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motorcycle Borovoy does not respond, but he hears, therefore he gave in to gas. And I do not need words, I already know that Leshka loves me very, very much. It is everyday in his eyes, it is every day that his lips and fingers are removed on my body. And yesterday I overheard their conversation with my brother who had finally returned from Germany. Andrei was more serious than ever.
“Lesh, you are my friend ... but know, for Durynda, I'll kill anyone, even you.”
“I, too, Andrei,” answered Borovoy quietly then.
They even hugged. And I was standing at the door and crying in three streams, silently roaring a beluga, a roar of measles, Princess Nesmeyan. And the chest (Dmitrieva Marina for eroticspace. Org) cramped a aching feeling of gratitude to these two of the most expensive men in my life.
- Leshka, you are the best of alliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii !! - I yell again, competing with the motor - who will shout to whom.
And the wind picks up my "iiiiiiiiiii", carries somewhere off into the distance along the road we drive. Let everyone know, let everyone know, people, road, wood, sky, how happy I am! What kind of happiness is it, to hug your beloved around the waist, leaning against his back, to go to our lonely place, so that there again and again with kisses, groans, actions show your friend to each other.
The road is a little zapetlyala, adapting to the river, Lyoshka is rapidly leading a motorcycle. I scream for joy, adrenaline, a sense of freedom! The motor roars, the wind whistles in our ears, and it seems to me: we are not just humans, we are gods. Only we can love so much, and that Lyoshka really taught me how to fly!
- Leshka, I treatuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu !!
The next sharp turn, my happy cry changes to a shriek of fear. Oh god A machine! Where is she from here? Lyoshka twists the steering wheel, trying to avoid a collision. The motorcycle does not obey and rushes at full speed right into the tree. A heart-rending screech fills the eardrums. Hit! Borovoy throws over the steering wheel of a motorcycle. Earth is rapidly approaching. I fall. Pain shoots an arm and a leg. How, how unbearably painful! I howl. Involuntarily open my mouth, taking short, greedy sips of air. The pain seems to only get stronger. Lyoshka lies in some unnatural posture, not moving, not howling like me. Horror. Yes, this is exactly the horror of a cold wave rolling over the body. Crawling towards him, the arm hangs with a whip. The legs are all covered in blood, but they seem to obey.
- Lesha! - I turn him around. He is unconscious, his eyes are closed, and his body is limp, limp.
- Lesha, - for some reason, I shake, and I beat him on the cheeks. Because it is very scary to see Borovoy so ... broken, not alive ...
- Lyosha, Lyosha, Lyoshechka, Lyoshkaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa !!
...
“Do not be afraid, Durynda,” Andrew, my brother, squeezes the cold fingers of a healthy hand.
We are going with him to the hospital to visit Borovoy. I do not remember when the ambulance arrived on the day of the accident. Probably fast. I remember that I did not allow the doctors to help me. She demanded, screamed, begged them to revive Leshka. Strange, but for some reason, their pain was not felt at all then. Even the blood that soaked the leg of my jeans on my right leg didn’t pay attention. Borovoy was taken away, first to our local hospital, then transferred to the regional center. The diagnosis is disappointing - a fracture of the spine in several places.
I could not come earlier. I also got good: concussion, broken arm, stripped, almost to the bone, leg. Although I asked daily - doctors, mom, dad, Andrew - to let me go to him.
Yesterday inadvertently heard the conversation of parents.
Mom said:
- Volodya, although it is impossible to say so, but it will probably be better if Lyoshka dies. The neighbor admitted that his legs and arms were paralyzed.Staying crippled guy in 19 years, which can be worse.
I was hysterical. I screamed not in my own voice, sobbed, called my mother different evil words.
- Lyoshka will be alive, hear, will live, Leshka will be healthy! He will stand on his feet, walk, run, love !!
I do not know whom I wanted to convince more: parents or myself. Perhaps dispel your inner fears. A picture of a broken, lifeless Leshka is constantly too terrible. Parents did not respond to my madness. But his mother's gaze, in which there was pity and understanding, only heightened the despair sitting inside.
Like her words, today addressed to Andrew:
- Son, watch Marinka. How could she not do stupid things.
Borovoy is not allowed visitors, it lies in the intensive care unit. But Aunt Valya, in response to my constant requests, persuaded the doctors and nurses to let us in for a while. Legs do not obey, bend. Andrew, too, is experiencing how he looks gloomy, focused.
At the entrance to the department, Aunt Valya met us. She looks emaciated and aged. She left the usual cheerfulness and good nature, which has always delighted me in this woman. Aunt Valya, Aunt Valechka. I would like to rush to her neck, to console and, maybe, to get a consolation. But now on her face alienation. As if she does not want to let us into her grief, as if we are strangers, as if I cannot understand her. But the last few weeks before the accident, aunt Valya called me only as the bride ... Rove is a cow. Tears again bring the grooves on my cheeks.
- Marina, please, only without tears. Smile and speak as usual ... as before the accident.
I nod my head in agreement and wipe my eyes with the sleeves of a thin blouse. Leshka changed. Has grown thin, features are sharpened. Perhaps that is why he seems to be now five years older, or maybe a dozen. In him, too, a certain estrangement is felt, as if it is even unpleasant to him to see us with Andrey. He is covered to the waist with a blanket, his hands at the seams and a hard corset around his neck.
- Hello my friend. And you are not bad settled, I see, the oligarch is straight. The chamber is separate.
Borovoy is wryly smiling at his brother's joke. The smile is not the same enthusiasm characteristic of Lyoshka. And I was confused, having babbled something like “Hello,” standing by an idol, trying to hold back tears rushing out. And my hands are squeezing and squeezing a bag with delicious apples from our garden, which I forgot to give to Aunt Vale. How beautiful he is, my Lyoshka. Even now, with the seal of the injury on the body, so serious and very matured, he is for me the most attractive man on the planet. Andrei tells some of our village news that sounds in this chamber, soaked with medicines and stuffed with all medical equipment, so small and insignificant. Borovoy smiles, more precisely, makes a face. And for some reason does not look at me. I went over to sit on a chair near his bed. How stupid this conversation seems to be when everyone is afraid of touching on things that really matter. Therefore, I am silent or, perhaps, afraid to open my mouth and in my fervor to speak a lot of unnecessary unnecessary words. The pretender of me is now useless.
Lyoshka finally looked. Affectionately, fervently, still.
- Marish, only your eyes are left. Eat more.
And this phrase in a moment destroyed those precarious remnants of calm behind which I hid my emotions. I grabbed his lifeless hand, kiss, and long pent up tears flow down his cheeks. Aunt Valya looks disapproving. Andrei is still trying to pretend that nothing happened to any of us.
- Lesha, I love you so much! - I am completely out of place.
I look in his eyes, in them tenderness, a whole sea of tenderness. She points with a look at the door, Aunt Valya and Andrew without words understand him and go out. Then it was all messy ... I kiss his hands, lips, forehead, hair.
- Lesh, you will definitely recover, stand up on your feet ...Here and the football team is waiting for you. We will ride with you on a motorcycle to the sea and the mountains. Remember, you dreamed?
- I love you, I love you very, very much!
I speak, speak, speak, and I fear that my words will seem to him to be false, empty, said in a fit of pity. There he is a detached, a stranger. Silence, tears flow from my eyes. I try to pull myself together, irritably wiping them with the wet sleeves of my blouse. But they still flow.
“Don't cry Durynda, you hear, don't cry,” says Borovoy tenderly. - I will always be with you when you feel bad ... Do not cry ...
...
- Lesha, Leshechka, Leshka ... The walls of the corridor all continue their wildly pagan dance around me. The pain receded a little.
That night, Borovoy became ill, he again fell into a coma. The next morning we were not allowed to see him. Then there was my last meeting with him. When Andrei and I came to the hospital every other day, we saw Aunt Valya with a black scarf tied on her head. Everything was clear without words. I remember how I turned sharply and ran. I ran, ran, ran, ran. Trying to escape from the terrible truth. I attacked people, even fell and immediately rose, and ran again, trying to continue my crazy movement again.
Faster, faster, and maybe I can soar, dissolve in the air, the sky, stop existing, stop feeling pain.
- Marina, wait, wait, I'm telling you!
Of course, Andrew runs after him. But I can not stop, I do not want to realize that I will never again hug Leshka, I will not see his perky smile, I will not feel his lips and hands on my body, I will not hear the gentle “my Durinda”. Rushed across the road. Maybe some machine will finish the job. No, Andrei caught up, took him off the road, I was lucky, the stream of cars was small.
More than ten years have passed, and I remember everything, as if it was only yesterday ... The barbed wire began to twist again in the stomach. Objects blur, lose their contour. Something went wrong, something went wrong with my body ...
- Lesha, Leshechka, - for some reason I whisper.
As if he can hear me ...
Need to call! To call, the thought beats in a head. Phone. Trying to crawl towards the front door. There on the nightstand in my purse is my phone. I seem to crawl ... only for some reason, the distance does not decrease ... We still have to try, while I have some strength, while I am conscious ... crawling ... I stretch my hands ... no, far ... still a little bit, a little more ... no, it does not work ... Tears of despair cover the eyes ...
- Do not cry, Durynda, do not cry ...
Leshka, Leshenka, Leshka! ... He stretches his hand, there is a phone in it, which I could not reach. He came, he did not leave me ... as promised!
...
- Doctor, will she live? - Asks an intelligent-looking man in the ordinance gynecological department.
- And who are you telling the patient?
“Brother ... husband will be coming soon ... he was away on a business trip.”
“What can I tell you ... the operation went well.” Ectopic pregnancy, rupture of the fallopian tube, this operation itself is not very complicated ... but she had a lot of internal bleeding, which makes it very difficult. Therefore, it is too early to give forecasts. The condition is consistently heavy ... If it survives tonight, everything should be in order.
The doctor was called to the next patient, and the man walked the hospital corridors for a long time, sometimes repeating in whispers - “Durynda, live!”
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Awesome !!
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Dear Valentine, I am glad that you liked this sad story. I did not dare to write it for a long time, I was afraid that I would not be able to convey feelings, I was afraid that when death becomes habitual, it will not cause tears.
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Here I have - the exact same word as Valentina: amazing. And yet - hooked ... walked through the heart and remained in the middle.
Unconditional masterpiece. Piercing, honest, sensual, squally-emotional ... purest.
Plus ten is at least.
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Dear Serezha, thank you for the praise, thank you for feeling this way. Although, in your yesterday's sad mood, I did not recommend you to read it. But sometimes light sadness clears. Thank you for your involuntary clue that helped me mix romance and tragedy.
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Beautiful, though dramatic :)
Thanks for the story, Marina.
Ten, honestly earned!
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Thank. I understand sadly, but it happens in life. And I wanted to try myself in tragedy. The image of a guy is taken from my real life, so the story is very dear to me.
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Unfortunately, in my life there is also a similar case. The guy just started to improve relations with the girl, but an accident (he rode into a car on a motorcycle). There is not a scratch on the girl, he has not walked for 3-5 years, although he survived.
Let such stories be better in stories than in reality)
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You know, I never got on a motorcycle after his death. Very, I hope your friend will recover.
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Handsomely!!!
The number of exclamation marks indicates the number of points that I would give you. Alas, only 10.
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Thanks for the top ten. Glad to please the Queen of Romance ST. True with exclamation marks confused, mathematics is not my strong point :)
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Marina!
With exclamations of annoyance (((((((((((((((((((They had a whole line! I’m sobbing)
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Oh do not worry you so. I understood that you liked it and I am glad that you liked it.
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today, just a parade of planets on the site))) spent time in reading, never once dodging coffee. all said by others, nothing to add)))
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Glad to brighten up your morning.
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Seeing that 7 pages, I wanted to postpone, but my eyes managed to run through the first page (((And to postpone, it didn’t work out ...
Losses, losses ... Life is a chain of losses. And age is not the number of years lived, but the amount of pain accumulated from loss to loss. And most importantly, all these wounds do not heal. In vain they say that time to heal, it does not heal, it only cuts wounds ...
Marina. Thank you for the wonderful story. You did everything with the change of roles.
+10
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Yes, you are right as you grow up, losses are accumulated and accumulated, and the pain from these losses becomes habitual.
As for the change of role. I just wonder to try myself in different genres, to write in different ways. Although, alas, I do not really succeed. Anyway, no matter what I wrote, my manner is well recognizable. Sometimes I understand - there are not enough words, I have to repeat.
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!!! 10+
My Marinochka, once again played the swan song on the strings of my soul. No, I did not cry, I'm not a girl. But it was a pity both Leshka and Marina.
Something tells me that the story of first love is strongly autobiographical. No, not that the name of the heroine is consonant with the name of the author. Marina's feelings are described in too great detail. It seems that the author painted a picture from herself, plunging into the distant past.
Thank you for sharing with me and with your readers the most intimate - the waves of your memory.
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Yura, you are very thoughtful. Indeed, I wrote the heroine from myself, trying to remember some of my feelings and sensations then. And I did not accidentally name the heroine Marina, this name is very dear to me.No, of course, the story is not completely biographical, but there really is a lot of my past in it.
Glad you liked the story.
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Thank! I wanted to erase the memory and read it again, bravo! If there were more such stories with meaning, you are pleased to read!
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Thank. They made you think about the meaning. And if the meaning of my other stories? And perhaps there is, I have everywhere about feelings, about real feelings between people. Sex without feeling does not appeal to me even on paper.
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Well, I sit with wet eyes and roar: (((I turned your whole story over, Marina ...
Ten...
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Frankly, I, too, still that roar-koreva. Thank you for your tears. I am very pleased that this simple simple story found a response in you. Well, for 10 too many thanks.
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Dramatic, not boring, great!
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Thank. Well, that is not boring. Perhaps most of all I'm afraid to cause boredom in readers. Then just guard and her laptop no longer give.
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I also guessed that this was partly about myself. To save energy, I join the review of the Jura. Good luck!
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That's how they decided to save on me :) But in any case, I am grateful to you for reading and taking the time to express my support for me.
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Yes, you will put pressure on my weak strings. How is Seryozha Yesenin's: “I'm still just as gentle ...”
Girls are cute, tender charms,
How do you rush into adulthood!
Youth, more beautiful than experienced maturity,
Don't leave us, stay a little longer!
Memories of those years are lightly tender.
Do not let me go for many years.
Even having come a long way, I, of course,
I want to remember the beautiful dawn:
Native school, your class and comrades,
The street, the pond, the father's house and the village ...
Nothing, empty, like a fire
Everything is carried away and bylem overgrown.
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Zhenya, thanks for the poems. Very pleased and made me sad.
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Dear Marina, your story is not for this site. However, my appearance here is directly related to your stories.
The authors, whose texts can be recommended for reading, are not so much here. You are one of the first.
I am sincerely grateful for having decided to share the story from my life ... as well as for answering every comment.
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Thank you dear Dym. My stories are on Proz. But you know, they don’t really read them there, and they haven’t received such reviews as yours that warm the soul. Therefore, CT and the best site, it allows you to feel your connection with the reader.
And it turns out that such romantic-dramatic stories also read porn stories on the site.
And you are not right there are many good authors. Just sometimes their stories are lost in the general stream of meaningless porn.
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Great story, not vulgar! It's a shame that such authors are lost among different varieties of shit from this site.
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Hu, people turned out the same write about it)) give a link to the "prose" or other sites where you publish!
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Dear 1, thank you very much for the praise.
It is easy to find me on Prose, now I’m everywhere Dmitrieva Marina. But I want to warn you that here I am represented more widely than in Proz. Many stories, because of their abundant porn component, I did not dare to publish on that resource. In fact, it is inconvenient, somehow, when some laureate of something highly literary comes into your page, and here I am with my erotic fantasies.
And you're in vain about ST so. Yes, perhaps the authors are a bit lost. But after all, there is a search in which you can easily find the author you like. In addition, registered users have such a function "add to favorites."And the story you like, which means the author, respectively, will always be at hand.
For me, this resource is very expensive, because largely thanks to him, thanks to the fact that it was here that I feel my connection with the reader, I began to write, more precisely, I continued to write. On Prose, I like only one function, which, it seems to me, is not enough for PT, this is a list of the author's readings, where all who came to your page are displayed. The rest of the ST is certainly better organized.
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Thanks for the answer) I’m looking exactly for the authors, I like to read the story from a woman (I’m a boy, grown up), I think only a woman can reveal the spiritual component of the story. The site claims as a party, there is a core of five or a little more people who identify themselves as intellectual elite, so they are written off with each other, which is very sad. The others “stuck, pulled out, finished” I don’t understand at all ... people with scant imagination are still trying to publish, isn't it easier to look at banal porn?
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10 cool story !! you are well done!
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Glad you liked it.
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I read with my heart, with all my being. Every skin cell felt and love and passion and pain of loss. The pain that no years can heal, which remains an eternal wound in the soul, and in dreams and in sorrow comes a reminder of those who cannot be returned, those whom they have loved and lost.
Pain ... I pray to God to save people from this Pain, which changes us, changes the world around ... destroying and perverting everything that was so precious.
For those who have suffered this - this story awakens memories, forcing them to survive with a new terrifying force. No one will ever accept the loss of loved ones. And when the two strongest feelings in early youth merge - first love and the pain of loss, they change your life once and for all. It is impossible to get used to pain and loss, therefore, often people who have experienced this hide it deeply in their memory, trying not to remember it. But, having come into contact with the pain of others, it is necessary to experience all this again with a new force. The heart is not stony - they say, but it is memory that makes it beat unevenly, then when it seems that it is no longer able to change its rhythm.
Let this story will haunt the minds, forcing us to cherish those small and big things that have been presented to us by fate, and that is so valuable to us. Because losing, we can never repeat it.
Thank you and let you pass the loss, tearing our souls.
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Dear Ptah, thank you for what you feel, and think so. Losses, losses, losses, they all accumulate and accumulate. But that first one is very difficult to forget, it was stamped everywhere, and as you correctly put it, “changed life once and for all”.
Your emotional comment, I was very moved. Thank. I did not even think that Durynda would find such a response from readers.
Behind your words you feel a person who has experienced something similar. Hope your heart stops bleeding.
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I weep ... Impressive
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Dear Ella, I'm glad to impress you. However, I am more and more tormented conscience. As if, I deceived readers. After all, many thought to read a simple romantic story about first love, and here - tragedy and tears. Yet the category of "drama" is not enough on ST. I hope the administration will think about this opportunity.
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I cried. Bravo. And the story is based on real events?
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Thank you Sasha for praise and for your tears. You very correctly put the story based on real events and my memories. But of course not all is true in him.
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I missed the exit of the story: (I read it avidly, sobbed like the last durynda.
Marina, it seems to me that you have really outgrown the framework of this site. Porn is not at all, but byy on nerve endings is simply impossible !!!
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Thank you dear Julie. I already began to worry. More precisely, I thought that you did not like it, so you decided to remain silent because of tact this time. Perhaps this story is not really for this site. But it just so happens that here are my most important and beloved readers. Therefore, I could not resist and published it on the CT,
In the next story there will be a little more porn ... Although I had to point out with regret, I have forgotten how to write porn. More precisely in my stories porn is not the most important thing.
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Why should I not like this story? :) In my opinion, this is your best story. Before him, “Uncle Vanya” was in the first place for me, now “Durynda”. Sorry to make you worry and doubt.
Porn in your stories was not originally the main thing, even if it was in abundance. You should not torture yourself by writing out frank details for the sake of the theme of the site, your "not porn" excites and fascinates more than any porn. However, I repeat :)
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Thank you Julie for your words and repetitions too. You see, I was afraid that many would say "we came here for other emotions." Some of my writer's uncertainty is connected with this. And despite the fact that I may have outgrown the site, I am not going to leave ST. I like it here.
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Personally, I am very happy :)
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Sadly, she even wept (
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You are right sad story. Not for a holiday, Unfortunately, in life there is a lot of sadness. Thanks for the response.
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I am very sorry for your husband, you live in the past, you will not be named, and he will feel your alienation all his life, especially in moments of closeness, it is a pity for you Moor
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Good day! Let's not associate me with my heroines. The story is based on real events, but far from reality.
If you think that living in the present is to erase “from memory” all people from the past, then, you know, I feel sorry for you too.
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Thank you, like a breath of fresh air. This is Love
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Thank you for the response. You know, I, too, lately want to read about something bright, pure, present. We probably made a mistake sites? On the other hand, against the backdrop of contrasts, such texts are, indeed, like a breath of fresh air. Yes, another sip - without false modesty and hypocrisy.
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I came to the site by chance, not a fan of such entertainment. All the more unexpected was to meet a similar story. Sorry for those for whom sex and love are the same.
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Dear Victor, we do not need to justify all of us, people who are subject to all sorts of indiscreet desires. And I, for example, always preferred to read, than to look. In the video here is where there is little space for fantasy.
In addition, you are not fair to this site, there are a lot of interesting, I would even say talented, authors, and just very interesting people. After all, porn and erotic stories can also be written with talent.
And at the expense of sex and love, you know, I mostly write about such cases when love and sex, or rather passion, coincide with each other, are superimposed on each other, because I consider these feelings, not so bright without each other, not perfect .
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You know, I actually accidentally got on this site and was not going to condemn anyone, because I was a normal person and everything in life was. Apparently, the stereotype worked, I did not expect to meet such a sincere story. I think it is impossible to write like this without experiencing without feeling something like that. And love and sex are necessary for everyone, only love in my opinion is when you first think about a loved one, if you are doing everything so that he feels good and comfortable with you.
And I feel sorry for those for whom it all comes down to "I want you"
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They made me think, very much in my other stories of this very “I want you”, which the characters take for “I love you”. Apparently I myself do not fully know how to separate these concepts, and perhaps I want to pity me :)
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Great story. Put a solid 10-ku with all the checkmarks.)))
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Thanks for the top ten and for the checkboxes too. I am very glad that you liked the story.
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Marina, just with the naked eye you can see that this is from your life ... And for me it is an order of magnitude higher than imagination ... Perhaps because I appreciate good people who do not dream, but LIVE.
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Vitaly, you know, probably, nevertheless, I belong to those people whom you value much lower. I'm still a dreamer and fantasy. Just life without imagination for me, perhaps, fresh. I don’t consider it necessary and possible to put everything into reality.
As for this story, yes, it belongs to the few written by me, where fantasy and reality from my past intertwined in a tight tangle, complementing each other.
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I read your second story and cry the second time. I would like to get acquainted with all your creativity, I hope that I can gradually do it. The stories are full of lively emotions, thank you for it!
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Thank. And the emotions in this story are very lively, therefore almost real. Today I thought about the person with whom I wrote the image of the main character. In the area where I come from, it is customary to remember the dead on Easter Day.
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Very heartfelt, thank you.
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Glad you liked it. Thanks for the feedback ...
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I read it avidly and sobbed avidly too! Thank you so much for such a touching, tender, heart-rending story! In admiration for your talent.
Respectfully,
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Dear Countess, thank you very much for your comment. Thank you so much for this story, caring readers are worth a lot.
Talent is too loud, if you honestly do not like such words. I write and am glad that there are readers who like my stories.
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