Everybody knew him in the area. So it happened - the girl went once in her hands, but she could not stop. They called her among themselves - honest hands-on Lark. It was a lively, cheerful girl, thin, red-haired with brown piercing eyes. The area was the outskirts of the city, not even the city, but the railway station. The houses were mostly wooden, blackened by time. But there was one panel five-story building. Everyone knew each other like old neighbors. Everyone was in sight. Larka studied at vocational school for a painter-plasterer, her mother worked on the railway, like many residents of this town. She did not know her father, ran away when she was very small. But there was a stepfather. The driver of commodity.
Often passing through the courtyard, Larka heard after her: "Lar, come to the office in the evening, we hang out there." She answered differently: “Why did I forget there?” - “Oh, okay, let's shake the little one ...”
An office is a basement in a five-story building. The boys themselves equipped it, painted it, set up a bench with a barbell, dragged out dumbbells. And there was a drum kit and a pair of guitars. In general, the office was a gym, a club, and a bar. They were buzzing there with the same passion as a barbell or thrashing around the drums. And sometimes kosyachkom in a circle did not disdain. Larka was a frequent visitor there. Mother worked three days a day, her stepfather was shaking on flights, there were days when she was on her own. It was on those days that she disappeared into the office. But not just disappeared. She sucked notably. All the boys went through her mouth and more than once. And she let herself be fucked. For real. She knelt in front of the sofa and allowed to insert a member into it. And Larka just laughed: “Well, how are you there? Did you like it? ”Among guys, this entertainment was called a machine. They just said to her: “Lark, get on the machine”. If she was in a good mood, she got up, and small boys lined up. They inserted a member into it and immediately lowered it. Those that were more experienced, did not indulge in such trifles. If so, and fucked Larku, then in full, aside. But she only stifled, and was not against it at all.
Dimka was the youngest among the entire company; he was only sixteen the day before yesterday. But he was his boyfriend and in the office he often hung out with his eldest, eighteen-year-old brother. Dima looked at Larka long ago. In different types and poses. I saw her sperm flow from the corner of her mouth, when she had three or four turns in her mouth, she saw sperm running down her legs “on the machine”, but he never touched her. For some reason he could not. But often in the morning I woke up with wet shorts when I saw her in a dream. Yes, he saw her in a dream. But for some reason, very clean and bright, he saw her brown piercing and so sad, even when she was laughing eyes. Dimka did not understand these visions.
On this day, Lark appeared in the office a little earlier than usual. She went so quietly, sat in a corner on a single chair. The boys went about their business, who the barbell, who music. The office reigned the usual evening animation. Dimka was lifting dumbbells when he noticed Larka, who had become silent in the corner. Came up. Her eyes were swollen.
- What are you crying?
- No, baby, it's me, something in my eye.
- Lar, what are you? Do you want a beer?
- Come on.
Dimka rushed to the table and opened a bottle of beer. He returned, handed it to her and sat down next to the floor. She took a couple of sips and looked at him.
- You want me?
Dimka looked dumbfounded at her.
- Can i?
- You can, silly, you can. Or it’s necessary, ”she added in a whisper.
Larka leaned back in her chair and spread her legs, throwing them on the armrests. Dimka suddenly felt a faint smell ... The smell that attracted, attracted something pleasant and ... he did not understand what. From this smell dizzy. He stood before her, not daring to move. She sighed, somehow very deeply. And she pulled down his sports pants along with his underpants. Dimkin member rose like a tin soldier in a fairy tale. Who is a fairy tale? Oh yes, my grandmother read to him in childhood. Andersen. "Tin soldier" on one leg of Andersen.Why now Dimka remembers all these kind of stupid images. And then one leg?
Meanwhile, Larka, with skillful hands, pulled him to her and his “soldier” fell into something soft, warm and tender. Yes, gentle. It was cozy there. Dimka through the fog of his consciousness began to move forward, then back. He did not understand what had happened. But suddenly it became so easy. These were not wet pants in the morning, of which he was always shy, but a real discharge. At first, his penis somehow tensed at the base, and then he threw out the stream right there, into a cozy, warm hole. For some reason, Dimka went limp and fell on top of Larka. She hugged him gently, so gently, held it for a minute, and then pushed him away.
- Everything, baby, everything ... Come on, I already feel better.
Dimka rose, pulled on his pants. (Especially for eroticspace.info — sexitails.org) And Larka rose from her chair and slowly walked out into the street. At night, Dimka could not fall asleep. It all seemed to him that very faint smell. Its smell.
After school, Dimka decided to go to her. Lark lived in a wooden house, in one of those that surrounded the panel five-story building like a skirt. Who and when built this miracle of architecture, few people knew, but no one tried to find out. Just lived and lived like everyone else, like thousands of others. Dimka went to the gate and pulled the latch, she was not locked. I entered the courtyard and suddenly heard a short but distinct cry. She screamed, screamed in the house. It was a cry of pain, suffering, hopelessness. For some reason, Dimka felt it the hard way. He even crouched from this short shrill scream. For a few seconds or minutes he could not move. And then I went around the house to the open window. Creek was from there. Getting to the window, Dimka carefully looked inside. A cold chill pierced his body. What he saw is difficult to describe in words. But this picture of a lifetime stuck in his memory.
He saw her. On the bed across, she lay on her back, a pillow was planted under the waist, her arms were spread wide and tied with ropes, her legs were also stretched with ropes that clasped her ankles. Nearby, half covering her body, stood naked stepfather. In his hands was some kind of wooden thing with a rounded end. He bent slightly, stuffing a rag into Lark's mouth. Dimka froze. The picture so struck him that he was afraid to even move. And then ... then stepfather spread her ass with one hand. Dimka saw a dark little wrinkled hole. Stepfather put a wooden object to it and sharply pressed. Her scream was drowned out by a rag in her mouth, but Dima seemed to hear him. And he saw dumb tears flowing from her eyes. And the blood that a thin stream flowed onto a pillow under the waist. Dimka sank to the ground under the window and put his hands over his ears, as if that silent scream pierced him through and through.
He couldn't take it anymore. Consciousness dimmed. He woke up in the morning at home in his room. Staggering, he got up and went to the window. It was an early morning. He lived in the same five-story building, on the third floor. Through the window he saw her again. Larka in a gray, colorless dress to the knees, walked toward the lake in a grove nearby. An unsteady, unsteady gait. He was the last to see her.
Mr. Tarsky
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And this is the real finale of this terrible isoria.
After two weeks of searches and inquiries, terrible news struck everyone in the area.
Noble crucians and even catfish lived under snags in the local lake, and everyone who was not lazy harvested this free-fledged game with the help of “cats”. Put in the evening, got it in the morning. And there - as someone lucky. This morning, trying to get the gear out of the lake, one of the fishermen hooked something.
Varka was buried with the whole suburb. Her mother, a young, forty-year-old woman, turned gray and blackened one day, when they got out of the lake what was once a naughty, thin, red-haired girl with piercing brown eyes.
In the evening, after the funeral, Dimka, choking with tears, told his brother everything that he had seen through the window. Brother was silent, only nervously, more and more clenched his fists.
A month later, a man was brutally beaten to death found near the station. Train driver, returning home after the flight.
Mr. Tarsky
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Realistic, strong, tough story. Life, from it becomes terrible. Read in one breath. Deeper than most stories on this site.
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Am i wrong Or is it true that the site is another serious author. There are not so many of them here. But you, Mr. Tarski, even beat out from this small number. From your story hair stand on end. Is this a picture of reality or is it an invention of a writer? I am amazed. Language, writing style, concepts - the real picture of the Soviet times. But such horrors were not uncommon then. And why is the final published separately? In my opinion, it is quite logical, everyone gets what he deserves.
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The final did not miss the editors of the site. Allegedly, this is a description of the murder. And the story was published only on the third attempt. Apparently, he was shocked by all.
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Strong story! And the editors of the site sometimes miss such horror that horror, and sometimes harmless things are chopped))) in my story there was a moment where I remembered my 17 years))) so they stubbornly changed 17 to 18))) having corrected a couple of times I spat and left 18 although I did not understand this terrible thing!
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Say thanks Milonov, Mizulin and other Enema! ..
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Why "Soviet times"? Habit driven into Yeltsin-Luta propaganda? I think now the times will be tougher! And the story really hurts! Respect the author!
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You are not mistaken! There are no more than three authors. One really writes well and is read with enthusiasm, but rarely. Another writes here in different sections, but also not constantly and began to write much less frequently. But the third (or third) is a completely finished grafomanishte, still likes to dilute their stories with some teenage thoughts, unnatural medical terms, long-lasting dialogues and other anti-excitant garbage - in this style:
“Masha, turned to Sasha and slyly squinted and asked - did you like it when Max parted my sphincter? Fine! - thoroughly lit the hookah answered their friend Maxim. Alena smiled and blew a kiss to Mashka, sitting comfortably on her knees to Max. - And I liked it when you moved the strip of panties in the direction of masturbating yourself with an old banana ... "BL ... D ...! When you are dead, grab-maning is mentyarskoe! ..
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Three times I put the cursor on the field “Add comment” and three times I could not write anything.
When I read, I could not hold back the tears at the end. Explain to me that in this story so catchy? What? Father's cruelty? Or the truth of life?
In my heart a storm of emotions, it is difficult to say what.
And the author, and the truth, is very serious.
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A wonderful story, another one from this author) It pleases, the swamp dries out gradually)) It is easy to read and somehow at ease, or something ... very realistic - there are few of them. The only plot for some reason, this is exactly what it seemed. About stepfather. Due to our depravity, I guess. The ending, the real ending, strong, truly, MEN.
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At serious literary contests, such stories are called tears. Written well, but trite. It can make an impression only on someone who is familiar with the literature included in the school curriculum, and that she looked diagonally.
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I do not in any way pretend to serious literature, so I publish it only here. For me, this is a kind of entertainment.
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If this story is real, then the “commonness” of the spelling will not matter, nor even grammatical errors.Leave the conclusions to whom it may impress, with you.
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But the story is not real, my apologies.
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Powerful and beautiful. I really liked it.
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thank. Vital :) Childhood was remembered.
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I don’t know, Tim, if you lived in those “far times”, but this story is from there. She has the smell of the past! You definitely own a pen! In one page, the fate of man. (+4)
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A remarkable story. He is alive. And strong. I just wanted to read porn and came across it. I'm shocked. 10 out of 10
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Younger author
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Mr. Tarsky, do you still come here? Maybe after the July success in August, you will be pleased with the new story a la nostalgia from the “far times”? Any more gunpowder?
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Great story. The best I've read on this site.
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Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you all for your appreciation.
I was on vacation at Baikal. While the head is empty))) In that place there is an amazing energy, but it works interestingly - you clean up completely. No thoughts in my head, no worries, no worries, only one infinite happiness - the complete merging of the elements: fire, earth, water, air and space. So while I can not promise anything.
But thoughts always come unexpectedly, especially if the vessel is empty, it is easy to fill it. So, I think that my memories will still serve me as a material, and you will enjoy reading.
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A similar story took place in my youth. The girl's name was Inna. She had the same father who was killed by her younger brother. But she just finished differently. By the age of twenty-five, I was drunk, turned into an old woman, and froze at night from the seventh to the eighth of March. Here is a final
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I knew a lot of similar stories. Domestic violence is the scourge of all times and peoples. But "Lark ..." came to her own mind, for no reason at all. Just born and splashed out. This is fiction - from beginning to end ... Fortunately ...
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In my opinion history banal, as from textbook on psychology. This is not porn, and not erotic, tragedy. It is not clear why the scenes of intercourse, they have no coercion or pleasure.
If such a film, the diagnosis of "chernukha". But I see many had to taste.
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Respect
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