"Colander"
And it all started so well. On April 30th, just before the May Day holidays, he and his buddy Pyotr decided to skip out after lunch. There were two reasons: the approaching holidays—a full four
days with the weekends—and the more important one: the brand new, shiny Zhiguli he had acquired the day before through the military store. Volodya couldn't get enough of his new purchase. He'd already celebrated with everyone, but somehow never managed to with his best friend. The long-built garage in the neighboring cooperative had finally found a tenant.They stocked up at the store, buying extra so they wouldn't have to run back, and drove out to a long-familiar spot three kilometers from the military town. The water in the stream flowing through the hollow was always cold and clear as a tear. Trees, bushes, and green grass lined the banks. What more could you want? The sun was beating down unseasonably warm, making them eager to get there. Right at the checkpoint on the way out of town, they saw Svetka—the telephone operator from the local exchange. Volodya had had his eye on her for a while, but his wife kept him from pursuing her seriously.
Svetka was about twenty-five, maybe a bit older, but she had the figure of an eighteen-year-old girl. And she always wore such short skirts that she inevitably drew men's eyes, especially married men. She even looked great in her uniform. Her pretty face, with its slightly upturned nose and big gray eyes, matched her good figure. A wave of blonde hair fell freely onto her bare shoulders. One of the guys had once boasted about fucking Svetka right there at her station. Why not?
"Should we take her?" Volodya perked up, the first to spot the beauty.
"Will she come?" Pyotr responded. "She knows we're both married."
"I'll try now," his friend winked, slowing down at the checkpoint.
He got out, intercepted Svetka at the exit. Through the windshield, Pyotr watched Volodya, who was animatedly telling Svetka something, gesturing with his hands and looking at her with devoted eyes. To his surprise, Svetka smiled and headed towards the car.
"Hi!" she said, climbing into the back seat. "And you, Petrusha, when are you buying a car?"
Pyotr stayed silent because that was a sore subject for him. A few minutes later, they descended into the hollow, hid the car in the bushes, and settled on a green clearing. The simple snacks were a poor accompaniment to the two liter bottles of vodka. Sausage, cheese, a jar of pickles, and about fifteen potatoes they baked in the ashes of a fire. Svetka drank on par with the men.
They drank first to the holiday, then to the car, then to the right front wheel, then to the rear one, to the bumper, etc., etc. Within an hour, everyone was nicely tipsy, and the warrant officers began glancing at Svetka with lustful eyes more and more often. Her short skirt, from under which white panties flashed now and then, was just beckoning. Volodya stepped away for a few minutes for a natural need, and when he returned, he found Petrusha kissing Svetka. His right hand was openly groping the girl's breast.
"Hey! Hey! I want that too," Volodya joked, approaching them.
"Then pour!" Svetka waved her hand and pressed her lips to Petrusha's again.
Another hour later, she was so drunk, no longer comprehending anything, that she allowed herself to be undressed and now lay in the middle of a spread-out blanket, letting both of them caress her. Only her white panties, slightly damp in certain places, remained on her. The warrant officers' greedy hands roamed over her untanned body, tweaking her nipples and stroking her slender thighs. Svetka kissed first one, then the other, turning her disheveled head from side to side. Volodya was the first to slip his fingers under her panties, searching for the girl's charms. Svetka jerked, tried to push his hand away, but Petrusha distracted her by sinking his teeth into her swollen lips with another kiss.
Fumbling with his uniform trousers, which he tried to pull down with one hand, Volodya, with some difficulty, managed to free his hardening cock from his underwear and, moving closer, thrust it between Svetka's legs, bypassing the thin strip of her panties, which no longer covered her crotch. At first, she didn't even understand what was happening to her. Only when the warrant officer's rather thick cock pushed deeper into her did she, biting Petrusha painfully on the lip, cry out and start to struggle, but it was no use. Getting into the swing of things, the guys didn't let her go. Volodya turned her onto her side and now, positioning himself from behind, rammed into the honey-dripping womb, penetrating it to its full depth, while Petrusha, seizing the moment, immediately shoved his handsome member under her nose. His cock wasn't as big, but it stood well, its crimson, engorged head trembling before the girl's eyes.
"You bastards," Svetka whispered, clearly resigning herself.
Now she didn't resist; on the contrary, she even began to move her hips, responding to Volodya's thrusts, and then, grabbing Petrusha's cock with her hand, reached for it with her lips. They hadn't had such a high in a long time. The vodka they'd drunk, while not adding much quality to the process, prolonged it. A few minutes later, they switched roles, which also didn't meet any objection from the intoxicated beauty. They marked the first successful coupling with another shot.
When the sun began to set and a barely noticeable coolness wafted from the stream, they repeated the act, this time with Svetka as the initiator. Getting worked up, she climbed onto Petrusha herself, straddled him, and, purring contentedly, rocking on his cock, happily sucked on Volodya's hefty club. There wasn't a soul around, only some birds chirping belatedly now and then, preparing to roost.
Soon it grew completely dark, and the group started to gather. Their legs, after the abundant libations, weren't very steady on the ground, but behind the wheel, Volodya felt like a king. Swinging around sharply, he drove onto the highway and sped towards the town. Petrusha got out near his house and, waving weakly, trudged to the entrance.
"Are you in a hurry?" Volodya asked, turning to Svetka, who was sprawled on the back seat.
She shook her head vaguely, which could mean either yes or no.
"Then let's swing by the garage, have another little one," the warrant officer decided, remembering the considerable stash of alcohol hidden on the shelf.
The Zhiguli, its new engine rumbling dully, drove into the open garage doors. To avoid attracting attention, Volodya locked the doors from the inside and helped Svetka out of the car.
"Well then? A hundred grams each?" he suggested with a drunken smile, pulling a large bottle from the top shelf.
"Let's!" Svetka agreed, looking around for glasses.
Volodya poured a little each, handed the girl her glass, moving closer.
"Wow! You're already wound up again," she smirked, stroking the noticeable bulge on his jeans with her hand. "A real Perederenko."
"Got to live up to the name," he grinned smugly, his drunken face beaming.
"And what to chase it with?" Svetka rolled her eyes, bringing the glass to her lips.
"Here!" the warrant officer freed his impressive cock from his pants. "What's wrong with this for a chaser?"
"Silly! I might bite it off."
She downed the contents of the glass in one gulp and froze, mouth open. The pure alcohol choked her breath, burned her insides, unaccustomed to such a thing. Volodya handed her some bottle with leftover water.
"Crazy," exhaled Svetka, barely coming to her senses. "You could have warned me."
She knelt down, took the warrant officer's cock in her hand. Working her fingers, she pulled back the foreskin, exposing the large, reddened head. Her full lips sucked it inside, drawing a sigh of satisfaction from Perederenko's lips. Grunting, he poured his portion of alcohol into himself, wiped his mouth with his palm.
"You suck well, Svetik," he praised the girl. "A real pro."
Grabbing her blonde head with his hands, he worked his hips, driving his friend into Svetka's wide-open mouth. In ecstasy, she sucked the tense cock and, slipping a hand under her skirt, teased her desire-swollen clit. Feeling the climax approaching, Volodya lifted her from the floor, sat her on the hood of the Zhiguli, and, pulling aside the strip of her panties, inserted his pole-stiff cock into her moist slit. Spreading her legs, Svetka wrapped her arms around his buttocks and pulled him towards her, feeling the living, trembling-with-impatience flesh fill her completely. The poor Zhiguli creaked plaintively under their copulating bodies. Volodya thrust broadly into Svetka, who was writhing her whole body, driving his cock to the hilt into the juice-dripping vagina. Finally, he jerked, froze for a moment, and came right inside her, holding her hips tightly.
"More, just a little more," Svetka whispered, painfully scratching his buttocks with her nails.
"Break," Perederenko lowered her to the sinful ground. "Need to catch my breath."
Realizing the hopelessness of her situation, Svetka grabbed his hand and shoved it between her legs. With a few movements, he did bring her to orgasm, but the effect, of course, wasn't the same.
"Got any cigarettes?" Volodya asked, patting his pockets.
"Ran out earlier," Svetka grumbled, pouting.
"Sit here, I'll be right back," said the garage owner, pulling on his shirt. "I'll go get cigarettes from the guys, and grab something to eat too."
Taking a bottle of alcohol from the shelf, he went out, closed the gate, and hung a large padlock on it.
"I'll be quick," he called through the gate, heading towards the neighboring garages.
They were partying there too. The warrant officer's appearance caused a storm of delight, and the brought bottle added enthusiasm. They drank one, then another, added some beer, moved to a farther garage to friends for more, and soon the hapless driver, owner of the new Zhiguli, reached the right condition.
Around one in the morning, a neighbor dragged him home, handing him over to his furious wife. The morning was bad. His head was splitting terribly, so when on May 1st his father-in-law and mother-in-law came to visit, bringing a bottle of cognac and a pack of beer, Volodya perked up. He felt better. The "treatment" was successful. By lunchtime, he fell sound asleep and slept until evening. An unfinished bottle was found in the fridge, with which he settled on the balcony.
The May Day holidays, stretching over four days, passed. Volodya walked with his wife and kids, drank in moderation, in short, rested. Once he even wanted to take them to the city, but his wife objected, feeling sorry for the new car. Something subconsciously nagged at him, but he never remembered his adventure during that time. On Wednesday morning, on his way to duty, he met his comrade, Petya.
"So, how are you?" he inquired. "Had fun with Svetka?"
A terrible thought pierced the warrant officer's cleared mind. Without answering the question, he darted to the side, ran towards the garages. Feverishly unlocking the padlock, he flung open the gate. A disheveled, drunken woman, like a furious fury, flew out. With one precise hammer blow, she sent the hapless lover into a knockout.
Coming to, Volodya, rubbing his sore forehead, peeked into the garage. In the rays of the rising sun, a horrifying picture opened before him. His new beauty, the Zhiguli, was riddled with gaping holes. The instrument of revenge—a German BOSCH drill—lay next to the punctured tires and the emptied alcohol bottle. Even the engine of the recently new car was eaten through with holes.
Somewhere in the distance, lightning flashed brightly—heralding an early May thunderstorm. Warrant Officer Perederenko sat right down on the cement floor, wrapped his arms around his head, feeling the enormous bump on his forehead.
SAS