- he handed her a bag of food and a plastic bottle.
- Thank you, - Katya, having moved the edge, gathered her courage. Preparing for the first fervent communion. Not counting the champagne, of course. But wine and champagne do not count, compared to this swill. From one smell whose head was spinning.
"Eh, was-was not!" - She took a sip and then grabbed the bottle of water. The scorching fluid swept through the esophagus, indicating the path to the stomach. Katya could not even imagine that all her anatomy of internal organs would come out as a picture in her head from one sip. Eyes climbed out of orbit, she sat stupid, staring in front of her with a blank look. The water helped put out the fire, the bread and sausage really softened the blow. Katya took resoluteness and swallowed again. This time, she filled her mouth full with bitter liquid and pushed the burning liquid into the esophagus in two sips. Again, washed down and ate. She needed nothing more, not even to breathe. A dumbing calm has come. Wrapping the cap, she returned the flask to Uncle Misha, rolled up the bag of food, and she moved her booty to the bottom of the boat and stretched her legs forward. Her hands fell freely on the sides, the fingers found water. Her back lay back, her head resting on the corner of the boat. Kate closed her eyes, dizzy captured a merry whirlwind.
“Like on a merry-go-round!” She laughed in her heart.
She was always afraid and secretly longed for extreme intoxication. Another unthinkable barrier, which would be to learn to relax, not to be afraid of yourself without brakes. So she wanted to get rid of the need to report to themselves in deeds and thoughts.
- Well, ok? - Uncle Misha's cheerful voice returned her to the swaying of the boat.
“Cool,” she purred.
Mikhail Anatolyevich's laughter, like a cough, turned out to be infectious. Kate supported him with small laughs in the nose. Suddenly a crazy thought occurred to her:
- Can I sunbathe? She said, imitating Veronica in playful intonations.
- Of course.
She saw the contented look that Uncle Misha gave her richly. He clearly did not expect such a turn.
- And nothing, if I take off the bust? - It seemed to Katya that now she was teasing Mikhail Anatolyevich, and not vice versa.
“Let's see what he will say to this!” She thought, stroking herself through the hair folded on the back of her head into a bun.
“Well, if you're not shy, then please,” the man retorted.
- Should I be ashamed of you? - she smiled, undoing the buttons of her blouse.
He laughed again.
“You can take off your shorts, I don't mind,” he said.
“I'll think about it,” said Katya, revealing a beautiful chest wrapped in a snow-white bust.
Leaning back, she began studying the reactions of Uncle Misha with interest. He was fascinated or pretended not to notice the girl sunbathing in his boat, intoxicated and slightly over-excited.
“Oh, so!” - Katya flashed her eyes with a challenge. Wrenched hands and uncoupled the bust. Breasts went for a walk in free swimming. Bust she put on the bottom of the boat, his chest put on display. Uncle Misha’s interested gaze, inadvertently, slid over his bare nipples, causing Katin to shriek with an inner voice with delight.
"Interestingly, he already got up?" - She fought with the desire to whine as crazy. But the framework of decency prompted her that the struggle was not over.
- Do you like Veronica? - She asked, smiling only lips, which now and then formed in a bow.
“Yes, nice girl,” Uncle Misha nodded.
- And I?
He turned her gaze on her, found hardened nipples, brown at the areolas and pale pink in the extreme points of the nipples, finally raised his eyes to the lips, so seductively and arrogantly grinning at him.
“Katyusha, you're just a beauty,” he said, meeting her eyes.
His gaze, intent, persistent, made Katya melt, cover her eyelids with embarrassment. She laughed, covered her face with her palms, flushed.
- I have sunblock. If you want, I will smear you so as not to burn, - he said these words in an innocent tone, as if it was a question of simple care, and not the beginning of harassment. As if she herself could not spread.
- Well, spread it, - Katya smirked, melting in the sun.
She pulled out sunglasses, large and bulging like a cartoon turtle, put them on. Uncle Misha will touch her chest, she burned with impatience.
The darkened sky swam before my eyes, a fresh breeze was walking in the reeds. Large dragonflies with turquoise and diamond bodies, interlaced with black shiny shells, sat on the edges of the boat, inclined heavy stems to the water. The large brown heads of reeds were fluffed with white threads.
Katya involuntarily sucked in her stomach, when Uncle Misha’s naked hand, with rough pads, slid across the soft swelling of her breasts. He squeezed the mother-of-pearl cream out of the tube and gently rubbed the pleasure over the surface of the spheres. Katya melted with excitement. She arched at the waist, feeling the languor grow in the lower abdomen.
“And the legs should also be anointed,” Uncle Misha also slowly took up stroking her legs, smearing cream over them.
“What strong hands you have,” she murmured in a half-whisper.
- Like?
“Yes, very much,” she spread her thighs wider, giving Michael the opportunity to run her hand along the inside.
He took this gesture in his own way. Uncle Misha's fingers slipped under the shorts and found a soft cloth buttocks, approached the burning bud of pleasure.
- And so? - he asked. His fingers froze in centimeters from the vagina, inflamed by the hot sun, alcohol and lust.
She was breathing heavily, her breasts rhythmically heaving under the weight of excitement.
“Yes,” she whispered uncertainly.
His hand slid higher and twisted the fingers of her fingers and unbuckled the button of her shorts; her fly parted her pubic hair, like a corn cob, yielded under a light tugging by the slider. Uncle Misha continued to stroke her crotch, now not hesitating to intent, putting tight fingers to the vagina through the denim of shorts. The middle finger twisted and picked up Katya from the bottom, like a hook, crushing the denim seam to the itchy membrane.
“Don't,” Katya murmured with a plea, turning her face to the side. Grabbing Michael by the hand, she forced him to stop.
“Sorry, Katyusha,” he immediately returned to his bench, leaving her lying flat on the bottom of the boat. His face did not express any emotions, not the slightest sign of resentment. As if there was nothing between them.
She looked at his indifference with a blank look.
"And everything? - shouted her feminine dignity. “So that's what it means?”
“I just never did this before,” she put her hand over her forehead.
He chuckled, looked at her kindly.
- No need to hurry, no one forces you.
They met their eyes, and the kindness of the father in the eyes of Uncle Misha made Kateau's heart melt, flinch with a hint of regret.
“That's always the case. I am always running away, ”she squeezed her lips.
“I'm just afraid it will hurt,” she whispered, barely audible.
- But now you did not hurt? - he looked at her with a smirk.
“No, but you are with your fingers,” she said, dropping her eyes on Michael's groin, which was twice as large.
“And maybe I was not going to do anything else,” he winked.
Katya licked her lips.
- Just fingers? She asked, smiling as slyly as he.
- Of course, only the shorts must be removed first.
Katya took a breath. She bit her sponge and sat for a long time in indecision, motionlessly contemplating the measured fluttering of the reed.Uncle Misha sat in front of her as a statue, staring at the float, pulling the crucians one by one.
- And you will not tell anyone? - she licked her dried lips again. Her throat was also dry.
- And you? - he looked at her, as if mocked.
“I don't know, I'm such a talker,” Katya turned her eyes to the float.
- Here, that. And you demand from me. I can, too ... Read more →