Marina Kudryavtseva

Everything you are about to read below is true, a retelling of the words of a friend of mine.

I had a girlfriend for a while back then. I was still green — just turned 18, she was the same age. We were both into anime, which is how we actually met. After dating for a year, I had to leave for three months on business (what kind doesn't matter). Her name was Marina Kudryavtseva, she was insecure, abandoned by everyone, I picked her up and literally pulled her out of depression with affection, kindness, tenderness.

I should say that by that point we had already fucked like rabbits. Her ass, pussy, mouth — all of it participated in sex. She, by the way,

gave divine blowjobs, loved role-playing games, and was in a way a goddess to me, even though she looked like a stretched-out four out of ten.

So, I left. A month later, she sends me a text saying it's over, she gave herself to another guy because he "even skipped joining the army for her, and that was his dream!" It was as laughable as it was shocking to me at the time. I even thought about killing myself. But then, after fucking a couple of local girls (I had this trait — when I got dumped, I'd jump on anything that moved) I returned home and erased her from my life.

A couple of days later, she started suggesting we become friends. Of course — her new boyfriend was a skinhead thug with absolutely no brains, though in some ways he was an okay guy, but clearly not one for listening to pretentious girly outpourings, and they fought every day.

At first, I consistently told her to go to hell, i.e., to fuck off.

But, six months later, it turned out her boyfriend did get drafted into the army (well, duh — no brains, has health, didn't get into any school — perfect candidate). I had a slight laughing fit — of course, such a heroic sacrifice fell through! And literally a couple of days later, I started pushing to become friends with her.

She poured a bunch of "how unhappy and romantic I am" tears on me again, but now I was aiming for a goal — revenge. That sweet word...

And so, one day, when the amount we drank at another one of our hangouts went off the charts (I don't drink myself, so I was sober as a whistle, but she — on the contrary, even though like every glamorous airhead she swore she never touched anything stronger than candy liqueur) — I said I still loved her and wanted her.

She looked at me distrustfully, I stood up, loomed over her, literally pinned her to the chair and started kissing her, greedily and passionately. She always liked that before, and now I was especially wild — I was driven by malice.

She resisted weakly, after which, clearly shocked, she sat on the couch. I unzipped my pants and pulled out my already hard cock. Then, with a crooked smirk, I offered her to suck it. Muttering something weakly, she stared at my protruding dick. Moving closer, I shoved it into her mouth. (at that moment, I prayed to myself that she wouldn't bite — that had happened with her once before, thank god it turned out okay then)

Moaning, she started sucking it, trying to caress only the head, but I was pounding her throat almost to her tonsils. When she was already crying, I pulled out of her, she fell back, I tore off her top (though, I don't know what that female crap is called, maybe a camisole) — the fabric ripped — and exposed her breasts.

Cruelly squeezing her breasts — usually I massage gently, but this wasn't the case — I started calling her a whore, a slut, but it only aroused her, which is what I was aiming for. She took off her shorts and I started roughly pounding her pussy. She screamed — clearly she wasn't getting any pleasure from such rough fucking.

Opening her mouth slightly, I don't know why, probably from pain, or something else, and I didn't care at that moment, she started begging, "have mercy on my pussy, a little lower, sweetie, I love you after all..."

That angered me even more — she had run back to me again, ditching that "real man" — the skinhead, and wasn't even upset. I leaned towards her, as if for a kiss, and spat in her mouth. She stared at me in shock, and I, laughing, trying to tear her apart, tormenting her pussy with my fingers besides my cock, asked, what about the one in the army?

Then she started twitching, began screaming that he would come and kill me, I just kept squeezing her breasts, making her interrupt her threats with screams. Unexpectedly, she shut up and started thrusting back, and a couple of seconds later she came, throwing me into shock. Fuck, this was supposed to be a rape!

Pulling out my cock, I led her to the bedroom, knowing she had "battery-powered strong ones" there. She was crying, occasionally cursing me. I threw her on the bed, took two at once (she has three in total, but they're slightly smaller in diameter than my cock) and roughly shoved them in, almost completely. It was quite difficult — her pussy, though well-used, was tight, and the non-stop screaming... I don't know why the neighbors didn't call the cops.

After that, I rubbed my dick against her tightly clenched lips and came on her face and breasts, wiped the remains off on her tits, and spat on her face a couple of times. Then I tied her to the bed with sheets (poorly, but enough for half an hour), turned the vibrator to max, got dressed, and left.

After that incident, I never saw her again. At all. I don't know what happened to her, it's been 7 years, and there's been no word, no trace of her...

Author's e-mail: аlislis6@mаil.ru