I met him at the dacha.

It was May, and I was hanging out at the dacha, doing various household chores to prepare the place for my wife and kids' arrival for the summer. By nature, I'm one of those people who enjoy working with their hands and, it seems, I'm even pretty good at it. My neighbor over the fence was a sweet old lady, a real gentle soul; I knew her because I often helped her with little things. You know, hammering a nail or lifting a door so it closes. However, this spring I found out the old lady had passed. She had departed to the other world in her city apartment.

Her dacha was simple, a classic 6-hundred-square-meter plot; apparently, there wasn't much of a fight over this estate among the relatives, and it passed by inheritance to her granddaughter,

with whom I happened to become acquainted on her first visit.

I was, as usual, doing something in the yard when I heard a woman's voice, seemingly directed at me. Standing at the gate was a girl-teenager, but when I got closer, I realized the woman was well over thirty, just with a petite figure.

— Hello. Sorry to bother you. My name is Angela, I'm your neighbor, I just arrived and can't open the lock. Could you help me?

— Good day. I'm Sergei, let's go take a look.

She walked ahead, and I reflexively assessed her from behind and immediately felt a slight stirring below my stomach, because she had a fantastic ass! You know, the female behind is the most attractive part of the body for me. And if the shape is like from a magazine cover, well, I practically swoon. She was wearing fitted jeans that perfectly accentuated all her assets. The sight was highly arousing, and to avoid an awkward situation with an erection, I quickly caught up to her.

— We came to take a look, but the lock won't open... — Angela repeated again, apparently to fill the silence. I remained silent, meanwhile thinking that stereotypically, I pictured Angelas as kind of bitches with "combat" makeup. She was nothing like that at all.

It wasn't far to walk, and I saw a new business-class car blocking the narrow dacha driveway. As we approached, a man of slight build got out from the passenger side of the car.

— This is my husband, Artyom, — Angela introduced him, and I cautiously shook a thin, delicate, not overly burdened by physical labor, little hand.

Somehow, it immediately became clear to me who was in charge in this house. But I decided it was none of my business and got straight to inspecting the lock. I tried the key myself, realized I couldn't manage without a "WD-40," dashed to my place, grabbed everything necessary, and literally within a few minutes, the lock reluctantly gave way. For some reason, this delighted Angela; she even clapped her hands. Artyom, meanwhile, frowned. I recommended oiling the lock, as the situation would repeat, and took my leave.

Very little time had passed when Angela rushed into my yard, fear on her face, and without saying a word, or rather, chattering many words but not one coherently, I still managed to catch "light" and "bang" among them.

The matter turned out to be serious. The wiring in the house was almost pre-war, and when they flipped the switch, it shorted, sparked, and stank. I fix the short circuit, turn it on, check. It works for now, but I warn them it's better to invest in rewiring the home electrical system than to call the fire department.

Closer to evening, when I had already finished my righteous labors and comfortably settled on the veranda, I heard voices from the street and then saw Angela and Artyom approaching. I already thought something had happened again, but Angela beat me to it:

— Don't be alarmed, Sergei. Can we thank you for your help and for the acquaintance?

Artyom had a bottle of whiskey in his hands. Tomorrow was a day off, I had worked hard, so why not relax? We settled on the veranda; the evening was unseasonably warm for May, and the mosquitoes weren't too bothersome. We started talking over alcohol, although I noted to myself that Artyom, who was pouring, gave everyone equal amounts, but Angela and I took small sips, while he himself knocked back his shot to the bottom. From the radio sitting right there, a melodic tune came on, the kind often found in Romantic Collection compilations. Angela stood up, turned it up louder, and declared: "A ladies' choice dance! Ladies invite gentlemen!" And she approached me. I glanced at Artyom, who continued sitting at the table indifferently and knocked back another shot. I don't know how to dance, so I don't like it, but if a lady asks...

The song was coming to an end; I had decided for myself that come what may, I would kiss her, when Angela suddenly and abruptly broke away towards the table. I was a bit stunned by such haste, but I saw she had caught Artyom, who was falling from his chair, just in time. Cursing everything for ruining the plan, I also approach the table and see that Artyom had gotten quite drunk. Completely wasted.

— Please help me drag him to the house.

Fortunately, he was far from a sumo wrestler, and the operation to deliver the body was carried out without much difficulty. We laid the body on the bed, Angela started pulling off his shoes, and I quietly decided to head home.

— Wait a second, I'll be right there, — said Angela, fussing with the laces.

I stepped onto the porch, inhaling the fresh air, looking at the night sky. She approached and said:

— I forgot my lighter on the table, let's go get it.

We stepped onto the road, and she immediately took my arm, pressing close. When we went up to the veranda and approached the table, Angela freed my arm and leaned over the table, reaching for the lighter. Before my eyes appeared a magnificent ass clad in jeans, and the next instant I take a step and press against her from behind. She froze, then straightened up, turned her head towards me with closed eyes and a slightly open mouth. At that point, there was nothing left to do but merge in a kiss. Our tongues intertwined, hands slid over bodies. With my hand, I surprisingly easily unbutton the button on her jeans, the zipper practically came undone by itself, and my hand slid under her panties. From the soft touch of my finger to her moist clitoris, Angela let out a quiet moan, but then unexpectedly abruptly released my lips, and turning, knelt down, pulling my sweatpants down on the way. The member that appeared into the light, standing erect, she deftly took into her mouth, grabbed the base of the shaft with one hand and my butt with the other, and began actively sucking. I just reached for the switch on the wall, as the veranda was visible from the street.

The bar of pleasure kept rising higher, and I took her by the shoulders and pulled her up. She somewhat amusingly didn't let go of the member from her mouth until the last moment, but she finally stood up. Helping me, she quickly jumped out of her pants, I turned her back towards the table, she leaned on it with her hands, spreading her legs. I guide my member to the hot and wet vagina and carefully penetrate. Angela moaned, and I already begin pounding her intensely. I realize there's no condom, and I don't know if I can come inside her, I'm already thinking of asking her about it, when she breathes out through moans: "You can't come inside me!". A moment before ejaculation, I pull out, quickly turn her around, and she herself kneels down again, catching the first stream of semen with her mouth, and swallowing the rest along with the member.

— And you taste nice! — she said, licking the last drop from the tip. — I can tell right away you don't smoke. — Can I use your shower?

— Of course, let me show you.

I returned to the veranda myself and regretted quitting smoking. Would have enjoyed a drag. Angela came out of the shower wearing only a T-shirt, approached me, and sat on my lap.

— The warm-up was pretty good, — she said in a languid voice. — I hope there's a continuation? I was just getting started.

— Let's rest a bit, and I'll freshen up too.

After the shower, we went into the house, where we committed another act of adultery in various positions. () Catching my breath, I finally decided to ask:

— Aren't you afraid Artyom will wake up and start looking for you?

— When he's drunk, he sleeps very soundly, it's been tested. He won't even turn to the other side until morning.

— Well, if that's the case.

— And you really are quite the stud. They told the truth about you.

— ?

— I grew up here at my grandma's. I just haven't been around since, but I have many girlfriends here and we keep in close touch. Before coming here, I asked around about how things are. And they told me about you.

— And what did they say?

— Well, that you settled here recently, wife, kids. You're so handy, domestic, a family man, good-looking. They hinted at intimacy with you subtly, but you didn't respond.

— Yeah, I'm bad at noticing hints.

— I figured that out. That's why I acted on the principle of "Grab by the trunk and lead to the stall" J

— Well, tell the others.

— Yeah, right. They'll manage! Okay, I'd better go, though I don't really want to. It was nice to meet you!