Description of sex story: Romantic Love Stories and Beautiful Sex
– Darling… Sun…
Hugged… Her face was wet from tears. He pulled her to the wall, leading to the crowd of people.
– Why did you leave without waking me up? She hid her eyes and wiped them with a handkerchief.
“I don’t like farewells, dear,” he himself hardly forced to say himself inconsistently. – But there will be no farewell, there will only be short separation. After all, you will come?
– I’ll come… I will definitely come…
She was childishly gullibly buried with a cool nose on his cheek, and he squeezed her in his arms again. It seemed that eternity passed before he opened them.
“I have to go,” he kissed her lips, and she impulsively and a little hastily answered him the same, “Remember me and our meeting. I don’t need anything else.
“I will remember,” she answered hotly. – And don’t forget…
Continuing to hold her hand, he took a step back. More and one more. She did not let his fingers go, and their hands rose to the shoulder level and stretched out into the same line. He remembered a dream on the train on the way here. Everything was just like in a dream, when he stood on the bridge over the abyss, held only by her hand, and they moved towards each other, with the only difference being that everything was exactly the opposite: he was moving away from her, as if someone was someone -To in a slowdered repeat scrolled a film back. Hands opened, he turned and joined the crowd again. "Leaving, don’t look back" – The lines in memory surfaced again, this time it is not clear where he heard them. He did not look back, although he almost physically felt her gaze. Passing the glass doors of the first control, he immediately felt at some nervous level how their invisible contact was interrupted. Now it was pointless to look back – you still won’t see anything. Nevertheless, a good rule is not to let anyone on the platform except passengers, ”a slightly selfish thought flashed again.
Well, at least there will be no fragile figure standing on gray asphalt and slowly floating into the distance. Without linger, he entered the carriage and found his compartment. It seems that so far he will be the only passenger. So even better. Leaning sideways against the wall, he suddenly felt some kind of extraneous object in his pocket. I launched a hand there and fished out a pack of photos. The heart clogged with rapidly. He was there and she and the day before yesterday against the backdrop of the architectural ensembles of the city. And a small note – "A surprise for a surprise. Let everything be fair!"
A lingering beep, and a pleasant female voice spread through all the wagons:
– Dear passengers! Our fast train sets off in ten minutes. We wish you a pleasant trip….
A little later, the interior was filled with familiar chords of the old song of the group "Sunday", And he, looking at the Gray Station, smiled at himself, smiled to himself in the clubs of the blue smoke:
Everything was already in the world, but this is not enough.
Everything passed and it all started first.
But what has gone will not be able to return,
And if you leave forever, hurry to look back…
The fast train confidently gained move, swinging luggingly from side to side, and, comfortably settling on his beloved upper shelf, slowly rustled photos, smiling at his own thoughts.
From the author
According to the unwritten laws of writing at the beginning or at the end of any work, it is customary to write that all the events displayed in it are nothing more than the author’s fiction, all the heroes are also the fruit of his imagination, and any coincidence with real people by chance. At my own peril and risk, I will violate this rule, and I will say that this story is written in real events, and its few characters are also quite real. I – one of them, I think, is quite clear which. The story that formed the basis of the story is much more complicated, confusing and multifaceted, it is just its pale shadow. However, the story itself, unlike the story, is not yet over. As the author, I will allow myself to hide where the truth ends and fiction begins. Maybe this will be able to determine you, dear readers? Perhaps many of you, reading this peculiar "The pen of the pen", learn in the heroes of the story of themselves. Who knows… In general, I will be happy to listen to your criticisms and if possible I will try to answer.