The gas pedal habitually went down. The engine snorted and the arrow on the speedometer crawled to the right. The city was already behind, so sixty was no longer wanted. In the distance stretched the dividing strip, the trees flashed their autumn yellowed crown. Just a couple of days on a business trip. However, the thoughts were not about that at all ...
Wife deftly leaned over the bucket when she squeezed a rag and from under the short dressing gown immediately appeared the edge of her panties. Some ordinary, black-red, even without kruzhavchikov and ryushechek, but something in the pants immediately responded. Leave in 20 minutes, then there is still time, I can do without tea. A short silent fight, a half-whisper about wet and dirty hands, her panties are already at the level of her knees and her back is arched to facilitate my task. It’s not very easy to enter, it’s still dry inside, but after a couple of movements it becomes comfortable and warm. A moan escapes from the wife along with the moisture. I did not last long, literally 5 minutes and everything acquired by overwork in the form of a seed is somewhere deep in my Alenka. A few quick movements with her finger on her protruding clitoris and her beloved loudly exhaling, too, finishes. I kiss a flushed and slightly disheveled spouse and begin to quickly get ready. The main thing is not to forget the phone, charger and documents. While I was stabbing, I heard accusations from Alyonka, saying that he could wait until I wash my hands; why did the business in me, just the very phase of the moon. And finally he adds: “Thank you, dear!”. Well, what am I, I do not mind ...
And now even from the fingers it smells like a woman, a woman who has experienced an orgasm. Such a pleasant smell, tart, with hints of iron or something. Alenkina the last phrase, when I already left: "Oh, Durrra, I can not wash the floor before the road." I just kissed her on the forehead, smiled at such a small and superstitious, but at the same time adult and intelligent woman and went to the elevator. From the reflections I pulled out the piercing sound of the horn. A hefty wagon was driving in the oncoming lane, and a jeep jumped out onto my car with the clear intention of overtaking this wagon. Apparently he did not take into account that he could meet an obstacle in the form of my car. The brakes creaked, the road was dry and in principle there were chances for a good outcome. But the driver of the jeep was not going to stop and rushed right into me. And then there was pain. And darkness. The darkness was frightening, I could not move, I didn’t feel absolutely nothing, but my thoughts were rushing one after another, but this did not change anything. And it was still dark.
I lost track of time, only realized that it was inexorably going. In my brain I sang, painted, recalled some stories, composed my own. Often remembered Alenka. How is she there? In our odnushke. It is very difficult to come home and see the four walls, the cold couch, the TV and other household trash. I wanted to cry, but even the tears did not come out. It remained only to wait, it is not clear what. Sometimes it seemed to me that I heard voices, but with certainty it was impossible to say. But once there was a buzz and then subsided, but then came again. And then it did not stop. There was a feeling that someone was beating a big drum. Constantly, rhythmically. Soon I got used to this sound, and even could sleep peacefully under it. Oh yeah, I almost forgot to say, I realized that sometimes I sleep. And even see dreams. Basically the last seconds before the collision. Slightly less Alenka. In the dream, everything is great. Collisions were avoided. And with his wife was sex, beautiful, calm.
We were lying on the bedspread on the floor. Lit aromatic candle, quiet music. I stroked Alyonkin hands. She is very sensitive on the outside of her arms, just above the elbow. He stroked his breasts, small, but with such beautiful pink-colored papillae. Hair.Dark blond, just below the shoulders. I picked up the hairs with my hands, and Alenka closed her eyes and quietly snuffled. She just relaxed at this time and did not touch me. I lifted my girl by the hips, pulled up to her and sat down on a long protruding member. I am sitting. Alenka sits on me, sometimes moving up and down. In my dreams, she always approached orgasm, but for some reason I did not reach it.
I had to put up with my position. Although it sometimes seemed to me that I move my arms and legs, but they do not really move. I did not want to eat, did not want to drink, sometimes there were urges to the toilet, but then they passed. And yet I did not leave attempts to feel my body. And, of course, over time, it bore fruit. No, I did not get up and went, but I felt something soft with my right foot. I could not understand this. I made a couple more attempts. The item was not stubbornly identified. From powerlessness I kicked him. But then he pulled back his leg. It seemed to me that on the other side of the subject I was touched by a hand. Maybe glitches? There was nowhere to wait for help. I thought about my position in the new world and fell asleep again.
Alyonkin ran his head from top to bottom, played a little on the bridle, and went on to the testicle area. I stroked her head, spoke some silly and tender words. Light tickling on the scrotum made me smile, and Alyonka without hesitation, has already sent a member in his mouth. Up to the throat, she could not take it, barely half tucked it in, but what eights she drew at this time with her tongue ...
All the same rhythmic knock was again with me. He lulled and disturbed, but I still could not do anything. Increasingly, I moved my legs and arms. They were as if wadded and alien, but progress was felt. Sometimes I bumped into that unknown obstacle and now I clearly felt that someone's hand was on that side. Not every time, but she appeared. And it calmed. At least there is someone near me. A couple of times I had nightmares. As if a very bright flashlight shines in the face. I try to dodge, but he constantly haunts me, adding discomfort. I said I did not want to eat? This is true, however, sometimes I remembered various goodies and a desire to try them again. Roast chicken in the oven, pineapples, oranges, but mostly kebabs and other meat things. Although the feeling of hunger while I did not feel.
It was rather not a dream, but a memory. I watched myself and Alenka from the side. She then wore white stockings with a wide elastic band and a white dressing gown, the length of which made it clear even the color of the lingerie on her wife. You ask and what? White? Under the color of the rest? No, dear, linen was not there. Alenka wetted her hand with massage oil and slowly drove along the strengthened trunk of my organ, while looking me straight in the eyes, and with her free hand drew circles on her pea clit. It lasted quite a long time. The movements on my penis became sharper, torn. Alenka no longer looked into her eyes, but she covered herself and caressed herself more and more quickly. I reached for her hips and slid two fingers straight into the slit, warm and wet. Alenka trembled at her lip, and my fingers squeezed something, and then she unclenched and squeezed again.
Again this knock. Although lately he has become quieter. (eroticspace) And I increasingly have anxiety. It feels like I am sometimes pushed or even carried somewhere. In general, an incomprehensible movement. I have already lost the habit of it all, I sit in my darkness and sometimes move my arms and legs, it seems that even my knees have begun to obey a little.
That day began like any other, but then the anxiety intensified. I really wanted to stop my current state, I rolled some kind of hopelessness. At me, at the adult muzhik, the hysterics began. Why live like this? Who i am now Vegetable? I do not know how much time has passed, but I understand that a lot. I only sleep and gaze into the darkness, no longer any benefit from me. I'm tired.The sharp movements caused a little pain and then I decided. Come what may! May I better hurt myself and die completely, but I will not become a vegetable. And I began to work with my hands and feet, trying to turn my head. It was painful and unpleasant, but now nothing will stop me.
Suddenly a light flashed ahead. Or it seemed? No, there he is, again appeared. There and only there. And the light is getting brighter. Here it is the light at the end of the tunnel, finally I will find peace. It is very difficult to wade, but it seems to me or does someone help me, pushes me?
What a relief, I came to light. Strange, in the mouth as if the liquid. Spat it out. Air? Can not be! I just now realized that I was not breathing all this time. I inhaled and wept. Loud, shrill. So that I did not recognize myself. Somebody raised me up and I saw her ... My Alyonka. All in tears, with bags under his eyes, pulling hands to me. Alenka, dear Alenka, you have been with me all this time! Favorite.! I wanted to tell her all this, but only crying and wheezing broke out of her mouth. Well, nothing, learned to move, learn again and speak, but we are together again. Alenka laughed and cried.
Behind me, a voice said: “Alena Georgievna, congratulations! You have a son! ”And Alyonkin whisper:“ You look so much like a folder ”...
Latest stories of the author
Many people know how difficult it is to live with the parents of a young couple. His apartment is not yet and not the fact that once appears, and the passion for each other at the very peak. I want not to get out of bed for days, scream, moan, bite and scratch. However, behind the wall of the usual dvushki - conservative parents, in which even kissing is somehow embarrassing, and at night to knock backwards ...
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She cried ... and then the client, and I with wet eyes ... So who are you after this?
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I also often ask myself this question, “who am I?”)
Well, do you use non-targeted working hours?)
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Who said that untargeted? Very much - working on style: D
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That's the thing, there is always striving to)
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So I say))))))
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So ... I like to read this ...
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You have every right)
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I did not mean anything bad, believe me. Just once I got into a serious car accident because of my love for supersonic speeds. I was saved only by the right-hand drive and the fact that I was not fastened.
The story itself is very good.
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Yes ... Sobbed in the voice ... Well, it is impossible soooo !!! In general, +10)))
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Thank. I will try more in this genre not to go)
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I will follow your creativity))
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Thank you) I write the truth rarely, I read more and more)
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Dear Sanchez! You are asking for compliments))
Catch: Great story! Read in one breath! Write, write more ... And the women's society of the site will be at your feet :))
It seems. Thank)
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Yes, did not seem to be asking ...
Better then I will be silent)
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Just want to shut up. +10
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Thank.
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Dear Sanchez, thanks for the story. Exactly, we continue to live in our children. Read about the bright love, even the tragic is always a pleasure. Someone promised you many readers at your feet. I do not know how the rest, but I’m exactly subdued by your creativity. Thanks again.
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tvoiaMarina, thank you for the rating, very nice to hear!
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Good, high-quality sketch, colleague!
Continue in the same style.
I like it!))
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Thank you) Glad I liked it!
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The story draws in, penetrates the blood. Really, what kind of person, this author, what did he do? I missed someone else through myself, I remembered my own? Whatever it is, it is a gift. Gift to the person who read the story, because, having read it, it is impossible not to become a little better. If I had seen this author, I would have hugged him, thanks for the tears.I can not judge the literary quality, I just feel my spiritual response and write about it on the comment pages. I find it strange and almost scary when I see on a frivolous and entertaining website such a point of force, like, for example, “Icy Happiness”, “Pervert, Part 1” or “Second Chance”. An inexplicable phenomenon, such as déjà vu or metampsychosis. The fact that such stories highlight the intimate, if not all, taboo side of human relationships makes one take it even sharper.
Sanchez, and my flowers - on your writing table.
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Spring, thank you for the feedback!
I regularly read your comments on various stories. They are, as it were, more accurately, sentimental, capacious, literate. Why not try to write something yourself? I am sure that you will succeed)
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M-mm ... And why not write? :-)
Only there, under all these floral wreaths, in my head are cockroaches ...
Yes, they are multicolored and lead beautiful round dances, but ... A cockroach, anyway, in the dress of the goddess of love, is still a cockroach. :-))
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Spring, you are amazingly romantic. It is even surprising that in our ugly time there are still such people.
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If the storyline is somehow not borrowed, then the author’s identity is much deeper than that required for writing erotic waste paper. In many ways, therefore, the narrative erotic memories in the story looked extremely synthetic and more often interfered than complemented the narrative. Honest 9, 5 points.
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Thank you
The storyline did not borrow, but to give a guarantee that once and somewhere it was not written something like I can not)
After all, besides me, a myriad of graphomania daily smears virgin sheets of Word `s)
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How can you?!: - (His hand is the lord, of course, but ... nevertheless, I ask you, Sanchez: do not dirty. At least for us, who have written below.
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Apparently the joke was not very successful)
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I have the beginnings of a sense of humor, but under the influence of cockroaches, they fade :-)
Too serious attitude to some issues - one of my cockroaches.
Once, I even transmitted my comment from one author to another when something was discovered.
It happens that the story is unworthy of its author, and it happens the other way around, which is much sadder, in my opinion. Stay worthy, Sanchez. I am sure you are a very good person, and therefore you simply must write. Albeit rarely, albeit on a different topic, but still - SO.
Forgive me my gab :-)
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Sweet Spring in your head are not cockroaches, but the larvae of flies, green green and blue meat. Maggots in your head ...
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Dear, you are a good author, in my opinion, but in the comments you don’t need to write any byaku.
All the more ugly attempt to get personal. Think about your behavior.
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I have already written spring in PM. Just comments and touched me, that's not resist.
Well, you did not notice this. Laurels review closed.
And here I am sitting and thinking about my behavior.
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I understand your position.
Good luck in your work.
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And good luck to you
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I do not share the enthusiasm. The usual thing, praised the first, the rest in the trend. The story is weak in quality and leaves only at the expense of the plot, but to the best of amusing.
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Your opinion also has a place to be)
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N-yes ... Brokeback comments - the grave will correct.))))))))
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Just like your interest, hmmm ... to the old grouch. At my age, it is permissible to have an opinion that is different from the generally accepted one. Is not it, gracious?
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The plot is a miracle on a bend !!! Keeps in tension to the last. Sanchez - you're a super dude))))
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Thank you for your feedback)
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C you money for waterproof mascara :) just kidding, just suddenly wept, blindingly bit my eyes, and I sat like a panda with brown circles around the eyes, immersed in your story, where death and love go hand in hand ...
You are talented and lyrical, on this site such units.
Ten points after.
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I am pleased to compensate you for the spiritual suffering of the new mascara, but in exchange for a photo of a panda reading this story) Of course, I am also joking)
Thanks for the feedback, but in general I'm more interested in writing stories without a porn link or where there is very little of it.
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The story is definitely hooked, yes. Only now I did not understand - is the birth of a child, the coma of the protagonist, followed by the birth of a child or the soul of a dead man moved into a child?
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Here everyone can interpret as you like. I feel closer to the transmigration of the soul.
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