At the dam
This happened a long time ago, more than ten years back. It was in July, there was terrible heat, about thirty degrees, not less. I was still married then, and my husband and I lived in the village at my parents' place in the summer. One weekend, in the evening, my sister and her husband came over, we sat down, talked, and had a little to drink. Everyone had a little, except my husband. That harmful inclination for alcohol was already visible to the naked eye back then. I was always ashamed in front of guests, but this time it felt somehow particularly bitter. The guests left, my husband started snoring right at the table, having fallen asleep in his chair. I put our little son to bed, undressed, and once again went to sleep alone. But I didn't really get to sleep
properly; I tossed and turned all night, sad thoughts wandering in my head.I got up early, completely worn out, and decided to go for a swim while everyone was still asleep, to somehow pull myself together. In our village, there's only a stream, so we usually go to the lake to swim, which is located not far from the Chaykovsky settlement, along a dirt road towards Streglovo. I put on my swimsuit, threw on a short robe, got into the Oka (my husband bought me this little car so I could drive to the village myself; he didn't want to drive me in his 'six', that car was the pinnacle of his dreams back then). So, I got into the car and slowly drove to the lake. But when I arrived, I realized I wouldn't be able to swim there; the entire shore around the perimeter was dotted with fishermen, and I didn't dare splash around in the water. After thinking a bit, I remembered there was another place not far away where I could swim.
It's a large backwater near the Belozerki pioneer camp; there's a small road right to the dam. A quiet place, beautiful nature, I really liked it there, although about five years ago the dam broke, the water receded, and now there's no reservoir there, but 18 years ago it was very convenient for swimming; there were slabs on the shore you could easily use to enter the water and get back out. So, I drove there and, to my joy, discovered there were no fishermen here and I wouldn't bother anyone. After swimming to my heart's content, feeling refreshed and invigorated, I took off my swimsuit, dried myself with a towel, and put my robe back on. And then my gaze fell on my little Oka. It had rained the day before and the car was all muddy. I need to wash it, I decided. In that spot by the bridge over the dam, there's a small clearing right by the water.
I drove the Oka closer to the shore, got a small bucket and a piece of sponge from the trunk, and started washing this marvel of our auto industry. After washing the outside of the car (and what is there to wash—two square meters of body surface) I decided to wash the interior as well. I fetched some clean water, shook out the mats, and started cleaning the dashboard. To do this, I had to bend over double, so my head ended up lower than my rear, and since I was in a short robe and without underwear (I had taken off the wet swimsuit) and I always work very energetically and enthusiastically, my little robe rode up very high. Occupied with my unhappy thoughts and the work, I didn't notice anything around me, but meanwhile some changes had occurred on the clearing.
Slightly diagonally and behind my car, by the bushes, there was a log, and when I accidentally glanced out the side window, I unexpectedly saw two men sitting on that log, looking in my direction with a strange expression, or rather, they were just staring at my rear end. One of them was about sixty, the other a bit younger, about fifty-five. In front of them was a spread-out newspaper, on which stood a bottle of vodka, two glasses, and lay some simple snacks. As I later found out by chance, they were some workers from the glass factory, resting at the sanatorium located nearby. The men, clearly worn out by medical procedures and narzan water, decided to go into nature to drink some vodka and quite unexpectedly stumbled upon me, standing in a 'float' position.
Everything inside me went cold; I didn't know what to do. The windows on the Oka were tinted, so they couldn't see that I was looking at them. And then something clicked in my head. Well, let them look, I decided. I looked good back then, everything was in order with me, why should I be embarrassed? And I continued washing the interior, though occasionally glancing at my neighbors. Both car doors were open and a slight breeze periodically lifted the hem of my robe almost to my waist. And then I noticed that one of the men, the older one, got up and slowly started walking towards me. I was at a loss—what to do?! And I did what all women do in a difficult situation—I didn't jerk or startle, pretending not to notice anything around me.
The man came up right behind me, close, and then another trial fell upon me. If he had started saying something to me, asking for the time or a cigarette, I would have simply gotten in the car and driven away. But he acted completely unexpectedly—he just squatted down right behind me. And I was pretending not to notice anyone or anything! I had to continue my game of 'not noticing', while the man's eyes were twenty centimeters from my rear. My head was spinning, and then I felt something running down my legs. It was a catastrophe; my body had betrayed me. I realized the man behind me could see that I had gotten wet and had figured everything out. And so it was. I felt him slowly start running his index finger along my perineum.
I no longer had the strength or desire to pretend, and I began involuntarily moving my rear towards his hand. And that hand became much bolder, kneading my buttocks, spreading them, getting between my legs, teasing my clitoris with his fingers. From the excitement, I started trembling with a coarse shiver. From behind, I heard the sound of a zipper being undone and understood that the end, in both the literal and figurative sense, was near. Now, after so many years, I can joke about it, but back then I was in no mood for jokes when this man started pushing his organ into me—it felt like they were shoving a champagne bottle inside me. It helped that I was all wet. The man started vigorously fucking me (excuse the expression), slapping his balls against my rear.
My poor Oka was rocking like a small boat in a storm; something was rattling in the trunk. Amidst that noise, I didn't hear one man say something to the other. My God, I had completely forgotten that the man wasn't alone! Glancing out the car window, I saw the second man get up heavily (he looked to be about a hundred kilograms) and walk towards the car. Approaching us, he stroked my bare back (my robe had been pushed up to my head by then) and went around the car. Approaching from the other side, this giant sat down in the driver's seat and unzipped his pants. A rather thin, semi-erect penis appeared into the light. I was standing, leaning with both hands on the passenger seat. The man took my hand and placed it on his penis. I understood without words what he wanted. Generally, I must say, everything happened without words, except for a few remarks from the older one. I knew well how to excite a man by hand, as I often had to do it for my husband, who had big problems with potency. It didn't take a minute before the man's penis was standing like a little stake, like a sharpened pencil. By that time, this was the second penis, besides my husband's, that I had seen in my life. Wow, they're all so different—a wild thought flashed through my mind. And then the man took me by the back of my head and pulled my head towards him.
Everything was clear; there was nowhere to go, and honestly, I wanted it myself. They started fucking me in two holes, as it's called. From behind, the first one was tirelessly pounding me, and with my mouth I was evenly impaling myself on the second one's penis. It was something fantastic, but it clearly couldn't last long. And so it was; I felt the penis inside me sort of inflate and shoot a hot stream into my vagina. My vision darkened, my legs buckled, and I had to get on my knees on the seat. The man who was behind me pulled out his penis and patted me on the rear. "Misha, did you finish?"—I heard his question and understood he was asking his partner. Misha mumbled something unintelligible; he clearly wasn't in the mood for questions. But I knew he hadn't finished yet! And then the first one, who was clearly the ringleader of this pair, went up to the fat man and started pulling him by the hand out of the car.
The men returned to their log; one of them was pouring vodka, the other was cutting boiled sausage. I quickly moved to the driver's seat, started the car, and raced home. My face was burning, there was some noise in my head. I don't remember how I got there. In the village, everything was as usual; my husband was sleeping like a log, unaware of what two strange men had done to me literally fifteen minutes earlier. Having calmed down, I decided not to tell him anything. Many years have passed since then, but even now, when I remember this incident, something tightens in my lower abdomen and my throat goes dry. This is not a made-up story, so maybe it's not as beautiful and wonderful as in fictional tales, but I've told a real incident from my life. I must say that telling this story was very difficult for me; I'm not a writer, so I apologize for any possible grammatical and stylistic errors. Well, as it came out, so it came out...