Workdays — idle thoughts.
The New Year holidays have come and gone, and the grind has begun. But that doesn't mean we should forget about rest and deny ourselves pleasure (I mean sexual release).
As it happened, on the 11th of this month, a rather stupid incident occurred to me, which still makes me blush crimson.
It went like this. I was riding, as usual, on bus number 22 to my home widget factory. I hadn't slept a damn wink because the night before (all night) I was pounding my wife Karina every which way. I got so carried away that I only managed to finish at dawn. Needless to say, my Karina possesses the secrets of prostate massage technique,
so our sex with her gets prolonged to the maximum. You'd think I should be happy, but as you can see, sleep suffers. And where there's a lack of sleep, there's poor well-being, which in turn negatively affects the work process and undermines my authority within the team. You understand, it's that kind of thing—once you screw up, your workmates won't trust you like they used to, and the boss will turn up his nose as if you've messed yourself.Anyway, on the way, I dozed off a bit and didn't notice as I drifted. I leaned my cheek against the man sitting next to me. He jerked me away sharply, told me to watch myself. What a weirdo, unshaven and reeking of booze himself, and he's trying to boss me around, the bitch!
Then I had to give up my seat to some nasty old hag. Standing upright for the rest of the journey didn't appeal to me at all, and I was determined to plant my rear end somewhere, no matter what!
I decided to fake a slight faint. What the hell! It wasn't the first time I'd fooled around, feigning exhaustion—I'd slacked off work like that before, but this was a different situation. I slid down the wall right onto the knees of an impressionable (or so I thought from her bulging eyes) woman. I shouldn't have chosen her, because the next moment she started shrieking that I was sexually harassing her.
An awkward pause hung in the air.
— Pfft, as if I need to bang old ladies! — I replied, but my answer was met with dumb silence. The whole bus was clearly against me, and I had to retreat to the very back for my own good.
— It's amazing how stubborn people are in the morning… — I thought. — and how pliable they are at night. — I added to myself, and a sly smirk slid across my face. — It's fine, fine, my day will come too.
The nasty old woman got off at the very next stop, and I calmly returned to my spot, regretting that I'd staged this comedy in front of all these passengers who understood nothing about the acting craft. Although, as we were pulling away, I noticed the old hag slipping on some ice and bending into an arch. If I were religious, I'd cross myself and light a candle, but since I'm an atheist, I just laughed at her. Serves her right, that lipstick chicken!
You might not believe me, but even standing up, I would have managed to snooze. No need to even mention the vertical position.
In a half-dozing state, I dreamt of my home factory.
Picture this:
a workshop, adjustable wrenches, hammers, anvils scattered everywhere. Hellish flames in a huge smelting furnace lick the ribbed torsos of naked men. Lava flows like a river, splashing large droplets of molten metal abundantly. To avoid getting any in our mouths, we wear special protective masks, and we put welding goggles over our eyes.
And just as I was about to descend on a hook into the molten magma, something disturbed me. Something annoying and ticklish.
You can imagine the degree of my shock when, waking up, I discovered that very man—30 years and 3 years old—on whose shoulder I had been sleeping so sweetly, in the area of my crotch. His face was resting on my knees, his mustache moving rhythmically like a stiff brush, and if it weren't for my cloth trousers, they would have—for sure—left a red irritation mark on my pubic area.
— Excuse me, but what are you doing? — I exclaimed indignantly, as the stranger's hands wandered over my body.
The man tore himself away from my genitals in horror and pressed himself into the seatback.
— Sorry, I fell asleep and… seems I slid onto your knees.
— Yeah, yeah, you dozed off onto my knees. — I mocked him, and I had every right to.
His face turned crimson.
— I'm sorry. — the man said, lowering his thick eyelashes, afraid I'd make a scene.
— I won't forgive you.
His lips tightened.
The truth was revealed to me: this man is not who he pretends to be. He's a dirty pervert! He gets pleasure from undressing sleeping passengers, kneading their buttocks, sniffing their sweat. He deliberately reprimanded me when I leaned on his shoulder so no one would suspect he's a faggot and thus divert suspicion.
But now all the cards were in my hands! The man was in a panic. His eyes darted—popping out of their sockets. I could feel him panicking, tensing his whole body, awaiting his unclear fate.
But it didn't matter anymore, because now, it seems, I know who will be at my beck and call, bringing me a tray with all sorts of treats.
— What's your name?
— Kolya. I mean, Nikolai.
— I mean, Nikolai. — I mimicked him. — I'll tell you straight, without hiding, I see right through people.
A sly smirk wandered across my face, because silence is golden, and mine is worth a pretty penny!)))
My imagination was already painting pictures—one more depraved than the other:
Nikolai in a maid's outfit or in a slutty nurse's uniform.
Ughhhh, what a fantasizer I am! I'm amazing myself.
But alas, my fantasies were not meant to come true.
Kolya started bleeding from his nose and foaming at the mouth, through tightly clenched teeth. I got seriously scared, because any moment he could start convulsing and choke on his own vomit! What to do? How to save this pervert?
He was already thrashing in the aisle. And people, out of fear, started shrieking and crowding into the corners.
— Kolya, what's wrong with you? How can I help you?
The man writhed his whole body.
Women screamed like they were being slaughtered, the driver slammed on the brakes.
— Whoa-whoa, what's going on back there, huh? — he asked, turning the steering wheel.
— A man here isn't feeling well. — answered one frightened tit, whom I would have stuffed under other circumstances, filling all her cavities generously and abundantly with liquid genetics.
— Sir, I must ask you. — the driver warned the thrashing Nikolai.
— Ask for whatever you want! — the prostrate Nikolai gave an unexpected answer.
— I ask you not to disturb the order in the cabin, not to shock the people.
— I'll swallow everything you give me! — said the prostrate passenger with foam at his mouth and bulging eyes.
— Sir! I will be forced to stop the vehicle and throw you out at the nearest stop! — continued the unflappable driver, unaware that he was speaking not to an ordinary passenger, but to some nutcase.
— Don't stop! Keep going. I like your driving style… — Nikolai said with slight irony and added, — Oleg.
— What? What did you say? How do you know my name?
— Yesterday your whore-mother said while I was… — the rude man didn't get to finish.
— Go fuck yourself, you condom, you faggot?! — the driver lost his cool and was no longer watching the road, craning his neck into the cabin. — A piece of shit like you needs to be fucked!
Everyone present was simply in shock from what was happening. To say it was like The Exorcist is to say absolutely nothing! Only the head wasn't spinning around its own axis (although the driver's turned 180 degrees, but that's not a full rotation), but otherwise, exactly like the movie!
Their gazes met: the driver's and the passenger's, demon and angel, son and father.
— Get off the bus. — driver Oleg hissed through his teeth.
— Only after you! — Nikolai answered insolently and pointed a finger… for some reason at me.
What could that mean? He clearly missed by a good couple of centimeters. He meant to point at Oleg, but hit me. It's just some kind of misunderstanding. I'm sure of it.
But as my confidence faded, his finger wouldn't bend for anything.
All the passengers were rooted to the spot, not believing their eyes.
He rose from the floor of the bus with such swagger as if there had never been any attack at all!
— Learn, student, while I'm alive! — Nikolai said mockingly and wiped the foam from his mouth, which turned out to be ordinary toothpaste.
— I am, by the way, acting teacher Alexander Breg, in case anyone didn't recognize me.
Approving chuckles and even thin applause were heard.
— And I chose the name Nikolai specifically to confuse things. Could have introduced myself as Oleg, but we already have one Oleg. There he sits.
The driver stood up from his seat and bowed to the audience.
— Seeing how this sonny was trying to fake a seizure, I decided to teach him a lesson at all costs. — everyone fixed their gazes on me, and driver Oleg gave a nasty chuckle. — If anyone is interested in my courses, you're welcome on Monday at my studio. — he made a theatrical bow, raising the bar as high as it could go. — I await everyone, even greenhorns like this boy.
I stood up without a word, demonstrating my defiance and disagreement with such a shameful nickname "boy." In the heat of the moment, I didn't really notice that I was left alone on the bus with these gentlemen. Breg sent everyone home, handing out his business cards at the end, and then left himself, surrounded by a crowd of young female fans of his work.
My God! What is going on? This world has gone mad!
Not only did I have to endure a whole stream of humiliation, but I was also dragged through the mud at the end. A. Breg, as he was leaving, whispered with just his lips, barely audible: "faggot."
— Bitch! He's obsessed with name-calling!
I shook my fists helplessly, trying to beat up the imaginary Breg, but he was long gone.
What kind of people are these! They drive me crazy!
But you can imagine the degree of my shock when I walked to the exit to get off at the station and saw… the driver completely naked.
The driver was lying completely naked on the bench. The bus was idling along, steered by fate itself, his majesty chance, and autopilot. Judging by his steady breathing, he didn't even hear me. A good, consolidated drop of spit hung from his cheek. It's all Breg! I thought so. He bewitched Oleg and the whole cabin. And all for what? To spite me. Bitch!
So that God forbid Oleg wouldn't wake up and discover his exposed nakedness, I skillfully wiped that drool from his rumpled face. And only a barely noticeable smile illuminated his brow. I took it as gratitude.
Taking off my briefs, I lay down next to him, hugging the bus driver tightly around the waist. My stop was coming up soon, and I asked him—whispering in his ear—to wake me when we arrived. Which he did… only on the lips.
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