I meet with a guy for three years. Let's call the guy Zhenya. He has a best friend - Gosh. They have been inseparable for 16 years, have gone through a lot together, such a touching true men love, faithful friendship. I would be glad that Zhenya has such an awesome friend, BUT. From the very first meeting, relations with Gosha did not take shape: I somehow did not joke like that, Gosh harshly put me in his place (he is half Arab, a solid businessman, golden youth, and I dared to pin him up). Then he conveyed an apology through Zhenya, they say, I thought I was an episodic character. But it was like this: we avoid each other, and if we meet, we both behave in an expressly polite and cold manner. Zhenya thinks that I am jealous of him for Gaucher, because I strain at any mention of him. And I just want him to tear me off properly.

I do not remember when this thought first appeared in my head. No, I love my boyfriend and I want to be only with him for the rest of my days, everything. But my sweet swells and soaks down every time when I imagine how beautiful, domineering, strong, frightening me Gosh is pushing my legs and putting me on my dick. And even better - like both of them - an athletic folded blond and tall, thin brunette, fuck me, and then we all relax after rough sex, intertwining bodies.

Well, I think about it and think about it. Okay. The main thing is that I do not often keep to myself - this is how I decided for myself. Everything would be fine, but Zhenya had an accident two months ago. Now everything is in order, almost fully recovered, but then there was a threat to life and so on. I, of course, hysterical. In the hospital I meet Gosha. I'm going to leave, he offers to let me down. I’m shaking, completely white, in complete shock, I don’t hear or see anyone around, I perceive everything as if through a layer of cotton wool. I vaguely remember how he takes me by the elbow and leads me to the car. I come back to reality when we drive into the garage. I ask where I am. He confusedly replies that he brought me to his home, because he sees that I am in inadequate condition. And if Zhenya was conscious, he would ask for you to take care now, - he says. Ok, I apathetically agree. The apartment begins to host, pours me a whiskey - he does not drink. I'm a little awake, or rather, just starting to notice and become aware of what is happening around. I remember who I have at home. I'm embarrassed. I rush to go home. He, of course, persuades to stay. For the first time we have some kind of human conversation: a common misfortune brings together. Both dead, talking about anything - - just not about what happened. Offers to eat - eat. Says: well, you're here now. Although, when you live alone all the time, you get used to it, but not at such moments. I ask why he lives alone. Does he have a girlfriend? He's laughing. He answers that there are girls.

The conversation goes out, I'm leaving to sleep in the guest room. Of course, I cry, I pray, until I fall asleep - alcohol works. I wake up from a terrible nightmare that does not let me go, even when I realize that I have already woken up. I begin to rush about the room, persuading myself: this is a dream, this is a dream. Fear of going crazy drives me to the kitchen. From the kitchen there is still some kind of door, unconsciously pushing, I find myself in the bedroom. Gosh jumps up. I'm starting to fight hysterically. Now I don’t know myself what kind of demon moved into me (maybe a demon of a little whore?), Because going to the young man in the middle of the night in the bedroom, in his T-shirt and shorts is an idea, of course, worth its weight in gold.

In a voice sob, I climb with my feet on the bed, through the snot retell the content of the nightmare. He gently sits next, comfortingly embraces me. We both freeze. Everything. I like a current doused. Instantly my nightmare lets go and I switch my interest to the awesome body, from which a couple of centimeters separate me from now.

I must say that my body is nothing, so obviously the same thought comes to him. Without remembering anything, without thinking about anything, I turn and press my breast against it.He turns to stone, then gently pushes me away, moves away to the other end of the room and tensely reveals that, damn it, this is not good. I feel like complete shit, a short pause hangs, after which he concludes: “... this is not good, but I want you wildly. I have been thinking about this for a long time, regretting that you do not have a twin sister. ” He turns to me and looks pleadingly: "Please, let's do it once, and it will remain only here and between us." I nod. The next moment we are already breathing mouth to mouth. He is putting off his clothes. We lie half-turned, he puts my hand on his dick, at the same time with his crazy long, graceful fingers begins to stroke my hot, pussy-pussy. I spit in my palm, masturbate him and wriggle my hips, whining with pleasure. “Slut”, - he growls, inserting a finger into me, then inserts his same into my anus, then gives me to lick it.

- Say what you want?

- So you fucked me! - I moan.

- Where is your place?

After a few suggestive slaps, I guess that is on his penis.

He puts on a rubber band, puts me on cancer, makes me arch my back, and enters me. (eroticspace) I am filled with it and I am inhumanly good. He starts to beat about me, slapping ass and pinching nipples. I scream with pleasure, not thinking about my neighbors - about anything. I am madly moving towards him like a bitch, unless I have stuck out my tongue. He turns me over, lies on top, slows down the pace, soft lips suck mine. He does not do anything special, but we have such a hitch that I fight in ecstasy, we accelerate again and frantically shake, knock about each other, moaning in unison. I finish, in ten seconds he ends.

We continue to love each other for the rest of the night with breaks to cool down and warm up again. I swing on him - he drives me over. He jerks me in the kitchen and in the bathroom, fucks me in the mouth and cums on my chest. He enters into me from behind, pressing me against the icy glass of the balcony. He asks me to rub pussy on the pillow, and I finish riding on it, wriggling and squeezing my breasts, right after which he frantically pulls at me, throwing my legs over my shoulders. Just like in the movies, which I have never seen. We fall asleep in our arms, weaving like animals.

I wake up when he is already dressed, collected, restrainedly friendly and politely removed. We leave the house together, throws up to the subway. Until. Until.

Seen after this five times. She does not look at me, but once she still caught her eye from under her brows: her eyes were coals. Maybe it is hate, and not something that is terrible to think about. What I was most afraid of was contempt. He is not. Understands that his treason is not less.

I love my boyfriend. I would never date Gosha. But more and more often the picture flashes before our eyes: the three of us live and at night we passionately, sweetly, convulsively, exhaustingly love each other. The previous dream, albeit under sad circumstances, has come true. So - who knows?