“You want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans” (Spanish proverb)

The world is riddled with accidents. Accidental acquaintance in the network. I do not remember how it all happened - hooked and spun on the comments to the photos. I wanted to get nasty, but something from above pulled my hand away. Hid an excessively sharp tongue, left a comment with a complaint about the continuation of a pleasant small talk about anything. I thought over every word. I understand - in front of me is a predator. Dangerous and tough, able to hold a siege, to emerge victorious, and if it hits, then at the most unexpected moment, to the most painful place. I felt it. Careful at first. Danger agitated the blood - not every day you enter into a deadly duel, even in the play area.

Verbal picks Words as a weapon. Rarely did I manage to emerge victorious. We spoke different languages, although it was Russian. We were too different to be together. Accidentally passing, as he wrote in the first letter. Accidentally stopped for several long months.

We were afraid of letting each other get too close, but in reality, just letting a little closer. They were afraid of pain, ridicule, misunderstanding, their own feelings. And they hurt a lot more by their omissions. Two loneliness, randomly intersected in the network. Randomly passing.

Feelings make us strong. They give us the strength to act, inspire accomplishment, make us do the impossible. Feelings deprive us of strength, make us weak and vulnerable. Of the two, one loves, the other allows himself to love. I loved. A rare feeling for me, but sometimes it captures, overwhelms, and it is always at the wrong time. And I can no longer remain calm and reasonable, see what is in fact, and not what I want to see. This feeling is too strong for me, too destructive and sizzling.

How long can online communication permeated with eroticism, sometimes veiled, sometimes naked, continue? A week? Month? We corresponded almost three.

I postponed our meeting. I didn’t want to translate light, easy flirting into real. I'm always afraid to have sex for the first time - after this relationship will never remain the same. They will be different. OTHER. Sometimes you realize that this was a completely stranger next to you. Probably, I am most afraid of this - to understand that I had sex with a stranger.

She knew he loved hard sex. Scared? Probably not. Faced with this in another life, turned the page and did not want to return. But I love hard sex. How hard - I did not know myself until I touched it a little. I was afraid. In me the desire to be back in the power of a stronger opponent and the fear that reality would not be so attractive struggled. Illusion will be much sweeter than the action itself.

We agreed to meet. And suddenly I realize that I don’t know at all what hard sex is. I know what rape, when it really is, does not excite. From this I want to cry and stand for a long time under the burning streams of the soul, tearing off the skin with a washcloth, as if with it you can get rid of feelings of disgust, dirt and helplessness before crushing memories. Yes, there were once slaps, but I could not call it hard sex.

I'm going to a meeting, I understand - hopelessly late not for ten minutes, for half an hour. He meets me near the subway, and I still had the audacity to declare that I was already leaving, while I was rushing through the long hall of the station and, losing my breath, was going up the escalator.

Black brutal SUV to match the owner. Hotel. Rises on the elevator. Worried. Wildly, stupidly. And suddenly, I have repeatedly noticed for myself, the Queen pours into me. In the most difficult moments, when I want to cuddle up to my chest and cry.

No one says a word. Turn the key in the lock. He comes up and puts his hand on my head, I obediently kneel. Rub your cheek against his thigh. Short order to undress. I submit without a shadow of embarrassment. TV to drown out possible sounds. I go to bed and immediately add fuel to the fire: “Great, now we will watch TV”. Only now I understand that someone, and not he would have killed me on the spot. No, I’d just order me out, never to see again. But I would not be me if I had not commented. It was the only phrase I uttered during ...

The first kisses. And the only ones. After - mean his greatest location. Which we have not had. There was another - intimacy, because you certainly trust. Intimacy, when it seems that you feel it at a distance and amazing tenderness. The more unequal sex we had, the more stiffness there was, the more my barriers collapsed, the more I felt the intimacy.

From clothes - stockings. Slides tongue on the neck, surrounds the nipple with the tongue, bites it. I bend, run my fingers through his hair, touch them, thirst for him to immediately enter into me without preludes. Surprised, squeezes the chest, painfully unscrew the nipples, barely audible sob from the pain and from what I want a little stronger. Let go of the nipples, and then I feel his finger inside. I want even deeper, stronger, tougher. I sit down myself, squeezing the muscles, so as not to let go, hold up. Another finger joins, then a third. It is already hard and a little painful. Want another - deep penetration, long sex. Slow, fast, gentle and hard. Suddenly - where did mechanical sex go, where I can think about anything, but not about what is happening now between two people, between whom there are no fragments of memories. There is only an animal absorbing passion, the inability to break away, the desire to drink to the drop, tear to pieces, scratch the back into the blood, press and dissolve.

He pulls his fingers out of me, smiles at the corners of his lips, and brings them to my lips. I do not need to explain - I rise and lick my juices from his fingers, walk the tongue between my fingers, press them against the sky. I kiss my palm, suck on his thumb and lightly bite the nail. Once again - already stronger. I do not take my eyes off him, watching. Perplexity in his eyes. How, submissive kitty. Have I ever been submissive? Although there was, of course. Well I'm not crazy to fight in the open with a predator, playing his games in his territory. But resisting is in my blood. “What a wild ... cat you are!” A slap in the face burns my cheek, the other, my head is twitching. Not because it is hard or painful, so want. I bite again and let go reluctantly, rub my cheek against his big palm, I feel its warmth and my burning desire to become a small animal to bury myself in it, to hide, to hide, because it is the most kind, warm, affectionate and safe place.

Removes a hand. I close my eyes and fall into the sweet suspense. Clanging something metallic, burning with curiosity, waiting patiently, I want to feel before I see. A narrow strip of skin on his neck, touched his fingers - a collar with spikes, yes, what else can a collar wear? I bow my head, my hair is scattered on the sides, I lift it up, exposing my thin neck. The collar closes on it. For the first time in life, not much, but sensitive. Stretches his hand, slightly blocking the access of air. Smile - I like it so much. Next - leather handcuffs. Are there such things? Nonsense, from my point of view. I want real steel, and that the pin does not open. Chain. Snake wrapped around his ankles, tightening them, click carbine. Cold insensitive links dug into the skin, slightly move - move from the already familiar places and bite alongside, making it their own. The chain slides higher and connects to the chain on the handcuffs, again the click of the carbine. No, of course, I am not completely immobilized, I cannot escape, and it is difficult to move, too.I myself seem very hard and awkward. Although not the case. Gradually getting used to the chains. Cool links heat up, glaring a little in those places where your hand ...