He flew into my life as a hot meteor. So - there was nothing, and then like a bolt from the blue. I then worked in a godly forgotten newspaper, the owner of which was dreaming about sensations and pinned great hopes on me.

- Masha! - he often used to say. - Your bright head will surely lead us to success!

At that time I was fortunate enough to lead a journalistic investigation of recruitment into one well-known sect. I had to pretend to be a stupid twenty-year-old girl and find myself in one place of adventure.

I registered on their website and started posting in my profile the saddest and saddest texts that could only have been born to me, a crazy optimist. Sometimes I re-read my fairy tales and even felt sorry for my lyrical heroine. The client pecked, I was invited into a private conversation and soon I got into a group of the same sad people. Among all the saddeners, a certain Pafnuti particularly stood out. He wrote a lot and was hot and tried to instill in everyone at least a drop of thirst for life. He was joking, cursing, trying to help, advice, money ... Finally, we wrote off in a personal conversation.

He said that he was also “not of these”, but he wanted to help them, although from the very beginning he came out of curiosity. We talked, my investigation was completed and so it would have passed if it were not for his sudden message. "I'm going to your city, you need to go to university." Of course, I agreed to help him, but, oh God, I didn’t know what to do. After all, he expected to see a girl of his age. And I was already thirty, fucking thirty years. Yes, and I liked to communicate with him in correspondence. I was not ready for a personal meeting, absolutely not ready.

His train arrived early in the morning. I didn’t sleep most of the night. I got up early to put myself in order. Hairstyle, light makeup. Slightly blurred figure. Skirt or pants? I changed my clothes several times. Come on! Anyway, he immediately run away. Put on a skirt. Long chose a blouse. Damn, I'm late.

I arrived at the station, of course, before. I stood on the platform and felt like I was shaking from cold and horror. I have long met only men of my own age, with whom everything was simple and clear. As if previously agreed. And here ... Darkness.

I recognized him right away. A tall, blue-eyed blond man with a light bag on his shoulder jumped out of the carriage and walked toward me, looking askance at me a little. Something in my stomach sank somewhere down, my breath caught and - just not that! - I felt that my nipples were firm and rubbing painfully on the lace bra. I snuggled into a jacket more tightly and tried to squeeze a smile out of myself.

- Hello! - I said.

- Hello! - He said and kissed me on the cheek. - Are you on the car? I need here and here. - he thrust a piece of paper under my breath.

- Got it. - I replied. - Ida.

And we went to the car. I'm a little ahead, he is behind. It seemed to me that I felt his gaze. Full of frustration. Need to pull yourself together. Now. I gathered the will into a fist, and ...

- Sit down. How did you get there? Where do you want to go? What specialty? And where will you live?

I chatted and chatted to at least somehow hide my embarrassment. Little by little, the ice between us began to melt.

- It's too early. We'll stop at the cafe? - I asked him.

- Come on. Only inexpensive.

We went to a coffee shop and sat down at a table. Little by little, all the common topics that we talked about on the Internet surfaced, my interlocutor became animated, started waving his arms, arguing loudly, frowning, thinking, laughing. He was impossibly handsome in his youth, insolence, insanely attractive in his maximalism and youthful innocence.

I listened to him with envy and enthusiasm. He was smart beyond his years. He easily rolled me in all disputes about history, politics, technology and I was inferior to his pressure, even when I was sure that I was right. Time flew by and we went to his university. I stayed to wait in the parking lot, and he went to look for a selection committee.

I closed my eyes and thought about his hands. Strong, masculine. About his smooth skin on the palms, a little rough on the tips of his fingers. I put my hand under the skirt and pushed her panties. How I want him. Covering my eyes, I stroked my clit with my finger, imagining that it was his hands, imagining how he enters into me and I start to moan. I was almost finished and began to moan softly when I heard someone embarrassed, “Hm!”

I blushed, quickly pulled my hand out from under the skirt and pursed my lips embarrassed.

- You are so fast. - I said.

- Yeah sorry.

I blushed even more.

- Where now? - without much hope I asked.

“Help me choose a hotel for a couple of days,” he said, smiling cheekily.

We arrived at some awfully cheap hostel. He paid for the room and nodded me to enter. I shook my head and started mumbling something about what I already needed to go home. His eyebrows flew up.

“Let's go,” he said, “I'll take you to the car.”

He sat in the next seat. We were silent for a bit. Then he looked at me and said:

- What is it on your cheek?

And he leaned toward me, close-up. And then he burned me with the hot flame of his kiss. I tried to pull away, but he grabbed the back of my head and held me tight. I started to beat off with my hands and finally jumped out of the car. I went around the car and opened his door.

- Come out! - I snapped, almost crying.

He grabbed my arm, pulled me so that I plopped down on his knees in the front seat, pressed me to the glove compartment and began to unbutton my blouse.

- Stop it! Please stop! - I whispered, sobbing. - I can not, really can not.

He abruptly removed his hands.

- Yes, how is that? - he roared. - How?

- I know that I am already old for you and my body is not a girl at all ... You should not do this out of pity.

- You're a fool, or what? He shouted. - Bl ... d! Are you a fool? Out of pity does not get up!

He shoved me off his knees and covered his face with his hand.

- You are not twenty. Why are you such a fool? - he said wearily.

I sighed.

- I can not. True. If only you will rape me. - I tried to joke.

He looked at me with a heavy look and said:

- Okay. You do not want - as you want. I'm not some kind of maniac. Let's forget. I probably did not understand everything. I to you tore a button on a blouse. Come on, go up, sew, I have with me a travel set of threads and needles. At the same time, we will think about where you can go for a walk. Just walk. - he expressively looked at me and smiled.

I tried to smile too.

- Yes, I did not understand.

We climbed to the top floor. It was somehow damp, cold and empty. Sounds jammed heavy old carpets on the floor and massive doors. He opened the door, pushed me inside and quickly shut it. From his heavy breathing, I realized that I would still have sex today. He grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back. He pushed him onto the bed, pressed me with his body, and with one hand pulled the belt out of his trousers. All this time I tried to free myself, not trying too hard. I could not believe in what was happening. How? So - I was raped? He folded his belt and whipped me down the thigh. It seemed to me that it was not a belt, but a hot rod. I screamed.

- It hurts me!

- And you thought you got into a fairy tale? - he brazenly grinned. - If you want to not be hurt - do not get rid of. - he tied my hands with a belt to the headboard.

He pulled off my skirt, then tights and panties. Unbuckled his blouse and bra. I tried to pull my hands out of the belt, to which he unkindly flashed his eyes and slapped me on the pope with his hand. And again it seemed to burn me.

- It hurts! - I sobbed.

“So you lie down and do not twitch,” he said irritably. - Do I have to tie your legs and shut your mouth? Indeed, as I had not guessed.

I was in a light shock. He lit a cigarette and sat next to me.

- Bl ... d. - he said. “I slept with so many women at eighteen.” But, b ... d, nobody had to rape yet. Especially the woman is much older. Yes, I have a mother ... she's thirty-seven.How old are you? Thirty? You know, I read in sexology that all men in the depths of the subconscious want to sleep with their mother. Hence the craving for older women. You know, babies, they suck her mother's breast. And this attachment then for life. I always want to touch a woman's chest during sex. You have a gorgeous chest. What size? Fifth?

He ran his finger along my neck, then across my chest, making a few circles around my nipples, then along my stomach, thighs. I understood that all this was wrong, but my body was shamelessly goosebumped, arched and groaned, in itself, as if I did not control it at all. And maybe it was so.

“You want me, look, the whole sheet is wet under you.”

He began to caress my clit with his hands, entering his fingers deeper and deeper. I felt it was wet there and I was ashamed that I flowed like the last bitch. But all the shame was blocked by heavy hot waves of orgasm, one by one, breaking me and spreading out on my body. I was already exhausted when he undressed and lay on me. He kissed my neck, then bit me on the chest. I felt how huge and hard his member was and waited for him to enter me and this sweet torment would end. When I felt his cock very close, I moved the basin towards him.

- Oh, you lustful bitch! - He whispered in my ear with a smile. And drove me into his penis.

I moaned as much as was possible with my mouth shut. I moved my pelvis to help him get into me as deeply as possible and, after another orgasm, I realized that I had no more strength left. At this time, he slapped me down the thigh.

- What spat out? Move your asshole!

I tried, but it turned out not so active and he had to cheer me up with slaps on the ass. Finally, he finished, exhaled loudly and dropped his head on my chest. He grabbed my chest and began to drive my finger around the nipple. And then somehow loosened his grip and puffed.

Little by little, by the millimeter, I pulled my brushes out of the belt. The clasp clinked on the headboard and I laid numb hands on his shoulders. They started to get goosebumps in their hands, they were terribly injected, it was necessary to have a massage, but I was afraid to wake him. When the sensitivity of my hands recovered, I opened my mouth and began to think further. At this time, he turned on his side and slid off me.

Strange, but at that moment I felt a feeling of deep tenderness towards him. I wanted to hug him and stroke his hair endlessly, kiss his cheeks, lips ...

I untied my legs, slightly massaged them, dressed and saw his ticket on the table. Roman is his name. Roma ... Roma ... My little ...

I left the hostel and decided to go to the pharmacy. In the pharmacy, I bought an emergency contraceptive, but when I left the pharmacy I suddenly became ill and I sat on the step at the entrance. What do I have in this fucking life? A series of stupid bosses and small salaries, a string of men, sex with whom is so simple and banal that it makes you sick with the first kiss? Maybe today is the only thing that I will remember good things about my life. And in general, what is the point of my stupid pastime?

I got up, resolutely threw the pills in the trash and walked to the car.

Maybe my life will make sense? Little...