The life of Ilya Stepanych Sukhorukov took shape in such a way that by the age of forty-five he increasingly called himself a failure.

He tried as best he could, not to show it in public, carefully disguising his nagging. Yes, and they would not understand him - they would say "snickering." Or "midlife crisis". Or something else offensive.

For a casual observer, Ilya Stepanych was quite a successful official, authoritative, firmly seated in his chair. And only Ilya Stepanych himself knew what he would have been capable of, if it had been ... But this elusive BE would have never happened. All his searchlights fell one after another, as if fate had told him - "sit down and don’t rock the gun." He had neither family nor children. Sukhorukov never got along with women, and of all the embraces he had visited, not one of them warmed him up so that he would like to recall them now, in the fifth decade.

And the more surprising was how Ilona appeared in his life.

She was listed as an errand in one of the lower divisions of his office. An extraordinary (although, on the other hand, quite understandable) thing happened: beauty Ilona without a memory fell in love with graying Ilya Stepanych.

If you look, there was nothing strange about this: Sukhorukov’s authority, his magnificent speeches on the planning meetings, his elegant look — all this could well impress young hormones. And if we take into account two important circumstances - 1) female logic, 2) eighteen years ... Whatever it was - the fact remained: at forty-five, Ivan Stepanych attracted the attention of the brightest of the novice charming women of St. Petersburg.

And the truth is - Ilona was not just pretty. One had only to watch her for a minute or two, and it seemed that no Hollywood could compete with this explosive mixture of lightness and charm. Her skin was dull-pale and transparent, as befits a pedigreed finke, her face is nervously animated, childishly interested, and her green eyes glittered, huge like those of a deer. She had discolored her long hair to moonlight whiteness, and it seemed to be gray. Even experienced officials, communicating with her, felt lethargy in the language, and their voice was gushing itself, like melted margarine. Ilya Stepanych was by no means an exception.

What was his surprise when he noticed that Ilona herself was confused and blushed when they met (and she blushed as dazzlingly as a pink searchlight). He was even more surprised when he realized that she looked into his department fifty times a day. And when the boss seriously asked how they were doing, then Sukhorukov became thoughtful.

Everything was decided in a short time. Giggling colleagues pushed Ilona under a shower, and she was right next to Sukhorukov’s car. I had to take her home. So began this painful evening, which led to an unexpected (although quite predictable) outcome:

- Are you sure? - asked Sukhorukov, not knowing what to say smarter. The answer was a guilty smile, shining through the wet curls.

- What, and marry me go?

He joked with her, hiding, like an ostrich, from her confession. And only five minutes later I realized that I had made an offer to this extraordinary girl, and she accepted it. And in half an hour ... no, it's impossible to believe in such a thing.

But it was not a dream: he really kissed her nipples, these hot nipples sticking with tight buds apart, and went crazy with the beauty and youth of her body, and then really, fuck her, fuck it this tender deer, this green-eyed wonder-yudo right into her oil hole, pouring a long-term supply of sperm there ...

The unexpected sex impressed Ilona so much that she was sobbing violently, and Ilya Stepanych could not calm her down for a long time.

A month later, they signed. It was some kind of ridiculous pink glamor: suddenly, out of the blue, fate sent Sukhorukov a gift that he didn’t dare even dream of.

“On the other hand,” he thought, “maybe this is a reward?” Compensation, so to speak, for many years I get on?

The wedding turned out to be modest: there were ten people from the groom, including the chief, from the bride - only her mother, a youthful and also very beautiful woman, who arrived from Karelia. She opened up with her son-in-law and told him that "our Ilka is not of this world" and "knows how to surprise everyone." Six months ago, she suddenly disappeared, and then came naked, emaciated and wounded, and explained that she went swimming in a forest lake. “I’m stuck with you, although it’s time for you and your grandchildren ...” Sukhorukov listened to her and thought that all the mother-in-law were the same, even if they were younger than you.

She called her daughter Ilka; funny, but that was the name of Ilya Stepanych himself in childhood. “Apparently, after all, fate” - thought Sukhorukov, and it was very pleasant to think about it. So he began to call his wife, and it seemed to him that his Ilka was, in a sense, himself, the little boy Ilka, who had become for some reason a girl.

Ilka had fewer things than Sukhorukov’s folders: a travel bag and a shopping bag with warm clothes, given by her mother. Helping Ilka to pry clothes in his closets, Sukhorukov found her with some strange thing in his hands, worn and ancient in appearance.

- What have you got? The relics of Tutankhamen?

Ilka was embarrassed and hid the thing in the bag.

“Oh, talisman of some kind,” she said, as if making excuses.

Ilya Stepanych nodded in understanding: there is trouble with these village mothers, especially in St. Petersburg. Therefore, he did not ask Ilka - “show me!” - and tactfully waited for her to leave, and he himself got into her bag.

Like all respectable men, Ilya Stepanych was curious about hell. The gizmo turned out to be exactly what Ilka said - the bare talisman of the cave species. It was a wooden plate on which was depicted incomprehensibly who entwined with clumsy patterns. "Probably something Tibetan" - thought Sukhorukov.

A piece of paper with some figures written with a ballpoint pen was glued to the tablet. “Probably inventory number. A mascot, it seems, bought in a souvenir stall ... "

Ilka returned, and he barely managed to hide it in a bag and turn to her with a radiant look.

A solid man is more likely to confess to a crime that he did not commit than in curiosity or some other unsavory sin.

***

It seemed - just yesterday he was told about Ilka, and Illya Stepanych's hungry dick still aches from the invasion of her body ... but the calendar stubbornly showed that they had been married for a month already. Two months. Three. Half a year ...

During all this time, Ilka was never able to reorganize and still called her husband by his patronymic name, to “you”:

- Ilya Stepanych, can you ... to finish it again?

“Tambov's wolf Ilya Stepanych to you,” growled Sukhorukov, dipping Ilka again and again into her thick, shameful happiness, and she floundered there, like in creamy cream. Ilya Stepanychu liked her vykanie, which is already there: he felt like a horny lecher who seduced a pupil-pupil, or stepdaughter, or ... (you never know what an excited man imagines to himself).

He was mortally afraid that Ilka would be disappointed in him, and treated her like a princess on a pea, anticipating her sneeze. Ilka was happy. When they celebrated six months of their marriage (a restaurant, a sauna for two, and lots and lots of sex), Sukhorukov remarked:

- Listen, but we have never had a fight. How did we do it, don't you know?

He did not know whether he loved her, and did not want to think about it.He did not know what it was called. When you are given such a miracle, you somehow don’t think about names.

He melted and melted from Ilka. He forced her to go home naked, and she was shy at first, and then she tasted and covered her bare tits, pussy only for the street. He coated it with honey, jam and sweet cream, licked it, sticky and shiny, and then did not allow her to stick to it like a candy wrapper, and told her “my sticky tape”. He dressed her up like a doll and braided her pigtails with bows. He burst with embarrassing emotion, painting up Ilka with her makeup, like young fashionable women smearing each other. The further - the stronger he wanted to boast ...