Love from the first click. Romance, sex story

Description of sex story: Romantic Love Stories and Beautiful Sex

More and more often he began to think about how to arrange their meeting. Her city was far enough, so otherwise, on the weekend, it did not work out. She enthusiastically accepted his idea, but because of the mutual employment, the prospect of the meeting was moved away for an indefinite period. Deciding for himself that it was better to wait for the heat, he figured out how much the trip would cost and began to save money in December.
Never interested in the weather, he began to carefully read the forecast coming to his mailing address. Winter in her city turned out to be extremely harsh, and the long -awaited warming was only in April. During this time, according to his estimates, he sent her at least fifty letters and about the same number of postcards. And she wrote less and less. Once he could not stand it and asked why, and she referred to employment and workload for her studies. Her silence became longer, he did not know what to do, lost his guesses, quietly suffered in single evenings, but did not dare to ask directly. When Winter finally went on a decline in his city, he felt that it was also more difficult for him to write to her. Their correspondence began to resemble a monologue more and more – long letters from it and short ones – from it. At the beginning of spring, joyful news came – his friends who lived in the same city as she did not mind that he stopped at them. He immediately hastened to please her and they agreed when to come to him. But something in her letters began to alarming him. Preserving almost everything that she had ever sent to him, he often re-read her letters, and felt how their tone gradually changed with joyful and cornfield.

III (backstory is over)

… A faint click of modem announced the transition to the Off-Line mode. The man behind the screen did not react to this. From the side it might seem that he fell asleep. But now he sighed heavily and resolutely turned off the computer. The room plunged into impenetrable darkness.

He had the Internet at home again, but this brought only suffering. She continued to be silent, although he saw that his messages were being read. He specifically sent her letters in postcards so that he would receive notifications of reading. Today, like every evening over the past days, he entered the network just to see if there was an answer from her. There was no answer.

Despite the late hour, I did not want to sleep at all. From experience, he already knew that he would have a sleepless night. Only short predawn watches will bring a short oblivion filled with ghostly images and nightmares. And then there will be a day filled with thoughts about her. And again a lonely evening and a sleepless night…

He tried to pull himself together. Even regretted that he did not smoke: at least something could be distracted. Brewing tea in the kitchen, he noticed how his hands tremble. They were beaten by a small non -stop trembling, as if an old man or an alcoholic. "Quite a roof rides" – flashed the thought. He sat and drank a hot tea cup behind a cup, but an icy block inside him seemed to grow. His gaze settled on a radio -telegon standing in the corner. The gracefully curved black tube seemed to him a curled animal, ready to rush straight into his face. He shook his head, driving away an obsessive vision. But with the help of a phone, he could hear her right now! But he knew that he would not dare to wake her.

The cup fell out of his fingers and with a deafening ringing scattered into hundreds of small pieces. He shuddered. But to remove it was higher than his strength. Carefully stepping over the fragments, he went into his room.

That night he cried for the first time. For the first time in many years, like a little boy, curled up in his bed and hiding his face in a pillow. He had no one to be ashamed. He was alone in the apartment and one in the middle of a multimillion -dollar city.


The days no longer stretched, but came and left their usual turn. On one of the first sunny spring days, he suddenly remembered that it would soon be six months old from their acquaintance. Not hoping for anything, he wrote a short congratulation to her, chose a card with a luxurious bouquet of flowers and sent to the address that had long learned by heart.

The whole next day, the day of their peculiar anniversary, she did not leave his head. In the evening, sitting in front of a shimmering monitor and savoring his favorite beer variety, he again re -read her letters. The waves of light intoxication pleasantly circled the head. It seemed to him that he seemed to be transferred to the past when they talked and could not part for hours. Like it seems to have recently been all and where did this gaping gap between them come from?

A sharp trill of a phone call forced him to start. How out of the time! He did not want to hear anyone again. But, a little hesitant, he picked up the phone.

– I’m listening to.

– Hello Darling…

Something broke inside him. Reason refused to believe in the reality of what was happening, and as if someone had a hand lay on his throat, clutching and not allowing to speak. He jumped frantically, overturning his chair and did not even notice this.

– Hello! Can you hear me?

– Yes, I hear! My God, this is a surprise! – He almost screamed and immediately caught himself, spoke quieter. – Where have you lost all this time?!

It was her. The last two weeks she had been completely crazy – strained at work, plus a session at the university. And then the best friend gets married.

– I wrote you a letter, I will send you tomorrow, and now I decided to make you a gift so that you would not miss you very much. You know, I figured out things faster than I thought. So when you arrive?

They talked a little more and said goodbye, wishing each other good night. Hanging the telephone, he looked at the monitor for some time, where the text of her letters was already replaced by a color screensaver, after which he did something that he never did-he ran half a room and jumped to the ceiling.

He felt an incredible surge of energy. Hastily throwing a tracksuit, he locked the apartment and jumped out onto the landing. Impatiently poked into the elevator button, he rushed down the steps, without waiting for him. Rushing past the frightened watchman, he jumped out into the street. Rare at this late hour, passers -by scaredly shied away from him in different directions, and he fled along the asphalt path, breathing in the fresh evening evening air. The pure sky shone affably with a scattering of silver stars, and one of them suddenly fell down, drawing an elegant luminous trace through a half -neb. He hastily made a desire, not doubting for a second what to wish, and continued his spontaneous evening run, this time moving calmly and leisurely.

That night, for the first time in recent days, he fell asleep tightly and without dreams, barely taking his head to the pillow.


The long -awaited meeting was in three weeks, and he was looking forward to the remaining days. The imagination painted a variety of pictures of a possible meeting, and he could not force himself not to think about it, although he was well aware that he was not allowed to predict what would actually happen. Fearing to jinx, he did not tell anyone to anyone. Walking for hours after work on the central street of his city, he thought to give her a meeting of a meeting, which was most likely destined to become the first and last. Only now he understood how little he knows about her. Most of the information concerned her inner world, but he had no idea what she was fond of, what she likes to do in her free time, what objects at school she liked and which ones did not. Small fragile strings, from which a large canvas is folded, on which the personality of a person is drawn… There were so few of them, and he was afraid to break or damage them with a careless movement. And the less time it remained for thought, the more he panicked, not knowing what to choose. During the last preliminary conversation on the phone, he, as if jokingly, asked her what to bring her, hoping that he would hear at least a hint, but only heard in response "Bring yourself, but I don’t need anything else".

And yet he made a choice. He called his close friend, with whom he was already familiar for many years, and told her everything from beginning to end. This was the first person to whom he completely opened in real life, not afraid that they would not understand him. She listened carefully to him, without interrupting, after which she thought.

“You know,” she finally interrupted the protracted silence, “in your situation, not the gift itself is important, the attention itself is important. You yourself doubt how important you occupy in her life. But if you want her to remember you, you need to give something that she often used it and every time she remembers who it is from.

Then they went shopping together for a long time. She took an active part in the choice, and he finally gave her the whole initiative. Returning home late in the evening, he hoped that they did not make mistakes. In his bag lay a small box of thick cardboard, in which there was… However, for that, after all, a surprise, is it not so?

In the last week before the long -awaited weekend, as luck would have it, it was charged with rains. Cyclone covered half-Europe with dense clouds and there were no clarifications in the coming days. He wrote to her that he would come, even if a worldwide flood begins. But on Friday, the day of his departure, heaven, as if crying all the moisture, smiled at timid sunlight. Approaching the station building, it suddenly ended up in a fog – it was evaporated under bright sunlight. A light breeze slightly hesitated the columns of the steam rising to the sky, and it seemed to him, as if he was walking through the line of the genies, which unknown who and for what purpose he released to the will. The idea flashed that the only desire, the fulfillment of which he could demand from them would be in her city right now.

He got a place on the upper shelf. He did not like to ride trains, but if he fell into them by the will of fate, he always tried to occupy the upper shelf, where he spent most of the trip. His fellow travelers – two young guys – were already cut into cards with might and main. Having met them, he climbed into his place and began to look out the window or at the watch. He suddenly began to beat a nervous trembling, first threw it into heat, then in the cold. Suddenly the idea came to mind that he, perhaps, is the only one of all passengers now going to another country with such a romantic purpose.

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