Andrei entered his room with a precious and beloved burden on his hands: Olga never regained consciousness. He carefully laid her on the bed, and covered her with a light blanket. Then he turned to close the door behind him, when he suddenly heard a low moan coming from the bed. He looked scared at his wife: she lay with her eyes closed, and smiled. Sometimes her body shuddered briefly, and then she began to move under the veil, randomly turning her arms and legs.

Andrei quickly went to the shower and put himself in order. It is not clear where the trembling in his legs stopped as soon as he drank a good dose of whiskey, and lounged in his chair, hiding behind a towel. He looked at his wife with a distant look, unconsciously lying on the bed, as if he had seen her for the first time. The events of the last hours were layered in his mind at each other, intermingled with crazy fantasies and unexpected visions born of Arab grass, and it was already difficult for Andrew to distinguish reality from fiction.

He seemed to fall under some kind of hellish millstones of destiny, his minds that were overwhelmed by consciousness, completely changed his view of the system of values ​​and put the essence of the relationship between a man and a woman, not even upside down, but somehow cancer. He made it possible for his internal demons to break free, and Olga, oddly enough, served as the main catalyst for this sexual exorcism.

Olga has not yet come to his senses, and Andrei, with some anxiety, rose from his chair to look at her: "It is necessary so uhaydakat woman", he thought bitterly, “I wonder, is she breathing there at all ?!”. Andrei looked from the face to the body of his wife, and shuddered: the veil moved distinctly. Olga was lying on her side, facing her and smiling. Andrei crawled up to her, trying not to wake her up, and carefully lifted the veil: he suddenly felt a little embarrassed that he had become an uninvited witness to what was happening. With one hand, Olga squeezed her breasts, and with the other she caressed her crotch, holding her hand between her legs. Suddenly she rolled onto her back and moaned softly.

“Is she today, never calming down at all?”, Andrei was surprised to see obscene manipulations of his wife under the veil, "Is this Arabic drug still in effect?". Olga played with the clitoris, fiddling with his middle finger, and caressing her swollen folds with the rest of her fingers. Andrew did not remember to ever see firsthand such a frank masturbation of his wife. He crawled closer to her, lay next to her belly, and slowly began to lift the veil up, exposing his wife's legs.

Olga was lying on her back closing her legs tightly and breathing heavily. Here looked out her knees, which vibrated slightly, then connecting, then diverging to the sides; then her tanned hips appeared: they were so attracted to him that Andrei involuntarily ran his hand over them. As if in response to his touch, Olga's thighs dispersed to the sides; then came back, running through every fold of her charms.

Andrei sucked in his nose and felt the smell of other men's male secretions, and his member ... He stirred at the same time. He moved closer to his wife, and he began to look straight into how a graceful manicured finger slid tirelessly over a shiny pea, then appearing between skin folds, then disappearing behind obscene finger movements. Andrei did not want to stop Olga from having fun: God alone knew what she was dreaming about now, and whether she dreamed at all, but to resist the temptation was beyond his powers. When will such an opportunity!

Andrei leaned over his wife's pubis, and, seizing the moment, wanted to kiss the shiny button of the clitoris. But, kissed only her restless finger. Andrei smiled and made another attempt, and again he was beaten by failure: his wife's fingers flashed across her sexual lips, touching the most intimate places.

Then he stretched the tip of the tongue forward and leaned toward her crotch. His wife's energetic movements made her fingers casually touch Andrei's tongue, but at one point he still managed to “break through” through this insanely erotic game, and he quickly vibrated along the magical tubercle that crowned the entrance to the holy of holies.

Olga froze for a minute, then gasped, and with her fingers spread her moist folds wide open, raising her pelvis towards unexpected caress. Before Andrew, the most intimate place of his wife was revealed, which under ordinary, everyday circumstances was not always accessible to his eyes: Olga was shy in intimate relationships, and tried to “not shine” with her female charms with her husband or with anyone else: only after a dose of a fever, she was “demolished the tower” and she became uncontrollable.

Andrew’s gaze darted between his wife’s wide open thighs, running from one place to another: he tried to see more, remember, and enjoy what he saw. Before him, uncovered in shameless nudity was not alluring pussy, which once drove him crazy, not the mother's womb, which gave him two wonderful offspring, but a purple-red cunt, crammed with insane perversions with lustful stallions-aliens. On the small lips and on the walls of the vagina, opened by Olga in half-awake unconsciousness, there were whitish clots and wet paths, from which there was a spicy smell of sex.

This obscene picture very much excited Andrew, and he, with his lips folded into a pipe, clung to Oli's clitoris, gently sucking him. For a few moments he reigned supreme over the situation, caressing the apex of her enjoyment of the tongue and lips — Olga seemed to freeze with pleasure, fearing to destroy the magic of the moment with the slightest movement. Then she, as if waking up, arched with a deaf moan, and pressed her husband's head to her open vulva. Andrew did not have time to react, and turned out to be literally pushed into his wife's vagina. Olga began to move her hips, not letting go of his head, squeezing her clit tightly on his nose, and he had no choice but to caress her inside with her tongue, licking the tart cocktail from its pulsating walls.

He felt Olya even more flowed from excitement: his entire face, nose, lips, cheeks were covered with sticky secretions - sometimes it just became difficult to breathe. Olya moaned out loud, without interrupting for a minute, firmly clutching her husband's hair. Andrei took a minute, looked at his wife's face, and was stunned: she did not sleep! Olga stared between her legs, watching the process with pleasure, and moved her husband's head as if it were a complex vibrator. Their eyes met, and Andrew saw in them only a withering lust.

- Do not stop! - croaked wife, and squeezed her chest so that she turned white between her fingers - I beg you, but not now!

It was a rhetorical request: Andrei could not stop even if he really wanted to - the wife controlled the weight of the process. And he did not want to stop, with the pleasure of caressing all the delights of his wife, who by chance had become so close and accessible. His penis has long stood like a stone, and he involuntarily moved his hips, lying on his bed, creating pressure on him and feeling pleasant tactile contact.

- I want your fingers inside! - not that hoarse, not that wheezed Olya, arching on the bed.

His wife's voice was difficult to find out: as if she had caught a cold, or tore off ligaments from a scream. Andrei introduced three fingers into it at once: they slipped easily, thickly oiled by the released lubricant. Andrew felt with his fingertips how tight the mouth of her vagina became, swollen moments before the onset of orgasm.He turned his hand palm up, groped for a rough-ridged surface, and several times pressed hard, sucking the clitoris and quickly caressing his elastic top with the tip of his tongue.

- Aaaaaaaa ... Bitchaaaa ...! - Olga screamed, jerked, and firmly squeezed Andrei's head with her hips.

She is ...