also. Can I make a gift?
Andrew smiled. He first heard from Korchagin that he called their relatives.
- Thank you, if so, - Solntsev flopped on the next stool. - What did Kate buy?
“You look later,” Misha smirked, “if she doesn't mind.”
- And what is shy? - Andrei grinned.
- Well, maybe you have something, and she is already an adult. Can not afford to look beautiful, - Misha winked.
- Something you are dark, Misha, - Andrei scratched the stubble on his chin.
Misha looked at the window, from which bright sunlight poured.
- You better say, ready to work and defense? - he asked.
- Are you talking about Veronica again?
- Well, and about whom else? She also dressed up. He will come to you, like Gritsa, on a silver platter.
In the voice of Korchagin, Andrew heard a hurt note.
“He himself puts this slut under me and regrets me!” Thought the Suns.
“Well, let them come,” he said in a comic tone. - I will make her.
- Here! This is another conversation, - Misha perked up. - Look what I bought.
He began one by one to get the bottles of alcohol, unwrap them with a label, read the brand names, then put them in the locker.
- How are you here with Nastya, do not miss? He asked, completing the inventory ritual.
- With Nastya? No, - Andrew, by surprise, did not know what to think of. “Or rather, she went upstairs, and I cleaned the potatoes,” he justified. - So we almost did not talk.
“She is silent,” Misha shook his head. - Loves to blow like a mouse to the grain.
Andrei already recalled Nastya's frank confessions, passionate wet kisses, hot hugs. He also felt a pleasant relaxation in the groin and lethargy throughout his body. The muscles of the back reminded of the recently accomplished act of love. How would he like to run away with Nastya, and preferably forever. Settle down somewhere in the wilderness so as not to see Korchagin’s sharp eyes, not to hear the rattle of his voice condemning, predatory. But for now he must pretend and act in secret so as not to incur the wrath of the gods. Perhaps, having fucked Veronica, he would really take suspicion away from himself.
“Did Veronica say anything about me?” He asked in an innocent voice.
“Only that you don't want her.”
Andrei grunted, added resentment to his voice:
- I have something written on the face of whom I want, and who does not? I, maybe, just because I don’t pester her because you are doing it.
- And you pester, Andrei. Pester! Start harassing, everything will fall into place at once, - Michael got up from the stool, stretched and, hanging his head, headed for the exit. - Girls! He shouted, head up. - Dinner.
22
After dinner, as it was agreed, Nastya invited the Solntsevs to walk to the lake, so to speak, to air before bed. The Solntsevs readily agreed, taking into account Mikhail’s clear attention to favorite Veronichka, who climbed out all evening to show how much Uncle Misha loves her just for pretty eyes.
“I'm going for a blouse,” Katya said, rubbing her bare shoulders. She shivered, pretending to freeze. It was calm weather, and warm air, saturated with daytime heat and the smell of herbs, pleasantly caressed your skin. - You do not wait for me. I may stay at home, read a book.
She felt superfluous, Nastya and Dad, although communicating with each other, did it too delicately, as if there was no difference between them in twenty years.
Katya turned around and went home. There, she is also unlikely to be met with open arms, she thought. In this situation, the two couples clearly demanded solitude, and she, Katya, it turns out, interferes with both there and there. What to do? All that remains is to walk alone. She sighed doom.
Curiosity still prompted her to go from the garden, sneak into the bath, where, according to Veronika, an unforgettable sight awaits her.
Approaching the gate, Katya felt her heart pounding loudly, like a bird tearing from a cage. Warmly rushed to the face, spreading milky drowsiness throughout the body. She was nervous, as before the exam. If Uncle Misha catches her peeping, what will he think?
I heard a girlish laugh, Veronica jumped out from around the corner of the house. She ran along the path, looked around, finger-beckoning Michael. He went behind her, laughing, waddling like a sailor, playing with his muscles. He has already taken off Mike, his shorts are bulging in the groin area.
Kate sat in the bushes. So she came back just in time, she thought. Did Veronica really have sex with his uncle Misha in the bath? This will be the number! “If the horse had me, I'd probably die,” she remembered a yard joke.
Uncle Misha really resembled a stud stallion. Tanned, dried, sharp and tiger-like at the same time, he pursued the prey, driving the doe into a wooden house on the edge of the plot.
The door to the bath was locked, and Katya, with a crouching cat, approached a hole in the slab wall. A place to view was made in advance using a stud. Now, having got a carnation, she put her eye to the hole. Initially, squatting on her heels, Katya still dropped to her knees. What happened inside was not amenable to universal logic.
Uncle Misha has already pulled off his shorts and was standing with his back arched, sticking out a huge stake sticking out with a huge stake. Veronica sat in front of him on a bench, with two hands, she tugged her skin to the base. Her little mouth dived on the fat head, licked the tongue, strolling along the bottom and sides, making funny monkey smacking. Uncle Misha blissed out. With his head thrown back, he was rocking his hips with a desired smile. His big palms lay on Veronikina’s head, held her like a big coconut. The girl under him pulled her lips together into a tube, thus turning into a squishing hole. Her round eyes stared ridiculously when the fat sausage flew three to five centimeters, poked into the throat and then retreated like a piston in order to repeat the fraction of a second attempt to penetrate deeper. Veronica’s lips were drooling, whipped into foam. Uncle Misha did not hesitate to fuck the girl in her mouth, holding her head. She just grabbed the trunk, pushed the groin at arm's length. And it was not clear to Katya whether she resists a make-believe or really fell into the hands of the rapist.
Uncle Misha picked up a T-shirt at his neck and instantly pulled it off from Veronica. Bare breasts shook swollen nipples, the girl barely kept pace with the wishes of a hardened male. He took her, as males jump on a bitch, as stallions jump on mares. Katya did not have time to understand what was happening, as a member of Uncle Misha was already poking her fat head into a thin fold of the vagina, glowing at the base of the girl's priests. Veronica, put on his knees, arched his back, sticking out his narrow hips. Her face buried in the mattress, her hair lolling around. She lay in a hen, stretching her arms under herself, awaiting execution. Uncle Misha reminded of paternal ought with light slaps on koloboks. His hands frantically worked, pulling a huge condom on a long barrel.
“Does he fuck her?” Kate swallowed nervously. Veronika's bum was as narrow as her shoulders; a small slot was good only for a carrot, but not for sausage.
And yet a member, brilliant transparent latex, with a tight effort entered the split peach outer lips of the vagina. Slowly, time after time, squatting and retreating, Michael drove an aspen stake into the narrow hips of a fidget. She helped him, stretching the buttocks with her fingers. He fought with resistance, choosing the direction, taking aim, adjusting to hammering the girl by slightly lowering the lower part of the body.
Katya heard Veronika’s deaf groans, Michael's groaning, but her heart was pounding the loudest. It covered everything, even the tweeting of birds in the garden.
Uncle Misha lowered a clot of saliva on the trunk, half protruding from Veronikina's ass, fidgeted back and forth and suddenly entered to the end, drove the machine into the girl's womb to the very eggs. In astonishment, Katya fell her forehead on a wooden wall, a sharp chip dug into the delicate skin ... Read more →