Rural "dream"
"Well, for three rubles, Manya, come on, sell it..." a grimy drunkard tearfully pleaded, practically lying down on the counter of the village eatery with the truly Ukrainian name "Mr? ya," meaning "dream"... And stern Manya cut him off like a knife to the heart and soul of the boozer: "Get out of here, or I'll... hit you with the poker, you won't think it's enough!" These words, it seemed, slightly opened the poor wretch's eyes, and he, lifting himself up, babbled: "It's nothing, it's nothing, when the war comes, you'll be begging for bread..." With these words, he staggered out onto the street. The warm spring sun warmed everyone around, but for the drunkard Vanych, as he was called in the former local collective farm, the white world
was hateful: he wanted to get plastered and lose himself in an alcoholic delirium, which no longer gave him a kick, but which his body, accustomed to the degrees, constantly demanded. Vanych thought and thought... And finally, his tormented brain gave birth to a plan: to knock Manya out, since there was no one in the cafe, grab some vodka, run to a secluded spot, and drink himself into oblivion, and then... oh, come what may!Manya looked suspiciously at Vanych, who with his unsteady gait had entered "The Dream" again. "What do you want?" she asked, looking at him from under her brows. "Oh, nothing, Manya, just came to chat with you..." The woman was increasingly seized by distrust of this societal reject, but she didn't show it, only moved closer to the corner where the infamous poker stood.
"Come on, Manya, don't be afraid, I'm really just...", Vanych mumbled, advancing towards the counter. He tightened his grip on the cobblestone he had prepared in advance in his pocket, with which he was supposed to execute his brilliant plan.
Manya took the poker in her hands and threateningly raised it. This seemingly not-too-terrifying action, however, had a downright deadly effect on the alcoholic. He seemed to go limp all over, sagged, and with a sigh, sank to the floor of the cafe. "Oh, Manya... If only you knew how heavy my soul feels right now, you'd pour me a couple hundred grams right away... But you don't drink... and that's right, it's ruin... Oh, dear, how to live in this white world..."
The saleswoman even felt a little sorry for the man. "He must really be suffering...", she thought. But the price of two hundred grams of vodka turned out to be higher than the price of Manya's compassion. With an impassive look, she put the poker back in place and continued her work. And then the cafe doors opened and Lieutenant Shubko, the district police officer for this village and a couple of nearby ones, noisily barged into the establishment. In the area, he was known as a guy with a tough temper, although in some houses of the villages under his care, they didn't even know their district officer's name.
Shubko glanced disdainfully at Vanych and said to Manya: "Pour me a shot, mama." The lieutenant deliberately spoke Russian, trying to stand out from the others. The woman obediently poured a shot of murky local moonshine from a decanter. Shubko drank the moonshine and unexpectedly felt some unknown bravado. He hadn't eaten a damn thing since morning, and the strong, nearly 50-proof drink really hit him in the head. He kicked the sobbing Vanych and climbed over the counter towards Manya. She didn't dare grab the poker: a district officer—he's not Vanych—it's not convenient to spoil relations with him. So the woman firmly decided not to make a fuss, but also not to allow any initiative from the cop. And he, meanwhile, had already poured himself another 300 grams of moonshine and, apparently, reached a state of heavy intoxication. He approached the stunned Manya, grabbed her work dress with both hands, and, with a rather strong movement, tore all her clothes. Now Manya stood only in not-quite-fresh underwear. For her 40 years, she looked pretty good compared to the other village women. Only her legs were slightly thick, and her breasts sagged. But the lieutenant couldn't care less. He said loudly: "And now, mama, you're going to suck my dick!" The alcoholic sitting on the floor, who from his position couldn't see everything that was happening, perked up at these words, even though he understood it was in his best interest to sit quietly and not stir. He raised himself up and saw the dead-drunk lieutenant trying to get his dick out. He wasn't having much luck, but in Vanych's opinion, there was a respectable explanation for that.
Manya was in a complete daze, not understanding a damn thing, and especially not understanding what she should do. She decided not to give in to the lieutenant's threats and under no circumstances engage in sexual intercourse with him. She was raised in a family of a village deacon, and therefore was very zealous about matters of sex. And the cop, meanwhile, got out his penis, which, despite the owner's level of intoxication, had assumed a battle-ready stance and was ready for action. Shubko, masturbating his dick with the fist of his right hand, grabbed Manya by the hair and began to bend her towards the protruding organ. She kicked, but a powerful slap forced the woman to submit and take the dick in her mouth.
The lieutenant himself directed the woman's actions, sometimes increasing, sometimes decreasing the speed of her lips on his penis. Manya, apparently, had never given a blowjob before, as she sometimes bit the dick and awkwardly let it slip out of her mouth.
Vanych was amazed. His own dick, which hadn't stood up, by his rough estimate, for about three years, began to show signs of life. The alcoholic even forgot about the thought of using the moment to steal a couple of bottles of vodka. He took his penis out of his pants and began to masturbate it. His dick was small but thick, like a sausage on the menu at "The Dream." He masturbated with his fingers, watching Manya suck the dick of district officer Shubko. He was already close to orgasm, and, before coming in the saleswoman's mouth, he yelled: "Long live freedom of speech and sex!!!" After these words, which apparently had fetish significance for the lieutenant, he began to come. Manya at first almost choked from surprise, but managed to cough, and the semen began to flow out of the woman's mouth. At this sight, Vanych also came. He apparently had a urethral blockage, as the semen didn't come out of his penis, and the alcoholic experienced severe pain during orgasm. However, he also experienced a very strong feeling of satisfaction. Shubko put on his pants and, throwing a contemptuous glance at those around him, swaying, went out onto the street. Manya sat on the floor in a stupor, covered in drops of the lieutenant's semen. She felt that her crotch had become very wet during the sucking of the cop's dick. She also wanted to come. And then she noticed Vanych, who, catching her glance, began hurriedly pulling up his pants. "Wait, Vanych... Come here...", she said quietly. The alcoholic obediently approached. "Do you want me to give you two bottles of vodka?" the woman asked. Vanych nodded happily. "Then lick me between the legs, and I'll give you the vodka, okay?" That the drunkard didn't expect. But just as obediently, he knelt down beside Manya, pulled off her panties, and began clumsily kissing her crotch, which the woman probably hadn't washed for a week. Manya moaned, experiencing enormous pleasure. In her life, she had only had sex twice, with her school friend Stas, but both times he took her roughly and she didn't experience much pleasure from the intercourse. And here a man's tongue was caressing her, albeit clumsily. From the very thought of this, convulsions seized the muscles of the woman's vagina, and after three minutes, her abundant secretions flowed, flooding her labia and getting on Vanych's face...
Manya, as promised, gave Vanych two bottles of moonshine, taking a solemn oath from him not to tell anyone anything, even though she understood that even if the alcoholic did blab, no one would believe him, considering his words an expression of another bout of delirium tremens.