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- Lord. Oh, Lord, - he ran his hand along the snow-white skin of his thighs, reached the island of hair. - Jehanna. You're so beautiful.
-Khorosho. Pristavat' ne budu.
"Light, what happened? You did not like it"
She got up and sat down on her knees, continuing to drill her wet pussy with her own eyes. She was already so wet that her panties reflected the light falling from the window. Marie continued to stroke my hips almost at the very place she was so anxious for, and, looking at me, covered her with her palm. I could not stand it, and, arched, like a kitten, flooded her palm and panties. This was my first orgasm, and I'm glad that it was she who caused it. Without waiting until I calm down, Marie began to pull off the rest of the clothes that had been in her way. From this I felt the push of the next end, not waiting for the end of the first. Having coped with my underwear, she threw it aside, without taking her eyes off my expiring pussy. Her palm again covered her and the middle finger began to grope for something, as if he was investigating me in search of a hidden place. She found it quickly, since my lips were open. Finding the object, she pressed on him, at first not much, then even stronger. This caused a second storm, and I again flooded her palm. Marie smiled and closed her eyes and sent me an air kiss. Continuing to drive with the middle finger up and down, she slipped inside me and groped for something, apparently she knew what she was looking for, pressed on this point. Not having time to recover from the second orgasm, I was covered by a third. It was awesome. She began to enter and withdraw her finger, at first slowly then increasing the tempo, finally my moans broke the silence of the room into a thousand splinters, and I finished again. This delighted my mistress, and she ran another finger. Her translational movements made me cum again. Maria shook her head, expressing, toli discontent, toli astonishment, and fell to my rose with her lips. Her tongue went up and down, stopping on the tubercle, and pressing it to the teeth. Marie slipped her tongue, so he literally fell into it. She quickly entered me with it. At last I could not stand it, and I finished again. After that, I literally discarded the world without feeling, and fell asleep.
I remember there was such a rock'n'roll song "I`m not your steppin` stone", very popular in due time. When I was not very familiar with English and the meaning of many idioms was closed to me, I translated it roughly as "I'm not a stone that you can step on." Now, when it's clear what it really means, it looks funny, but then I translated everything literally. And so, translating this name in this way, I vividly imagined a man lying on the ground and a woman putting a foot on his head. And suddenly I felt an explosion of adrenaline and an extraordinary excitement, because this person was me. Why did this happen? I was always fascinated by the beauty of the female figure, and, like any normal boy, I always wanted to see this figure naked. I was 10 when it happened for the first time: casually (chesslovo!) At the dacha, I saw in the window how my cousin was dressing. Completely undressed, she looked in the mirror. For some reason, I paid special attention to her feet. She could rightly be proud of them - full thighs, full of youth and strength, kneecap, not sharp, like teenage girls, and not round, like those of adult aunts, beautiful shins that end in perfect feet - it all harmonized with each other and Did not go beyond what is called beauty. All right, no gram of excess fat; Of course, much more caught me a different kind, but that cursory glance and admiration for her legs, apparently, contributed to my further orientation. The grain was abandoned and sprouted several years later, when I incorrectly translated the name of the rock and roll song. Since then, I have often been visited by fantasies on foot fetish and more often I began to pay attention to women's legs, looking at them from a completely different position. You could say that I became a foot fetishist, although for the first time fantasies were realized only a few years later, when I was 18. This also happened due to the occasion: I lost a tape with the recording of Madness, a fairly rare thing in our region. But I knew who it is and, finding this person, asked to rewrite. Naturally, it was a girl, Marina, who studied on a parallel course. And of course, there were no tapes in her hands, she was walking around the tape recorders for a month already. And then, without thinking specifically about the consequences, I took it and blurted out:
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That summer I rested in the suburbs, at the cottage with my aunt Olga Sergeevna.
The entire schoolyard was filled with a buzzing crowd. It formed intricate currents among beds and tables for tennis, swarmed by piles, flashing loud clamor and enveloping clubs not only of cigarette smoke. Dressed in Germany whoever puts it on the soul, - democratically the land, - there are no rules for everyday wearing of clothes, but the teenagers thronging in the courtyard struck me in the heart. Everywhere jeans alternated with the skin, the width and length of the trousers varied to the widest extent, the platforms resembled the Pisa tower, and the hairdresses bristled with orange and green spears.
-Vso gotovo. Stolik uzhe zhdot vas, - molodoy chelovek ulybnulsya, - vas provodit'?
Vsemu khoroshemu prikhodit konets. Nasha poyezdka podoshla k kontsu. V elektrichke ya popytalas' ugovorit' Svetu zayti v tualet dlya proshchal'nogo potseluya, no ona prodolzhala sokhranyat' distantsiyu. V obshchem, delala vid, chto nichego ne proizoshlo.
-A chto eto za mesto?
