The girl from the poster

1

I cannot definitely say that I needed something that day at that market. It’s just that, on my way back from work, I walked past and decided to buy something for dinner. Living alone at 33 years old, I tell you, is not always convenient.

It just happened that way.

I had a girl, but she ran away with some Bulgarian or Turk. Fuck knows. That's how I've been since then, and I'm still alone. It seems that on the one hand there is freedom, no one is dripping on your brains - there are socks all over the apartment, or there is a whole sink with unwashed dishes.

No, so what? She's been sitting in the car wash for three days now and let her see what happens to her. Saturday will come,

I’ll wash everything at once. Or, he stayed, for example, at Natakha’s for the night.

So what!? Ugh, that matters to me too. The guy took her off on a business trip for two weeks anyway, and there’s no point in her standing around. Moreover, Natakha, a prominent woman, willing, if not me, then Kolka will dive. He, too, is an eternal “hunger”, despite the “pure” marriage and two children. No, well, Tolik is Natakhin’s husband, a “moose” of course, through Natakhin’s efforts...

Well, okay, why am I talking about her again!? I’ll tell you what happened next:

I bought a stick of boiled sausage, a loaf of bread, three hundred grams of butter, butter, and while the merchant was putting it all in bags for me, (in the markets everything is sold by weight) I suddenly felt someone’s gaze on the back of my head. I just felt like someone was staring at me. I turn around.

Stands behind me, a little at a distance, a guy of about twenty, and he doesn’t take his eyes off me. I looked around again, the guy wasn’t familiar, you never know. He may have identified himself or something else.

Well, of course, I didn’t want to think about anything else, there’s not much on his mind.

These days, you can bump into anyone. What if he is... well, this... what's their name? They have a color! Uh, okay, suddenly he liked me.

Brrr, when I think about it, it makes everyone cringe. No, of course, I don’t have anything aggressive against these... what’s their name, those..., but for some reason it’s more pleasant for me when a female person looks at me so intently.

But for some reason they don’t look. Natakha is alone, respectfully, and pays attention to me, and even that..., only when my dear husband is away. Well, okay, why am I talking about her again. What is this for? Otherwise I’ll write something here about our bed affairs, my friend will have problems….

Or maybe not, after all, anything can happen... and if he does find out, then he’ll clean my reputation! And then, the big guy...

Well, I looked around, no, the guy was definitely looking at me, I even nodded my head to him: “They say, what are you looking at?” And he suddenly separated from the wall, which he was propping up with his “heroic” shoulder and slowly raked it up. Well, I think there’s something wrong with this guy, he’s suspicious. And he comes close to me and asks in a low voice:

- Man, can you buy a poster? “I just noticed that the guy had some kind of piece of paper rolled up into a tube under his arm.” I breathed a sigh of relief, which means there won’t be a fight, (you never know, maybe Natasha, who else was wound up, maybe she was attracted to young people), I even relaxed a little.

— What kind of poster? “I ask, a little surprised at this unusual way of trading in our time. Tea is not the Soviet government; no one has been imprisoned for profiteering for many years, and it seems they don’t even attract anyone.

No, well, of course, they trade with their hands, but so, with what? Whoever uses shire, different pills - dope, or over there, friends from friendly Central Asia, anasha. But this guy looks like nothing, he doesn’t seem to be a drunk, he’s not a drug addict, and he doesn’t look like a homeless person. And there is no smell from it, except for cologne. The boy raised his hand and unfolded the poster. No, the picture is of course high quality, and the girl is cute, “dark” and slightly tanned, I like those. Both the paper is thick and the lamination is high quality, it doesn’t sag or bubble. I remember we had posters like this in the late 80s, at the very height of perestroika, but it seems like they’ve all disappeared since then, at least I only saw them once, in Svetka’s room.

Why, ask Svetka? So this is her, well... the one... who. She, like me, likes girls. Well, imagine! She herself is a girl (and not a girl anymore, for her, just like me), but she looks at girls! And beautiful... mmm, terrifyingly... a sight for sore eyes. Auntie, let's be honest: top class, I myself, repeatedly approached her, well, I think I was lucky. Look, what a chick, and free, and unmarried, and an adult, wow! But that’s not where it was. Yes. That's it, all that remains is to move your hands. Irony. She's "pink"! That's not a task. And such a woman mmmm...!

And I look, all her girlfriends are hers, some have already gotten a divorce, some have children, two or three, they all have husbands and lovers, some have two! Everything is like with people, in general, whose grandchildren are just around the corner, but she is still alone. No, I'm lying, I'm not alone. It seemed like she had a friend of some kind, they lived together in Svetka’s apartment, and they seemed to live well. Well, okay, let them live. Advice to them, as they say, but love!

Are they alive or did they actually live? I don't even know!

What kind of guys are you going to do now? I'm really ashamed of some of the men. Well, somehow I got distracted again...

- And how much do you want for it? — I ask the boy.

- How much do you feel sorry for her?

— …??? - As they say.

I figured, no, the picture is nothing special, big, dense, and the girl’s figure is super, and the size is just right, well, to cover up a stain on the wallpaper, until next summer. (Well, I’m actually going to put up new wallpaper every year, for about three years now.) There, opposite my bunk, there’s a not-nice-looking spot: last year, the upstairs neighbor flooded me because he was drunk.

Well, my hands never got around to it (to the spot, that is), but here it just comes up on its own. And the picture is big, and the girl is nothing special, most importantly, her hips are cute. Very. Such nice thighs. Smooth.

Well, not three hundred rubles!!! Moreover, I don’t have any of them anymore, I only have two hundred and thirty, and even those are small change. That's what I told him.

- So what, no more? - He asks incredulously.

- No, no. - I answer and turn to leave.

- Hey, wait. - He stops me, - okay, take it for two hundred.

He ​​thrust a picture into my hands, I crumpled two hundred different bills for him, and that was it. I’m standing at the counter where I bought sausage, and the saleswoman looks so slyly, as if she’s thinking: “He’s a simpleton, they handed him a piece of paper,” but she’s silent. I looked at the 30 rubles I had left and handed them to the saleswoman with the words:

- Give me some beer.

With a malicious grin, my aunt handed me a bottle of beer, a fiver in change and said:

- What, are you going to wash it now? “She pointed with her eyes at the rolled up poster.

- Yeah. - I answered, taking the bag in one hand, the poster in the other, and directed my steps towards the house...

2

At home, after eating cheap sausage, washing it down with cheap beer and watching a cheap television series on the “box”, I finally decided to add a picture to the wall. After fiddling around for about five minutes, spending most of this time looking for four small nails and a hammer, I stepped aside and looked at the creation of my hands and was satisfied. The picture looked good against the background of beige wallpaper. Not in tone, of course, but much better than a dark stain from dampness. However, the beer made me sleepy and, having hastily rinsed myself in the shower, I took a horizontal position with the firm intention of sleeping until the morning and, rested and fresh, I will again go to my favorite, to the point of tears, job. But, exactly at half past four, the alarm clock went off.

Yes, no. Not the one that stands on the bedside table, no, that one is set to 6:30, the other one, the one that is popularly called Kashpirovsky’s alarm clock, (maybe, who remembers, there was such a psychotherapist who treated children for enuresis)

So, obeying HIS call, I walked around the apartment, about three minutes later, I returned to my bedroom. So I entered the bedroom, and stood frozen on the threshold. Right on my bed, crossing her legs and leaning back on her elbows, half sitting, half lying, SHE.

Yep, she is. The same one from the picture.

There is thick darkness in the room, the light of a street lamp through the thick curtains barely illuminates my modest cell, but even this small light is enough for me to clearly see who is sitting. An awkward pause formed between us. Here, of course, anyone in my place would be a little more fun. “I was completely alone in the apartment, not expecting guests, and then one day, such a beauty appeared on my bed, and I was in my shorts!” Of course, I wasn’t expecting guests; if I had, I would have at least put on new swimming trunks, but, oh, it’s inconvenient to say: I was wearing panties, they weren’t the most chic, they were family ones, they’d been with me for years.

- Who are you!? “I finally said in amazement.

- Didn’t recognize it? - She asks. And her voice is so sexy, you know, like those ones on the phone... well, those same ones.

- No. - I answer stupidly.

She nodded her head towards the wall on which the picture hung. The picture disappeared. Instead, now, there was a white rectangle.

- After all, you didn’t... - I started it.

The girl leaned back and beckoned me with her finger.

- Are you just going to stand there? - She asked.

- What should I do? “I asked a question, and after a second I realized how stupid I was. The girl smiled wryly and, bending her knees, began to spread her legs to the sides.

- Don’t you know? “With a passionate breath,” she said. No, it’s not that I didn’t know. I knew, of course, because I’m not a boy anymore, I was just confused, somehow it was all unexpected...

She suddenly smiled mischievously, and I followed the direction of her gaze. It is, of course: Natasha is a man, he hasn’t gone on business trips for a long time, and besides this Natasha, I haven’t had anyone. And it has become noticeable now, very, frankly speaking, noticeable, I was in family. The girl beckoned me with her finger and the tip of her tongue, and ran it over her large lips. Like a rabbit bewitched by a boa constrictor, I sank next to her. My hand rested on her flat tummy. She shuddered slightly and took a deep breath. Her body was warm and completely “real”; my hand began to rise higher. Her large breasts, packed in a white bra, beckoned me to her. I touched her carefully and looked into her eyes.

With a slight half-smile, she blinked her eye at me and arched her back, thereby making it easier for me to access the clasp. I dealt with the bra quite quickly, despite my little experience in handling women's clothing.

And, to my eyes, her large elastic breasts appeared, with dark, swollen nipples crowning them. The barely perceptible smell of her clean, warm, healthy body affected me more powerfully than any aphrodisiac. Having completely lost my head, I leaned over her and pressed my lips to hers.

Her hot, wet lips answered me, and her fingers slid along my back. I don’t remember how, we found ourselves completely naked, the little clothes we were wearing instantly disappeared somewhere. My hand slid over her stomach slowly but surely, approaching her most intimate.

And this, her “most intimate”, was completely smooth. Absolutely devoid of even a hint of vegetation, and my fingers felt hot moisture. She closed her eyes and moaned lightly while I groped around the entrance to her treasury. I caressed her body with my lips for a long time, tormented her breasts, slid my lips over her tummy and thighs, her legs squeezed my torso, and then my head in a passionate embrace, and I, completely losing my mind, pressed my lips to her most intimate places, feeling her taste, wanted to absorb her body into myself, drink everything from this vessel! Everything to the very bottom, I wanted at that moment for her to become my air, my flesh, my blood, I wanted her body to merge with mine, or I myself would dissolve in her. I was just going crazy! THIS happened to me for the first time, at that second I realized: I love her to the point of losing my memory!

And then there was her womb, narrow and hot, it squeezed me in its arms and I plunged deeper and deeper into her until I reached the very bottom. Her tanned body, shiny with sweat, in the dim light, suddenly seemed like a revived statue of Aphrodite, and now it was no less beautiful. Like the goddess of the ancient Greeks, beautiful, innocent and vicious at the same time, with her black eyes, like a fakir with a pipe, she deprived me of my mind, leaving me only with instincts. Mad, animal, wild instincts, those that lie dormant in us, suppressed by consciousness and reason. And I, obeying her will, forgot about everything. Never before have I experienced anything like this. A hasty “hookup” with Natasha was nothing compared to this wild passion. With the magic of this night. I lost track of time, forgot about everything, it seemed to me that at times I even forgot to breathe. The mysterious stranger, the girl from the picture, was simply a sorceress; no other friend of mine has ever given me such pleasure.

At the very end, I was ready to scream, but I no longer had the strength to scream, I didn’t have the strength to do anything anymore. She drank me to the dregs, sucked it all out without a trace. Oh-oh-oh... those lips of hers... Devastated.

We lay naked on my bed, I was breathing heavily, coming to my senses.

The stranger put her hand on my chest and said:

- I felt very good with you, really, but this is our only night, in the morning I will become a picture again and you will have to sell me.

— But I don’t want to, what if I don’t do it? “Still breathing heavily,” I said.

- No, you have to, these are the rules, I’m sorry, believe me, for the first time I’m truly sorry to leave my master, but I can’t stay with you.

I sat down on the bed, and she lay stretched out on the bed and calmly looked into my eyes. I was confused, everything happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to really understand anything. The magic happened and passed, the night was coming to an end, I didn’t want to lose her and I squeezed her in my arms.

- I don’t want, I don’t want to lose you. “I whispered, burying my face in her hair.

— I was never yours,” she said calmly, “you should.” And suddenly, a picture clearly appeared in my head of how someone else was touching her, I understood that she would do the same to her next owner as she did to me, and a sense of ownership surged within me. Jealousy overwhelmed me and I feverishly wondered what to do? And, it seems, he came up with... Sveta!

Her name suddenly surfaced in me, because Sveta is not a man, and by definition I could not be jealous of a woman. Seconds later, a plan matured in my head: I will give the picture to Sveta.

- What if I give you to a woman? - I asked.

- Why a woman? “The night guest asked somewhat surprised.

I told her about the reasons, that it would be hard for me to give her into the hands of a man, knowing that she would belong to him, just like me.

— Okay,” she agreed, “give it to Sveta, just don’t tell her anything.”

- I promise. “I said, feeling myself increasingly sleepy.

For a few more minutes, I resisted the terrible drowsiness that came over me from nowhere, but in the end it overcame me. I passed out.

In the morning, I woke up alone on a rumpled bed. The picture hung in the same place and nothing except the rumpled bed, a few stains on the sheet, witnesses of the night's adventure, nothing else reminded me of the magical night. With a heavy heart, I took and rolled up the picture.

However, somewhere in me, the confidence grew that this was not the end of the story, but only its beginning...