“Even if Madonna and the Whore live in the same woman, the man wants them to take turns in her at his will.”

(One smart woman)

Cosi fan tutte.

("All of them are" - Italian proverb)

***

What is female sexuality?

Usually, this word refers to the desire to please, which has become a way of life. The style of clothes, behavior, speech, gait, make-up - all this turns into a tool for catching men, not telling us too much about what a woman really is.

Such sexuality is nothing more than a behavior that every woman can learn, in general, every woman (if you wish, of course). This is a gloss, ritual mask of seduction that can hide anything under it. As befits a mask, it is always the same, and therefore we don’t distinguish busty gerls from glossy covers: they all look the same to us. More precisely, the face fades into the background here, yielding primacy to more important parts of the body.

But there is another sexuality. It is impossible to teach her: she, like Winnie the Pooh's honey, is either there or not. A woman does not think about her, and she is as natural as breathing.

It is very difficult to understand how such sexuality is expressed, because it is evenly dissolved in everything that a woman does. It would seem that an ordinary girl in front of you is one of those who are called “modest”: he never puts on anything defiant, does not make up more brightly than necessary, thinks not about men, but about his business, which he is genuinely passionate about, and about many other important matters waiting for her - pleasant and unpleasant, easy and difficult - and for each of them is taken naturally, without thinking about how it looks from the outside. But her gait, movements, smile, glances, laughter, dimples on the cheeks tear down the sinful male blood so that sometimes you want to throw the poor thing on the floor, bare her shame and pour in there everything that boils from her gait and laughter ... But no, it is impossible: the girl trusts you. You are her authority. You are a man, not a lustful male, and she is grateful for that. She knows that you value in her soul, and not body, - and you are doomed to eternal maternity ...

Something like this, Viktor Evgenich reflected in thinking about Karin.

She was his student. A conscientious, enthusiastic, sometimes stubborn - and always charming to tickle in the eggs. When she first came to him, he shivered, as if from a current, and since then, when he saw Karina, he physically felt the rays coming from her — the tart rays of femininity that drove goosebumps into his body.

At first he said to himself: "sweet to the obscene, though not beautiful." For several months he convinced himself of this, mentally examining her face and finding a lot of irregularities, but in the end he had to admit that Karina was a beauty of beauties, and he did not want to look at anyone’s face like this oval attractive face with maybe a little baby lips, a thin nose and big brown eyes of an unusual thick amber shade.

Karina acted on Victor Evgenich like a picture or music: looking at her always was a little sad, even if Karina smiled. Her one walk was enough to pinch her chest. She was short, slim, very well and flexible - she wore pants and boots, and Victor Evgenich sometimes imagined her in a hunting saddle. Her rearing chest, always packed in a bra, bursting with any clothes, even a coat. She had ash-brown hair that didn’t know dye, long, straight and sparkling, as from the Pantin advertisement. One day on April 1, Karina came in with bright blue hair. Victor Yevgenich grabbed his heart - and for half an hour she had to convince him that the paint would wash off in one wash. When she was worried, her ears turned pink ...

Restrained, despite her smiling, Karina became attached to him, and by the end of the first course he knew a lot about her. In the summer, she went to his dacha to him, and there they rode greats together, swam, played badminton and cooked kebabs.Everything was fun, easy and very decent - without touching, exposing and other ambiguities. Karina glittered with her bare, tanned legs, and Victor Evgenich squinted at the tight balls that were tied up with a swimsuit and at the waist, which flowed into her hips so smoothly that she seemed like a neck of elastic drop. Karina laughed a lot and sincerely, exposing her snow-white teeth, and Victor Evgenich thought it was so easy for her.

“The more I know her,” he thought, “the more I understand how amazing this creature is. Light, pure, inspired. And I will never allow myself ... "

Karina's smiles accumulated in his eggs, and in the mornings he soiled his pants. It seemed that it would always be this way - Karina would learn from him, graduate, be friends with him and tease him with smiles all the way to gray hair, - when suddenly the situation changed in unexpected ways.

***

Once Victor Evgenich walked around the market, looking for a brush (he was passionately fond of painting).

It was a day off, and he wandered into pirated layouts. Having seen a bright DVD with a rose on a bare boob, Victor Evgenich smirked and read aloud:

- Hot Sex School ...

- Hit of the season, bomb! Recommend! All take, two pieces left, - the seller has chastened. Victor Evgenich went further, but the seller caught up with him:

- And no, so it is and ... Here! No "school", but the most real Hard Porn! Achdie-quality! Do not want?

Viktor Yevgenich wanted to kill him with a tirade mark, but suddenly he thought: “why should I not buy porn?”

It was somehow even strange: "I have never bought," he thought, "and life will pass ..." Of course, he saw porn on the net, but BUYING A DISK - this is quite another matter. There was something solemn about this, like the first trip to a brothel, even if I used to fuck with my classmates.

At home, Viktor Yevgenich arranged for himself a body feast: he washed himself, uncorked the Hennessey bottle, undressed and sat down in front of the screen.

A second later, he wheezed, coughing out the bronchial tubes, and stared at the screen like a UFO.

“It can't be,” he whispered, mentally adding long unprintable ones.

Before him was Karina - smiling, charming, painted Karina in lace underwear. Her habits, voice, typical intonations and gestures were recognizable from the half-look.

- It can not be fucking your mother fucking fucking! - he said aloud.

He wanted to break the filthy disk, wipe it into powder and dispel it to the wind - but instead he remained to watch, clutching at the eggs. A team of two macho and one maid quickly section Karina, exposing her gorgeous tits and shaved cunt, tender as her earlobes pink, and ...

What got up with her, did not give any description. She was not just fucked - her fuck, brutal and dirty fuck in all holes, like the last tear. At first, she sucked on two shaved machoes, then they had sex with the girl, and Karine crucified her legs, tied to a bed. Immediately appeared a strange device, like an anti-tank gun. Instead, she had a thick rubber dick. Hellish typewriter secured between the legs of Karina, a vibrating muzzle drove into her pussy, dived there to the ground, hiding entirely, then emerged, dived again, emerged again ...

The tied Karina writhed, as if on a spit, and squealed so that Victor Evgenich cried, tormenting her farm furiously. Having fucked, her colleagues took care of her: each macho swallowed by the nipple, and the girl truly kissed Karina passionately, dangling red patly over her eyes. Terrified from four sides, Karina emanated from death howls, squirmed like an eel in a griddle, convulsed, and finally let out a powerful fountain, splashing the bed and the camera.

After this torture, she looked sluggish and devastated: she spoke softly, smiled shocked and helpless, and Victor Evgenich howled with rage and pity for her. But that was only the beginning.

In her place fell the girl, and Karina put cancer and began to fuck aggressively one of the macho. The other got hooked on her mouth, and they pushed her, and Karina swayed between them, like a living swing, ...