I smiled to myself and said nothing ...

In the evening I came to Ole.

She sat in the kitchen at the table, covering her face with her palms. When I entered, she started and raised her head - her eyes were red with tears. I took off my shoes, and she threw herself on my neck:

- Senechka, I am so ... I was so worried ... - and she again burst into tears, burying her face in my chest.

I stroked her back:

- You could not call me again?

“You left the phone at home,” she sobbed. - I found it in the morning ...

I sighed and led her into the room.

“Ludmila Razumovna called,” said Olya, when I sat her down on the sofa and began to gently kiss her neck and had already launched her hand in her bosom. - Oleg Stepanovich disappeared.

I exhaled her neck, but did not become distracted.

“She called him all day,” Olga continued, covering her eyes and throwing her head back. - Phone unavailable. She tried to call Kostya, and there Lena was all in tears and snot, she said, Kostya beat her hard yesterday, and left in the morning and left the phone ... I and Zhenya dialed, but he also had a phone outside the zone ...

- Nothing, there will be ... maybe they are thumping somewhere ... - I have already got close to her ear and felt all his bends with my tongue. She just thrilled when I do that.

And this time, trying to tell me something else, she gasped and fell on her back, arms outstretched. I hurriedly unzipped her robe and pressed my lips to the left nipple.

I wonder what milana's nipples are? It is necessary to see tomorrow. And to feel ... Mmm, and they are as sensitive as Olka's? Wow, how she bends ... And you can't say that she is a virgin - she sucked me so dexterously, and didn't even blush at all when she took off my jeans ...

I went down to Olin tummy. This is also her erogenous zone - a circle around the navel and straight down towards the pubis with a thin strip of hair. I lowered her panties, noting my way to the sweet heart, and accidentally touched the sensitive pea with my finger. She shuddered, sobbed, and frantically squeezed her hips. Then he outlined the boundaries of her vagina and pressed his mouth to it, slightly clutching his clitoris with his teeth. She arched and whimpered dully, crushing my head to her crotch. I grinned and began to stroke her sexual lips with my tongue, helping myself with my hands and periodically penetrating deep into my fingers. She moaned and screamed, cried and asked not to stop. But then I felt the familiar taste, pulled away from her, unbuttoned my jeans, spread her legs wider and entered into her so quickly and smoothly, as if he did not go anywhere.

And he immediately set a high pace, only slightly raising her hips over the edge of the sofa and holding her, thus, on weight. Press her to hell - dangles like a snot in the wind - and would have strained her tummy a little and it's easier for me and more pleasant for her.

My ex, who is now looking after my mother, the press was such that it could be placed between two chairs and sit on top ...

Last fall, she seemed to be married a second time. This is good, so it will not be too much pressure on me with alimony.

Olya screamed with triple strength and finally went limp. An infection, forever it is like that - it will receive its own, and then you yourself somehow. I went out, turned her on her stomach, putting her legs on the floor, and attached myself to her ass. She screamed, but there was no place for her to run - I pressed her legs to the sofa, slightly wiggled her fingers over hers and entered. Slowly, as my ex taught me once ... Still that whore, I must say. She showed me such things that my head was spinning. She could double over and lick herself between her legs. Shaped madness. Olka, of course, this can not ... damn, it hurts ...

The girl squeezed her buttocks with force. I went out and weighed a smack slap on her ass:

- Well, push apart the bread, - I said tough.

“Senechka, don't ...” she whimpered softly.

“Spread them, they say to you,” another smack, and a distinct trace of flesh appeared on the white skin.

She sobbed and relaxed her ass. And even slightly spread her legs.

Excellent. The hardest thing is always to squeeze the head. But then she entered - she was immediately wrapped tightly around the walls of the rectum - and then it was easier to move on.

Olka sobbed a couple of times, tried to go forward, but she had nowhere to move. And I went back and forth in it, remembering what happened at the mall. I moved slowly, carefully punching my way forward. There was something disgustingly attractive in this - her butt, so unprepared, full ... ahem ... products of her life activity, and I am there, in this warm and soft ... mmm ... I left ... disgusting ... and went to the bathroom, leaving Olka also kneeling, stomach on the edge of the sofa, tearful and frightened.

When I returned, she was already lying with her head under a sheet, and only rare sobs said that she was awake. I lay down beside me, turned off the light, and turned away to the edge of the bed. So what, that did not finish - tomorrow I will make up ...

And so it went on for a week. On the day of Milan, she gave me blowjobs, bringing me to a frenzy with not so much excellent technique, as completely unexpected places that she chose for this: at a table in a cafe, in the toilet of the institute, behind a screen at the reception of some sworn friends. And at night, I tortured Olka, fucking her as I wanted - in the ass, in the pussy and even in the mouth, penetrating so deeply that she even gasped.

Milana's father, against my fears, either did not guess anything, or simply preferred to keep quiet for the time being. But every day his gaze turned towards me became softer, and his lips more and more often moved apart in a smile when I said something or just passed by.

At the end of the week I received my first paycheck. Three thousand green American money. Thousand paid her dad, the rest gave Milan. And I immediately rushed to the place that I had dreamed about visiting for a year - billiards. Neat well-groomed players, beautiful ladies, dim lights, the smell of expensive cigars and cognac. Earlier, before I saw all this magnificence, I considered billiards to be a game of the rich, and now I became convinced of this with my own eyes.

At the table, to which I approached, three were hanging out.

One looked like a real highwayman with a weekly stubble, a gold ring in his ear and a bandage on his right eye. He smiled only with the left side of his mouth, spoke hoarsely, generously sprinkled with some thieves' words, and his companions called him a cat - half-whisper and frightened looking around, as if expecting him to pop out from around the corner with a cry “Popish, cut” with one sound of your name.

The other was like an unrecognized genius artist with an artistic scarf around his neck, in a striped long-washed shirt, long hair, and a face swollen with a cruel hangover. He had a huge belly, strong hairy hands and half-darkened glasses that looked at least ridiculous in the dim light of the billiard room.

And the third was about my height and age, dressed modestly, but expensively, with glasses in a thin gold frame and with a gold Rolex on the right wrist. He held the cue with his left hand, played at ease, and his superiority over the two comrades was so obvious that I immediately liked him. His name was Roman Alexandrovich. But I did not remember the name of the artist.

We met, briefly shook hands and started a new party.

The cat and the artist fell off pretty quickly - the first truly cat-like gait went for another portion of the “fuel”, and the artist sat down at a table and put a picture of his hand to his forehead.

“So you work as a security guard?” - once again asked Roman Alexandrovich, carelessly throwing long blond hair from his forehead.

- Rather, a personal spy, - I smiled, and my next ball stopped a couple of millimeters from the mouth of the pocket.

- And the girl, you say, cutie? Three in the right far corner, - he said and a shiny white ball with a black number "3" gently rolled into the pocket to my left.