Sins of Youth
I'm 25, and I love life. I love sex and have a lot to share. I would be happy if some of my confessions found their way to you. After all, it's very important to be understood. A poet at heart, I know how to reveal the most secret things beautifully. And I'm sure readers will like it. They are people too, which means they want to see their favorite porn in a different light, where there's no reason to be ashamed or hide their sexy dreams. And when lust is embraced by millions, there are no limits to the sex industry. That means lots of money, oceans of sex, and everyone is happy. My American Dream is the unconditional victory of the sex revolution, and for every girl to know that there isn't a guy who
wouldn't! want! her!..Years have passed, but I still remember the scent of her hair and her slightly exposed shoulders, when it's quiet, morning, and an unfinished brandy stirs the blood…
At school, I was a goody-two-shoes boy, but as soon as I got home, finished my homework, I'd hurry to the cherished drawer where my girlfriends were waiting. Pictures, photos—it didn't matter, the point is, I loved them. And they gave me confidence. And when various frigid aunties at school taught how to live, I believed that no theorems would help if a beautiful girl didn't make you hard. And there's only one axiom here: while you're alive—love, if you can't—step aside, be human.
And so, overflowing with illusions, I climb the career ladder, temptations on all sides, and ahead lies only dubious family happiness. I thought about it and decided that early puberty gives the right to turn left. And somewhere deep down, you're already on a quiet beach, and the hips of a dancing Haitian girl pair wonderfully with the taste of cigars…
A confirmed bachelor now, I was right back then. Yes. I started visiting the local University dorm more often. Korean girls, mulattas—they were alright. And they liked the horny young man in glasses who was just waiting for them to relax and do… it!
When I got a! solid! F on one of the lectures, I saw her. Sitting at a cozy desk and feeling the full depth of my failure, I couldn't help but stare at the flutter of her tight pants around the love chakra area. And the teacher kept on: "Show this, explain that…"—so you twitch with every new angle of her. Her chest rises more and more often and higher, hmm, so she noticed my mischievous bulge. That's it, I can't—need to do something…
She slipped away for a minute (to the restroom, supposedly), and I followed her out. Opposite! the principal's! office was a small room where the maintenance staff usually rests. That's where we headed.
What can I say, we have different lives, but when soft music plays, for some reason it hurts and I want, instead of wine, a drop of sweaty blood with her scent… Such are the—Sins of Youth.
The_End!!!
E-mail: haushat@mail.ru