Dmitry — My Unusual Marriage
What does the presence of the Internet mean? It's an all-weather, universal connection between cities and generations. That's how we, childhood friends who spent our youth wildly, managed to meet thanks to the Internet. It was amazing; we are all married, all have children, and we ourselves became young teenagers again for a time of reminiscing—"Remember when...". And what's interesting—when we started telling the story of how each of us got married, it turned into fascinating tales. So I will describe each story, naturally—told from the perspective of each hero. And the first, of course, is our class president—Dmitry. He was always first in everything, so
let him be first here too.... -I was a late child, so when we celebrated my first modest anniversary—I turned 25—my parents were already pensioners at that time. We had a great time with my work colleagues, but on Saturday morning, my parents simply stunned me with their news—they decided to move from our Crimea to Zaporizhzhia and to exchange apartments through an ad in the newspaper. And why move?—all their friends are still there, I was born there, nostalgia won't gnaw at them, and they want to spend their retirement years exactly there.
And arguing with my mommy when she gets something into her head! Well, okay, even though I don't really want to move, the apartment there seems better and bigger, although yes—here I have a good job, a bunch of friends, and, most importantly, quite "responsive" girlfriends. Well, okay, I won't upset my parents; they dream of me living with them constantly and also constantly demand that I get married, especially my mom—she's burning with impatience to babysit grandchildren. Alright, I agreed with them, as the great Richelieu said—whatever happens, consider it for the best!
One fine day, my mom called me at work—the family of the retired officer, with whom they decided to exchange apartments, had arrived; by the way, he's only 46, and now my parents are loading up. Meaning, they luckily hired a cargo taxi—a "Kolkhida" with a long semi-trailer and, having loaded our belongings and furniture, departed for the glorious city of Zaporizhzhia. And I need to urgently submit a resignation notice and, together with this retired officer's family in our, pardon—now their apartment, await the simple belongings from what is now our apartment.
Since I was at work, my boss asked me to help them for at least a week with the quarterly report; in our PTO, I always did it, and experience, as they say, you can't drink away. I worked until lunch, as agreed with the boss, and upon entering home to my former apartment, I saw a marvelous vision. This gorgeous "vision" was about 35 years old; she was sitting on the windowsill in my former room, dangling her long beautiful legs, highly exposed by a short skirt, leaning slightly toward the window, which allowed me to thoroughly admire her fantastic chest in the neckline of her blouse.
— So it's you, Dima-Dimochka—turns out you're quite handsome! Your mommy told me her son would come to spend a couple of nights, but she didn't tell me she had such a handsome son. Unfortunately, you'll have to sleep on the floor; our furniture hasn't arrived yet, but I think there's nothing terrible for a young man. And I was looking around here and, by the way, admired two young ladies, quite explicit caresses they have, this modern youth, I've seen enough already, I used to work as a teacher in a school,—and, slightly biting her lower full lip and tossing her thick mane of bright red hair, added with some intimate breathlessness, extending her hand—"Rita."
As a true gentleman, I approached closer and, bending down, kissed her hand, which smelled delicately of perfume, at which she raised her beautifully outlined eyebrows in surprise. Then, jumping sharply off the windowsill so that her short pleated skirt flew up to her panties, she took a step forward, and I unexpectedly drowned in her beautiful witch's eyes, and our lips met. It was so unexpected and so sweet, and she even threw her tender hot hands around my neck, pressing her firm round breasts against me—our kiss lasted an eternity.
Oops! And we weren't alone in the apartment! Some elderly lady is standing on the balcony smoking, and a venomous-thermonuclear "Belomorkanal." We jokingly call it "Belyamur-Camel" from the "Death to Fascism" series. In any case, all flies and mosquitoes were clearly panicking and leaving our balcony, fleeing from the poisonous smoke of the cigarette. Knocking, I entered the balcony and introduced myself, and she, examining me quite suspiciously, also introduced herself—Nina Ivanovna. She also mentioned that she is the mother of Grigory Petrovich and the mother-in-law of that red-headed hussy, saying, we've already managed to get acquainted, of course. Grishok instantly found drinking buddies and is already drinking beer or something stronger with them in the square near our house, and I can't get Ritka to go to the market; we need to pickle tomatoes and cucumbers for the winter—added this formidable lady in a loud, commanding voice. Wow, she seems like a beast!
— Rita, would you mind resting for at least ten minutes? This is the house of my childhood friend and wildly spent youth—Mikhail! It's nice and cool here,—she laughed and agreed, seeming tired too from hauling heavy buckets. She only suggested switching to "you."
We placed the buckets and bag by the doorstep; the key, as usual, hung on a nail in a hidden spot, naturally known to me, and soon we entered the blessedly cool semi-darkness of the hallway—it was quite hot outside after all. Rita walked ahead, and suddenly stumbling, she stopped and turned to me, and then we somehow ended up in mutual hot, passionate embraces. I came to on Misha's bed, both of us half-naked, I was lying between Rita's legs, having finished for the second time in a row—Rita turned out to be quite a hot and passionate woman.
And after a summer shower, having cooled down a bit, we sat in our underwear on the veranda and, talking, drank cold compote, which Misha had simply brewed excellently. As Rita later told, she worked as a middle school teacher, was divorced—her husband turned out to be a gigolo, she didn't have an apartment, and a couple of years ago she met Grisha and married him—now at least she has her own corner. Rita had no children, Grisha is now retired, they've been living together for two years, and still no children. Her mother-in-law constantly hisses like a snake, saying her little son got an "empty" daughter-in-law, so she'll die without seeing grandchildren. Naturally, the daughter-in-law is to blame for this, not Grishinka!
— Well, we'll check that right now, beautiful Ritushik. As our grandfather Lenin bequeathed—"only practice is the criterion of truth,"—hinting at a repeat, I really liked Rita in bed, and I hadn't had sex in so long somehow.
Rita laughed tenderly and cheerfully and suddenly said that she wasn't against an additional "check," adding that if our experiment succeeds, the baby will be beautiful, like the young daddy. Although even now I had poured a sea of life-giving moisture into her belly. But as they say in school—"repetition is the mother of learning."
Considering the lessons from my sexy and smart mommy, who in her time thoroughly enlightened her beloved sonny on measures to satisfy my women in general and her in particular, then the extensive practice with a beloved and amorous neighbor, I certainly tried.
I was also very satisfied—sex with such a hot young woman, sweet, firm, tender, was simply excellent; I was in nirvana now. Yes, this teacher is a hot piece, not like our teachers—dried vobla and seemingly old maids; she knows what she wants and knows how to get and give pleasure. I think if Grisha continues performing his marital duties in the old way, she'll soon manage to seduce more than one high school student in one of our schools. Well, that's good; I'm sure all those guys will only be happy.
Gradually, I began to come to my senses—her hot legs on my back, strong hot hands tightly embraced me and seemed not about to let go, and her full sweet lips simply wouldn't detach from mine, her hot little tongue fluttering in my mouth. And how wonderful it was for me to lie between her legs, and her skillful vagina so sweetly "milked" my member, extracting the last drops of male essence. But it's time to go home—time is already "pressing on the valve," as Misha sometimes jokes.
Quickly showering together under the streams of the summer shower, we also quickly and cheerfully headed home. And to the loud reproaches from Rita's formidable mother-in-law about our long absence, I quite reasonably suggested going to the station and checking ourselves, since you can quickly buy at the market itself, but... the price is double. And the whole point is that you need to wait for the train's arrival, and only then do all the vendors at the station square sharply lower the price and sell off by the bucketful. When selling out entirely by the bucketful, they make a good profit, well, and we immediately bought two buckets from them. So everyone should keep this trick in mind!
After listening to my explanation and appreciating the excellent quality of the tomatoes and cucumbers, the formidable lady turned from anger to mercy and called us to dinner, while seemingly sniffing Rita inconspicuously. Good thing we rinsed off under the shower—the excitingly sweetish smell of her sweat after sex was still in my memory, and good that it was in my memory and not in the air. Having completely calmed down, "Madame" gave us instructions about tomorrow's purchases; she clearly liked both the tomatoes and cucumbers, and especially their price.
Well, and Rita and I prepared a salad and started eating, having gotten very hungry during our walk, and especially the sex. Then Grigory Petrovich came in, with a strong smell of beer; we watched the evening news with him and, as usual, discussed the international situation, and started getting ready for bed. He, as the apartment owner, lay down on the old sofa bed, Rita on our half-alive sofa, which still remembered Khrushchev's stupid reforms, "Madame" on a cot that desperately squeaked all night, and I on an old mattress from the storage room and in a sleeping bag—the experience of an old tourist.
The next day, I showed up for lunch and, as soon as I ate, "Madame" immediately sent Rita and me to the station, clearly positively evaluating such purchases. Grisha went off for beer again, and Rita and I, cheerfully winking at each other, set off on our way and to new adventures. Successfully and quickly filling the buckets, we, two "camels," dropped by Misha's. He was home, cooking dinner in the summer kitchen, and he cooks quite well, seemingly for the arrival of another mistress. At Rita's gorgeous figure, he licked his lips so expressively and even groaned that she laughed out loud—every woman is pleased with an appraisal of her attractiveness.
With his permission, we went to the bedroom, undressed, and then I got down to business, as they say—with sense, feeling, and arrangement. First, I settled between her fantastic legs, and then Rita wanted it "doggy style," which I did with pleasure, driving my "friend" in all the way, especially since in this position you can enjoy kneading her fantastic breasts, surprisingly still firm.
Finishing with pleasure, I fell on her back, slightly pressing Rita down, and then wanted to fool around a bit, especially since my member hadn't fallen yet. Spreading her small tender buttocks, I quietly inserted my wet-from-our-fluids "eagle" into the tight hole of her round butt. She gasped loudly, but I entered quite easily—clearly the beauty had engaged in anal sex, and after the intense orgasm, her tight hole seemed to have relaxed a bit. It turned out her first husband loved it that way and gradually got Rita used to it, but from his huge member she experienced pain, and with me she liked it, saying that with my "friend" it was much more pleasant and better for her.
And then there was a small but pleasant bit of humor for everyone—as soon as I trudged out of the shower, Misha was in my place, as he said, highly aroused by the charms of naked Rita and by our loud cries of passion—his member was simply tearing his pants, and Misha couldn't resist such temptation. So he rushed into battle—Rita didn't immediately understand who had replaced me.
And after his long member, Rita soon came again, emitting loud sweet moans of pleasure, and Misha then prudently came in her butt—saying, professionals work without mistakes. And I didn't tell him that I had come inside Rita, and with her permission at that. But Rita clearly liked it in the butt too—she looked very pleased.
And my other adventures—in the continuation!