The Adventures of the Young and Beautiful Marquise – or Tanechka, Up to Her Ears in the Rye of Sinful Impulses. Act 2.
ACT TWO
"And was the first petal plucked
from the immaculate flower?"
The first Tatyana's Day of her departure from the boring city was approaching noon. In these first half-day, she had managed to do far from everything she had planned in her most secret secrets and hidden desires—to touch upon what her parents would never have taught her—unless they were, perhaps, modern incarnations of Osiris and Isis. The only amusing fact is that her real parents, unsuspecting and forever busy with work, would hardly have let her go on such a journey knowing their daughter's true desires to have the highest celestial right not only
to ardently and passionately seduce but also to be ardently and passionately seduced—that is, the right to what the ancient Greeks called ludus. Such plans swarmed only in her bright, prematurely developed little head, and she hastily wrote them down in a diary, which she decided to keep only after moving into the dormitory. And even then, she only writes in it when her roommate is not around. Fortunately for the tempting diary, Tanechka's entries presented quite a spectacle of the principle "live here and now," albeit in a theoretical plane, for those obsessed with the idea of all sorts of perverted perversions—and were even too bold for the most riotous rebels and unrestrained opportunists, who hold such alternative views on life that any mossy conservative would lose their last dentures in anger. Although Tanechka's style was not without a share of such pangs of conscience, fatal self-analysis, and a certain timidity in bringing her sincere statements to reality. Just look at this very curious entry:"...19.02.2028
The lamp shines above me. The time is late, evening...
The beautiful Moscow, which has entered the subdued twilight, calls me to go whoring... Maybe it's time to get laid a little? Maybe enough of getting useless A's and serving the elderly professors? Maybe have a celebration? Why don't I give someone a blowjob? Just write a note to some upperclassman with frank words: 'Lyoshenka, I'll be your bitch—maybe we can fuck together?'
No, it hasn't come. Because Tanka is not like that.
Tanka-the-virgin. Tanka-the-straight-A-student. Tanka-the-smart-one. Tanka-daddy's-pride.
So say the ignorant passersby, but in reality, I am Tanka-the-idiot.
So it was and so it will always be.
I am Tanka-the-idiot, Tanka-the-obedient-one, Tanka-the-prostitute,
Three lilies, three lilies on my grave without a cross..."
I anticipate that the deeply respected readers will somewhat object to such boldness and adherence to her own, to put it mildly, extraordinary ideals at such a young age—eighteen years old. I will entirely agree with you that this looks like very strange behavior on the part of such a young maiden, especially considering the fact that these two digits, cherished and desired by many teenagers, as essential as festive bread, were added to her life counter relatively recently—in December 2027, just after successfully passing her first-ever tests and on the eve of exams. It is clear even to the most ignorant fool on this beautiful but obscurantist planet that these girlish views on life were formed even before her coming of age—and it would not be a bold assumption to argue that this deviant behavior could have been inspired by such murky liberal winds. Or, perhaps, it's just such a delicate nature...
If we return to the chronicle of our self-outcast Tanechka's life, it is worth noting that the idea to go to a semi-dacha village for the whole summer for such sex tourism came to her bright little head relatively shortly before the summer holidays. It was the beginning of May. Then, in the long-suffering capital of the thousand-year-old Third Rome, the weather turned out to be so hot that it seemed one could uncontrollably turn into a pile of embers simply by standing under the scorching sun for such a few pitiful seconds of mortal existence. But on that cursed and hot-as-Satan's-abode day, instead of well-deserved rest and honor for her efforts in meticulously translating another Russian-language scientific work dedicated to the inventiveness and resourcefulness of the poetic language of the futurist poet Kruchenykh into English, her fellow scholars sent Tanechka to the university library to pick up several textbooks for the needs of her group. And no one else but her—everyone unanimously refused, abandoning helpless Tatyana to academic arbitrariness and quick dismemberment. And no—Tanechka wasn't even the group leader. Simply, sweet Tanechka had reached such a level of compliance and courtesy in the eyes of the respected professors that any attempt to lower it would not allow her to avoid serious reputational, financial, and so-on-and-so-forth problems and to climb back even to the level of an ordinary average student who doesn't work particularly hard, though still carrying out some tasks "outside the framework" of the official university educational program. Obedient Tanechka, carrying the cursed textbooks, which in total mass were comparable to about 1/6 of the mass of her attractive little body, then reached such a level of humiliation that devoured her from within like thousands of stray dogs. The reproachful burning in her chest, which she experienced, coupled with the unbearable scorching air, was akin in its true degree to the temperature of a blast furnace heated to the limit. To top it off, her wounded state was aggravated by a call from her mother, who demanded that her unfortunate daughter, with all the other aforementioned derivatives, come to the parental apartment and look after her three-year-old younger brother...
Perhaps it would be worth describing in more detail that state of the wounded maiden's soul, but please, gentlemen, let's put this situation on the back burner. I will only write that it was then that the thinking biological individual codenamed "Tanechka" took a slightly stronger, small but first step towards radical changes in her moral policy of interaction with this world cursed by the most vile and rotten-toothed old witchy crones. For now, we will return to our sunny summer day, in which our fair-haired, long-haired beauty now resided. The dressing gown mentioned in the previous Act had left Tatyana's narrow shoulders, and the bun on her head was replaced by meticulously combed curls of lovely hair. New fighters always come to replace the fallen ones: prudent Tatyana, planning her foray to the nearest river, put on her favorite red swimsuit. Why favorite? The cunning Tanechka had two reasons for this: first—this swimsuit suited her perfectly in color, emphasizing her lovely sandy figure and giving both passersby and herself an incomparable pleasure of contemplation and self-awareness of her irresistibility. And the second, but less obvious advantage—it was a size smaller, which helped the budding nymphomaniac to much better protrude the fleshy parts of her body for the joy of the male audience. In this form, without putting on sandals, the mischievous Tanechka walked along the country road to the river.
This was her first foray with the aim of finding a male for amorous pleasures. On Tanechka's part, this was a bold step, considering also the fact that the young talent had practically no swift sexual experience, apart from avid acts of masturbation with crumpled blankets and stuffing Chinese varieties of cucumbers into her inexperienced and undeveloped little throat. Driven by her sexual fantasies, finally, after fifteen minutes of walking barefoot with her lovely little feet, the girl reached the coveted river, which, surprisingly, looked completely deserted. Tanechka had miscalculated somewhat: the village, due to its semi-deserted state, now did not provide her with even the minimally necessary number of stallions for seduction during hours convenient for her. A little upset, the young maiden dove into the water, hoping to cool off and at least wait a little for the requested audience to arrive.
Tanechka swam like a dolphin in the sea, rejected by its own pod, for about twenty-thirty minutes—until, in the end, she met the one she was looking for and what she had been craving with all the fibers of her soul throughout these days: on the other bank, approximately 500 meters downstream from Tanechka, probably even with forget-me-nots growing nearby, sat a lone fisherman. This was the most perfect target for the little girl: the place was remote from possible curious eyes. Moreover, the fisherman, clearly deprived of female attention, could be easily seduced even by Tanechka's still insufficiently skilled and clumsy (in all possible senses) little tongue. And at the moment of seeing the distant figure of the fisherman, Tanechka was seized by some truly otherworldly force—she swam towards him with such grace and harmony, like a winged bird of prey spotting defenseless prey from a height.
The first step towards the corruption of Viktor Aleksandrovich was a change of posture... Tanechka, who had been sitting cross-legged until now, suddenly casually straightened up and lay on her stomach on the sand, provocatively sticking out her appetizing butt, only nominally concealed by the relatively thin line of her red panties. Tanechka noticed a fleeting male glance from under the cover at her adventure-seeking fifth point, but retreated, fooling around a bit and steering the conversation in a different direction. Temporarily, everything went as before. But suddenly, during such a pause, caused by the inability of both interlocutors to somehow maintain a dialogue, a remark like an electric shock sounded from the lips of the mischievous maiden:
– Viktor Aleksandrovich, I want to confess to you... You are a very good and kind person.... Wouldn't you like me to suck you off in gratitude for the good time spent with you?
The furrowed brows of the somewhat phlegmatic Viktor Aleksandrovich expressed a silent question to Tanechka, lying in a pose like the last port whore.
– I just really want to please you. And I would like to learn how to give a blowjob. I've never done it for anyone... Please, I beg you, Viktor Aleksandrovich—with your permission, become the first man I suck off.
Tanechka, rising to her knees, looked pleadingly into the face of the stunned Viktor Aleksandrovich. And so these silent stares continued for about two minutes—until Tanechka, shifting her gaze below Viktor Aleksandrovich's belt, noticed a bulge in his fishing pants sticking out like the sword of Damocles. Tanya's face at that hour expressed a warm smile, addressing Viktor Aleksandrovich with a silent offer to accept the rules of the game. This time, Viktor Aleksandrovich's reaction was much less delayed—and, to Tanechka's joy, her interlocutor's answering smile symbolized complete agreement with the aforementioned proposals to somehow dilute the banality of communication that had spilled into the river air...
Quite briskly pulling down Viktor Aleksandrovich's pants and underwear, his medium-sized penis—about thirteen-fourteen centimeters, maximum fifteen—appeared before Tanechka's smiling face. Oh... inexperienced Tatyana... What will you do with it?
– But first, wish me bon appétit, or I won't suck you off, – escaped from the still smiling, sly lips of the clever Tanechka.
– Bon appétit, dear Tanya, – the man answered her in a more cheerful voice than before.
Tanya, having swallowed practically all of Viktor Aleksandrovich's seed (the remainder trickled down the maiden's chin), lowered her head with a satisfied look. She felt good... she was extremely pleased and aroused—so much so that if she were ordered to get up from her knees now, her lovely little legs would seem to buckle in all directions from the cramp that seized her secret, still untouched pearl.
– Thank you, Tanechka, – said Viktor Aleksandrovich. – You are a treasure.
With these words, the man kissed his new young acquaintance on the forehead.
– And thank you very much, Viktor Aleksandrovich, – Tanechka, standing on her knees, raised her little head and kissed the head of the man's penis as a sign of gratitude for the respect shown to her useful abilities.