Generation Next

Pavel lay in his room, anxiously listening to the sounds in the apartment. Yesterday, he had done the same thing with his mother as he had done two weeks earlier with his sister, Inga, who was five years older than him.

Inga had graduated from college and gotten married to her classmate six months ago, and now they lived in their apartment, in Inga's room.

Pavel didn't really like his sister, or rather, he didn't like her at all. He considered her arrogant and haughty. Since childhood, she had teased him and, as the older sibling, bossed him around, making him do housework while she played or went out with her friends. Then she went to college, graduated, and got married

to a jerk, in Pavel's opinion, just like herself.

"What did he see in her? Well, she's beautiful, slim, great tits and ass, but what else? There are plenty like her. What do guys see in her? They were always chasing after her. Why don't girls chase after me like that? Well, never mind, we'll see now. Now everything will change," he thought. "Finished school, got an invitation from the institute, submitted the documents there. I'll study, move out of this apartment, I'm an adult now. I have money. Now I'll fuck chicks by the dozen—"

Since he was eleven, he had been using the money his mother gave him for school to buy then-unknown, new electronic currency and mined it on his laptop, which his mother had bought with the alimony from his father. He had learned about the cryptocurrency Bitcoin by chance, from conversations with guys at school. It interested him somehow, and after accumulating about ten thousand bitcoins, he waited every day for them to rise in price. But that year, their value increased only slightly. Although, if he had sold them then for ten cents per Bitcoin, he would have gotten about a thousand dollars, but he decided to wait.

His mother worked as a senior manager at some firm; his father, who had left them and his sister many years ago, never visited, but alimony from him came regularly. They didn't live poorly, but you couldn't call their life luxurious either. His mother lived at work, so to speak, and Inga commanded the apartment. Pashka considered himself a slave, harboring resentment, waiting for the day he could take revenge on his sister. And two weeks ago, such an opportunity presented itself. She and her husband were invited to a wedding, and before the wedding, there was a bachelor and bachelorette party, which they were also invited to. Her husband, Igor, came home drunk at night and left for work in the morning. His mother had left even earlier than Igor.

Inga had days off, and they simply brought her home in the morning from that bachelorette party. They rang the doorbell and handed her to him like a package when Pavel opened the door. He had to put his sister on the floor in the hallway so as not to drop her. He closed the door and dragged his drunk sister to her room. With difficulty, he heaved her onto the sofa, first pulling her body up, then her legs. As he was hauling his sister's legs onto the sofa, an idea came to him, looking at her pink panties.

"What if I take off her panties and fuck her? She won't remember anything anyway—"

He, with malicious glee, pulled up his sister's skirt and carefully took off her panties, stuffing them into the pocket of her blouse. He spread her legs and began examining his sister's slit. It really was a slit. She didn't have labia like other girls, whom he had seen in large numbers on the internet, watching porn and masturbating. There was a smooth, neat slit, everything was clean-shaven.

Pavel quickly unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down to his knees along with his underwear. He jerked off his already erect cock a couple of times and lay on top of Inga, guiding the head of his cock along his sister's perineum with his hand. It was dry there, and the head, with difficulty, began to slip into Inga's vagina. But in the end, some lubrication appeared, and Pavel managed to shove his cock into his sister. He lay down comfortably, looked at his sister with a smile, grimaced from her breath, turned Inga's head to the side, and began fucking her, shoving his cock into her as deep as possible. Nature had not shortchanged Pavel. His cock was quite large and thick. He had visited prostitutes many times. They didn't ask for his ID, took the money, and gave it, always surprised by the size of his cock. One even joked that if he came to her next time, she would put a donut on Pashka's cock so he wouldn't tear everything up inside her. But he never went to her a second time, always choosing new girls.

Now, for the first time, he was having sex without a condom. This also excited him greatly. He fucked his sister vengefully and furiously. She moaned drunkenly and loudly several times. Pashka, with great pleasure, came deep inside his sister's vagina and squeezed everything into her until his cock began to soften. He got up, walked on his knees over Inga, took his cock in his hand, and leaning over, lifted his sister's head with his other hand, ran the head of his cock over her lips, smearing drops of semen on them. Then, satisfied, he climbed off the sofa, looked at his sister contemptuously, and holding up his jeans with his hand, went to the bathroom, washed his cock there, pulled on his underwear and jeans, and tucked himself in. He went back to his sister's room and slightly pulled her panties out of the pocket of her blouse.

"Like a handkerchief in a tuxedo pocket," he thought with a mental smirk, looking at his sister. Then he straightened her skirt, watching with pleasure as his semen leaked from his sister's vagina.

"Let's consider that you've partially paid your dues," he said quietly, smirked, and left satisfied to his room. That day, he exchanged a hundred Bitcoins and then, through virtual exchangers, withdrew sixty thousand dollars in rubles to various electronic wallets. And from the wallets, you could withdraw to cards...

As for Inga, after sobering up a bit that day, she put herself in order before her husband arrived, and in the evening, they drank beer together to cure their hangover, discussing the time they had spent and what they would give as a wedding gift. Pavel came to the kitchen several times, as if he needed something there, and glanced at his sister with malicious glee. They paid no attention to him at all, as if he weren't there.

"Alright," he thought hatefully about his sister. "My time will come again. You'll be humiliated before me, and I'll decide how to proceed!"—

"What are you doing here, warming your ears?" Inga asked him irritably.

"This is our shared kitchen. If you don't like it, move out," Pashka smirked. "I'll start studying at the institute, I'll move away from you—"

"Where are you going to move, you pauper? Learn to earn money first!" his sister said sarcastically, looking at Pashka contemptuously.

"And you, you earn a lot! You borrow money from mom and don't pay it back," Pashka said sarcastically, smirking. "When you were studying, less money was spent on you—"

"Get the hell out of here, it's sickening even without you," his sister replied.

"Nothing else to say to the truth, huh?" Pashka smirked and left the kitchen. Igor, Inga's husband, sat silently, not interfering in their conversation.

"Well, your brother is a real asshole," Pashka heard Igor's voice as he went out into the hallway and hid there.

"Alright, you bitches. You'll regret this yet," thought Pashka and quietly went to his room.

And now, he was lying and listening to the voices. Yesterday was Friday. Pashka had gone to see prostitutes, buying two girls at once for four hours. After drinking a bit with them, he had sex, treating the girls to drinks and food. He had a great time with them, fucking each one three times, and could have done more, but he needed to meet a friend. Pashka didn't spare the prostitutes. He fucked them hard, even with some anger and fury, and they screamed loudly when he penetrated their vaginas deeply with his cock. They even lubricated their pussies with cream, but still howled loudly in pain when he put them on all fours and started entering them.

He was supposed to meet a friend about the laptop. He had given his friend his laptop to upgrade it. That is, without changing the laptop's case, Pashka wanted to get a powerful computer. He took out the hard drive from the laptop and gave it to his friend, telling him what he wanted the outcome to be.

Meeting up, Pashka listened carefully to his friend. He said that everything they managed to cram into this case was top-notch. Pashka gave him sixty thousand rubles, having cashed them out on the way from several cards he had made for himself in several banks, and waited for the money to be counted in front of him.

"For this money, you could have bought a new and very good computer," said the friend, counting the money.

"I need it this way. That's it, thanks. Bye," replied Pashka and went home.

"Why show off in front of my mother and sister that I have money?" thought Pashka. "The time will come, they'll find out—"

He was a secretive person, played sports, studied well, but didn't let anyone get close to him. He communicated with everyone on a comrade level. Pashka had no friends and didn't strive to make any. Maybe that's why girls avoided him, considering him unsociable and uninteresting, although Pashka was a handsome, athletic guy. Girls looked at him, but Pashka didn't know what to talk about with girls; he somehow tried to change himself, but then gave up, deciding that you can't change a hunchback and that you need to be the master in life so that people communicate with you, not the other way around.

Pashka came home, turned on the laptop. He had specifically asked his friend, when he gave him the laptop, to make it possible to connect the removed hard drive to this laptop. They had brought out a connector on one side. Pashka connected the hard drive. "New hardware found" appeared on the screen. He waited until everything started working, then checked. Everything was fine and opened quickly.

"Excellent," thought Pashka. "Now I have a decent laptop and the information isn't lost, and it didn't fall into anyone else's hands—"

His sister and her husband came home from work and were getting ready to go somewhere.

"How can I fuck Inga so that she gives it willingly while sober?" he thought. "Either for money or by blackmailing her with something. I need to think about this—"

Slamming the front door, his sister and her husband left. A little later, his mother called, already sounding tipsy, saying that they had a corporate party today for the company's anniversary and she would be home late. His mother was a good woman, strict but fair. He loved his mother, and she really appealed to Pashka as a woman. Inga, his mother, had given birth at 18, and five years later, she gave birth to Pashka, and three years after that, his father left them for another woman. At forty, his mother looked great. A good figure with a thin waist and wide hips, fairly large breasts, beautiful, slender legs. Pashka sometimes spied on his mother when he could. Once, his mother almost caught him, but it worked out. Strangely enough, his sister saved him by calling their mother. And she didn't go into the closet but went to Inga, and Pashka quickly climbed out of the closet and carefully left his mother's room into the hallway. They had a three-room apartment with separate rooms, inherited by his mother from his grandmother, at the very end of the nineties, when Pashka was one year old.

Two years ago, they renovated the apartment. The firm helped his mother with workers, and the renovation was done in a week. Credit where it's due, the renovation was very good, high quality. They helped with materials too. His mother, as a good and leading specialist, or maybe her director was her lover, but his mother never brought anyone home, meaning men. Of course, there were guests, but no one ever stayed overnight. Sometimes his mother came home from work quite drunk. The firm often held corporate parties before all the major holidays. His mother always attended them and had fun there. Once, Pashka even helped his mother get to her room. But on ordinary days, his mother didn't drink alcohol at all, only on special occasions. And when she came home drunk or when guests came and they all drank together, she would go straight to sleep afterwards.

He surfed the internet, looked at girls in the video chat on the site bongacams.com. He had been visiting this site for a long time, but just the other day, he bought himself a gold status by buying tokens, the site's currency. Paying with tokens, he ordered a private show from one of his favorite models, under the nickname Lilisenok. She came, fucking herself with a dildo in front of the camera, especially for Pashka.

"Beautiful chick," thought Pashka, watching her. "In real life, you'd meet her and never think she fucks in all holes. Pulls a toy out of her ass, licks it, and shoves it back in—"

He was about to go to sleep, having turned off the laptop and undressed completely. There was no one in the apartment. Inga and her husband were hanging out somewhere. His mother hadn't come home from the corporate party yet—"probably coming home really drunk again," he thought, lying down on his wide, soft bed. He began thinking about how to drag his sister into bed and fuck her brutally. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. They rang often and for a long time. Pashka put on his jeans over his bare body.

"Who the hell is that," he thought. "Maybe they brought my sister again. That would be awesome! But she seemed to leave with her husband—" He opened the door without even asking who was there.

At the door stood two bodyguards in suits, despite it being summer, holding his mother by the arms.

"Where should we take her?" one of the bodyguards asked in a bass voice, dragging his mother into the apartment. Pashka went ahead, showing the way. They carried his mother, holding her under the arms, into her room and sat her on the sofa. His mother immediately fell onto her back. She was out cold. The bodyguards left immediately. Pashka locked the door with the key and went to his mother. He pulled his mother further onto the sofa, then took her by the legs and turned her, placing her in the middle and lengthwise on the sofa. When he was turning his mother on the sofa, he spread her legs and saw her narrow, black panties tightly hugging her pubic area. This excited him greatly. His cock immediately stood up, tenting the fabric of his jeans. His mother was in a strict, dark skirt and a white blouse. A white bra was visible under the blouse.

"Maybe do her, like Inga?" thought Pashka, sitting down next to his mother and pulling up her skirt. He slightly spread his mother's legs and stroked between her legs with his palm. It was wet there for some reason. He sniffed his palm; it smelled slightly of semen.

"Did someone come inside her?" he thought. He quickly stood up, went to the front door, locked it with the bolt, took off his jeans in his room, and came back to his mother naked. He pulled off her panties, spread her legs, sat between his mother's legs, bent her legs, lifting them, putting his hands under her knees, and began examining his mother's perineum. His mother's pubic area was neatly trimmed; everything around the labia was shaved. The lips themselves were dark, with a pink, moist hole leading into the vagina.

"An ordinary pussy, not like Inga's," thought Pashka. "Probably had sex recently. I wonder how, if she's out cold?" He knelt down, bent his mother's legs, spreading them, aimed, placed the head of his cock against his mother's hole, and pushed. His cock, spreading the entrance to the vagina, slid inside resiliently. Pashka shoved his cock deep inside and froze, looking at his mother. It hurt her because she moaned drunkenly, trying to lower her legs. Pashka pressed his mother's legs more firmly and began slowly, with pleasure, fucking her, driving his cock into his mother's vagina as deep as it would