"Tatyana loves salo." (Prologue)
Tatyana had a headache all day today. She couldn't think of anything better than taking a Citramon pill on an empty stomach.
"The day is starting off badly," thought Tanya. She was wrong. Let's say right away, compared to the fucking mess that awaited her tonight, the morning didn't seem particularly special.
Of course, no one had called her Tanya for about 20 years now. By the age of 43, she had neither a husband nor communication with her children. Her husband left for a young chick about 5 years ago. Her son went to work in Poland and has been stuck there ever since. Her daughter, 20 years old, finished vocational school in Voronezh and left with her boyfriend to Novosibirsk.
"Nothing new, just like everyone else," sighed
Tatyana Vladimirovna sadly, adjusting her blouse. The blouse hugged her size 4 breasts."Well, you've really packed on the ass, my friend," our heroine smirked weakly, prancing in front of the mirror.
Anyone who saw her now would call her a Mare. Yes, exactly that. Standing 185 cm tall in heels, with breasts shamelessly protruding from her bodice, and an ass that didn't fit into her skirt, she appeared to all boys under 30 as a fuckable Mare, a fucking machine. Only she didn't get fucked often. After moving from Ukraine to Voronezh, and then to the Moscow region, a lot of effort and energy went into settling into daily life. Arguments with her husband, and then his final departure from the family, didn't add any pleasure to her life. After her husband, she had a casual encounter with a man only once. In 2022, returning home half-drunk from a friend's apartment in Voronezh, she met a crowd of young punks. They surrounded her, started pushing her, pinching her breasts, slapping her ass. When one of them punched her in the stomach, it became scary. Pain and fear came simultaneously.
"Check out this Mare," laughed a skinny boy a head shorter than her.
"Let's take a ride on her now," said a pimply guy of about 18 in a squeaky voice.
"Move it, Bitch," they twisted her arm and pushed her towards the open basement door.
"Stop, losers," the cry of a savior came from nowhere.
Pashka the boxer, a 30-year-old neighbor from entrance 5, was running by. One punch to the pimply guy's liver was enough for the punks to make a run for it.
He didn't want to fuck Tatyana; she herself reached into his pants in the elevator when he offered to walk her to her apartment. In the apartment, he became bolder, laid her on the bed, and fucked her in the missionary position. She didn't even feel anything. She thought about continuing communication, but then she received an offer from an acquaintance in the Moscow region. Nothing particularly held her in Voronezh. Rented housing is rented housing, even in Africa.