The Adventures of the Young and Beautiful Marquise – or Tanechka, Up to Her Ears in the Rye of Sinful Impulses. Act 3.
ACT THREE
"Of the Sought-After Gingerbread
Amidst Bitterness and Turmoil"
After the act that had taken place, like a fleeting yet passionate storm between a young talent and an already aged wisdom, the individuals mentioned in this line agreed to establish between themselves those pleasant and friendly relations which would allow their lonely hearts to be filled with flowers and music like empty clay jugs. Yes, Tanechka and Viktor Alexandrovich had arranged a secret meeting: the day after tomorrow, closer to eight in the evening – the favorite time of all sorts of ardent and greedy-for-all-kinds-of-attractions souls, crying out in the thicket of human indifference,
when the summer sun, leaning on its side, was setting beyond the horizon of the earth, which had turned green from human misinterpretations of the meaning of Divine existence, in order to solemnly grant ardent bodies the opportunity to indulge in sensations of detachment and self-withdrawal from the tediousness of living out instructions so similar to each other, prescribed by someone from above from the foot of the sovereign's chambers with the sole purpose of turning defenseless and fragile creations of Nature into obedient and primitive bio-robots.Tanechka returned from the little river somewhat late, pondering the sincerity of Viktor Alexandrovich's feelings and intentions; my, how like an obedient calf he had easily succumbed to Tatyana's daring impulse to touch with her plump, still-unseen-by-even-a-boyish-kiss lips the secret wellspring of the origin of the human race. This crossing of the horizon of bodily sensations could have a simple scientific explanation, were it not for the ease and speed with which the aged fellow, who had tasted the fruit of the bush of voluptuousness more than once in his life, accepted such a naive and kind, yet in the same plane selfish, maidenly proposal. This was the unconscious, but true curiosity of a man – like a child's curiosity, his mind was struck by the almighty natural premise of everything in just three minutes of silent gazing between the bright little eyes of the young body demanding sexual depravity, and the gray, mixed with weariness from life and submissive acceptance of all those commanding instructions and rules emanating from high offices, eyes of adult power. Thoughts that could somehow be transformed into textual or oral speech were not visible in Viktor Alexandrovich after that secret phrase of Tanechka's, even through the most powerful telescope. The reciprocal desire, which somewhere deep, behind seven doors and fifty caskets, hides within the human soul, finally led the bodies to a passionate docking of two metaphysical, orbiting according to animal awareness, ships.
Sitting on the kitchen stool, still in the slightly tight red swimsuit clinging to her velvety young flesh, Tanechka recalled that wonderful moment when her newly-made river acquaintance deigned to pour into her mouth, which had never before seen a male penis, that very sought-after salt of the earth. For a fleeting moment, Tatyana smiled – she really did like the slightly salty taste of Viktor Alexandrovich's fluid semen. He had treated the young maiden, who had not even tasted the slightest breakfast of profound fulfillments, so caringly. Although the aged friend had not warned Tanechka of his imminent Vesuvius eruption, she, with the most sincere understanding of such an unexpected and relatively quick *la finale* for herself, with the pleasure of a gourmet, massaging with her tongue every ripple and every drop of the white seminal nectar, slowly consumed this gift of God with such delight and reverence, so much so that it seemed she had been treated to the Forbidden Fruit itself... She wanted more. She had catastrophically little of the life-affirming seed, given to her by the heavenly angel himself, just on her tongue. Seeing that she had missed a couple of drops past her mouth, tempting for all sorts of indecencies, Tanechka even fleetingly thought about picking them up... licking them up with her reddish little tongue right from the ground. And only the norms of those proprieties and prescriptions, embedded somewhere far in the depths of the maiden's brain, prevented her from committing such a bold, but discrediting to her modern-world-castrated self-esteem, deed... However, this made her dream of realizing even more promiscuous actions. While every mossy and vile prostitute or boring blue stocking loses interest in their ingrained, habitual object of "desire," among true muses grows a passionate desire for knowledge of ludus and nymphomania, among true muses stand out real heroines who – despite the hideous surroundings, despite the stupefying penal servitude of dragging along in a society of triumphant market – find within themselves so much character and willpower to suck, suck, and suck again and develop themselves into conscious cocksuckers, "working sperm receptacles." Such was her true desire, henceforth serving her in life as a Red Banner and, it seems, a destiny given at the level of genes and cells.
However, Tanechka was thinking not only of these techniques for warming up her cheekbones and facial muscles. Thoughts began to swirl in the maiden's little head about her own innocence, which she had preserved out of stupidity and, quite possibly, due to her former timidity, which had been with her hundreds of kilometers away from her place hidden from the eyes of millions of city madmen. But her timidity melted like snow after the first persistent spring rays of the sun immediately after her first awakening in a completely new place. Just like that. As if lifted by a hand. And, as they say, hot water began to flow: she wanted vaginal sex... she wanted anal sex too. She wanted to taste everything – and only the stars, rolling in after yet another, God knows which in the history of this planet, sunset, predestined a promising fate for her. But also, due to the onset of the crazy nighttime, came the absence of alternative actions to solve this suddenly arrived occasion, for at night in this, as it turned out, God-forsaken village, Tanechka was unlikely to find anyone who would console her in the manner she desired.
Not losing heart, illuminated by the light of the desk lamp, Tanechka's little soul, having long since gotten rid of the rather tight swimsuit in the course of her reflections and remaining only in what Mother Nature had endowed her with, began to think about her creative impulses. Today's events inspired her to paint an extraordinary picture. About what this time? Of course, about that for which Tanechka had essentially refused her usual and native urban socialization for the period of summer holidays – about corporeality. She craved its brightest manifestations so much that she wanted to depict it through the means of plastic instrumentation. And, although she had not brought her oil painting supplies with her, she had simple black pencils, a couple of sheets of paper, and her exclusive skill in graphics.
With her left hand, Tanechka reached for the sheet lying on the shelf, with her right – for the pencil. Carefully placing them on the desk, the vulgar artist began to think about the plot of the picture. The first images that flooded her consciousness were a young guy and a girl... Eureka! The maiden's little fist, clutching the pencil, began to scurry across the sheet... A skinny young guy, a simple student, somewhat shy and led by his internal complexes, seemingly instilled in him from the first drop of mother's milk, comes to a girl's apartment – also a student, and moreover – his classmate. This girl, curvaceous, dissolute, and shining like a New Year's tree, whispers something secret, pleasant, but in the same measure wild and embarrassing into his ear. This makes the shy guy somewhat shrink and blush, make an embarrassed grimace, and assume a somewhat hunched posture... And the mischievous girl continues to torment. She rightfully considers it her other cherished task to unzip, without any permission, the fly of the timid boy's trousers... to touch through the fabric of his underwear his cherished bulge with her palm... and, getting rid of the last barrier, pull down his, that very boyish underwear, lower, so that, having exposed the somewhat unprepared-for-such-a-sharp-turn-of-fate penis, to squeeze around the shaft with a tender maidenly hand and begin to gently-very-gently jerk off this organ of sexual priesthood, beginning to remove the spell of shyness from the boy, but at the same moment enchanting him with others...
Naked Tanechka, having finished the last strokes of this prelude, turned the sheet over. This sketch, although it seemed curious to her, was by no means self-sufficient. A continuation was clearly required. From under the tender little fist again came the sounds of a writing pencil...
This time the roles had somewhat changed, for now the role of the vulnerable hero of the visual work was clearly played by a girl lying near the sofa, on the floor itself... Her face, like a siren, conveyed such a spectrum of emotions that could be described by two, like subconscious explosions, words: devoured voluptuousness... With her bare bottom raised, having lost in the most daring manner its former layer of clothing, the girl's grimace was adorned with tearful, squinting eyes emitting thin lines of mascara. The girl's mouth, opened in the widest manner, screaming-moaning, also served as a bright symbol of the villainy being committed at the instigation of the unfortunate one. And the culprit of this act of witnessing – this very boy, who had reached the highest peak of excitement. He was provoked not so much by the girl herself with her unceremonious groping, but by the inner sleeping beast: the desire to prove and refute all mockery about his timidity and lack of initiative. He had no more choice – he had to enter her cave, tempting with all possible folds, in the most cruel manner... At that moment, the girl's constrained little body felt all the male power and strength in her vagina, moistened both from juices and sweat. He simply pounced on her and threw her to the floor... pulled up her pants and literally tore off her panties... at the most decisive moment he penetrated her, without ceremony, ramming everything in his path, and the impetuous and synchronous, like a paired dance, movements of the hips – both the boy's and the girl's – represented hard sex without any alternatives for interpretation by a doubting contemplator of Tatyana's visual creation.. The final stroke was a white spot on the girl's sculpted back...
Tired Tanechka put aside the paper, got up from the table, and went to the shower to wash off the last reminders of what had happened today. Without even drying herself with a towel from the streams of water that had fallen on her beautiful body, Tanya went to the bedroom, lay down on the bed, covered herself with a snowy duvet cover, and, only slightly squinting her little eyes, instantly fell into a sweet sleep.
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