Then he turned and slowly walked back, bumping into passersby.

2.

- What am I supposed to do? - scribbled fingers, pushing Claudia to the crunch.

- Maybe you made a mistake? No, well, listen, I am kissed on cheeks a miscellaneous schmuck 100 times a day ...

“How did he get her?” Right for the ass?

- Just think, me too! I paw for her 40 times a day, okay? You just like from Victorian England in our time moved ...

- But this is my wife!

- So, now your wife should join the monastic order of the name of the holy you?

- Fuck, how do you not understand? And if she changes me?

- Well ... You will live as you lived. Changes - does not mean "does not like." Maybe this Govnopolsky her kuni does great. Or she ends up under him six times. That's how much she cums under you?

- Eeee ...

- Meee! And still surprised.

- What am I supposed to do?

- If you really so hurt - cheat on her. And you will live as you did. All you will be cool, do not worry, dude! ..

Misha did not know how to communicate with his wife. He averted his gaze, moaned, joking in a strained and evil manner, feeling his face contract by a mask that was fake to the last cell. It felt as if he had betrayed her, and not she to him. Slava was surprised, kissed him, enveloped her with tits, and in the evening she gave him a fucking fuck, licking him from head to toe like a tender lapdog.

“And how is it enough for the two of us?” Thought Misha and fucked her hard, brutal, as he never fucked. - “Bitch - she is a bitch ...”

The result was unexpected: Slavochka finished, blowing bubbles, and when she caught her breath, she told Misha that she had never been so good.

"Bitch - she is a bitch ..." - Misha, who melted away, kept saying to himself, trying to be alert. But Slava was so grateful, so gentle, dear, frantically affectionate, that he didn’t work well, and after ten minutes, Misha grunted, buried in pink boobs.

“Maybe I really went to him - to take, say, some thread of figovin ... and Ganapolsky asshole, I already know that ... pawing other people's wives, fucking ..." - he convinced himself, dissolving into warm milk ocean, breathing under his side.

“Mishustik,” the ocean whispered to him. - You will love me in any way, right? That is ... well, if I suddenly change my hair, image and all that? Yes?

“Uguuuu,” Misha moaned without thinking about what she said. (Nobody, even Einstein, could think at such moments.)

The next day Slavochka left again “for a couple”.

This time she went to a completely different place. Misha was relieved from his heart, and he danced with joy, continuing his surveillance. "I will bring it to the object," he thought, "so that there is absolutely no doubt at all ..."

Slavochka out on the outskirts. There were all kinds of institutions around, and Misha was already quite sure that she was going to study, and went after her just because he was used to bringing any business to the point.

At one of the institutes Slavochka turned, but not to the entrance, but to the courtyard. There, near the ordinary entrance of the stalinka, Ganopolsky was waiting for her.

Numb, Misha watched him hug her, kiss her (he thought he was on the lips) and lead her off the porch.

“She came to his house,” whispered Misha, standing like an idol. - "She ... to him ... home ..."

Then he took out the phone, got into contact and for a long, long time flipped through the dialogue, until he found what he was looking for.

“Four ... seven ... eight ..." he muttered, dialing the number. - Hello? Jeanne?

3.

They agreed that they would call each other only as a last resort.

They met in the network. It was the most amazing coincidence of all interests, which at least once in the life of any network wolf. Zhanna seemed to read his thoughts, and in addition was awfully beautiful and original, if you believe the pictures (and why would they not believe?). There was a time when Misha hung on VKontakte for hours, scoring on all or almost all.

Their virtual romance had every chance to grow into something more if it were not for Slavochka.Just then she appeared, and Misha, as he could, tried to restrain himself with Jeanne. It turned out, however, badly, and the total number of strong words on her part clearly exceeded Slavochkin, but ... in real life and in the virtual, the words have a different price. In addition, Slavaочкаka was here, under her nose, with her flowing back and lips, in which she wanted to melt and die, and Jeanne was in the monitor, in words and in photographs, and you can’t kiss or fuck them.

In general, Misha gradually and tactfully, as it seemed to him, taught Jeanne to the idea that he was married. They exchanged numbers, but never called each other. And now ...

- Jeanne? This is Misha ... The same ... yes ... Jeanne, I need to talk to you. Really needed. You can now ... What? How to come? Where to come?

“You and I live in the same city,” the pipe said. - I'll reset your email address.

- Jeanne! ... Right now? Are you at home?

- Houses. I am waiting. Just ... promise not to be surprised at what you see.

- Ah ... uh ... okay. See you soon, Jeanne!

- See you.

Misha was so worried just before his first sex with Slavochka (such beauties were never found in his bed, and he was afraid that he would not be at the height). Slavaочкаka herself and her treason almost flew out of his head. Their place was taken by Jeanne - a phantom clot of words, photographs and voices.

When he rang the doorbell, the heart was ready to be impressed on the ribs like a crazy ball.

“Hi,” a short, slightly plump girl told him, opening the door.

One half of her face was, perhaps, beautiful - with an even bend of her cheekbones, a plump cheek, and a matte brown eye.

The other was a spongy color borscht scar. A scarlet gaping gaped in place of the second eye.

“Oh, and Jeanne ...,” said Misha, who was stunned.

- It's me. You promised not to be surprised, remember? Come on in. I did not deceive you - the pictures were mine. Year old.

- What's the matter?

- Boyfriend and acid. The usual finale of normal relationships ... You might be surprised, but I want to hug you.

Jeanne hugged him tightly, and by inertia he wrapped his arms around his plump shoulders.

- So we met ... You're cool. Let's go to. Tell me ...

Misha told me, going from fifth to tenth. What tormented him and filled him to the top, forcing out all thoughts, now seemed to him nonsense compared to the beet half of a beautiful face that he tried not to look at, but still looked and frowned, as if an empty eye socket Zhannina scratched his nerves.

“We met at the corporate party,” he said. - Came with Ganapolsky. Then she told me that they had nothing, and that she went with him, because she was just bored ... All fucked up, of course. And I, like Ostap, suffered. Well, I can, you know, especially if I drink. In general, she fell in love. That's right at first sight. So she said. And I fucking believed her all the time ...

- And correctly believed, - nodded Zhanna. “Girls must be trusted, even if they lie.”

- What is it like?

- So like this. The girl, even when lying, speaks the truth. So she feels. Girls never lie, understand? And if what they say is not true - well, these are already problems of reality. It can not be understood, I know. This can only be remembered ...

Misha, spitting on propriety, was staring at her, trying to mentally draw the second half of a beautiful face. From pity and horror he wanted to howl.

- In my opinion, you want to pat me on the head. Right? But you hesitate.

- Yeah, - Misha raised a stiff arm and put Joan on the top of his head.

- This is not a wig, do not be afraid.

Misha stroked Joan on the head, trying not to touch the beetroot scar, and Joan told him:

- Understand such a simple thing. Spouses are spouses not because they no longer sleep with anyone. Spouses are the unity of a higher order. Marriage should be above the bed.

- Did you cheat ... that? - asked Misha and bit his tongue.

- It depends on what is considered cheating .... Read more →