Lover with tail – sex story

Author: Kostya Stanislavsky
Description of sex stories: sex stories and stories of indefinite topics

There was a wedding. The groom was a clear Mongoloid (Anatoly Ten-Pak); The bride (Lyudmila Kirovskaya) had blue eyes and white curls. At first there was internationalism. Subsequently, they differentiated: the Russians were mainly noisily and poorly rested on the left hand, and Koreans sat culturally and quietly, singing in chorus something, native, who did not say anything to the Russian ear.
In the middle of the night, young people undertook to disassemble gifts, leaving the mountains of wrapping paper on the sides of the mountain. In the middle of the gifts was a black hairline, moving shaky and stupidly, leaving quite symbolic puddles on the floor, dressed in a golden necklace, consisting of thin records, on one of which was engraved: "I am Marseille. I wish you happiness", And the current date. In a small inlaid box, everything was attached to everything else, where the full name of the animal was listed: Marseille-Habib-Mormone-Manuel Micado-Menelai. It was the beginning. Who was given to know the further?..

Anatoly Ten-Pak was a successful entrepreneur of local significance. He was closely associated with mafia structures, giving some of his income humans to the target: the content of lawyers, people who have stumbled, borneal, languishing in places of imprisonment. Russian girl with a flagrant Basurman surname, namely, Lyudmila Ten-Pak, tried to organize her own fitness. But something did not work out there, and the colossal ideas associated with this disgraced like unfortunate cities, devoted to fierce elements. Marseille’s dog grew in a black-and-thorough with a purple tint of a furry giant, endowed with a languid swarming look of a morphinist, a slobbering mouth and a severity.

And here another, fourth participant in the described events appeared, which subsequently forced his sinister role, to say some kind of good word. Once Anatoly Ten-Pak brought to the house "Mauser" with a wooden holster attached to it, covered with dilapidated varnish. Once, perhaps, this weapon belonged to a certain unknown beginning or a nurse who had a glorious comrade in the person of a given weapon. Anatoly acquired it, Mauser, as antiques, nothing more. He fastened the gun to his lower back – and as he was a very Asian, and he was small – if not more, if it was more, it looked ridiculous enough: one could guess who was fastened to who – either a person to a pistol, then Lee vice versa. That is how Luda Ten-Pak thought, rolling, as they say, with laughter, not expressing anything out loud.

The emotional state of Anatoly at that time sometimes left the best. He was visited by the attacks of dumb depression, his face was drowned in gloom.

Without realizing it himself, he began to feel life as an exorbitant, a long competition with the highest mind, which was cooled in essentially, where either he is you, or you… But everything was a foregone conclusion. According to emotional intensity, all this was very reminiscent of the night winter Czech at the cemetery, whose participants mainly left his mind for a long time. Is it still necessary to talk about what force the conflict grew inside Anatoly, threatening to absorb it, to break it in half. In addition, the fierce meteorism of the intestine was discovered. He entered the house and immediately stumbled upon a television working at full power, from the screen of which sometimes a existing abomination rushed, where a rather noble type of girl shared their observations of their own ovulation, sometimes devoting a random viewer into completely worthless, disgustingly small details of this process… Anatoly extinguished the TV, sat down and was sometimes silent until two hours in a row.

Now about the dog. Anatoly disliked him from the very moment when, waking up from sleep, on the way to the bathroom, with a naked foot crushed something cool and slippery on the floor, which turned out to be dog shit. Growing up, the dog on a well -deserved basis began to demand for himself the status of a full -fledged family member. However, Anatoly could not agree with this. He touched the dog from time to time, the rest of the time he simply ignored him. He achieved his: Marcel, in turn, ignored him. They behaved inside the apartment as if one of them did not exist: they seemed to be able to go through each other, not at all disturbed by this. Naturally, all this with a share of tension. Lyudmila, on the contrary, spoiled the animal in every possible way. She had a habit, tilting low, to substitute the dog’s lips, which he had been playing with champing. Once the dog disappeared. Lyudmila was not her own, did not sleep, ran around the city and glued numerous ads trimmed with fringe. At the reward, once at dusk, the phone rang, announcing that the dog was found by requesting a tidy sum, and in dollars.

Attention, close climax.

With the onset of spring, the first serious sun, when the earth began to proceed with a light fleet and fresh air, without burning, as before with a cold, Anatoly bloomed together with nature. He felt in himself a certain Dionysius, a bacchanal of blood, when life seemed to have only an endless future, the past was completely excluded: his head without a tail. He went home in this mindset. He opened his keys, not naming (for example, however, he always acted). Without lifting the noise in the hallway, dressing plush slippers, he headed for the rooms. He stood in front of his wife’s room; The door was locked, some suspicious sounds rushed from behind the door, reminiscent of a sports at home. Without finding himself, Anatoly brought his ear. Lyudmila, – it was audible, – she moaned lightly; Another extraneous, apparently bodily fuss; Noisy dog shortness of breath. In one motion, wide Anatoly opened the doors.

He sawed a terrible shallow: resting his open hands in the windowsill, Lyudmila stood, throwing the floor of the bathrobe from behind the floor that it seemed naked to the very lower back; Behind her, he settled in the position of a forever hurrying lover, the dog Marseille, who opened his mouth, hanging to the side of the flap of the tongue. Further actions of Anatoly were as if dictated from above (subsequently he emphasized this in court). He went to the chest of drawers, put forward several boxes in a row (forgot where) before he found the desired. With a Mauser in his hand, he went to the prodigal who was already sitting separately, waiting for everything, but not that. Lyudmila raised her guilty, red face, which suddenly distorted a dumb, stuck question when they shot at her. Marseille tried to bite Anatoly with an ill -winging growl, but he struck him. After all, throwing a heavy, heated Mauser into an empty bed, Anatoly went for some reason to wash his hands, but the water supply was only a noisy and sipple exhale.

He sat in the kitchen and drank cognac directly from the bottle, wiping his lips with his palm in the business of the bearer. Did he act correctly? If there was a stranger man here, there would be no doubt. But what happened is … It’s a shame, it’s wild! What people say? After all, they all always know. Maybe it was not worth doing so extremely? Perhaps it was necessary to kill one dog? After all, it is possible that he – and not her, – tried to forcefully master it. Although he could prudently raise her robe with his paws, it is profitable to put her?.. Did she really have little? Or it was not only that I had?.. You can endlessly look for the guilty, – so thought Anatoly, drunk in a peculiar way, hard and frowning, not the way he would like.

He appeared on the street, armed and drunk, a wooden holster fought against his knees, getting confused in his legs, interfering with a step. He shot an article on the path of an attentive Rottweiler with a ridge – moreover, this scene was crushed and motionlessly watched by the owner of the dog, walking nearby. Then he caught the eye of a certain copious dog pair, linked between him purely tightly, bewildered and deplorable. It is possible that such a dog embarrassment was once observed by one children’s writer, after which, inspired, he came up with a festamagoric creature of the Tani, walking on four legs, with a body ending on both sides by two heads acting inconsistently, by the way. Anatoly Otraz laid this unfortunate couple in love, shaking in the air with his awkward gun, laughing loudly – as if he managed to hit the world evil in his very root. He went to the police, give up.

He completely lost sight of the gun with him – therefore, another criminal article was automatically added. The court, of course, took into account the state of affect in which he was at the time of the execution of his household. In general, he treated softly, with understanding. In prison, he believed in God Jehovah, after a certain preacher walked through the cameras, giving everyone beautiful books with pictures.

I visited the prison in the early morning, the guard was still yawning. I was seated in a date room. After some time they introduced him. It was emphasized, a courteous, warning Asian with a little shaved head. He reminded me of a Buddhist monk. He immediately told me his story, he did not have to beg. He was very lamented that he buried the killed by him inadequate, having done it somehow too consuming, not the way it could be done. He, with some kind of rapture, outlined me with a wide double coffin (existing innocent) of expensive wood with brass handles along the edges, its bottom is covered with white feather beds, wildflowers, and then, side by side are two: man and dog. "Let them lie together. After all, they loved each other. I don’t mean vulgarity. You understand", He said and cried. But then his face cleared up. He began to tell me a fairy tale that in some future the land would be updated, become virgin, and all the dead – people and animals – will be resurrected, rejoiced, and Jehovah will watch and be touched on all this on top. His fantasy – including a double coffin with a dog – seemed to me too turbulent. But I did not argue with him, to inspire him with his own credo: in the end, which of us was truly right?..

These are Shakespeare’s passions. Specifically as if for cattlefits.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Designed with WordPress