Do you believe in God?
That's the question my amazing adventure began with.
I had a day off after my shift today, but I never wasted that day on sleep—four hours was enough for me. So today, I got up at 9, made myself some tea, woke up a bit, and shuffled to the bathroom. The doorbell rang. "Who could have brought someone so early?" I thought, throwing on my robe. I open the door. Two young men of intelligent appearance ask me a question: "Do you believe in God?" I stand there, figuring out what they want from me. It clicked. I ask a counter-question: "Do you think that's the question I wake up to?" While they were searching for a worthy answer—I slammed the door.
Well, there goes my whole mood. Of course, a wash
will improve the mood, but I think it's better, when possible, to wash with a good mood—the energy boost is greater, tested. I sat in the kitchen a bit longer. Admired the sun from the window. Felt better. Went to the bathroom again. Turned on the water, dropped the robe, and just started adjusting the temperature—the bell rings again. Had to go.You'll ask: "Why do you keep running? You should just ignore it!" I would have done just that, but the day before I had arranged for home delivery of a new computer game and planned to dedicate the whole weekend to playing. And the courier service offered to start with me (it's more convenient for them, and even better for me) and if not in the morning, then only by evening.
I open the door again. Two girls: strict clothes, long skirts, brochures in hand: "Do you believe in God?"
— @#$%^!!! What's with you today?! A community service day? Your people already came. Let me at least wake up!
Slammed the door. No, I'm definitely installing a video intercom—I'm sick of this!!!
Finally managed to get under the shower. There I discovered I wasn't the only one who woke up, my "buddy" did too. While washing, I gave him a little shake, but I'm not a fan of self-gratification, and no women were on the horizon. "I want a woman," I thought while drying off, and immediately the doorbell rang. "Could it be?..." I throw on the robe. I open.
A girl is at the door. She comes up to my chest, a round little face, a Monroe-style hairdo—dyed white curls, huge eyes, huge lashes (though maybe because of the glasses?), a strict black pantsuit—a vest, a white blouse, and slightly flared, tight-fitting trousers, flat shoes. And she's one of them too:
— Do you believe in God? — and her little voice is trembling, a novice sect member or what? But why alone, they usually come in pairs, don't they?
I don't know what got into my head—I spread the flaps of my robe with the words:
— Suck me off right now—and I'll believe!
She stands there blinking her eyes at me, and her gaze is already glued to the "equipment."
— What, not up for it? For me, that would be the highest manifestation—see how I suffer?
— Do you believe in God?
I completely forgot she was one of "those"!
— Why are you alone? — I ask, to avoid answering.
— My friend got sick, but I have to make the rounds. Maybe you'd agree to walk with me, it's a bit scary alone.
I don't know how I didn't burst out laughing.
— Yeah, — I say — if you run into another horny guy like that, a blowjob won't be enough.
I look—she started smiling.
— Wait, let me at least put on some shorts—I can't walk with you like this.
— That would be funny — she smiles.
I dashed to the bedroom, dropping the robe on the way, jumped into shorts, thankfully it's summer, a T-shirt, and returned, she didn't even have time to look around properly.
— Let's go, I'm ready. But I won't go door-to-door with you—I'll stand on the landing, not far, but within sight. I do live here.
— Well, at least that...
She turns to the door and tries to open it, but the door is heavy steel. She strained all over—her butt, I thought, would rip the trousers.
— Let me help — and I press her against the door with myself. — What's your name, by the way?
— Katya. — She squeaked-exhaled.
More than once I've noticed lustful glances, but, seeing me, people usually closed their doors.
— You're scaring people more than helping me.
— And you want a repeat—let me arrange it for you. And we're on a first-name basis already? — pressing her in the elevator and stroking her butt, I provoked. Katyusha, breathing heavily, also put her hands under my T-shirt, and then even reached into my shorts. The elevator stopped. I almost carried her out in my arms to the connecting balcony, there I slipped my hand under her blouse and started fumbling for the bra clasp.
— Wait—you'll tear it. — She exhaled. She pushed my hands away and started unbuttoning the vest, blouse, and finally the bra, which during her undressing I had already pulled up and was kissing her nipples full-on. Good thing the floor is high—people rarely look up, and she's not tall, plus from my caresses she started squatting and put a hand into her trousers. I pulled my "hero" out of my shorts and Katyusha immediately grabbed him with her other hand. I tried to unbutton her trousers. She had to interrupt her activity to push my hands away again.
— Let me. — and she pulled off her trousers along with her panties. She stopped, turning her head, confused. I, finally realizing what she needed, pulled off my T-shirt and threw it on the concrete floor: "Put it here." She gratefully, with an embarrassed smile, bent over to fold her trousers on the T-shirt. Oh, she shouldn't have done that! (or maybe on purpose?) anyway, running my hand over her thighs and checking that my girl was also "in a fighting state," I drove into her from behind. She squeaked, I growled softly and felt the contractions of her insides. Hey, no! You won't get off that quickly now! Lifting her a bit, I turned her towards the street and continued. She kept trying to slide over the railing, but I didn't let her, diligently caressing her girlish breasts. I don't know about her, but her suit top and unbuttoned bra were really bothering me, so I turned her towards me, lifted her, and, literally, impaled her on my erect cock, simultaneously tearing off her vest, blouse, and bra, she started fighting off my hands again and took everything off herself while I held her on my waist. Throwing everything in a pile, she continued the rotating-thrusting movements on my member.
— Can I come inside you?
— Today—yes.
O-o-o-o!!! — I started to release, Katyusha jerked so much that I dropped her, but it seemed that's what she wanted, as she squatted down, took the splashing member into her mouth and started greedily swallowing, fiercely rubbing her finger between her legs.
— Wow, you're a giant—there was enough to fill me and swallow! — she admired when she managed to swallow everything. — Is it always like this with you?
— No, of course not, just haven't had a woman in a while, but without you it wouldn't have been like THAT!
She squatted down, picked up my fallen shorts and, pulling them up, kissed "buddy" right on the head and immediately pulled on the shorts.
— So how am I supposed to walk now? It's all leaking out of me! And I don't have anything with me. — She started to protest, gathering the semen flowing from her thighs and licking her fingers. "Could I really have that much? No, she probably contributed too."
— I have one idea... will you agree? — I looked at her slyly, taking her lacy panties in my hands.
She answered with the same look:
— I agree!
— Excellent! Don't be afraid, I'll be careful. — I twisted the panties into a tight roll, leaving the tip with the label "PB's" outside, it turned out significantly smaller in diameter
than my member and, squatting, pulled her towards me.
— Put your foot on my knee — I commanded, — hold onto my shoulders and don't be afraid!
She did everything silently, blinking her huge lashes at me behind her glasses (she never took them off). I carefully inserted this "a-la tampon" inside her.
— So? Not too tight?
— You're a magician! — she clapped her hands, jumping up. — Everything's wonderful.
"Good thing her panties aren't nylon" — a belated thought flashed.
Katyusha got dressed, I tried to help and hinder simultaneously, but she managed. We moved on. I took her bra from her with the words: "Illogical—no panties and in a bra."
It was funny to watch her, how she asks questions about God and sometimes chats, standing without panties, even if in trousers, but tight-fitting, without a bra, covered only by the vest (the blouse is light) shifting from foot to foot—she must feel the panties inside herself and at the same time her mouth smells of fresh semen (I checked with kisses every time in the elevator).
When we finished with the first floor, Katyusha came up to me with the words:
— That's it. Finished. — with regret and then sharply switched — I'm so buzzing inside that I'm ready to fuck the first person I meet on the street.
— Why on the street, when I'm here? — my hand was already stroking her butt through her trousers, and the other was kneading her breasts, which stood out so much you could feel them even through the clothes. I scooped her up under her butt and literally carried her into the elevator that opened just in time. In the elevator, we had no time for talking—our mouths were busy with kisses. I was kneading her "pussy," she was quietly gasping, very erotically—probably I was moving the improvised tampon inside her. Into the apartment, I carried her, you could say, holding her aloft with one hand from behind under her buttocks, she wriggled on my fingers and moaned in my ear. She started unbuttoning back in the elevator and in the apartment immediately threw off all her top, turned her back to me, leaned on the dresser, saying:
— I want it like this!
I pulled off her trousers, squatted, found the tip of the panties and pulled. They slipped out of there like butter. Rising, I licked Katyusha between the legs, hit, it seems, the ring of her anus, because she, jerking her butt, said: "Not now." "Aha! So there will be a 'later'!" — and entered her from behind again. We looked into each other's eyes through the mirror, getting more and more aroused. She lay her cheek on the nightstand under the mirror, took off her glasses and started nibbling the arm, immediately looking like a young student-teacher. I growled and thrust into her so hard that she almost hit her head on the mirror, despite me holding her by the shoulders. She squealed and started contracting her vagina again—came. (Erotic stories) And went limp. "Hey no! I'm going to fuck you senseless!" — threw her over my shoulder, butt forward, and carried her to the bedroom, to the bed, wiggling my finger between her lips along the way. On the bed, I threw her legs towards her head, she threw her arms herself—it turned out she stuck out her butt and exposed her perineum and anus. I entered inside again. She started thrusting back. My balls were hitting her right on the ring of her anus, and once my cock slipped out and poked her butt. "Go ahead" — she exhaled. Running my fingers from her dripping pussy to her butt, I lubricated the "black entrance" and pressed the head to her anus. She spread her buttocks with her hands and bit her lip.
— Does it hurt?
— No, it's fine, keep going — she answered quickly without unclenching her teeth.
I pushed and (Pop!) it slipped inside. Katyusha went limp again. I had to take charge. In both the literal and figurative sense. It didn't last long. I started to come.
— I want it in my mouth! — Katyusha showed signs of life. Had to pull out the "steed" and I started spraying on her right between her spread legs, on her chest, stomach, face. Katyusha, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue, tried to catch the flying drops.
Finally, we calmed down. Staggering, Katyusha made it to the bathroom, there was the sound of water, and she rustled in the hallway. I, throwing on my robe, watched her get dressed.
— I have to go.
— You know where I live—come anytime.
She smiled in response:
— Will you walk me to the elevator?
We went out to the landing, she slipped her hand under my robe and gently stroked me. The elevator came, she pressed for the first floor and, giving a slight squeeze to my member for the road, left...
And they never delivered the computer game that day, I called, they promised to fix everything, compensation and a gift, but that's another story... or fantasy...
PB's
May 2013