“I'm glad you opened my eyes.”
Brovki Veronica even more converged over the nose.
- What is the next? She asked uncertainly.
- Nothing, - Nastya came up and flopped down next to the bench. - You can fuck if you want. I won't bother you anymore, - a new sadness crept into her voice.
Veronica was silent. It was heard as she swallowed saliva.
- Do you have everything in order? She asked, casting a bewildered frown on Nastya.
- Yes, exactly, exactly, - Nastya took Veronika by the hand, stroked her wrist. - Since my father does not mind, then I will not. Let it all go to hell! - she squeezed lips.
“That's right, it's all gone,” Veronica shot a grudge. - I, too, at first thought that the peasants can be trusted. And now it is more interesting for me to talk heart to heart. And sex is a reward for him. What do I need? You lie to yourself, wait for him to finish. This makes him even more attached. And sometimes, on the contrary, he finishes once and runs to the next. Who will understand what is in their head. I had one boyfriend, so he left ten times and came back all the time. I met with others myself, and then I got so confused that I did not refuse anyone.
Nastya nodded, skeptically inflating the lower sponge. Veronica's sexual revelations always provoked emotional vomiting in her. Like now. I wanted to hit a loving slut with a log in the face.
- Have you ever loved? She asked, mockingly in a gentle tone.
- Of course I did. I still love. Everyone who loves me and loved me, I love them all very much. They are like brothers to me. And if older, like your father, then I silently call him daddy. That's it, - Veronika looked thoughtfully, returned to Nastya, as if seeking support from her.
- I probably would not have been able to, - Nastya smiled perplexedly.
To take offense at Veronica did not make sense. “With such iron logic you will not perish,” Nastya thought.
- Interestingly, your dad will fuck Katya today or leave the hymen unpicked, - Veronika brought the eyebrows together, her forehead was covered with wrinkles.
- What do you want?
“Is she still?” - Alasheeva shot a curb.
- So what?
- Well just. I wonder how they have it all there for the first time.
- You should have gone with them.
- No, your dad said he could handle it.
Nastya chuckled.
- And what can you help, if that?
- Why? - Veronica smiled a mischievous smile.
- Will you keep the candle?
The girls laughed.
- No, well, if you hold it where you need or spit, - Veronika reasoned through laughter.
Nastya collapsed on the shoulder of her friend, with a laugh she was cramping her stomach.
- Spit? - she giggled to tears.
- Why? Sometimes it helps a lot.
They were tirelessly, from the dope of Veronikina, Nastya again got sick cheekbones, and the pain of betrayal no longer disturbed her with the sadness of parting with Andrey.
34
Kate was nervous. Mikhail, though an experienced man, but he will not bother with her. Or will it? It would have been better if it happened somewhere on the shore, she thought.
The narrow boat easily lurched to the side, costing only the two of them at the same time to sit in the left or right side. And then, under such conditions as making love? Especially for the first time, especially when a man has such a unit.
- Something you, Katyusha, completely depressed, - Uncle Misha smiled kindly, raking to the middle of the lake.
- Yes, so, I did not wake up yet.
Heart Solntseva pleasantly sank at the mention of her name in a diminutive form.
“Katyusha! She thought. “He never called me that before.”
She smiled.
- I brewed coffee with me. Now we will anchor, I'll pour you.
- Thank you, - Kate nodded, looking at the reeds.
The boat, having rounded a green cape, dived into a small corridor, formed from the frequent entry of fishermen here. Swam a little more, finally anchored. Uncle Misha, half-moving while moving around the boat, carefully lowered two heavy anvils to the bottom.
“Well, here we are,” he said, sitting down on a cross-board in the center of the boat. “Now we have some boiled sandwich with a sandwich and you can go fishing,” Korchagin winked brightly.
Katya felt a silly smile froze on her naive childish face. With this she absolutely could not help it. Only occasionally, Katya frowned down, resolutely twisting her neck in one or the other. So she emphasized her indifference or even apathy towards the established intimate atmosphere.
- You have already decided what you will catch? - Uncle Misha caught her thoughts off guard.
- No, what do you have? - she startled, wrinkled forehead, examining the lavishly laid bait.
- Well, look. This is dough, here the worms are lying, here is a bloodworm. You can try plain white bread. Crush is called.
She nodded, involuntarily rounded eyes and mouth. Until now, it seemed to her that fishing was just an excuse to be left alone with Uncle Misha, but now it turned out that fishing really would have to be serious.
- I would advise you to start with a worm, even though it will not fall off the hook. Do you know how to wear?
“No,” she puffed out her cheeks, the edges curved upward.
- Then I will teach you. Sit down here. ”He patted the transverse plank closest to him.
Katya was forced to kneel on her knees in order to slip forward and almost nose-to-nose to face Uncle Misha. Only now she realized how close they were sitting, the smell of his smoking, clothes, bread, and something else that looked like wood or fried meat, hit her nose, tickled her nerves.
"Fi!" - She slid her booty back, almost collapsed.
- And the boat will not turn over? - With fear, she said suddenly hoarse voice.
“It's not deep here,” Mikhail Anatolyevich chuckled.
His knees were wide open, literally rested against the sides, revealing a colorful view of the groin swollen under his shorts. Katya clearly guessed the contours of two eggs, the thick sausage went up and to the side. Everything looked natural, unobtrusive and at the same time frankly and frightening. Before her eyes floated pictures, overlooked in the country: Uncle Misha eased, stroked himself, his cock became hard, bullying. The pale-violet head is exposed, slides down the edges, split from above by a thin whitish string.
Kate swallowed nervously, twisting her neck to the side.
- Are you okay? - Uncle Misha studied her gaze. He was kind, simple-minded. There was no hint that he was ready to pounce on her at any second.
“Yes,” she bit down on her lower lip. “I just never fished, and now I don’t know if I want to do this at all.”
“So no one is forcing,” Uncle Misha broke into a paternal smile. - Katyusha, if you do not want, just see how I catch. And if you want, you can sleep. I'll give you a veil. Do you want
- No, I will sit like that.
- Well, see for yourself.
He began to untie fishing rods, adjust the length of the fishing line, the depth of the hook with a sinker.
Katya sighed with relief. The sun shone brighter, and she again plunged into the freshness of a quiet backwater, the singing of birds in the forest was revealed with a new force.
Really sleepy. Katya yawned.
“On a blanket, go to sleep,” Uncle Misha handed her a blanket of camel hair.
- Yes, no, I do not want - she smiled, moving the edge.
- Maybe you want a drink? - Mikhail Anatolyevich smiled slyly. He had already abandoned the bait, set it in rogulin, and without stopping watching the float.
- What about you? - Kate echoed a playful smile. In Uncle Misha's voice, she heard a comic tone. Korchagin clearly teased her or wanted to laugh. But it was not there! She, too, is not lucky.
- Whiskey. Will you? - he continued to pretend like not joking.
- Of course! - she broke into a smile.
“Well then, hold on,” Uncle Misha pulled out a beautiful shiny flask from behind his bosom, stretched Katya.
“So, sir,” she said, groping for a lid. - Let's see what we have here.
- Now, take the bread with a sausage to eat. Or better sing it down ... Read more →