Computer specialist

Currently, I am a system administrator. I became interested in computer security at the age of 18. After 9th grade, I enrolled in the first year at educational institution N; by 18, I had mastered basic PC repair and started doing freelance repair work on the side, meaning I would go on calls to help clueless users.

One evening, I got a call, and a thin, tearful voice said:

"Please help me. My parents will kill me..."

After that, the "little voice" gave me an address, and I, like a Jedi warrior, set off to help.

While I'm on my way, let me tell you a bit about my appearance—it bears the imprint of my belonging

to the metalhead subculture: long hair down to my shoulders, a black t-shirt hugging my muscular body (contrary to popular belief, computer guys do take care of themselves), leather pants, combat boots, and of course chains, a leather jacket, gloves. In short, the full regalia. But the object of my pride was my bike! Of course, it was used, old, low-powered, but it was my own bike! What more does a metalhead need to be happy? Especially at 18.

So, I arrived.

I barely had time to knock before that very "little voice" appeared at the doorstep. And... well, I was stunned. And for good reason! Standing before me was a girl about 18 years old. I couldn't help but admire this wonder: a perfectly shaped, very neat and well-groomed face, with fresh tear tracks from her slightly swollen, endlessly blue eyes. A slender neck and, perfectly suited to her build, breasts, covered by thin, damp fabric. A wasp-like waist and legs worthy of a princess. And a completely frightened-surprised look: after all, she called for a computer guy, but some maniac in leather and chains showed up. (I often encountered similar situations).

"Night Watch. Everyone out of the twilight." — I smirked. I'm not a sadist, I just couldn't resist.

"Uh..."

"Did you call tech support?" — I took pity.

"Yes..."

She spoke in such a tone that I felt like the biggest jerk. Apparently, something really had happened to her, and I was making fun. Idiot.

"Sorry. Show me the patient."

Nodding slightly, the girl led me into a well-furnished apartment. I looked around: animal trophies on the walls, hunting trophies, photos of a respectable-looking uncle. An Izh "vertical" shotgun hung on the wall. A beauty...

Meanwhile, the girl took me to her room, and I was stunned for the second time: on the computer desk was a laptop with... a porn banner covering the entire monitor!

If it weren't for the girl's tear-stained face and the constant whisper of "my parents will kill me," I would have burst into wild laughter. I had encountered this before, but back then it was a pimply nerd who called me, but now a girl... and it wouldn't be so bad if the banner were traditional, but this one—two underage girls—lesbian.

"Can you help?"

"First, wash your face, wipe your tears, and calm down."

"Okay, I..."

"Quickly."

Shock therapy. Hearing the commanding tone, she should calm down and trust me. Or maybe I just don't understand the female psyche at all.

"Now I'll fix you up, dear."

I inserted the "flash drive" into the USB, and a werewolf scratching its head appeared on the monitor. Then, the "wolf" sat down, leaning against a tree. The speakers crackled, and a "scary" voice said, "I'm fed up, I need to go hunting," and the werewolf vanished. I opened the "Music" folder on the "flash drive," selected the song "Zver" by Aria, turned on the player, and started "cleaning" the hard drive.

At that moment, the owner of the "comp" returned, now calmed down but completely red-faced. I would have blushed too if someone caught me on a porn site.

"Confess, my child."

"How much do I owe you?"

Damn, what do I need money for? I was completely consumed by wild curiosity!

"Have you read 'Spectrum'? 'It's sad and lonely here. Tell me a story, traveler'" — I smiled.

"Maybe..."

"Just satisfy my curiosity, and I'll leave without taking a penny from you. And the 'wolf' will erase everything, no one will know. I give you my word."

"Okay... I... yes, I'm a lesbian. It all started six months ago; a guy I really loved almost raped me... with all my heart, believe me?" — I nodded — "We went to his place once, and while he was making tea, I sat at his computer and saw his correspondence with some Diana. He wrote that he wanted her... and she agreed and even suggested ideas about positions... slut. Well, and he also had a few porn links open. I ran to the kitchen, started screaming, hitting him... And he laughed, grabbed me, put me on the table, started groping me, undressing me... I don't know how I managed, but I hit him... there. And ran away. We never saw each other again, but now I can't look at boys. For six months now, I've been watching lesbian porn, talking to others like me. I even wanted to sleep with a girl..."

I sat there, as if stunned. I felt so sorry for her that I simply took her hand.

"What's your name, girl?" — I said in a hoarse voice.

"Lilya, and yours?"

"Let me be Martin."

Unexpectedly, I felt growing excitement and even arousal inside. Gently stroking Lilya's head, I felt her breathing becoming faster, which aroused me even more. Then Lilya threw her arms around my neck and hugged me with such force that I thought she might strangle me.

"We're not all like that, really."

I stroked her back, feeling a wild erection building up inside me. Like in the song—"the sharing is painfully piercing my groin"... Lilya felt it and looked into my eyes. I don't know what she read in them, but a moment later we were kissing. Her lips tried to whisper something, but the words were unintelligible; I sat her on my lap and held her close. Breaking away for a second, Lilya took off her little t-shirt, and my lustful gaze was presented with her neat little breasts. Without delay, I started kissing them, nibbling, moving up to her neck, then down to her tummy. (Specially for .org — ) Her breathing quickened, gradually turning into moans. Then I picked her up and, without stopping caressing her, laid her on the bed and began undressing her. Pulling off her shorts, along with her lace panties, I quickly took off my own clothes, while Lilya, as if shy about her nakedness, tried to press against me, kissing and biting my neck, hands, trying to reach my stomach... her hands slid over me, pinching and scratching, causing pleasant pain.

Spreading her slender legs, I began carefully inserting my "argument." The absence of a barrier was a surprise to me, although the girl was very tight. Lilya writhed, screamed, her nails tearing at my hands, biting and whispering in my ear.

Maybe it was the heavy music (Yorsh started playing), or maybe the understanding that I was with a lesbian—former, but still—I literally went wild. I squeezed her fragile little body with my hands, leaving bruises, speeding up the pace. Lilya arched and sank her teeth into my neck; in response, I pinned her hands above her head and bit her breast.

After a while, I felt the climax was about to come; pulling out the "aggregate," I leaned over Lilya, and she started jerking it off, aiming at her face. Soon I came, but it wasn't enough for me; I firmly decided to bring the poor girl to orgasm. So I entered her again, throwing her legs over my shoulders, and literally started "pounding" her girl. Soon I felt her trembling, her moans turned into a scream, her nails dug into my hands. Freezing for a moment, Lilya, with a wild cry full of passion and pain, collapsed onto the bed and began moaning softly with her eyes rolled back. I lay down next to her and began gently stroking her breasts, tummy, moving lower.

We lay like that until Lilya fell asleep, and I, covering her with a blanket, started getting dressed. Apparently, the clinking of my chains woke her up.

"Thank you."

I leaned down, kissed Lilya on the neck, and adjusted the blanket.

"Still, I was mistaken. We are all the same." — I felt good, but also ashamed.

"No, you were very gentle. I... I love you, darling."

Lilya wrapped her arms around my neck and looked into my eyes.

"And you know... umm... you're my first."

"But..."

"I tore it myself. I got carried away and... Sorry."

A long, tender-tender kiss was more pleasant than ever.

"I have to go. But I'll be back. I give you my word."