The older you become, the clearer and more clearly the childhood memories are presented. It happens that an event inspired by any association, just like a film, pops up in the eyes of an event experienced at a tender age, trembling, cheerful or sad, but always exciting soul, because memory returns us to the long-departed world of childhood.
Somehow, passing through the summer village to my site, I saw a boy and a girl through a picket fence of an alien garden, ten years old, twelve, they played Badminton. Suddenly the girl caught the oxen, put a racket to the ground and shouted:
– Stop game! Wait, I’m now! Just don’t peep after me!
She disappeared behind the bushes near the fence. The boy was not visible, and through the foliage and the picket fence, I saw how she lifted her skirt, pulled off her panties and crouched for little need. Children often, carried away by the game, suffer to the last, until then that there is no longer urine to run to the toilet.
And then I remembered that when I was little, our daughter grew up for a year younger than me. Her name was Anya. Our parents went to work directly from the cottage, and we were left in the care of Anina’s grandmother, who usually didzed all day in a chair on the veranda. Anya and I played in our garden.
Once we played the same way, and Ana was impatient with pi-spi. She, not embarrassed by me, immediately lifted the dress (there were no panties on it), crouched and wrote right on the track. I looked with curiosity at a gurgling golden and sparkling stream that pouring from a small crack. The stream was not like mine, round, similar to a lace. She pulled out from there flat, like a ribbon, and then, as it were, twisted and, expanding down, broke down with splashes on the ground.
A stream ran along the path, gathering in a puddle, which more and more spread on solid ground. I was wondering if she would soak her sandals. No, I didn’t soak. The stream became thinner, then turned into droplets, then, pulsing, burst out a few more times and that’s it.
Anya got up, pulled a dress and looked at me slyly.
– What do you see how girls piss?
I shook my head a little embarrassed.
– And show me how the boys piss.
Having been hesitated, I overcame shame, took out my pipes from my panties and began to push, because I did not want to write. Finally I managed to squeeze out a trickle. Anya squatered closely near me and watched this process with interest. She caused a special delight when I shake off the last drops.
– Good for you, boys, ”she said, rising to her feet. – You have such a thing… And you can stand.
A year later, we rested again in the country. Anina Grandmother was still asleep on her veranda, and we played in our garden. Once Anya boasted:
– And I learned to write standing, – she probably overflowed the bladder again overflowed. – You want to show?
– Yeah, – I answered.
Anya raised the hem of the dress and clamped it with a chin. She spread her legs slightly, spit forward her ass, pulled the corner of her crack up with her middle finger, and spread her lips with the index and nameless. The stream really sprayed at a slight angle. I even saw a hole in the pink gap between the lips from which it poured. But in the end, when the pressure was weakened, she nevertheless soaked her legs.
– This is because I didn’t really want to write, – Anya justified. – When I really want to, I can not piss my legs.
I shrugged, not knowing whether to express admiration for her skill or not to express.
The next day, during the game, I myself wanted to do a little. I did not run to the back yard to the toilet, but walked aside and poured the trunk of Antonovka. Anya I was not shy, since we had such a trusting relationship. While I was defecated, she came up to me and watched this process. I shook off the drops and was about to remove my tool, but Anya stopped me.
– Let me touch me, ”she asked.
I did not object, only set the condition:
– And then you.
Anya nodded, stroked her test testicles with her hand, it was just horrified to what a nice. Then she took up the segregic, and he quickly began to get excited.
– Happy you boys, ”she complained again. – You are all so interesting. And we have a hole and a hole, PFI!
– You promised me to let the PFI touch, ”I reminded.
– Please, – she readily raised the hem. – What to touch there? I would be a boy, I would have played all day with my little thing!
I touched her lips with my finger. They were chubby, delicate and elastic. Obviously, touch gave her pleasure because she made a movement to meet me.
– And you play with your pussy? – She asked.
– Nope! – I hastened to assure.
But it was not true. I often scratched eggs, and I scratched them, sitting on a push in the toilet. And now I just have itching a tense seam.
– Do you know how children appear? – Anya asked again.
– Of course, – I answered.
Theoretically, I already knew a lot from my peers.
– And me too. Here your children live, – either Anya explained either, or explained my testicles again in the palm of my hand.
– Not kids, but sperm, – I corrected with a view of a connoisseur.
– But you can look at them?
– But as? – I did not understand.
– Sveta told me that if the boy is scribbled for a long time, she would begin to sake spermatozoides. Let’s try?
Honestly, I was a little scared. After all, this can only adults.
– Oh, I don’t know, it’s probably impossible… This is not harmful?
– Sveta says, not harmful, but rather useful. Boys need to get rid of extra spermatozoa, otherwise they will not have any children. And Sveta knows everything – she studies in the ninth grade!
Anya already clenched my head with her fist and shifted and pushed the foreskin on her. It was so nice that I could not stop her. She did not have to wait for a long time, my first ejaculation occurred pretty soon. I splashed her hands and dress, she examined what fell on her palm, even sniffed and tried her tongue.
– And no sperm is visible ..
– They are small, they probably can only be seen in a microscope.
– Here, you see how you are, the boys are all interested in. You have a pussy and rises and shoots, you can do this every day ..
With a sigh, she was silent a little.
– And you know, I can also be able.
– Write? – I did not understand.
– No, sip. Here look. True, this does not always happen. Maybe now it will work out.
She again lifted up the dress and began to quickly and quickly and quickly tug the corner of her crack. After a couple of minutes, she twisted and even cried out, and several small streams sprayed from the crack, rather, even, droplets.
– Here, I saw?
– Yeah. Great! – This actually brought me to strong ecstasy then. – But let’s go like that tomorrow?
– Let’s. Just come together and everyone for yourself, okay? Let’s see who will work faster.
– Yeah.
– Vitalik! We continue the game!
The voice returned me to reality. The girl for the picket fence ran out from behind the bushes, pulling the dress on the move. She ran up to the boy, took her racket, and they again stuck. And I strode to my site.
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