Unexpectedly pleasant morning
Waking up, I didn't immediately realize where I was. Gradually, through the alcoholic haze, it dawned on me that I was sitting in a chair in my own apartment. The TV was droning right in front of me. Oh right, I was sitting here yesterday, waiting for the football match. It was supposed to start at eleven in the evening, and now it's half past four in the morning. I got some good canned beer for the occasion and passed out before it even started. Started too early, and I was tired. Oh well, I'll check the results online now. Turned off the TV, fired up the computer. While the machine was booting, I went to take a leak. My head was gradually clearing. Okay, let's see. Hooray! Our guys won, which means my little bet paid off, my hometown boys didn't let me down, gave their uncle a chance to earn some money.
eighteen thousand in the plus, gotta celebrate. I don't think I drank everything yesterday. That's right, two cans are still in the fridge. Downed one straight off, even though it's cold. Feels so damn good! Life is getting back on track. I'm sipping the second one slowly now, browsing the match stats, seeing how the others played. Okay, now I can have a smoke. But the cigarette situation is bad, smoked them all. Gotta go to the kiosk, but first I'll brush my teeth, hygiene comes first.Half an hour later I left the house, taking the trash bags with me. It was already light out. It's late August, the days are still hot, but there's a pleasant coolness at night and in the morning. Not cold, not hot, just perfect. After tossing the bags into the dumpster, I headed for the kiosk, thinking about something, when suddenly:
"Hey, mister, can I bum a cigarette?"
I actually flinched. I hadn't even noticed the girl sitting on the bench by the neighboring building. Rising from the bench, she stepped towards me. And it was immediately obvious — she was drunk. In a house robe and flip-flops, makeup smeared.
"Oh, Seryozha, hi. I didn't even recognize you," she swayed on her feet, smiling drunkenly. "Where are you off to so early?"
"I'm actually heading to the kiosk for cigarettes, come on."
We walk side by side. It's Olya, my classmate. Once the most striking girl in the class, even now, despite her dissolute life, she remained attractive. Her pretty little face was slightly marred by puffy eyelids and a bruise that was already starting to fade, but her figure kept all its slenderness. But it's not the same, not the same anymore. Oh Olya, did you think you'd be shaking your ass for rich kids forever, dragging them around bars? Everything passes, alas.
"Get this, those assholes sent me out to scrounge for cigarettes, and now they won't let me back in, no one comes to the door. They're sleeping. Got wasted and are sleeping, and I've been stuck out here for an hour, fuck, like an idiot. Who are you gonna bum from on a Saturday this early? All normal people are asleep," Olya stumbled and swore dirtily. I caught her by the arm.
"Who? What assholes?"
"Yeah, my Kostik, I'm living with Kostya Tyson now. You know him? Well, his brother is with us too. They got back from a job the day before yesterday and haven't sobered up since."
"Tyson? Yeah, I know him."
Kostya Tyson used to be a small-time punk. Grew up, did time. When he got out, he tried to throw his weight around the neighborhood, but never rose above being a common yard drunk. Though he kept his fierce temper and a good punch.
"Fuck!" — she almost fell again, the robe's flaps parted, a flash of white, untanned breast. She caught my look and hastily wrapped the robe shut. She walked now, arms crossed over her chest, clutching the thin fabric with her fingers. That's how we reached the kiosk.
Bought two packs, handed one to her.
"Oh, thanks," — I offered her a cigarette from my pack, gave her a light, then lit one myself. An idea came to me.
"What are you gonna do now, Olya?"
"Fuck knows," — she took frequent, greedy drags, looking down. One hand still clutched the flaps of her little robe on her chest.
"Come to my place, why are you gonna hang around there, by the entrance. The cops might pick you up."
"Do you have anything to drink?"
"We'll get some now."
Fifteen minutes later I was opening the door to my bachelor's den, my left hand pleasantly weighed down by a bag with cans of "Gin & Tonic." Another fifteen minutes later we were chatting away, settled on the sofa. Olga wasn't watching her robe so closely anymore and flashed her breast a couple more times. And it's not bad. My favorite size. Shaped like a champagne glass, pointy like that, like a paper cone for seeds. And if she didn't drink and dressed decently, she'd still give the young chicks a run for their money!
"Olya, wanna watch our graduation?"
"Oh, let's do it." — She even jumped with delight, rubbing her palms together joyfully.
Got up, found the right disc, turned on the DVD. Fast-forwarded through all the official boring stuff, went straight to the interesting part — the banquet with the disco. Olya is dancing in a black dress, clinging to her like a glove. Writhing like a snake. A real goddess. How many times did I jerk off to her, watching the recording over and over! And I'm sure I wasn't the only one.
"I was super there, right, Seryozha?" — she didn't take her eyes off the screen.
"You're still not bad." — I put my hand on her thigh, squeeze it slightly. Olya doesn't react, doesn't even seem to notice my actions. Then I take her breast with my left hand, squeeze it, feeling the pleasant firmness under my palm. She looks at me puzzled at first, then suddenly throws her head back and laughs loudly:
"Oh, I can't, what, you decided to seduce me?"
"Well, why not?" — my left hand continues its explorations. It's already inside, under the robe, covering her breast and squeezing it lightly, like a ball. The nipple pleasantly tickles my palm.
"Don't."
"Come on, don't play hard to get." — and my hand is already on her crotch, stroking her through her panties, then slipping my fingers under the elastic. I kiss below her ear, on her neck, then take the hard brown nipple into my mouth. Olya leaned back against the sofa back, closed her eyes. She's enjoying it, her breathing became ragged, a bit hoarse. But she keeps her legs together, doesn't spread them, doesn't let my hand go further.
"You really want me?" — Olya looked me straight in the eyes. She seemed to have sobered up.
"Of course." — I take her hand and place it between my legs. She finds the cock under the denim fabric, squeezes it.
"Let me give you a blowjob instead."
"Okay," — I was pleased.
"But you go take a shower first."
"Yeah."
"Like it?"
"Very much."
Taking it back into her mouth, she began playing with the head with her tongue, as if rolling the cock from side to side in her mouth. From such caresses it immediately began to swell, gaining hardness. Letting it out of her mouth, she admired the work of her lips for a few seconds — the cock was standing at full attention, trembling slightly, looking her straight in the face with its single eye. A clear drop of pre-cum hung at the tip. Olya smeared it over the entire head with her palm.
"I love it when it gets hard in my mouth," — she explained, massaging the cock with her hand, spreading the pre-cum over it, which kept oozing out. With her other hand, she began rolling his balls.
"Take them in your mouth."
Olya obediently sucked first one ball, played with it a bit in her mouth, spat it out, took the second one in. Let it out, went back to the other. She took them in her mouth, sucking on them in turn. It felt very good. She pressed the cock against my stomach with her hand. After playing with the balls, she sucked the entire cock in completely, buried her nose in the pubic hair, twisted her head a bit in that position, as if screwing an invisible
nut onto the cock. Let it out of her mouth, leaned back, breathing noisily. After catching her breath, Olya repeated the trick. Then again and again. Went back to the balls, pressing the shaft to my stomach, began playing with them again with her warm, soft lips. Then, jerking the shaft with her hand, she asked, looking me in the eyes:
"Will you get more to drink?"
"Will you lick my ass?"
"Well..." — she drawled hesitantly, — "Okay, turn around."
Still not believing my luck, I obediently turned my backside to her and leaned forward a bit. No one had ever given me such a caress before. Olya ran her finger there, scratching my anus a little with her nail. Then carefully touched it with her hard, hot little tongue.
"Go on," — I invitingly spread my buttocks with my hands.
"I'm not going in there."
"Well, at least like this, on the outside, please."
Olya began running her tongue around the brown spot, still not daring to cross the border. It felt very good, but I wanted more.
"Be bolder," — I encouraged my guest.
She sighed and ran her tongue right there. It felt so unexpectedly good that I shuddered. Olya laughed at my reaction.
"Like it?"
"Totally awesome. Keep going."
"Pervert."
Pressing against my behind, she began licking my asshole, running her tongue over it firmly. I moaned loudly, seeing no need to hold back. Encouraged by my reaction, Olya began pressing harder with her tongue. After licking for a couple of minutes, she changed tactics. Now she quickly-quickly touched the coveted little hole with the tip of her tongue, repeating the motion of a cat lapping milk. Then she went back to licking. From the unbearable high, my head was spinning, my legs were buckling. Finally, she interrupted this fairy-tale session, playfully slapping my ass:
"That's it. You've had enough."
"You're just a smart girl," — I praised her, bringing my cock to her face.
Olga took it in her mouth and began moving her head quickly, tightly gripping the shaft with her lips, taking it into her mouth almost completely. My cock is average-sized, and she had no problems with deep-throating at all. It was nice to watch her head bobbing back and forth from above. Feeling the orgasm approaching, I took her head in my hands and held it. Now I moved her head, slightly thrusting my hips to meet her movements. Gradually, I found a pace that allowed me to balance on the edge of orgasm, getting maximum pleasure from the process. Now I was just waiting for her to get tired of this game, which the experienced blowjob-giver, of course, understood perfectly. It happened about ten minutes later, when I was starting to get bored myself. Olya decisively removed my hands from her head, and, continuing to hold them, began moving her head quickly, tightening her grip. With her tongue, she pressed hard under the head, as if pushing the shaft against the roof of her mouth. Less than a minute after such a swift attack, I began to come violently. From the first moment of my orgasm, Olya switched to smooth, milking movements. Swallowing everything obediently, she kept the cock in her mouth for another minute, moving it with her tongue. And only when it had completely gone soft did she release it, exhaling with satisfaction:
"Done."
"What if he wakes up and you're not there?" — I asked, pulling up my jeans.
"I'll say I was at my mom's, I'm going to her now," — she waved it off, taking a drag of her cigarette. "I'll sit at your place for another hour, okay?"
"Yeah, even two."
"It's too early to go to her anyway. She'll yell at me, of course, for being drunk, but what can you do."
I sat her down at the computer, opened "Odnoklassniki" for her, and went out myself, leaving the door open.
When I returned ten minutes later, Olya was half-lying asleep on the sofa. I patted her lightly on the shoulder. Zero reaction. Okay, screw it, let her sleep. I had breakfast, sat at the computer for about an hour, Olya was still sleeping. I went over to the sofa. Olya was lying on her back, legs bent. Her head was tilted to the side. Drool was trickling from the corner of her mouth. I untied the belt on her robe and spread the flaps. Who the hell knows, girls go on diets, go to the gym. And this one has everything without any effort, even in spite of it. At thirty-six, slender, no folds, not even a hint of cellulite. Tits perkily pointing in different directions, like a goat's, not sagging. I took her nipple between my fingers, twisted it. She's asleep, doesn't react. Pulled down the elastic of her panties, looked. It's neatly trimmed down there