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When pours a tiresome incessant rain when dead leaves cover with a faded carpet wet asphalt when it is sad at heart and grief isn't silent, I get from a secret box of a desk an envelope with the short letter and the photo. The young beautiful woman costs on the seashore, wind blows her long black hair, frays a dress hem, and eyes look to me in soul as if speaking "I remember you, don't forget about me". Political and geographical phantasmagoria for covering tracks. When at the beginning of 1985 the hospital chamber of K.U. Chernenko was registered as the polling precinct that the half-conscious half-dead secretary general would vote under television cameras for the indestructible block of communists and non-parties, the knowing people assumed – "the five-years period of a magnificent funeral" will proceed shortly. But they didn't know that the sorcerer-healer already began to work as a sort from Far North of the Far East on a material and astral body of Konstantin Ustinovich, prolonged him life for the whole decade, and achieved for the region of unprecedented preferences. After his death not the USSR, but RSFSR began to collapse: demanded office and payment of contribution for centuries of occupation Buryatia, Yakutia, Koryakia, Evenkia. And the rebellious Chukchi Republic (CR) which citizens were revolted with an ongoing shaft of jokes about чукч became the inspirer, the ideologist, the leader. Also stretched for many years hostility and the conflict, retaliatory campaigns of allied troops and reciprocal atrocities of insurgents. Call without answer. That summer I had a rest on the White Sea, looked after on the beach two sisters from the Ukrainian SSR, one was fat and cheerful with three kids, another slender, lonely and strict. Externally I liked the second, character more — the first, but I did hints on meetings out of the beach both to that, and another, however, not especially mourning the fact that the first pleads impossibility to leave a crowd of children unguarded, and the second — inadmissibility of loose behavior for the approximate member of the Komsomol. Somehow in the evening the call on my mobile phone from unfamiliar number was distributed. "Aha, someone from sisters ripened, interestingly someone?" — I thought. "Hallo, hallo! I listen, you speak". Silence. Release. I call back. At once dumps. Once again. Again dumping. I am perplexed why was to call then? Sms comes: "Sorry, I was mistaken number. But you have a pleasant voice". Both sisters know my voice. Really someone was mistaken? On the third attempt of dialing sms "Follows I can't speak, I'm sorry, please now". Love can't be ordered, and in several days I almost also forget about this episode. Calls with answers. Sms communication broke out anew how I returned in the hometown of Utinorechensk, on the river bank Kaylab (the river of a great drake, in translation from Nenets) which actually was border between rebellious and Soviet territories. Once a week, then time a day, then is much more often, becomes urgent need to write it something, to read the answer, to joke of something, to tell something clever or amusing, to listen to the next compliment of erudition and to charm. Then conversations by phone. Impresses feature of her voice as if she ran to the calling phone and answers having been out of breath. Each word is pronounced very with emotion and with aspiration. I don't think that it became deliberately, for giving of a romantic crape, I can assume insignificant defect of respiratory organs of articulation rather. But such intonation very much made horney me. And seemed that the woman in the heat of passion answers me with short and uneasy remarks. It was pleasant! Unpleasant was a fact that Larisa (for obvious reasons I don't tell the real name) lived on that side of the Small river. In the den of separatists, the terrible city of Anadyr. We tried not to concern policy in our talk though by some defaults I understood, as her not really on temper radical measures of the case of guards of shaman revolution, and I not really approve other clumsy actions of the commander of our local garrison. I wrote her the letter, having enclosed my photo in an envelope. Also I received reciprocal. Post messages and waves of air passed through "border" freely. With personal trips the situation was not so easily, though there was no direct ban, but there were big risks. Someone the first took a step from friendship to intim — now it is hard to say. But even if the first were written by me "kiss", she answered "I embrace". If I told "darling", she answered with "road", "beloved" – "native", on "I miss" — "I long", "I want you" — "I wish to you", and deification became told at the same time "I love you"! In a mouth to an ice dragon. There weren't enough words. We were sent sms and communicated by voice till several hours a day. We were overflowed by delight concerning finding of new feeling. We drew each other iridescent pictures of that what will be our intimate proximity, and with what ecstasy we will be given to mutual caress. I was delighted with Larisa. I was touched by her naivety in questions of sex (it for all life had the one and only man — her ex-husband from whom I had the daughter schoolgirl), her verbal constraint (we used euphemisms "boy" and "girl" for designation of genitals, other terms to it seemed too rough for the real love feelings), her most treasured imagination (to resemble in a men's shirt a naked body before sex and to get rid of her already in process), her unconditional readiness to experience oral and anal sex with darling (even realizing that can be unpleasant or sick for want of habit). And I knew that all this not mere words. And if she is aimed at something, then will surely make. The place of her work was an example of that. Larisa worked as the teacher of French at the Chukchi University, and prepared the thesis about differences of pronunciation from writing in the Middle Ages and during modern times. Absurdly? Not in general, and specifically there and then. Probably. But, nevertheless, she left every morning the aunty's apartment (she lived at the aunt in Anadyr, and its daughter — with the grandmother and the grandfather in the Larisiny parental house in the village), waited for the bus (if carries) or walked (if doesn't carry), but in the appointed hour she stood at department and read 2-3 (sometimes 5) to students another lecture, and after a lunch got a grasp of volumes of dusty books and sometimes called the old Jewish professor who remained on Chukotka to the only Jew, the specialist expert Old French whom the power preserved against riots patriotically adjusted youth to have an opportunity to show the breadth of views and tolerance to foreigners on the Alaskan, Japanese, South Korean TV channels. And in one rainy day of late fall, having persuaded guards from the opposite sides of the boundary river someone verbally and someone and it is material, I passed on foot the bridge through Kaylab, walked a half an hour more to the thrown gas station, and got on the jingling regular bus of a route of Ulan-Ude — Anadyr. That year the winter was late on a visit to Far North of the Far East. Snow was almost not, the sad tundra, sickly bushes, and a tiresome, incessant, gloomy rain infinitely extended. Sometimes in the distance the villages burned by Red Army men, and sometimes and slanting Andreevsky crosses on which belochukch suited "karbyshevka" taken prisoner the first were seen. On the one hand, there was a contrast with my joyful mood — I went to a meeting from desired and the beloved. With another — I didn't know whether I will reach in general live, whether I will meet her and whether I will return back: I voluntarily stepped in a mouth of an ice dragon, and in his ox was to swallow me at once, or then, or to let out me safe, marveling to reckless courage of the daredevil who dared to drive to the Country of Night without support of destructive battalions and without communications with shaman and hunting circles. The sad veil of gray day without the sun was replaced soon by sad darkness of polar night when the bus crossed the Polar Circle, and in the same darkness late night I set foot on the Chukchi land. The old taxi driver took for the acceptable sum to the nearest hotel, bragging on the way what he was a good hunter in due time and as white snow of the tundra as a result burned out eyes and almost blinded him, having forced to become the driver in the dirty city where there is nothing to breathe. — I reached, Larisa! — I call her. And she takes a pipe instantly, probably waited for my call, didn't go to bed though already nearly two o'clock in the morning. — I in White fox hotel, but it am not pleasant to me: both lodgers suspicious, and number without conveniences. You call me one morning earlier, wake in seven, the beginning of the eighth, I will go to Black Sable hotel, can there will more best. — Well, I will surely call! Did you normally reach, no problems arose? — it is so pleasant to hear care and sincere nervousness in her words. — Absolutely any — I assure her, without telling any details of checks on roads, especially they are safely settled. — The main thing that you at 9 in the morning could come tomorrow to me. — In 9 in any way, darling. I on 9 registered to the beautician. Do you want to see the Larisa beautiful? — My Larisa is beautiful always and everywhere. — In 10, and one minute earlier. One day behind the Polar Circle. Several minutes prior to 10, pining with impatience, and not having sustained throwing within four walls of number of other, more decent hotel, I went down, and smoked on a porch, peering into hardly visible silhouettes of rare passersby. The opposite rain drizzled, and almost all passersby were covered by umbrellas. I stronger clogged heart when one of figures under an umbrella didn't proceed by a protection of hotel, and entered a gate and rose by a porch. And then, face to face, I the first time saw her really: Under terrible tortures I and that won't remember in what she was dressed what color there was a coat, or what style a headdress? I rolled in the bottomless depth of her black eyes, I saw that ideal of beauty which looked for all life, I saw the woman so young and attractive externally (at a difference of biological age in only two years) that the thought of a mystification and a mean joke flashed. My hand which stretched to throw out a stub in a ballot box, and stiffened spent, and my lungs forgot to exhale the last portion of tobacco smoke. We stood and silently looked each other in the face, at her lips shook and fingers nervously touched the umbrella handle, and I (from her words, already when later remembered this instant of the first appointment) inflated nostrils and eyelashes trembled. The physiology is stronger than will and when tobacco smoke nevertheless escaped from lungs, the hand finished the movement on emission of a stub in a ballot box, and I, having forgotten to greet, took her by hand and, having pulled for itself, told "We will go". "Yes" — I heard the first word from her lips not by phone. But with the same velvet shade, with the same habitual agitation and feature of diction, but very very much more bigger attractiveness, because here she: the hostess of this voice, both this captivating face, and these black eyes, only give a hand. But the will nevertheless is stronger than instincts. Because in spite of the fact that I most of all light want to snatch on it, to tear off from it clothes and to seize most rigidly and gently (strangely enough, but quite so, and at the same time, but without alternating) right after for us the lock of a door of my number was latched, I nevertheless play a role of the gallant gentleman, but not a wild male. I help to take off outerwear, I stand in the corner an umbrella, I hold from attempt to take off footwear, I move up a chair closer to a table on which the cookies pack lies, two chocolates, two pieces of cake, on a bottle of mineral and sweet water, several single bags of tea and coffee (everything that managed and managed to buy in morning hours), I click the toggle-switch of the electric kettle elicited at the maid on the floor and at last at the moment before she sits down, I embrace her, I speak "Well, hi, Larisa!" also I kiss. Her lips though which aren't brightly made up but as fire: both attract, and osteregat a burn. The kiss lasts second or ten, hundred or eternity — I don't know, the flame of love licks my heart each gentle movement of her hand on my head, and having already come off lips, I hear Larisin whisper: "Hi, native mine!". — Never I was in hotels — Larisa says, sitting down after a kiss in a chair. — And what there further? — From that party, where a wall and a window, anything. There are still numbers to a balcony, but this without. And with this from where entered number, a bathroom. — And all? Such small room. It is less than one-room apartment. — Yes. Ordinary single room. We have tea with cake. I pay once again attention to her thin, noble hands. Fingers for a second don't remain at rest. A cup undertakes, edge of a plate, slightly drums fingers on a table, during the conversation involuntarily squeezes them and unclenches. But I face much more time to her, I enjoy a type of white skin, gentle cheeks, falls of the black hair streaming on shoulders to the middle of a back and again I sink in the bottomless depth of a bewitching look. Tea is drunk up. I push away a table aside, we remain to sit before each other in chairs. The white strict blouse, with an unbuttoned topmost button, is vaguely guessed the brassiere contour embracing the third size a breast, the black skirt is slightly lower than knees, white tights. Neither chains, nor earrings, nor ringlets. Slim figure, ideally beautiful woman: attracting, calling, desired. — Go to me! — I give hands to her towards. I want that she sat down to me on knees that we continued the exciting kiss that I zalaskat and would rain kisses on her everything, exempting from clothes, and only then would transfer to a bed. — You promised to give me the shirt. It is possible? — Yes. But you will put on it a naked body. In reply Larisa begins to undo buttons of the blouse slowly. At me intercepts breath. Here a strip it is dazzling a white body above a brassiere, here a brassiere, here a stomach, here a navel, here a skirt edge. Here she already without blouse. Here she undoes the habitual movement a fastener of a brassiere and before my look — the most beautiful breast: ripe, juicy, elastic, a light brown aura and the sticking-out buttons of nipples. I seize chair armrests not to break to her, and to sustain up to the end, to keep this word. Larisa slightly hesitates. I understand that she waits from me for some symmetric answer. I took off a jacket, having entered number, together with a jacket, now I untie a tie, and slowly I undo shirt buttons. To undress sitting, Larisa, probably, it is inconvenient further. She gets up near a chair, lowers a lightning from lateral face of a skirt, removes her, puts on a chair. Takes off footwear, puts under a chair. Trying not to look at me from confusion, takes off also tights, baring charm of womanly hips, a harmonious outline of legs, white narrow panties. Now looks at me. I already undid shirt buttons, but didn't remove yet. I take off a shirt, but when she gives a hand, I hardly considerably swing negatively-headed and slightly I smile. She understands that "the naked body" is and without panties. Having squeezed lips, removes panties. The clean-shaven pubis, slightly seen section of vulvar lips once again force me to swallow and be reared nervously the dick in the aspiration to escape outside and to rush into her. I stretch her a shirt, she quickly puts on it, being confused from strangeness, clasps all buttons up to the topmost, remain on a type only of her leg below the middle of hips, and here then she approaches me and sits down on knees. We in ecstasy kiss and we won't be sated with each other in any way. I undo buttons of the shirt, and from everyone undone the whole that part of a body which appears from under fabric. The breast receives the greatest attention, of course. I suck and I lick, I kiss and I bite, I rumple and I twist, I squeeze and I finger this center of femininity, this miracle of the nature from which delighted and newborn babies, both unfledged young men, and mature men, and aged men hoary with age. When all buttons of a shirt are unbuttoned, I raise hands up, and Larisa without words understands me — pulls down from me an undershirt, rejects on other chair, and itself is played with fur on my breast, kissing a neck, shoulders and keeping saying "you my shaggy, you are my young of wild animal, you are my chickabiddy". And even, taking away hands the disturbing breast hair, tries to suck one, and then other nipple. Everything, so can't proceed any more, and that I will be dishonored as the teenager and I will terminate to myself in trousers. I pick up Larisa in an embrace and I transfer to a bed. At high-speed speed I get rid of trousers and pants, she fast removes a cover and throws back a blanket, but continues to remain in my shirt. A deep kiss I stick into her lips, strong I embrace for a waist, feeling as elbows fabric of the shirt, I lower hands below, I squeeze buttocks, slightly raising her basin, then one hand continuing to hold for the daddy, заголяю a dickhead and I put another to an entrance. Several times I take the teasing movements up-down, I feel how moisture and in what it impatience is plentiful. "I ask you, only slowly!" — she whispers. It is good that told because I was ready to rush breakthrough into her and became enraged to fuck, following the tastes of my "boy" who was exhausted waiting for an entrance to her "girl". About a delightful instant of the first entry into the woman! To what it is pleasant to feel how the dick, overcoming the first resistance of sponges and walls, enters, is moved, squeezes into her, reaches against the stop, you feel pressing of a pubis to a pubis, then you pull him back, feeling as walls and sponges are already enough him, try to detain, not to release, leave in themselves, and then in her again, and again from her, both again "in", and again "from", again-again-again-again, and she rushes about under you, kisses on the lips, scratches a back, embraces buttock heels, pressing in yourself, and so there is a wish last and last this miracle strange, a miracle marvelous, a banal fucking between heterosexual individuals of homo sapiens. I don't want to cum, I want much and differently! I reduce speed, I take out a dick, I see a little amazed look, but any objections and questions: if the man acts this way, means so it is necessary, the behavior model absorbed by centuries at the genetic level. I caress a pizdenka hands, I grope the considerable sizes a clitoris, I feel these seconds as in a special way it grabs me with a marigold shoulders as her lips and language shiver, adjoining to my lips and language as it on a platoon also is ready to terminate in any second, from the slightest mental and corporal impulse as soon as the last straw overflows a bowl. And the next change of a pose sharply I move down, I move apart hands sexual sponges, and I stick a kiss already into them, bringing language the trembling clitoris to ecstasy. It was made in time. For certain she received to me an orgasm from fingers (even if the), but I precisely know and I trust her word that the husband never caressed her orally (and she him too). Larisa's orgasm from kuna more than rough. Larisa's waist lives life kind of, several times with very high frequency and amplitude rises over a surface of a bed and falls back, hands press her my head in the perineum as if it she the man, and I the woman doing her deep blowjob and as far as hear my ears flattened by her hips, each such breakthrough of a basin is followed kind of violently by the escaping lingering shout of "iiiiiiya" up, and "ыы" is on the maximum point of raising of a bottom over a bed. The oscillatory contour calmed down, but … I am not mistaken? The sounds going violently proceed? I am carefully released from coxofemoral capture, I rise above, I put the head on a pillow near her head. Yes, mistakes can't be. Larisa cries. Bitterly and violently, as the offended child who learned that there was just the 33rd series "Wait a Moment!" on TV, and he played in the yard and was late. Without waiting for my questions, without opening an eye, she clasps my head and kisses-kisses-kisses where her lips will get, and continues to sob, but calms gradually down and uttered, chaotically, but in fact it is clear: — Thanks … lovely … darling … I didn't trust, I thought, so can't be, it only in books is written by beautiful words, and in life everything is much worse, as well as everywhere, as well as always. This what miracle, it as you love me, it as I love you … How many with the husband I lived — never similar was how many itself I tried — and close didn't stand. I threw and to think about this business, remembered three days a month that I am a woman, was annoyed, wished that rather everything passed. I didn't love the husband, under a blanket of accidentally-legged will touch in a dream, was drawn aside with disgust. And he didn't love me, will see if me accidental in the afternoon of changing clothes, will frown as from a toothache. Once again won't kiss, won't touch as if to him pride doesn't allow tender to be with the woman. — Why did you marry him? Why did he marry you? — I was promised. My parents. To his parents. Before the shaman. Tradition at us such. Not we thought up, not to us to cancel … — and, trying to distract me from a delicate national topic, begins … … to caress me up to a breast, on a stomach, gives a hand to my dick, it is played with him, sits down nearby, again sprains to elbows the sleeves which fell down in the course of sex long to it the shirts preventing her to frig my dick and purposefully begins to jerk off, on the one hand kind of putting the task to achieve my konchaniye, time she terminated. But also I see how she appraisingly looks and is tried on to my "boy", it is quite ready to take for the first time in lives in a mouth, and it isn't excluded, fairly believing, as eruption in a mouth will be most pleasant to me, will capture him during the beginning of splashing. But I have one reason, the hygienic plan on which I don't want to induce it to blowjob yet. During my morning bustle, from one hotel in another, and the solution of the accompanying questions, there was no time to take a shower. It was thought that I will accept before sex, but too it appeared not on the cards. And if Larisa bathed this morning, and her body for me was cleanest and fragrant, then I took a shower even last time not yesterday in the morning, and the day before yesterday in the evening, and it is impossible to avert her from blowjob by an unpleasant smell or taste at all. — Give slightly in a different way? — softly I offer Larisa and, having pulled for shoulders, I stack nearby. Already not passionate hotly, and slowly viscously whole взасос, pushing the language to her it is deep in a mouth, on the contrary, taking her and sucking as lollipop. Then I kneel between her legs, and I podrachivat the dick. — Not in me, well? — Larisa speaks in the humblest accents. Probably, thinks that I want to finish the act vaginalno, but I have other plans. — Of course, of course, I remember. Give me the hand! — I direct the movements of her hand on my dick, artificially I adjust an orgasm, and very soon powerful splashes from the dick irrigate her body, reaching almost a neck, and with each splash more and more emotionally mine "aaaa", and the smile is wider than her: she brought darling to the first orgasm. I pound a dickhead, the hand and its hand of a cum droplet. I look for a moment, whether in a disgusting way to her? No, does everything with interest and with hunting, and even without my initiative touches by a finger of the nipple, obmaknuty in a cum. I bend down, I kiss on the lips, I look with mute delight in eyes. I receive the same adoring look in reply. - I to the bathroom? I nod. She slips out my shirt, and charming in the full nakedness, attracting my look with beauty and harmony, strides as the queen in magnificent vestments, without hesitating of the body at all. Because I am loved and desired. dating app pictures reddit date ideas houston at night site mapMain Page