its power exceeds the option "champagne - chocolate." Only the fruit changed. Instead of apples and apricots, bananas and grapes were fine. This is some kind of magic: take wine, cheese and fruit - and you will miraculously find yourself in the company of a beautiful girl, and the evening will never cease to be languid.

We drank again and ate. Then again. Wines remained either for one strong toast, or for two easier ones. I felt a little drunkenness, Nastya also covered much stronger.

She laughed loudly, telling me stories about her not very lucky admirer from a parallel class. Every morning he left a bouquet of flowers on her doorstep, but answered a direct question that he was not involved in this.

“Well, if so,” Nastya brought herself to tears with a laugh, “Then I will look for someone else to thank him with a kiss!” - You should have seen his expression! - she just could not stop.

I could well imagine the expression of the poor fellow. Another in my place could have been known for jealousy, but I was filled with a feeling of satisfied confidence. Here is this beautiful female sitting in front of me and she is completely mine. She is mine and I will do with her what I want. My. My woman. My last drop.

Drunkenness was replaced by animal energy. I felt strong in myself, and knew that it would soon find its application.

I poured the remnants of the wine, more for myself, Nastya completely on the bottom.

- Let's drink to love? - I suggested.

Nastin laughter broke off. She looked into my eyes. So deep that she could make out the soul. Her face again took a serious look. Slowly, like in a movie, her lips parted and froze. She sustained a long, mkhatovskaya pause, said “yes” and drank in one gulp the contents of her glass.

I did not have time to finish my drink until I found Nastya near me. She leaned toward me and embraced my lips in her long kiss.

“You drink wine and snack on kisses,” the words in his head lit up, “What could be better!”

I again sat Nastya on her knees and we kissed, not looking up from each other, for ages.

Either my legs went numb, or the insidious wine struck not in the head, but below the belt, but attempts to get up with Nastya led to nothing.

She got up herself and went to the toilet with the words “I am now”.

I went to her room. On the table was a simple two tape cassette recorder “International”. Next was a rack with cassettes.

I began to study the labels on the tapes. Russian pops immediately dismissed. From foreign liked tape "Best ballads". I put it in the deck, clicked on the “Play”.

The mega-popular at the time was “It must have been love” from Roxette. What to conceal, I still like this song, although I listen to rock.

Nastya went unnoticed. She hugged me from behind and pressed her head to her shoulder. Such a childish gesture, and at the same time - so sincere! Gesture of a loved one.

I turned to her, put her hands on his neck, he himself hugged her from behind. We began to slowly, a little out of step with the music, to shift from one foot to the other. From the outside you can't call it a dance, but we danced. I covered her ass with both hands and pressed it to my thighs.

The song ended, and began another, more rhythmic. Slow from it did not work, but we continued our dance. With regret having torn one hand off the priests, I muffled the music. It was getting dark outside the window.

- Nastya, it is necessary to decompose the sofa.

She was silent, and I accepted it as a sign of consent.

I pulled away from her and with the words "Well, how does it unfold in yours?" Approached the sofa.

- Harnessed up to the click, then pull yourself, - explained Nastya. - Wait, let me get the laundry.

The sofa is laid out, and Nastya began to make the bed. I went to the toilet, and on my return, I saw that Nastya was already finishing with the sheets.

He came up behind her and squatted down. Hands found a button on her shorts, unbuttoned. Bitten ass. Lowered to the end of the lock fly. Bitten ass. Pulled the shorts down. Nastya herself took up the shorts and with a characteristic movement of the hips began to take them off. In front of me I saw the ass, covered with white panties. He bit her through her panties and did not squeeze her teeth.

The shorts fell to the floor, and Nastya stepped over them. I pushed her forward and she knelt on the sofa.

“Lie down,” and she lay down on the couch along the belly. I sat down at her feet, put her feet on my lap. She lay with her hands under her head. Her figure in the topic and white panties captivated me to the cold in the stomach.

With two hands, I took her right foot and began to massage. Thumb strongly in the middle of the heel to toes. Repeatedly. Then a cushion under the thumb. Clockwise, hard. Then the outer part with two hands, pinching. Then with your fingers between hers. Soft. Gently. She moaned softly.

I put my foot on my knees. The outer part of the palm and fingertips spend on the leg. Up to dimples under the knee. Several times dimpled. Her delicate hairs on the leg reared, as if electrified. Just above the fingers on the thigh. And on the inside of the thigh. Moans and spreads her legs a little to the side, revealing an intimate strip of panties.

Back to the feet. I take the left hand. I repeat the whole process. Breathing hard.

I kneel between her legs and sit on my heels. Her legs are in my hands. I hold two feet at the same time. A little on weight. Thumbs circular motions in the center and closer to the fingers. Bend her legs at the knees. Feet are in front of me. I pinch their outer edge. Scratching nails from toes to heels.

I rest my feet on myself and iron my shins with my hands. Down only with the tips of the nails, upwards - with force, clasping the entire lower leg.

My own clothes are bothering me. (Especially for eroticspace.info — sexitails.org) Especially pants. Quickly, in one motion, I t-shirt over my head. Unbutton a button and a fly on jeans. Now fine.

Returning to Nastya's legs. And then suddenly I listen to the quiet sounding music in the room. I get goosebumps and tears come to my eyes. Deep Purple does not leave anyone indifferent to their “Soldier of Fortune”, and at that time there could simply have been no better musical accompaniment.

But I feel I'm growing older

And the songs that I have sung

Echo in the distance

Like the sound

Of a windmill goin "" round

I guess I'll always be

A soldier of fortune ...

I was growing up. We became more mature. I was filled with such a deep affection for the girl who was there, that I did not even try to stop the tears. They flowed in the face with large drops and, falling on the sheet, left wide dark circles on it.

I tried to touch the skin of her legs with my fingertips as thin as possible. Hollows under the knees, inner thighs, folds under the booty were treated especially carefully. At these places, I almost froze, but my fingers continued to barely move.

I felt that Nastya began to tremble very finely. Then I put the palms of the whole area on her feet and began to rub them with a certain force from the knees and above. Hands no longer stopped when they reached the priests. I crushed my ass with both hands in full force. So an aunt in the village kneaded dough for bread. The sofa began to creak, and Nastya made sounds with a slight tremolo effect.

I wound my thumbs deep between her legs, feeling the elastic of her panties. On the way back sometimes she lightly touched her panties on her crotch. From the touch, the fabric was stretched, and I caught sight of the bulge of her lips.

I got up and took off my jeans. Together with shorts. Then he sat on her feet close to the pope. The member stood, invitingly wagging his head and demanding attention, and the eggs rested directly on the panties on the bottom of her priests.

I grabbed her around the waist and walked up to her shoulders, simultaneously lifting up the topic that was interfering with me.

She stretched her arms forward and slightly raised ... Read more →