Great trips to the dacha
Honestly, I absolutely hated going to the dacha. Well, what's so good about it? Maybe the evening quiet and fresh air, but there's no TV or computer there, while mosquitoes, mean as guard dogs, and eternally hungry flies that bite worse than mosquitoes—those are in full supply. You start digging up potatoes and scare off a snake, and it slithers away, seriously unsettling my composure—what if it's a viper? So, this kind of communion with nature didn't appeal to me at all, and I constantly tried to dodge this "joy."
But then came two pieces of news, the good one—my wife got a free voucher to a sanatorium in Yevpatoria, and my daughter—a voucher to a sports camp.
But there was also bad news—the dacha needs to be watered three times a week, and in this situation, that duty now fell on me. Three times a week for watering, otherwise everything will burn up—be so kind, dear friend! A nice send-off wish from my wife before she left. Why couldn't it be three times to the beer bar!The day after, on my way back, a rather plump young woman was pressed up against me. So, I was thoroughly kneading her buttocks, quietly getting off on it. And then came Saturday! Since I slept in out of habit until 10 a.m., I had to go for the watering, so to speak, as the "evening horse." And just after watering, I settled into a corner, watching as a lovely, elegant lady with quite arousing curves in all the right places, with a piquant short haircut that made her look younger, struggled through the crowd to the window, and behind her, as if on a towline—a sturdy young guy. Extending my hand to her, I literally towed the lady to the window like a tugboat, and the young guy too, who stood by the handrail facing her.
She was pressed right up against me, just concretely, as they say nowadays, so I decided to accordingly spice up this rather unappetizing journey in the terrible crush and "aromas" of sweaty bodies. I started gently, then more and more brazenly, kneading her round, firm butt, then even slipped under her dress, also enjoying the sense of impunity—the sweet lady simply couldn't move an inch away. However, she wasn't trying to; quite the opposite—she leaned back a little and laid her head on my chest! Seems she liked it no less than I did! Now the light, thin fabric of her dress under my brazen fingers gradually crept up, and there I was stroking and kneading her awesome butt, tightly sheathed in the slippery satin of her narrow panties. Very arousing—even my heart rate quickened.
They got off at a stop before mine, this quite piquant lady even waved her hand to me in farewell. However!—she definitely liked it! And the next time, we were again by the window in the corner, managing to chat a bit over the roar of the bus engine. Here, I got downright brazen, as they say—like she was my own, kneading her butt and stroking her chest, especially since a thunderstorm was brewing, clouds all over the sky, and in the semi-darkness of the bus interior, it felt so intimate. Turns out, that guy—her son—helps his mom with the dacha. They were about to get off at their stop, but there was just a wall of rain at the doors—the storm in full swing. At my suggestion, they rode one more stop, outpacing the rain clouds.
We went straight to the kitchen—after the dacha escapades, everyone was seriously hungry. And after satisfying our hunger and watching the news on TV, we realized it was already night, and the rain still hadn't let up, though it had turned to just a drizzle. So, they stayed at my place until morning—after all, three rooms, clearly not cramped. What surprised me a bit was that the son went to sleep with his mom. And soon, she floated in like a light shadow—Larisa. We finally got acquainted! Her Vanechka is sleeping soundly, and we decided to have some tea and chat a little.
Well, and to my question of where to finish, she suddenly trembled all over in ecstasy and in a feverish whisper offered her butt. A lady's request is law, which I did with great pleasure. As she later recounted with a laugh, in the constant absence of her ever-philandering husband chasing the "long ruble," her grown-up, "hungry" beloved son had started to replace him regularly. He had enough for his girlfriend and for mommy, but only after, as she put it—a "half-blowjob," meaning she'd raise his mischievous member with her tongue, and then either to the girlfriend or to mommy's butt. Yes! That kind of son!
The next time, we cleverly arranged ourselves in the corner of the bus, and I, already on a well-trodden path, quite aroused by memories of that night, hiked her skirt up to her waist and, pulling down her panties, began happily stroking and kneading her firm butt, deriving great pleasure from the silky, hot skin of her buttocks, which played so nicely in my hands. So, that trip also went just wonderfully, but she avoided meeting up, explaining that her son had a date with his girlfriend today and needed to be "prepared." A caring mommy! We'll be more cunning! So, on the next trip, I was bolder, moving our "date" into the tightness of the bus.
After fondling Larisa's butt in the tight space, I again lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties. The delicate skin of her butt simply burned my fingers, and, highly inflamed, I lubricated her tight hole with Vaseline I'd brought beforehand and brazenly shoved my enraged "old friend" into the hot confines of her hospitable butt. The bus rocked over all the bumps and potholes in the asphalt, and I rocked in rhythm too, moving in that tightness inside Larisa's butt, getting incredible pleasure both from her firm butt and from this unbelievable situation. By the way, it seemed she liked this kind of thing too!
I came inside her butt with great pleasure, trying to hold back moans of delight, fortunately it was quite noisy in the bus cabin—this isn't a "Mercedes," and our roads are nothing like German autobahns. But now I'm pulling out my very satisfied, softened "fighter," so I need to pull up my unexpected lover's panties and lower the hem of her skirt. I got off at their stop—Larisa asked me to carry her things taken from the dacha home. Saying goodbye, she winked at me expressively:
— Everything was excellent! Sonny was so noticeably getting off on my moans. I also enjoyed it and am all in bliss, — she whispered to me in farewell, giving me a tender kiss. Well, excellent, pleased the lady!
It turned out she was whispering to the young guy about what was happening to her butt, and he was quietly getting off and getting very aroused. And, accordingly, with his member standing up from this hot whisper, he'd run off to his girlfriend. Well, if that didn't happen, then she'd help out her beloved offspring with her magical little mouth. How much more marvelous happens in our lives and its intimate nuances!
But the following week, I didn't see Larisa, only caught her son with such an appetizing young girl. As it turned out, Larisa got a call from an old friend in Moscow and she left urgently—there's an opportunity for good earnings in that Russian conglomerate and it can't be missed. That's the bad news. There were good moments too—I brazenly, in the terrible crush, groped and kneaded Igor's girlfriend's butt, to which she only flashed her eyes, but then it seemed she liked it too.
And a surprise at home—my daughter had returned. That's good news, especially since I don't like to cook, and my high schooler is just like her mom—a real kitchen magician. We also started going to the dacha together—my daughter decided to check how I was carrying out the "management's" instructions on watering our future harvest. It's just that on the way back, I had a hard time—my daughter was pressed hard against me in the bus tightness, and she was rubbing her pleasant curves against me full force. Naturally, my member couldn't withstand such torture and stood up fully, pressing into my daughter's stomach. And as soon as she turned her back to me, "it" went for her soft butt, literally stuffing the light fabric of her skirt between her buttocks. And then another test—she asked me to hug her to push away someone's sweaty body and stood within the circle of my arms. And somehow, unnoticed, my fingers ended up on the firm little balls of her breasts.
At home, when we went to bed, this brazen girl climbed into my bed and started kissing me and pretending to be indignant that I had groped her on the bus and really turned her on, and now her stomach hurts and her breasts ache. So, under her pressure, I had to please this appetizing girl, first with my hands, then by going down on her. Well, after having an orgasm, this brazen creature of modern girls suddenly offered me her mouth, saying my "eagle" would soon burst from the strain.
So soon, this "eagle" of mine was luxuriating in the sweet captivity of her hot lips and clever tongue. As ashamed as I was, I realized I had never experienced such pleasure before. So, until my wife returned from the sanatorium, my daughter and I slept together—she justified it by saying she was afraid of the dark. And she constantly seduced me. Well, since she decided with her friends to lose her virginity in about a year, by graduation, she offered me her butt or sweet mouth.
Well, and now, if needed, I happily substitute for my wife on the necessary trips to the dacha. I was wrong to refuse before! Everything is relative!