Raindrops flow down the glass. Outside the window is night, and a huge soulless city, a city that I love and hate at the same time. The city does not sleep, this city never sleeps. Even late at night. In the muddy mist of the night rain, advertisements flicker dimly, the lights of cars creeping along the wet streets blink, traffic lights slowly blink, there are still lights in many windows of high-rise buildings. The city does not sleep, and I do not sleep. I remember.

Then it was also night and it was raining.

- Do you love me? - Her eyes. In the twilight, they reflect the multi-colored lights of the night city. Like stars. Stars in her eyes.

- Of course. How can I not love you? We are always together, I can not imagine life without you. - I gently kiss her lips, she pulls away.

- Wait. We are not done. I want you to say you love me.

- Marin, I love you. I love more than anything else. I have always loved you, I love you and I will love you. Is always.

She nestles her whole body.

- I, too. Love You and only you.

Now her lips are mine. Cherry silk slips over the shoulders. Such a familiar, such a favorite body is revealed to me.

My hands slide on the velvet skin. She hugs me, her palm lies on the back of the head, fingers are fiddling with her hair. The supple softness of the breasts fills the palms. I caress these breasts, the breasts that nourished my daughter, the breasts of a woman who had not left my bed for days when I was close to death, the woman I love most in the world. And let them not have the former elasticity, even if I love these breasts. Breasts of my Woman.

My hand slides over the hips and lies on the pubis. She shaves it, but the hairs have already started to grow, they are so pleasantly tickling the palm.

The hand goes on ... Here he is, the magic knoll. The hand sneaks to the entrance, there already leaked. Wet fingers return to the beloved bud, and proceed to the game. We both like this game. It lasts for years and is not tired yet. My lips caress the swollen nipple, and my fingers continue to dance, over the years I have studied the tastes of my beloved, I know what she likes and what doesn't. The body responds with a sweet cramp. Vagina squeezes my fingers.

Her face is buried in my chest, tears are flowing from my eyes. She always cries after that. A happy face looks at me.

She, having slightly bitten my nipple, starts kissing my breast, gradually going lower and lower. Finally, the wheat hair covers my belly, and I feel, like my long-stiffened limb, being captured by my favorite lips. My wife loves blowjob, loves and knows how to do it.

Gentle lips cover the head, the tongue gets down to business. Slowly going down the trunk, it plunges my pride farther and farther. Already my throat gently massages me. Then he lets go. Catching breath Beloved is taken seriously for me. I do not see what is happening there, the spilled hair the color of ripe wheat, hide from me what is happening, but the feeling is incredible. The head of the wife rises steadily up and down.

- Marish, come on, otherwise I will finish ...

She raises her head and looks at me with her wide-open cornflower eyes. Nods.

I hang over it. Member finds the road while sucking, she started up in earnest. Leaked. My body slides inside. Silent moan. The wife pinches her mouth with the back of her hand. We try not to make noise, we don’t want to wake up our daughter, at night the sounds are heard far away.

I move slowly, slowly. Her hips cover my, legs intertwined behind her back. Chest sway in time with my movements. We merge together. We are together. We are one.

I move faster, it moves towards me, hips go from side to side. I can barely hold back, I feel she is on the way. And now her hand muffles her mouth with a corner of the pillow, she always does that, she has to change the pillows regularly. Her vagina is compressed, a muffled moan suppresses the pillow, and sharp claws dig into my back.

I stop restraining myself, and with all my strength I burst in as deep as possible.

We are lying on the bed. She was decorated with a blanket, an ashtray on it. A thin cigarette is smoking in her hands. I'm smoking too.The window leaf is ajar and the night coolness penetrates inside.

- Well then how. - she whispers.

I look at the window. It's night and it rains. And raindrops slowly flow down the glass.

This was our last time. The next day, the world turned upside down. I still love her, love and hate her. I can not forget and can not forgive either. We are not together and not apart. Our paths constantly intersect. She does not let me go, she is always somewhere near.

Raindrops flow down the glass, outside the night and rain, drops on the glass and on the cheek, it's just rain.

The door to the past never closed. Life in the hallway.

I press my cheek against the cold glass.

Three years...

9 comments
  • May 20, 2018 18:53

    Yes, it really clings and clings above all what you write about is very similar to the truth, as if you read a real story. From me 10-ka. To be honest, I take off my hat to the versatility of your stories that are not at all alike, here both the drama and the sex wife and the populans, I will not list them all. The only thing missing is the continuation, the continuations that come out often.

    Reply

    • Rating: 1
  • May 21, 2018 10:07

    Thank you Alex. In general, you are right. Something added of course, like the Noir's style, but the foundation is real.
    Well what to do, I love the variety. You haven’t looked into my “freezer”, there’s nothing else. At the noir, the next two parts are 80% ready.
    Well, the next Lera “We walk with a couple with Tamara” is ready, now I'm cleaning up the text. How to finish immediately lay out.

    Reply

    • Rating: 1
  • May 22, 2018 9:18

    Will Noir have a sequel? It is interesting. At first I thought it was a complete story. The style is original, I was reminded of films from the Sin City series. There, by the way, this technique is used: some parts retain their color, for example, the lips of the main character. In principle, you can also apply here. The colored details are memories from the past life when everything was fine. Not only black and white.

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    • Rating: 0
  • May 22, 2018 13:13

    Will be. The cycle of retrospection. But not memories of the past happy life, but episodes of the last three years. Attempting to understand what and why happened three years ago. And to understand the current relationship between themselves and other defendants.
    Well, "Sin City" is still a noir comic. And the color details on a black and white background, this is exactly the style of the comic.
    Noir is not black and white, but just black.

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    • Rating: 1
  • May 25, 2018 16:54

    It is good that serious authors with great works began to appear here. It is a pity that, it seems, the site is full of "noir"

    Reply

    • Rating: 2
  • May 28, 2018 12:31

    Thanks for the flattering rating.
    Very similar to that.
    [email protected]

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    • Rating: 0
  • June 15, 2018 14:11

    so maybe it's time to create an alternative?)

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    • Rating: 0
  • June 15, 2018 14:15

    Great! I understand the chopped paragraphs, in which there are sentences of one or two words, and was it intended?)

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    • Rating: 1
  • June 15, 2018 17:04

    Yes. Max's soul is torn to shreds, that's why his thoughts are torn.

    Reply

    • Rating: 0

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