Page: 1 of 4

Slogan: In the Soviet Union, sex was!

1

At the bus stop crowded people, waiting for the bus.

Burned the sun and nimble sparrows; then picking up and piling on each other, taking off and chirping loudly, and fluttering from branch to branch of an overgrown maple, they took away a crust of bread from a lucky man and, as soon as it was possible, the crust of bread was in another beak from another lucky man, flew at him and squealing the ball rolled down through the leaves and branches, and crumbled right on the ground - Frrrr! That swam in the roadside dust; diving, jumping and twisting wings.

Because of the turn, in front of the dam, the bus turned out and scattered people from the bus stop, tightening up, to the curb, to the place where the bus stopped.

One glance at the window, bringing the bus closer, was enough to understand: everyone will not enter!

The bus went through the village in transit and was already crowded with passengers from the two previous ones. Hope for our passengers was just that someone will come out here!

The bus braked, slightly turning out of the road to the side of the road and the crowd, already condensed to a critical mass, swayed back and forth and, as soon as the bus stopped, and the doors opened, it rushed towards them like a wave.

- Yes, let go!

The crowd parted a little, freeing up the place, and just as it left it, it stepped on the ground, closed again, crushing, pressing and dragging the unfortunate back into the bus!

Swearing, pushing and pushing elbows pushing out, the one who came out was torn through the crowd and, badly crushed, and disheveled, like a sparrow, still came to his senses!

Crush!

A terrible crush!

Who managed to bring and put one foot on the step, could not move on! For his hands and for the doors, cling at least three.

Finally, after three or four minutes of wheezing and crushing, people begin to squeeze into the already crowded bus.

At the back door, balding and elderly, in his early fifties, the little man, pushes his niece, who has already stepped on the step, but the girl, roughly and unceremoniously, jerks the bully and, pushing the little man with her elbow, climbs himself.

- Oh, you bitch! - and the muzhik, unexpectedly promptly and strongly, with one jerk pulls back the bull. Bugy grabs a little guy by the shoulder and pulls! A little man hits his head on the bus - Boom! - and does not have time to recover, like a bull, with a short and powerful poke of a fist on the back of its neck, sends the little man right under the rear wheels of the bus.

Niece is trying to shame the bull - What are you doing, man ?! - but he, not paying attention to exhortations, again breaks the door.

But among the companions and passengers, there are two sons of the little one: the eldest is twenty-five and twenty-one, the youngest. The eldest two years ago served in the army and now lives and works in the city. Junior was cleared a year ago (a company of intelligence of the Airborne Forces), lives with his father and works in the village.

The younger son, who did not climb into the crowd, saw his father, literally. impaled under the bus!

- Oh, you bastard! - the drunken paratrooper snapped and, pushing the crowd apart, he rushed by the bob scrum, that he flew several steps away from the bus, swung, but withstood his feet.

Bugay, in appearance, is about twenty-five years old and with him a younger brother, about nineteen years old.

In the meantime, the little man, having crawled out from under the bus and, not paying attention to the beginning fight, again sits down his niece. At that moment, and kicked him in a soft spot, the younger brother of the bull.

This sneaky stab in the back, I saw the eldest son of the little Zhora and, seizing the kid by the collar, pulled him away from the bus and from the crowd.

- What are you, bitch, doing? - he hissed, narrowing his eyes, lingered for a moment and hit. But this, instant, delay, the boy was enough to sit down, having gone from the blow, and bounce.

Zhora jumped to the kid, but he turned around and ran.

And the paratrooper, having stunned a bull with two blows, in three jumps caught the boy and, having made two deceptive jerks, pressed him to the metal fencing of the club and hit.

Rraz!

The boy from the fall kept the fence. But from the second strike, he swam and, on the fence, slid to the ground.

At this time, the bully came to his senses, picked up the bitches from the ground and moved to the paratrooper.

- You still bastard! - The paratrooper stepped, fists clenched, but then, with a cry, his aunt of the bull and the boy clutched his hair, and hung, holding.

The paratrooper did not hit her aunt, and dragged her along in tow, but moved slowly.

Zhora saw the eyes of the bull, stepped towards him and, resting his left hand on his shoulder, tried to stop him. But scare feather, like a tank, and Zhora retreated - That's it! Everything! Take it easy. Hey!

Bugai is a little higher than Zory, but in terms of body build it is massively one and a half times larger.

And Jora, beats!

The right hand, describing a half-arc and, without encountering resistance, smoothly descends, completing the trajectory.

The hubbub of a crowd bursting into a bus and watching a fight, verse.

Zhora looks surprised, like a bull, steps three from him, with glassy eyes, rises from the ground and, turning, walks to the side. From the nose of a bogey, blood runs off in a trickle, dripping onto the ground.

Zhora turns around and goes to the bus.

Passengers on the bus are squeezed out of the door, freeing up space. Zhora climbs up the steps and leads, as if only this one was waiting, closes the doors and the bus pulls away from the bus stop.

George, through the glass, waving his hand to his father and brother.

My cousin, here on the back platform, gives Zhora a bag, snuggles up to him and says quietly: - Did you notice how everyone calmed down when you hit him?

But Zhora does not hear her. In front of his eyes, like on film, the same episode is scrolling: a bull, rising from the ground, its glassy eyes and a trickle of blood from the nose.

And Zhore, already, a little sorry for the bull.

2

The train of the sister goes earlier and Zhora, having put her, goes on the second platform.

A girl approaches him - Hello, Jora

Jora smiles - Hello.

- I am Faith, Somov. Don `t you remember me? I was in fourth grade when you went to town. And when I studied in the seventh, you came for the New Year, and we showered you with snowballs near the club. Do you remember?

Zhora looked into the past and remembered how the children fired snowballs from a snow slide, near the club, and how one little girl, who flushed and seemed unusually beautiful, laughed.

He, with a smile, looked at the beauty: a thick blond hair to the waist, a perfect oval of the face, blue eyes, scarlet and swollen lips, and a neat nose, on a mischievous, slightly upturned. He looked straight into the eyes of the girl, and peripheral vision circled the smooth contours of her figures.

Figurine Vera was, mmmma!

“What car do you usually ride in?” - asked Vera.

- In the second

- I, too

The train was moving slowly and almost silently along the apron.

They were sitting by the window: Faith along the way, saying that her back was spinning.

Vera about the fight did not speak and Zhora was grateful to her for this: he still felt sorry for the bull. Besides, to pity, the feeling of guilt was mixed in with the fact that the boogie and his brother, apparently, also had to leave on the train, but did not get on the bus.

But at the third stop, the train, from the station of departure, George saw a bull walking along the aisle. He, apparently noticing Zhora from the vestibule through the glass of the door, walked, with his eyes fixed, somewhere in the space in front of him.

There was no bruise on his face. George calmed down and did not remember about him again. He was more and more attracted by the girl sitting opposite.

“Where do you usually go out?” She asked

- Centre

- And I

- And you go then?

- Tram, three

- And I'm on the fifteenth bus ... will you go with me to the bus stop?

- Yes

- And on the top three you go to what stop?

- Polyclinic

- And from a stop to go far? Do you live in a dorm?

- Yes, the hostel, three or four minutes

- And I drag about ten minutes, no less ....

 Read more →
Show Comments (2)

Latest stories of the author

2014—2023 © Eroticspace — erotic and porn stories
Only 18+

The information on this website is intended for adults only

Восстановление пароля
upstairs