the camera enters my Ira! Although she stands with her back to the camera, but I recognize her figure from a thousand. I have never been jealous and allowed my bride to walk in what she likes, but the outfit that was on her this time not every prostitute would dare to wear. Short shorts, more like panties, a thin white top tight-fitting her big breasts, she sometimes wore her instead of a bra from a swimsuit, her legs were sandals on a high platform with a huge heel. The look of my girlfriend was ... damn, otherwise you could not tell.

Ira approached the guy and they began to talk about something, the camera did not write a sound. Waving his hands, he pushed Ira from the corner back to the dance floor - returned to the sofa and waited, he did not wait for very long, literally in ten seconds Irina reappeared in sight of the camera. As soon as she entered the nook, my girl got on all fours and crawled to the sofa in that position. The guy was clearly pleased with the way the stunningly beautiful girl humiliated in front of him. When she crawled up close enough, he thrashed her chest and ass in a businesslike way, pulled her lip away with her finger, patted her cheek.

I could barely restrain myself so as not to split the monitor on the wall. Now I wanted to kill them both. How could she allow such a goat! Meanwhile, the guy on the screen, almost without embarrassment, unbuttoned his fly and with an imperious gesture drew Ira's head to his half-excited member. This ... bitch. Immediately swallowed the trunk and began to suck with great enthusiasm, I saw it on her tight shoulders and on how she tried as much as possible to plant his head on his unit. The guy seemed to like it all, from the imposing back he leaned back on the sofa, unbuttoned his shirt, under which was a beer belly covered with curly hair and lit a cigarette.

Ira diligently polished with her mouth a member of some unfamiliar man, while he sat with a satisfied mug and shook the ashes on her head. The picture was impossible. My sweet girl, my angel, performed a blowjob to an unknown peasant just two steps from the dance floor! Once someone takes a step, a very interesting situation will open up for him. The thought even crept in on me, and maybe this is all a joke? Yes what nafig rally! Lech would not joke like that.

Meanwhile, on the screen, the guy grabbed Irka by the hair and pulled him away from his penis. Putting her breast on the sofa, he fell in behind, and drove his dick into her ass, wetting it in front of this saliva. My whore grabbed the handles on the upholstery so as not to fall from the hard blows, her head was thrown back - the stranger wound her luxurious hair on his fist and pulled them towards himself. He fucked her hard, rudely, brazenly, as if the train station was a whore, ready for everything for three hundred rubles. Irka received a wild thrill from this, it was visible even without a sound, her mouth opened in a scream and her eyes rolled.

I could not look at it anymore and cut down the video. With shaking hands, he took out a cigarette and lit it. Well, the scribe ... My joy waited for me ... It seems understandable who is to blame. It remains to solve the second question: what to do?

First of all, as promised, I called Lech. I learned the name of this bomber. It turned out to be Sergey Pechnikov, better known as Smoke. When I found out who had my Irishka, I again fell into a rage. I would understand if it was any major or rich papa, but Smoke! I had heard about this criminal authority of the yard scale. A hooligan, a bully, served two years in a young child for petty theft, imagined himself as unrealistically a thug kid, although in reality he was a petty gopota.

That evening I went alone to his home, on the outskirts of the city. Dilapidated Khrushchev, a filthy courtyard with a rotting twisted skeleton of a car of an unknown brand on the playground, zassanyy entrance with twisted handrails, who have not seen the repair since the time of the object A typical physical education house is five floors without elevator.While I got to my vis-a-vis apartment, I managed to familiarize myself with the life of the local inhabitants: somewhere they were yelling with drunken voices, some dirty children fled somewhere, from which there was a smell of burnt rags, exhausted by life and chemistry, with traces of past beauty shuffling along the spattered steps, carefully covering their sleeves greasy vest blouse and averting unnaturally beautiful eyes.

The door to the Smoke apartment was ajar, the reason for this was the apparently persistent smell of “healing herbs” that came from the room. I walked into the corridor and looked around the room. The room was furnished unusually strange: a half-assembled bike against the wall, a crushed sofa, in appearance a new and expensive plasma on an old bedside table, a cupboard without a single door and cigarette butts all over the floor. In the center of this picturesque interior sat a suicide bomber, wearing worn jeans and a stretched T-shirt, he did not even notice my appearance, staring blankly ahead of him.

How? How could Irishka exchange me for this nothingness? How of all the guys in the city did she manage to change me with one of the most miserable and disgusting? Raised girl from a good family, with angelic appearance, and this one here is this semi-slug slug! Yes, at one time, the son of a town mayor beat my bride to my bride, but she technically smashed him!

Absorbed in thoughts, I heard footsteps on the staircase sounded behind my back, without hesitation I retreated to the kitchen. there was a creak of the door and the clatter of heels along the corridor.

- And there was, la! Che worth? Come on, take off your clothes, gee - gee.

- No, Sergey, I will not. I came to say that ... well ... I will not meet with you again.

I caught my breath, it was Irina's voice!

- In terms of? What are you, la ?! Throw me decided ?! - heard the sounds of struggle.

The first desire was to rush to protect my girl, but I realized that I could protect her from Smoke, but not from myself. For 24 hours I have a strong desire to kill them both and I’m afraid that if I get into a fight, I’ll get everything. And I didn’t want to hurt Ira, no matter what I loved her.

- Let me in! Let go of the goat!

- But where are you going to goat!

I heard loud wheezing, the sound of tearing fabric and the desperate squeal of my beloved. I could not stand it anymore. A swiftly burst into the room - Sergey held Ira by the hair at his feet, with his other hand he unbuckled his belt. Her jeans were pulled to the knees, exposing slender hips and white thongs, and through the torn T-shirt you could see the chest. Irishka fiercely beat back, tears rolled down her cheeks. I shoulder pushed the gopnik away from her and immediately, unable to restrain myself, loaded her fist into a surprised face at the sight of me. She sobbed, tangled in lowered jeans, crawled into a corner and from there watched the further development of the conversation between me and Smoke.

I used a vivid example to try to explain to my opponent that such behavior towards my girl was extremely unacceptable, he argued his position with his fists and heavy army boots. However, Sergei expressed his disagreement with such a question, putting forward the counter argument in the form of an adjustable key. As a result, I had to resort to the method of physical persuasion, which senior sergeant Abakhidze had taught me in the army. Sergey imbued with the validity of my position and quietly slid down the wall, holding his broken arm and spraying blood on the linoleum from a broken face.

When the conversation came to an end I was breathing heavily and rubbing the broken knuckles with my finger turned to Ira. The same feeling that, probably, felt every man who experienced betrayal of his wife. The heart fights with the brain. On the one hand, she is the ultimate bitch and tumbled with someone else's man, but on the other ... so dear ... so dear. Here she sits, sobbing, covering her torn T-shirt with her hand and looking at me with her big frightened eyes. There is a bruise on her doll face, I experienced a sharp attack of guilt and pity. I pressed my girl to my chest, as the most precious treasure and took out of this rotten house. All the way she sobbed and whispered in my ear.

- Forgive Dima, forgive my dear, I love you very much. Only you, I'm sorry I'm a fool!

We were reconciled for a whole month, I tried to crush the memories in me, and Ira asked me to forgive so sincerely and skillfully that in the end I forgave her all the same.In connection with this case, we even established a kind of memorable day, once a year, during the day, Ira was obliged to fulfill any of my fantasies and whims.

* * *

For eight years now we have been living in marriage, we have a wonderful baby growing up - Artem. (specifically for eroticspace.info) Yesterday Temka fell from a bicycle on broken glass and lost a lot of blood. I did not hesitate to offer my own. But ... as it turned out my blood Temka does not fit. We have one group but for different Rh factors. I have a negative, like my Ira, and Artem has a positive one. As a caring doctor explained to me this can not be. Only one conclusion - I am not Temko's father.

Is it again? In terms of time, it does not appear that he was conceived in that club, but who knows if my whore wife has not deceived me, as he had been deceiving all eight years? Maybe then she did not stop meeting with this Smoke at all ?!

But how the hell hurt! Find out that your son, your pride and joy is absolutely alien to you! You're not a dad or a father, but just a left uncle! To realize that on earth there is no continuer of your kind, of your flesh and tail. Understand that for eight years you laughed in the back "Look at this jerk, nursing someone else's child as your own, and remember how he blew specks of dust from his pregnant wife, who was stunned by someone else!"

- Name, I need a name! - I growled, putting a hard look at her.

Apparently something was so in my face that she turned her hands around her head and said very quietly:

- Vika...

- What?! - my eyes crawled in surprise on his forehead.

- Vika!!! - screamed my wife and went into hysterical crying.