Youth of the throat

This story happened during the dying days of the Soviet Union. Back then, there were no mobile phones, no pagers, and no internet.

In her youth, Elena Kapushta hung out with simple Soviet punks who didn't mind occasionally fucking her in the bushes. Did I say "occasionally"? Let me correct myself—how about daily fucking in the shithouse? Elena didn't want that either. And it all started quite trivially, with an innocent, no-strings-attached blowjob behind the "Oktyabr" cinema. Elena, so to speak, took a smoked sausage for a taste. She smacked her lips, rolled it around in her mouth, and unexpectedly discovered an incredible craving for the male reproductive organ. This

moment can safely be considered the starting point of her sex life. All the innocent frolics with a birch dildo don't count, because Elena was quite the scaredy-cat and couldn't bring herself to deflower herself.

But everything flows, everything changes. Lenka-the-hole—that's what they started calling her in the new crowd. The path to this gang of street scum, however, was difficult and thorny. Times were stagnant, and in the ossified Soviet society, such individuals were treated with a fair share of contempt and disgust. But homeless outsiders attracted Elena more powerfully than a magnet. As soon as she spotted a cute bum on the street, she would immediately lose the power of speech and couldn't move from the spot, though at that moment she wanted to squeal and hug. The problem lay in our heroine's shyness and her fear of upsetting her religiously fanatical mother. Her mother's voice echoed in her head: "Don't you dare bring any riff-raff into the house, or I'll show you righteous wrath."

Elena was, let's say, no beauty. A potato nose, fingers like sausages, lips so thin you could say they weren't there. Acne had plagued her since puberty. Elena still hoped back then that it would go away soon, but she didn't even notice how it turned into huge boils by the time she was forty. To add at least some polish, she had to resort to her grandmother's advice and gouache paint (well, what the hell, there was no concealer back then!). Only loose women used makeup then, and her mother was categorically against that kind of makeup. She forbade her from hiking her skirt above her ankles, from leaving body parts exposed. And she deliberately pulled her hair into a tight bun so Elena couldn't blink during an impromptu sermon.

"Oktyabr" was the gathering spot in this provincial town, a cinema around which all sorts of youth hung out. Some in just their long johns, some in underpants over their trousers, like a textbook foreign superhero, and some even went around in what their mother bore them in. In short, they stood out as best they could. Elena, however, couldn't find her niche among these motley guys. She got tangled in her own aspirations and desires. She understood only one thing: "If I sleep with Latinos—they won't understand at home, with blacks—the nationalists will hound me. And she didn't want to get involved with white supremacists at all, her mother had a Tajik lover, and she was afraid of walking on a razor's edge.

And so it happened that she latched onto the punkers.

Elena Kapushta gathered her courage for a long time before approaching the crowd of motley bastards (how else would you translate the word 'punx'?)

"You wouldn't happen to know how to renew a library card, would you?" she blurted out.

"Sorry, granny, haven't a clue," was the reply.

"What do you mean, granny?" Kapushta protested. "I'm 23!"

"Our condolences."

"So, about that library card?" she asked more boldly. "Are we renewing it?"

"I dunno. Go ask Friedrich over there. He's well-read."

"Who?" Elena didn't understand.

"Friedrich Spitz."

"What syringe?"

"Ugh, you old hag! Over there on the lawn, sitting with a newspaper."

On the lawn, a bearded runt was lounging, legs crossed. In his hand, he held a half-liter jar with a couple of good gulps of amber liquid still left.

"I beg your pardon," Elena blurted out. "But a lady requires assistance."

"Assistance?" the dwarf snorted meaningfully. "What are you even talking about. I'm trying to sleep here, by the way."

"Oh, forgive me magnanimously, but I didn't know I'd be disturbing," Kapushta's voice trembled.

"Read Nietzsche?" the bearded one asked out of the blue, taking a swig from the jar. "Castaneda?"

"I... umm... well... only Prishvin."

"Prishvin alone won't fill you up! Do you listen to Kalobrod?"

"Kalo... what? Lord forgive me, no, I haven't heard of that," Elena admitted honestly. "Only Syabry."

The dwarf looked at Elena carefully, rose from the trampled grass, straightened up, and gave her such a slap that even Kapushta's mother wouldn't dare deliver in her fiercest Orthodox fit. Poor Elena even squealed in surprise.

"Why are you hitting me?" she asked, eyes bulging.

"You fool!" Spitz said haughtily. "But, it must be said, pretty, if you squint."

Elena blushed. It's not precisely known what brought the color to her face: whether from the unexpected compliment or the unexpected beating, but in any case, Elena's heart sang. It sang the song "You Alone Are Love" to the verses of Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet.

"I sense you're ready for communication, or rather, for intimate closeness," Friedrich concluded without much thought.

"Wha?" our heroine answered dazedly.

"Will you take it in your cheek?"

"In my cheek? What do you need?" the 23-year-old girl, but not yet a woman, Kapushta, didn't catch on. "Like a hamster with nuts or something?"

"Cock on a stick," the bearded dwarf specified, inserting a euphemism.

"Oh, the boy wants to treat the girl to sweets!" Kapusha still hadn't grasped what Friedrich was getting at and, grinning broadly, naively imagined ice cream. "I'm all for that arrangement."

"So you'll take it on your fang right now?" Spitz couldn't believe his ears. "And suck it?"

"Well, if it melts, I'll lick it too."

The dwarf didn't postpone the free blowjob looming right before his nose and, grabbing Elena by the sleeve of her blouse, dragged her away from prying eyes.

"I'll show you a place now, they make such hearty hot dogs there—you'll be amazed!"

"I love them with sour cream and lots of mustard!" Kapushta daydreamed.

"Don't you want it with horseradish?" the bearded one snorted with laughter.

"Only the spicier kind, that brings tears to your eyes," Elena grinned broadly, not suspecting that in about a minute she would be swallowing up to her tonsils, given a penis of not exactly dwarf proportions.

Friedrich ran, comically shuffling his little feet, while Elena looked like a graceful mare next to him. Even passersby accustomed to all kinds of freaks rolled with laughter at the sight of this pair. One old man even choked on his ice cream at the sight of them running.

Turning the corner of the "Oktyabr" cinema, Friedrich commanded authoritatively:

"Warm up your lips."

"Ooo, they make them that huge here?" our simpleton wondered sincerely.

"So huge you'll tear your mouth. Will you have it with hunting sausage?"

"It's not in my nature to refuse treats, especially since my mouth waters at the thought of smoked meats!"

"Then close your eyes and sit on the stump."

"Allow me, but there's no stump here whatsoever."

"On my smoking one, I mean," Friedrich noted proudly, thrusting out the bulging lump under his trousers.

"What is that, if I may ask? Surely not what I just thought?"

"That very long-awaited treat," the bearded one continued with his lewd remarks. "Just need to peel off the skin."

"Forgive me, but my excellent upbringing and Orthodox faith do not permit me to engage in THIS with you."

"What? Next you'll say your mom forbids taking candy from strangers!" Spitz began to lose patience. "What the hell was all this circus with trained bears on bicycles for then?"

"You misunderstood me," our unfortunate heroine began to deny. "I'm genuinely hungry."

"Suck it, come on!!" the dwarf didn't listen further and, deftly grabbing Elena by the hair, began unceremoniously

forcing her onto his dick. "But first, unbutton my trousers. I refuse to do everything myself. Lazy by nature."

For a second, she caught herself thinking that all this reminded her of a bad dream. But the kind where everything happening is to her liking. A peculiar perversion of a decent plain Jane.

Spitz's personality practically immediately clouded Elena's mind. You're immediately and forever impressed by the greatness of a man like Friedrich. And even though Elena had known him for no more than 5 minutes, that was already quite enough. She was ready to do anything for him. If he said roll like a sausage—she'd roll, ordered to turn inside out—she'd turn, if he fancied some cool soda—she'd rush to the lemonade dispenser.

"I am conscientious in spirit," Friedrich proclaimed, "and in matters of spirit, it is difficult to find anyone more precise, more caustic, and more firm than I, except for the one from whom I learned, Zarathustra himself!"

As soon as the penis saw the light of day, Elena smelled the scent of stale, wind-dried meat. This reminded her stomach that since morning, not a poppy dewdrop had been in her mouth. And now a whole hefty frankfurter was pushing itself into her maw. This temptation proved greater than Elena, there was no strength to endure and... she bit the glans on the side.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee