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I sat on another "planning meeting" at office of the stepfather, removing a senseless scribble in the daily log, dreaming to escape somewhat quicker from this building and to return on the outskirts where under old "five-storey building" of the neighbor - grannies lovingly looked after beds with fragrant petunyami. I sat and o volume thought, how often in various books the phrase "with her emergence comes across everything found sense" .kakaya hopeless and dull nonsense! With Yulya's appearance everything lost the sense. Now had no value of anything that wouldn't be connected with her. Even the fact that my stepfather and business interrupted a meeting, being broken on shout: — The whore, where you soar?! I need your head, a not your presence! I silently raised on him eyes and didn't know what to answer. As didn't know also that exactly in four years I so scandal will leave this company and I will open the first own private enterprise. That in eight years we with Yulya will give life to our son. That fifteen years later, already three together with our boy, we will run on the street from bouquets of gerberas, being late for first in his life school "ruler" Then I couldn't know all it. No it couldn't but be. It was so foreordained since the beginning, it is dictated from above, written out by fidelity, our with Yulya, each other. Then I saw before myself only outlines — contours of people, furniture, even own hands drawing in planinge geometrical abracadabra. Vo all it there was no sense. The sense began to appear only then when I went down on an unreal ladder, went out into the invented rain, sat down in a contour of the car, rushed on nonexistent streets, and came there where I was waited by Yulya. Overcoming one move all three floors, I opened a door, and imprisoned the girl in embraces. In the different parties clothes, linen, career plans scattered; my dick unmistakably found an entrance to a native, hot vagina, and contours of the surrounding world were filled with volumes again. Only in it there was also a sense. It is more in anything. We curtained off windows, on all locks closed an entrance door, but in the apartment light — chandeliers, floor lamps, night lamps burned everywhere. In this dazzling kingdom of artificial lighting, we worshipped each other as two pagan deities. Ne there was nothing inaccessible or dirty. All dirty, forbidden, unacceptable was beyond borders of our apartment. Here that force which cleans dominated and changes everything. Our hands weren't tired to investigate the friend's friend; our fingers got everywhere, and is so deep as far as it in general was possible. We masturbated, with gentle smiles looking the friend at the friend. Sticky from own juice, failed in drowsiness. Then woke up, engaged in love, an in several hours masturbated again. Sometimes Yulya rubbed the clitoris to such degree that I had to grease her perineum with "children's cream". And even then I couldn't avoid an erection. I applied with smooth circular movements cream on the reddened and inflated sponges, and zacharovanno watched how it is absorbed in these trembling lepestochki. — As you weren't lucky so me, a to me with you — Yulya lay with the moved apart legs, an I blew on its small shchyolochku to calm burning. — It still why? — Therefore that I am a sexual disabled person, a you are the finished onanist. My girl Open smile, fervent flush, shock of disobedient hair. It isn't enough to find the half in this huge, deaf and blind world. It is not meaning of life yet. The sense entirely depends on with what we fill the life. We with Yulya filled her with the words of some and those books, notes of one and that music, some and those imaginations, events, people, presentiments, expectations, hopes. A thermos with hot tea and a warm plaid in a backpack; fresh long loaf to break off from it chunks and to throw to ducks. We for hours sat on the coast of the lake, observing as the sun falls for the horizon, and the evening cool rises. In the head all climbed ever the read verses. I muttered that-to from Brodsky, Yulya in polgolosa sang Aretha Franklin. It was soft. It was gentle. Wind shivered in high stalks of canes when I slowly undid her jeans. Na to that party, in the distance, the precious scattering of the lit windows flickered, but I shifted an edge of Yuliny panties in the party, and to me original beauty opened. Jewelry stvorochki wet peshcherki dispersed, and my dick plunged into the attracting warm Universe created only for him. Our only viewer at this moment I was — all world. The wonderful, dangerous, unfortunate, fascinated by us world. Yulina shchyolochka softly I pulsed; my firm dick slid in her slowly-medlenno, carefully left outside, a then with delight rushed at all length. Yulina groans, splash of lake fishes in darkness, touches of my pubis to cool, covered with goose skin, to buttocks; a wind rustle in coastal thickets of a cane, my breath which is torn rattle. My girl was developed, sat down on kortochki, clasped with lips my dick, and it blew up sverkhnovoy there, filling Yulin a mouth сaмόй with life. A drink behind a drink, my cum streamed on her gullet, an I caressed soft hair and smiled to the regal moon rising over the horizon and majestically lowering the silver finger on motionless water. *** day behind day — one and that day. I don't know by what number this day is designated. This day has no number. It costs a separate monolith in the middle of calendar space; boundless for everything existing, and final for each of us. We to this time don't celebrate anything with Yulya, except day of emergence on light of our child. Neither date of our acquaintance, nor anniversary svadbykakoye it can have value? Then, in our first fall, we opened A the friend's friend as ancient astronomers opened the first stars and planets. September rains washed the decrepit city, rustling behind windows wet newspapers. Behind one wall neighbors swore; for another the dog.A in our two-room sanctuary pagan deities barked rubbed aromatic oils in the bodies. I stood on all fours, shivering from an anticipation of a wearisome, delightful ritual. Yulya poured out a little oil in a palm, and her hands slid on my body, like skillful calligraphers. Singing a gentle voice the favourite Etta James, she fingers drew mysterious hieroglyphs on my buttocks. Then palms slid off in a depression in the ground, applied openwork dabs on balls, climbed stone flesh of the dick, clenched on him, and began to torture my reared nature. Any communication with reality at this moment broke. Warm fingers followed on a slippery trunk the friend the friend. Up-down. They turned on a head, danced on it, went down on a bridle to the balls, and started the ascension to top over again. A then when the bottom of my stomach strained and in eyes darkened, fingers were sharply discharged, forcing me to shudder in convulsions of the most sweet helpless torture. — Shshshshsh, wait Isn't present, not now