyser of bliss ...

Then they sat for a long time and were silent.

It was scary to talk. They talked with their bodies: they huddled together and crushed their backs, arms and sides. Then Dasha said:

- I’m all sticky there ... I’d wipe off ...

She got off Gennady Petrovich, smacking her cunt. She staggered and she grabbed the edge of the table. Gennady Petrovich held her, then began to look for a handkerchief:

- Here ...

He wanted to thump her legs and pray for forgiveness. Dasha wiped her legs and cunt, frowning shyly, then spent a long time looking for a handkerchief, got confused in jeans and fell on Gennady Petrovich.

He grabbed her, and they stood for a long time, hugging.

- Mommies! The door is not closed! - suddenly Dasha. Gennady Petrovich tiger jumped to the door and turned the lock.
“Though late, but still,” he smiled ingratiatingly. - Do you think no one saw?
- I do not know. I did not see. I ... I didn't see anything. - Dasha suddenly burst into tears.
- Dash, what are you doing?
- And you ... you do not understand?
“No, I don't understand,” he answered, even though he understood everything.
“And what do you think is normal?”
“Of course,” answered Gennady Petrovich cheerfully, feeling how everything suddenly went to hell. - I feel good, and you felt good ... Dash! He suddenly shouted. The cry meant "do not listen to what I say."

But Dasha did not understand him:
“So you thought I was like that?”
- What is "such"?
- SUCH?
- I ... I am ... I thought ... I thought you were a nice girl, a pure girl, such a cute child ... I did not want to, Dash. I thought...
- Baby? - Dasha ironically twisted. - Well, of course: a spit to the floor, a bow is missing. Yes? YES? She suddenly shouted at Gennady Petrovich. She never shouted at him.
- Yes, - he was confused. And then she bit her tongue: Dasha suddenly grabbed her sweater, pulled her over, rushed to the door and pulled, almost tearing off the handle.

- I closed ... Dash, well, what are you doing? - half-dressed Gennady Petrovich approached her, but Dasha with a roar turned the lock and flew out of the classroom. - Daaash! - He shouted, rolling out after him, and immediately rolled back: in the corridor was full of people.

Dasha beat off heavy steps, rapidly moving away from him.

All day, and a few days later, Gennady Petrovich called her, but she did not pick up the phone. Sms failed in a vacuum, the letters were not read, there was no VKontakte, and on the fourth day Gennady Petrovich became angry. “Yes, what did I do to her, really?” He said to himself, “because she climbed to lick. Hormones play, and I am guilty, ”he suggested to himself, and almost inspired.

On the day of classes with her, he left home half an hour earlier. More than an hour, he waited for her in an empty classroom - and was completely angry. "I'll write a report on her," he thought, expecting in secret that she would come for a couple.

And almost choked when she really came. Having entered with an absent view, she greeted Gennady Petrovich, as with the janitor, and calmly sat down at the easel.

"Oh, right?" - boiled that. "Well, wait a minute ..." He wanted to yell at Dasha, to run a folder into it, but the students looked merrily at him, and Gennady Petrovich was as powerless as a partisan in captivity.

Suddenly it dawned.

“Friends,” he began hoarsely, “as you know, the institute has no money for models, and on a plaster and an eye it becomes plaster.” I was convinced of this, looking, uh ... your recent work. In some other groups, as you know, students are naked and posing for each other. I was against it, but I have to admit that life has cornered me.Today we pose ... uh ... Daria Garfunsel. She has a classic figure ... Daria, you can undress right here - he showed a dusty screen.

As a reward, he received Dasha's crimson cheeks and fierce eyes. She did not get up for ten minutes until the whole group and the ruthless Gennady Petrovich forced her to knock over a chair and jump out of the classroom. The people cheered up, vigorously discussing Dashina with bashfulness, and Gennady Petrovich scratched his head, thinking what to do, until the door suddenly opened and Dasha entered the class:
“I changed my mind,” she said. - I agree. - And went to the screen.

The group stopped, and in the chest of Gennady Petrovich fidgeted cold top. Soon naked Dasha, shaking her breasts, came out from behind the screen and climbed onto the platform. She was red, contemptuous, and beautiful as a goddess. Silence reigned in the classroom, and Gennady Petrovich began to talk in a hollow voice about the problems of transferring waist bending. (Especially for eroticspace.info — sexitails.org) Dasha posed majestically and defiantly, not looking at him. Her cheeks and collarbone were covered with red spots. An experienced eye of Gennady Petrovich noticed swollen nipples and a wet luster on the pink petal of her pussy. "Aha," he thought, "let the whole run out of shame. Right here. Right now..."

But he lost. Before Dasha was mad with excitement, his own stake suddenly became so swollen that Gennady Petrovich could not get up from the table. Not having reached the end of the pair, he drove everyone five minutes earlier, crossed his long glance with the outgoing Dasha, and took up his pants ...

On the next couple - in three days - Dasha was not. When everyone was seated, Gennady Petrovich looked around the group and saw an unfamiliar girl.

"Sachas", which were sometimes put on pairs, were an ordinary phenomenon, and often the teacher got acquainted with them right on the standings. Gennady Petrovich opened his mouth to make contact with the young talent - and suddenly he froze like an idol.

The talent was dressed in a shameless scarlet blouse and made up like a mime. In the lip, on the eyebrows and in many other places at the talent, the piercing glittered, the hair was cut short, boyish, painted white-linen and whipped, like a cockscomb.

It was Dasha. Pierced, painted and without braids. She defiantly looked at Gennady Petrovich, not saying a word, but he was flipping through the magazine with a shaking hand. Finally, taking control of himself, he said:

- Last time Daria Garfunsel posed so qualitatively to us that the skill of the group grew right before our eyes. I think we will ask her to continue. Ask?
- Please, ask! - the group squealed, and Dasha went to the screen, flashing a rhinestone in her nose. Gennady Petrovich looked at her, thinking how beautiful she was even in that form. She immediately became three years older than she was, and a shadow of tender depravity appeared in her, a cute wormhole that beat right into the eggs. When she came out from behind the screen, naked, with a shaved cunt and pierced nipples - Gennady Petrovich spat on everything and began to puss the dick through his pants - right under the table.

When the group dispersed, he said, trying to sound weighty:
- Student Garfunsel please stay.

Dasha did not pay any attention to his words and disappeared behind the door, as if nothing had happened.

Gennady Petrovich jumped up from the table and rushed after him, but a cheerful bespectacled man grew up on his way:
- Mile sorry! Then Dasha asked me to convey that she had urgent business in a modeling agency.

“Dasha? In the agency? What the fuck? ”- he thought, puffing up, like after a fight. On the same day he sent her a text message:

"Judging by the hairstyle, did you get hired by the top model in the Chicken Fashion House?"

He did not believe that she would answer, but a minute later the iPhone tweeted:

“Judging by the metaphors, did my hair touch you?”

“This is not a hairstyle,” scribbled that answer, sweating with excitement. - “This is a spit in the soul of nature. Better without a haircut at all than with this one. ”

“Be done” - came the answer.

Dasha didn’t answer calls; Read more →