Vacation in Gagra
On the Plot of the Poem "Electric Trains Rush to the Sea"
I once came across a spicy poem on the Internet.
They were talking about the poet — a guy from the wild '90s.
Whether he wrote like Yevtushenko, or someone else,
But there was one assessment — a masterful hand.
The poem is just a page long, to show
Why Muscovite women love to vacation in Gagra.
Why do they strive there with body and soul?
You can sunbathe and swim near Moscow.
This topic is relevant and troubles us.
Much has changed radically now.
For since the poet's verse fluttered into the world,
Fifty years have passed in this world.
The world has opened its embrace, we are free now.
Life around has become more exciting, tempting us.
But ladies still strive for the Caucasus
And to understand this, we will tell the story.
***
An electric train rushes to Gagra — the wind can't catch it,
Lena and Ira, two Muscovite women, are going on vacation.
Both are juicy blondes, around thirty-five.
As if from a glossy picture — you can't take your eyes off.
Breasts of the fourth size are still firm,
Hips full, but in moderation, arms flexible.
Lips tender, legs long and still light,
Plump pubic mounds show through the jeans.
In short, looking at either one, you could say:
Whether clothed or naked, you want to embrace.
To squeeze the firm breasts, to kiss all over,
Not letting the sweet pussy sleep until dawn.
***
Ira is going to the sea for the first time in her life
And accepts Lena's story with delight:
That tangerines are everywhere, sweet wine.
And mustachioed Georgian men have been waiting for a long time.
That they are skillful at feasts and always sing.
And in love they are not timid — guys are top-notch!
Such strength and such passion in their hands,
I stayed that summer, rested to my heart's content.
He sometimes squeezes you so you can't breathe.
And when he sinks into your lips, it immediately sends shivers.
You immediately feel the man in the prickliness of his mustache.
And a mighty spring bursts from his trousers.
Now he's driving a goal into my gates,
And, of course, I want him to enter.
He repeats the attack many, many times
And caresses me all night, without closing his eyes.
How can I not remember my husband here — in appearance, what a hulk,
He stopped being my friend, his ardor is gone.
He takes his dose, strokes a little and kneads slightly,
Drills for half a minute and immediately falls asleep.
***
From such a conversation, Ira melted.
She rolled her languid eyes, lay on her side.
Explained her weakness, barely looking out the window —
Her husband hasn't given her that joy for a long time either.
Compassionate Elena sat closer to her
Embraced her knee — happier together.
She says, only she can understand her sadness
And will immediately help her relieve the tension.
The train devours the miles, the wheels beat in rhythm
And a rosy sunset blazes through the whole window.
There is no world — there are only two and blind passion,
And the power of this lady is sometimes whimsical.
***
The sun is hot, waves splash — God's grace
We sunbathe, full of bliss — great to relax
We consume tangerines, local wine,
And around are only Georgian men — they are everywhere.
Now two approach — around thirty-five:
They invite both of us for a walk in the evening.
To go to restaurants and drink some wine,
And to escort us home not too early.
He introduces himself — Jumberi, and my friend — Vakhtang.
In both their exteriors, rank is immediately visible.
He says he hasn't met such blondes in a long time:
Only saw them in pictures and sometimes in movies.
So we don't get stolen here — they will guard.
Well, since we didn't take our husbands — they will entertain.
And immediately offers, so as not to burn,
To rub our bodies with his suntan lotion.
Hands gently rub the lotion into the back, along the legs
And desire grows both in the chest and there.
The body is made for caresses, we must relax
I say, lowering my eyes, that we will go for a walk.
***
We are leaving the restaurant, I am slightly drunk.
A piercing wound burns the soul and the wine scrapes:
That I can give myself now, betray my husband
How do I figure this out and who is to blame
Now we've reached the house, entered the room
But neither Lena nor Vakhtang were found here:
And Jumberi embraces, began to kiss
And desire grows to give all of myself.
I am betraying my spouse for the first time in my life.
I thought — I'll sunbathe, see the Caucasus.
But Priapus is mighty and knows — his captivity is sweet
And he informs me of this, just above the knee.
Like a prayer, I whispered that I am ruining myself.
That I promised to be faithful. I love my husband.
How will I return home? What will I tell my husband?
But it's already clear to myself — that I won't refuse.
The world disappeared again and passion triumphs anew
Showing people its power with a new example.
Previous doubts melt, the body clings to caresses.
Looking into the abyss of pleasure, the heart sweetly dies.
He didn't let me sleep until dawn
I became, during that time, happy about five times.
I understood — while you are in the body, your face is beautiful,
The pussy's soul must always be busy.
That the sweetness not gathered must be gathered
And flowers of love for joy woven into the hair.
Away all false doubts and away embarrassment
One must swim in pleasure every day and night.
***
The vacation ended and the train rushes from the south to Moscow.
The girlfriends return, having dispelled the melancholy.
They've slimmed down, freshened up, shedding about five years,
They rested as they wanted, what's not to understand.
At home, children like titmice, a joyful spouse.
Everyone kisses the vacationer — her butt is firm.
Breasts firm, lips tender — you want to suck them in
She whispers serenely to her husband — we are together again.
They put the kids to sleep and lay down in bed.
The husband breathes impatiently, began to kiss.
And again there are two of us in the world — me and my spouse,
And he toils as in a mine face, the old, good friend.
But he is not capable of giving the former pleasure
Thirty-five body movements and already the finish line.
He kisses the cheek tenderly and is about to sleep.
But I will think all night how to save myself.
I will not betray my husband — I love him.
A reliable friend is also needed — I will buy one for myself.
And when my procurator will be sweetly sleeping
My vibrator will help me experience happiness.
***
Lena and I are sweetly friends — she is so tender.
When there is no husband at home — I need her.
She stays overnight, we tumble into bed
And caress with the minx, not wanting to sleep.
And, of course, without my spouse, as this time,
I will fly with my friend again to the Caucasus.
Into the whirlpool of passion without doubts I will throw myself at once,
To bathe in pleasure and fall into ecstasy
P. S.
Nowadays ladies have become rarer to visit Gagra.
Russian women go to Turks to vacation.
They go to sunny Egypt to dispel sorrow,
And airplanes carry them into a foreign distance. ()
There, again, oranges, tart wine,
And mustachioed men have been waiting for a long time.
The sun of the flaming south awakens passion
And beloved spouses rest to their heart's content.
So that we don't doubt for our girlfriends,
That a new friend will entertain them there,
We must change vodka together with beer for kvass —
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