My only true, very short and last story dedicated to all women.

****
Very warm, summer. Everything around, flooded with some kind of unrealistically bright, golden sunlight, which is more likely to be called celestial, as its clearly visible rays are beautiful and pure.
I run along the sidewalk, along the city street, under the green crowns, and the warm wind waves my long hair. I have flared jeans and a thin, slim shirt. The road goes steeply up, but I just fly along it, not even feeling the climb. How old am i Eighteen? Twenty?

What is this city and where I run, I still do not understand. In my head, beautiful music of John Lennon sounds loudly, uninterruptedly:

- Why dont we take off alone,
- take a trip somewere far, far away.
- We'll be together on our own again
- we used to be in the early days ...

Where does this music come from? Is it inside of me or pouring from somewhere above? But most likely, it is everywhere, both in the air, and above, and in myself. But why this particular song?
There are people along the way, but they are strange, they have no faces. It is even impossible to discern what they are wearing, and I continue to run easily further. All that can clearly be felt is music, light and wind. How pleasant they are, these warm, caressing blows, on a young and beautiful face.

The climb ends, the street levels off, and suddenly it becomes clear where I so unconsciously strove — under a tree, opposite some shop, with a sign for some reason in French, in sandals, in a summer cotton print, and with loose, blond hair, stands .. . She is.
And it seems that She has been waiting for me for a very, very long time, so long ago that it is even impossible to imagine how much.

I am already near. We join hands and silently go to the store. No, not even into the trading floor itself, but only into a narrow vestibule, between two glazed doors. We turn around and look intently at each other's faces. I don't know her at all, but ... how beautiful she is! These features, for me, are simply immaculate, and big eyes ... how they look at me!
From this view, you can lose your mind. God, because She turns out to love me, and I am Her!
Rising on tiptoe, She hugs my neck and touches her lips to mine. No, this can not be, this does not happen on Earth, probably only in Paradise! Or maybe I'm not on Earth right now?

But what is it? Why did the night come so suddenly, and why am I standing again, on the same street already lit by lanterns?
That French shop, where I had just been, was completely happy, is about thirty meters away from me, and opposite to it, under the yellow light of the lantern, She stands again. Her confused, divine gaze wanders around in search of someone, and I know that She is looking for me ...

It is necessary to pass a little, and we will again be close together, but some sort of irresistible force holds and does not allow my legs to budge. How she is waiting for me! As carefully examining every passerby, in the hope that it can be me. Unable to come closer, my soul is simply torn from love and tenderness towards her, and despair, from the realization that everything is over, and we will never see each other again ...
****
... I open my eyes, the same darkness as in the dream from which my consciousness had just emerged. Green hour numbers show seven in the morning. My beloved spouse is sleeping peacefully next door. Yes, I feel good with her, and I have always believed that I love her, as a man must love a woman. But apparently the Lord decided otherwise, and for one single moment in his life, for which he gave me a feeling of True Love. Why did he do it ... What is it, a gift or a punishment? Probably a punishment, otherwise he would have left me "there", with her forever.

I need to throw out somewhere, emotions that still overwhelm me, and I thrust my hand under the hem of my nightdress (oh, those notorious nightie, but without them nowhere) of my wife, I gently stroke her hairy pubis, tummy, breasts, feeling downstairs persistent morning erection.

Feeling my caresses, the spouse habitually spreads her legs, inviting me to come closer to her, and I gently turn on her from above, trying not to press hard on her belly. Vera loves copulating with the full bladder in the morning — she experiences, as she said, “special” feelings. But I'm not in a hurry.
Having embraced, I begin to kiss her in the neck and behind the ear, pushing with the tongue, earring, pushing in her mouth. The spouse lays and quietly pallies, from such unexpected and slightly forgotten caresses.

But surprise intensifies even more when, unexpectedly, I move to my face and start kissing her lips passionately. As he wanted and did not have time to do it in a dream. My condition is passed on to my wife, and we desperately, like in our youth, weave in tongues.
Pinching with the nails of the back, tell me:
- Come on, come in! ... everything is ready there! - having accepted the hospitable invitation, I easily and smoothly plunge into the wet and open gap of my wife ...

We are “finishing” with her at the same time, because at this moment her teeth painfully sank into my shoulder, leaving a bruise-like sign of female gratitude on her, for the pleasure she received. (Erotic stories) Then Vera looked all morning, strangely looking at me, but she didn’t really say anything, apparently fearing to scare luck — she didn’t even know about the real reason for such a sudden love that flashed. And I did not tell ... what else.
****
Then I many times, closing my eyes and falling asleep, tried to get "there" to Her, and I must say that I almost succeeded. There was a street, a little shop, and even She stood there, but the difference was that Her face was no longer visible. Apparently the Lord decided that I had enough. Since then, I often in a dream, standing on a dark, evening street and just listening to music. The song always sounds the same, and for some reason only the chorus:
- Why dont we take off alone ... - and it becomes unbearably depressing at heart.

Takazuko