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Fuck<br>At the meeting, the management put the whole of our advertising department on the backfoot and, with a small run, soundly kicked everyone on a two-week holiday - summer, hot, ventilation can't cope.... They didn't give me holidays, so I couldn't get anything five-star, my only hope was Crimea, and that was if Timur was ready to invest in me. When I asked him if he was ready, he smiled unkindly and [https://archive.kyivpost.com/article/opinion/vox-populi/andriy-boytsun-ukrainian-state-owned-enterprises-weekly-11.html Хардкор] said that he was already investing himself between my bunions every night, and the wet sheet under me was evidence of the effectiveness of the investment. - Aha, I have to sponsor you to spin your whore's arse in Simeiz in front of men on the beach; you should go to the bathhouse, my friend. Fucking jealous! And I almost never gave him a reason, except with Pashka, but Pashka had such a machine that it would be unforgivable not to seduce him - oh, my arse was still whimpering sweetly for a few days, even at work a couple of times, giving in to the memories, I ran away to jerk off in the toilet, including on my mobile phone secretly filmed video - my perfect arse accepting his perfect dick.... When he was about to cum, I thought he would blow me up from inside with his white fountain - inflate me with his cum like a frog is inflated through a straw.... So, the bathhouse. well, why not? My grandmother hasn't seen me for six years - Moscow knows how to twist things in such a way that I don't need to see my parents.... And in the village - this very bathhouse, steamy milk, testicles, hoo... but that's not what I'm talking about. - I'll go to Big Kukushki, then. My grandmother will be happy. - Then go. You won't be able to twist your arse there, except in front of the local drunkards or when a bear breaks you in the woods. Timur is actually cool, but like all swarthy men, jealous as a baboon. However, [https://archive.kyivpost.com/article/opinion/vox-populi/andriy-boytsun-ukrainian-state-owned-enterprises-weekly-11.html Сестра] when every night you have a guaranteed [https://archive.kyivpost.com/article/opinion/vox-populi/andriy-boytsun-ukrainian-state-owned-enterprises-weekly-11.html anal] orgasm, you can be patient, right? Let the countryside and backwoods - and I did a fashionable hairdo with shaved zigzags on my temples anyway - it is necessary to keep the brand of a stylish metropolitan doltus, and let everyone jerk off while I will be in tight jeans, slightly (not provocatively, but who can appreciate - will understand) wiggling my smooth arse to march from the railway station to my grandmother's house, past the club, past the village shop, past the boys in Chinese sports trousers.... Not much has changed, has it? Except that foreign cars have appeared somewhere (how do they drive on these bumps, pontsutniks?), and the grandmother has quite a bit more grey hair. "Andryusha, you've grown up, you should look for a good bride!" Eh, if she knew that in my back under my jeans - a bride-to-be, and how many wedding photos she has in a special album "Only for the chosen ones...". - You can't even find a good bathhouse in Moscow! And under the shower - what is washing, Andrew? Just to wash off the dirt, neither health nor joy! I asked Sashka to make the fire hotter for you on purpose; so what if it's Monday, my grandson is coming, you'll heat it up like a sweetheart, and broom him, broom him, broom him, to knock out all the city's rubbish, because he's forgotten his dear grandmother! Do you remember Sashka? Sashka was my third cousin, a white-haired, wiry son of the local tractor driver, Uncle Lyova. I remember, at the age of fourteen, he got me so drunk on liquor stolen from my father that the whole next day I couldn't vomit.... I wish I recognised him now, the bastard! I do. Though if I'd met him in town, in a different environment, I wouldn't have recognised him; maybe I'd have held his gaze for a few seconds: he was a handsome man, with a face as unscrupulous as I liked; not so handsome, but "something" - lips in a perpetual grin, sunburnt curls on his tanned forehead, not a jock, but so.... "of the hound breed," as one of my ex-fuckers used to say. - Well, hello, Dronchik! - Sanya put his arm around me, patting me on the back so that I could feel what a man he was, - It's been a long time, bro, you've become a city man, how do you say it, [https://www.lankabi.com/eusk/hello-world/ Anal] a hipstar? - Sanya laughed, his teeth were white, his fangs were crooked, one of them was a third broken off - a collective farm bull had hit him with a horn, - wow, what details suddenly came to mind, I never would have thought.... Smells of smoke, booze and surprisingly decent perfume. - Hi, Sanek. Are you the first guy in Kokushki now? Perfumed like a gentleman! - I say in his tone, feeling that instead of a childhood friend I begin to perceive him as an interesting, albeit simple man. - Well, the first is not the first, but girls sometimes invite me to visit, - Sanja chuckled, slapping my lower back for some reason, - but in our country, Dronchik, it's not hard to be a beau, if you don't drink too much and your hands don't grow out of your arse.<br>Kostet got poisoned by bad booze, Grey got two years in jail for fighting, so all the women are mine anyway, even if I had a dick as big as an acorn.... What about you? You're not thinking of getting married? Because Sergeevna has found you a bride, she's a nice girl, she's got great tits, I gave her a squeeze once after a club... - Sanya was dreaming, - Anyway, if you think about it, I'll help you get to her. There in Moscow all the whores probably don't know what they want, and Lerka won't go out, except that I'll come in as a brother sometimes..." winked Sanya. - Sanya winked, clearly in a good mood. - You like to talk about women, - I looked into his shameless eyes, patting and groping in return. - And what to do here in the evenings, we don't have a lunapark, Dronchik! Let's go to the bathhouse, I've got everything in order there, and you can check out my creativity! The bathhouse stood a little apart, behind my grandmother's house, behind San's family's house; all of them had built it together once, so that on Saturdays the whole family could steam there. And I had a third of the village in Kokushki; I thought with a slight horror that I would have to go round everyone, and everywhere they would pour their unique (potato, beetroot, apple) moonshine into me and ask me what was going on with Putin and Kabaeva. Sanya was pacing, looking at me contentedly, and seemingly anticipating something. When I came closer to the bathhouse, I understood the reason for his smug mystery. The bathhouse had a porch, dahlias were planted in front of the porch, five metres of the path in front of the entrance were paved with smooth white stones, and - the most shocking thing - a board with crooked, unsuccessfully pretending to be beautiful letters was pinned above the door. "E-Banya." I fucked up a little. Sanya glowered, apparently mistaking my surprise for mute delight. - Come on, sneak in, it's the coolest thing inside," my brother pushed me under my arse. In the enlarged anteroom, apart from two neatly cleaned bunks, there was a table, on which - fuck Madrid! - two shabby laptops. Between them stood a cut glass with plastic daisies. Did he cut the flowers from the cemetery? - I thought. - I thought long and hard about what to call it, Dronchik. "Virtual Bath" - it turns out that it's not real, right? And what is it not real, if I'm so stoked that the girls will not sit for more than three minutes without a break? "Internet lounge with a steam room" is long. "E-bath" is short and to the point, like an e-mail. Sanya nodded at the corner under the ceiling, where a red light was blinking between bouquets of St John's wort and brooms, "And you probably thought that we were suckers here? No, brother, progress - you can't stop it! - Sanek," I asked, feeling my eyebrows rise to the top of my forehead and stick there, "who's coming here to chat? Matveyitch or Aunt Zina? - You think they're suckers! - Sanka sat down on the bench, pulling on his worn sneakers. - We have hunting here, don't you know? Every week hunters come here... They shoot so much that the boars only increase, but they like to have a good rest, with vodka. And in general, we need movement, otherwise you'll get mossy here... Let's drink to the meeting! The vodka was, of course, not just vodka, but infused vodka - rowanberries, sea buckthorn and some herbs I hadn't recognised. .... | |||
Revision as of 07:12, 11 September 2024
Fuck
At the meeting, the management put the whole of our advertising department on the backfoot and, with a small run, soundly kicked everyone on a two-week holiday - summer, hot, ventilation can't cope.... They didn't give me holidays, so I couldn't get anything five-star, my only hope was Crimea, and that was if Timur was ready to invest in me. When I asked him if he was ready, he smiled unkindly and Хардкор said that he was already investing himself between my bunions every night, and the wet sheet under me was evidence of the effectiveness of the investment. - Aha, I have to sponsor you to spin your whore's arse in Simeiz in front of men on the beach; you should go to the bathhouse, my friend. Fucking jealous! And I almost never gave him a reason, except with Pashka, but Pashka had such a machine that it would be unforgivable not to seduce him - oh, my arse was still whimpering sweetly for a few days, even at work a couple of times, giving in to the memories, I ran away to jerk off in the toilet, including on my mobile phone secretly filmed video - my perfect arse accepting his perfect dick.... When he was about to cum, I thought he would blow me up from inside with his white fountain - inflate me with his cum like a frog is inflated through a straw.... So, the bathhouse. well, why not? My grandmother hasn't seen me for six years - Moscow knows how to twist things in such a way that I don't need to see my parents.... And in the village - this very bathhouse, steamy milk, testicles, hoo... but that's not what I'm talking about. - I'll go to Big Kukushki, then. My grandmother will be happy. - Then go. You won't be able to twist your arse there, except in front of the local drunkards or when a bear breaks you in the woods. Timur is actually cool, but like all swarthy men, jealous as a baboon. However, Сестра when every night you have a guaranteed anal orgasm, you can be patient, right? Let the countryside and backwoods - and I did a fashionable hairdo with shaved zigzags on my temples anyway - it is necessary to keep the brand of a stylish metropolitan doltus, and let everyone jerk off while I will be in tight jeans, slightly (not provocatively, but who can appreciate - will understand) wiggling my smooth arse to march from the railway station to my grandmother's house, past the club, past the village shop, past the boys in Chinese sports trousers.... Not much has changed, has it? Except that foreign cars have appeared somewhere (how do they drive on these bumps, pontsutniks?), and the grandmother has quite a bit more grey hair. "Andryusha, you've grown up, you should look for a good bride!" Eh, if she knew that in my back under my jeans - a bride-to-be, and how many wedding photos she has in a special album "Only for the chosen ones...". - You can't even find a good bathhouse in Moscow! And under the shower - what is washing, Andrew? Just to wash off the dirt, neither health nor joy! I asked Sashka to make the fire hotter for you on purpose; so what if it's Monday, my grandson is coming, you'll heat it up like a sweetheart, and broom him, broom him, broom him, to knock out all the city's rubbish, because he's forgotten his dear grandmother! Do you remember Sashka? Sashka was my third cousin, a white-haired, wiry son of the local tractor driver, Uncle Lyova. I remember, at the age of fourteen, he got me so drunk on liquor stolen from my father that the whole next day I couldn't vomit.... I wish I recognised him now, the bastard! I do. Though if I'd met him in town, in a different environment, I wouldn't have recognised him; maybe I'd have held his gaze for a few seconds: he was a handsome man, with a face as unscrupulous as I liked; not so handsome, but "something" - lips in a perpetual grin, sunburnt curls on his tanned forehead, not a jock, but so.... "of the hound breed," as one of my ex-fuckers used to say. - Well, hello, Dronchik! - Sanya put his arm around me, patting me on the back so that I could feel what a man he was, - It's been a long time, bro, you've become a city man, how do you say it, Anal a hipstar? - Sanya laughed, his teeth were white, his fangs were crooked, one of them was a third broken off - a collective farm bull had hit him with a horn, - wow, what details suddenly came to mind, I never would have thought.... Smells of smoke, booze and surprisingly decent perfume. - Hi, Sanek. Are you the first guy in Kokushki now? Perfumed like a gentleman! - I say in his tone, feeling that instead of a childhood friend I begin to perceive him as an interesting, albeit simple man. - Well, the first is not the first, but girls sometimes invite me to visit, - Sanja chuckled, slapping my lower back for some reason, - but in our country, Dronchik, it's not hard to be a beau, if you don't drink too much and your hands don't grow out of your arse.
Kostet got poisoned by bad booze, Grey got two years in jail for fighting, so all the women are mine anyway, even if I had a dick as big as an acorn.... What about you? You're not thinking of getting married? Because Sergeevna has found you a bride, she's a nice girl, she's got great tits, I gave her a squeeze once after a club... - Sanya was dreaming, - Anyway, if you think about it, I'll help you get to her. There in Moscow all the whores probably don't know what they want, and Lerka won't go out, except that I'll come in as a brother sometimes..." winked Sanya. - Sanya winked, clearly in a good mood. - You like to talk about women, - I looked into his shameless eyes, patting and groping in return. - And what to do here in the evenings, we don't have a lunapark, Dronchik! Let's go to the bathhouse, I've got everything in order there, and you can check out my creativity! The bathhouse stood a little apart, behind my grandmother's house, behind San's family's house; all of them had built it together once, so that on Saturdays the whole family could steam there. And I had a third of the village in Kokushki; I thought with a slight horror that I would have to go round everyone, and everywhere they would pour their unique (potato, beetroot, apple) moonshine into me and ask me what was going on with Putin and Kabaeva. Sanya was pacing, looking at me contentedly, and seemingly anticipating something. When I came closer to the bathhouse, I understood the reason for his smug mystery. The bathhouse had a porch, dahlias were planted in front of the porch, five metres of the path in front of the entrance were paved with smooth white stones, and - the most shocking thing - a board with crooked, unsuccessfully pretending to be beautiful letters was pinned above the door. "E-Banya." I fucked up a little. Sanya glowered, apparently mistaking my surprise for mute delight. - Come on, sneak in, it's the coolest thing inside," my brother pushed me under my arse. In the enlarged anteroom, apart from two neatly cleaned bunks, there was a table, on which - fuck Madrid! - two shabby laptops. Between them stood a cut glass with plastic daisies. Did he cut the flowers from the cemetery? - I thought. - I thought long and hard about what to call it, Dronchik. "Virtual Bath" - it turns out that it's not real, right? And what is it not real, if I'm so stoked that the girls will not sit for more than three minutes without a break? "Internet lounge with a steam room" is long. "E-bath" is short and to the point, like an e-mail. Sanya nodded at the corner under the ceiling, where a red light was blinking between bouquets of St John's wort and brooms, "And you probably thought that we were suckers here? No, brother, progress - you can't stop it! - Sanek," I asked, feeling my eyebrows rise to the top of my forehead and stick there, "who's coming here to chat? Matveyitch or Aunt Zina? - You think they're suckers! - Sanka sat down on the bench, pulling on his worn sneakers. - We have hunting here, don't you know? Every week hunters come here... They shoot so much that the boars only increase, but they like to have a good rest, with vodka. And in general, we need movement, otherwise you'll get mossy here... Let's drink to the meeting! The vodka was, of course, not just vodka, but infused vodka - rowanberries, sea buckthorn and some herbs I hadn't recognised. ....