Читать книгу Your mother's diary. Erotic stories - Алексей Аркадьевич Мухин - Страница 2

She stood in the elevator with her husband, shifting from foot to foot. A light summer dress, beautiful hips—no, rather an outright luxury! High heels, though she didn't really need them—such luxury didn't require support. She must have left her bra at home or at someone else's place when she got dressed in the morning and headed home—my imagination was running wild! Her tousled hair was in the most perfect order. My favorite chestnut hair, large eyes, thin lips, and perfectly shaped face. Perfection could be described endlessly. I liked her a lot.

Too bad she wasn't alone. The man, probably her husband or the one whose place she left her bra at, clearly expressed ownership of this woman. His whole demeanor, his gaze, said, "This woman is mine! Don't even think about it! Mine!"

"She must feel nice there," I thought to myself as I mentally undressed her, running my hands all over. Everything was both soft and firm, tender and gentle, all at once… I could smell her. She was right not to use perfume. Scent is just as much information as hair color and nipples showing through a summer blouse… I got excited… Surely, she had a little bit of hair down there, but only a little. I stood there, imagining her underwear. The man glanced at me sideways.

"Probably her husband," I thought.

My thoughts were interrupted when she shuddered. She felt unwell. Her heart was hurting. She clutched her chest and whispered, "Oh God, it hurts!"

I’m a doctor and was on my way to work. I quickly commanded, "Step aside! I’m a doctor!"

I unbuttoned her blouse… It was a divine chest. Large, sensitive nipples, and all of it ended up in my hands! Her tousled hair brushed against my face… I was happy… But there wasn’t much time to enjoy the moment. She was genuinely unwell. Her husband stood aside, clearly at a loss… I performed chest compressions—I'm a massage therapist—and she began to feel better. To reinforce my work, I kept caressing her chest. I indulged myself a bit. Gave myself a little celebration. Our eyes met from time to time, and I could see that she enjoyed it, and it seemed she understood that I was getting carried away.

"Fuh…" she sighed. She looked at me and smiled. Feeling awkward, she quickly buttoned up her blouse. Her husband helped. I explained what had happened. They thanked me and left.

My workday had never started like that in an elevator! Should I bring a massage table here and not go to work at all?

"Amusing," I thought.

For a while, I didn’t think about anything else. It was like a flash. And I think… I’m a bit damp in my underwear… I really enjoyed it.

Such a woman! I was deeply captivated by that encounter. An unusual idea came to mind. I had never done this before, but… hmm, I decided to write a story about what could have happened next if it had continued… I probably won’t ever see her again. But I wrote it, and to my surprise, I met her again. By chance. A summer café. She was sitting and drinking coffee. Nothing special about that, but you know, such a woman does everything with luxury—reaching for the cup, wiping her lips with a napkin, looking around—everything with grace, charm, allure.

"Oh, doctor! How are you? You saved me that day. You know, I…" she smiled broadly; she was pleasantly surprised to see me again… I melted. A divine smile. How do people find such women, how do they win them over? I don’t know.

"I was passing by. I see you… Summer is just beginning to take hold, but already all the outdoor terraces are open… and it's really nice here," I tried to keep the conversation going and show that I wasn't completely overwhelmed by seeing her… I dared to give her my story. You'll soon understand why this was a bold move. "This is for you… I… I thought that if we met again, how it might be. So I wrote a story."

"A story dedicated to me?" She smiled and raised her eyebrows. She took my story.

I sat down. I waved to the waiter to come over. She took the sheets of paper and started reading…

"‘Only people like this know how to love,’ I thought… After that incident, I made it a habit to grope the local girls during their appointments. As a good doctor, I had many high-profile patients, and they often came to see me. I developed several techniques to undress a woman, which I practiced from time to time. Sometimes their husbands were present. I explained everything so plausibly that there was nothing they could latch onto. I even started to think that they liked it, the husbands, I mean."

I needed to forget her, and I couldn’t think of another way.

She glanced at me. Her look was reproachful, but she continued reading.

And so, one day, I was sitting in my office. It was an unremarkable day. The appointments were over. I was already packing up my briefcase when someone knocked on the door. A man entered, wearing a dark coat and a hat.

I was surprised—why a hat? Why a coat? The weather was warming up outside, at most a raincoat. He sat down.

"I didn’t offer you a seat," I delicately noted.

"It’s fine," he replied coolly and stared at me. He sat in the shadows, perhaps so I couldn’t see his face. Hat pulled low, scarf wrapped in a way that hid his chin.

There was a pause. I put my briefcase on the floor, sat down, and folded my hands, staring at the stranger.

He was silent. I was silent too.

We stared at each other for a minute or two, and then he blurted out, "Sleep with my wife!"

I was so startled that I jumped, but I thought—alright… I'll listen to the end. What a circus.

"Whose?" I replied.

He silently handed me some photos. I took them.

A woman. Naked. My favorite shapes. Every curve and line. Everything I love and that excites me so much. I was surprised! My breath caught immediately. I didn’t even notice that her facial features were hidden, either by my favorite chestnut hair or glasses, but with a body like that, it was hard to focus on her face—large, sensitive breasts, a neat stomach, hips, buttocks. Altogether, it looked incredibly striking.

The first woman who occupied my thoughts and drove out my previous love… I don’t even know her name! I was momentarily lost in thought.

"Hmm… the only person who can handle her," I continued my train of thought.

How could I not fall for it? It was impossible. For the first time, I felt happy and free from the feelings that had worn me out like a dog!

"I know what you do with women here, and… she wants you," the stranger interrupted my thoughts. "I won't object. She’ll be with me afterward anyway. I need her to let off some steam. You go in, don’t say anything, she’s in bed, you undress and lie down, then sex. That’s it. That’s the condition… We have this game."

His voice… it was so familiar, yet I had definitely never seen this person before. I leaned back in my chair and bit my lip, flipping through the photos again and again.

The stranger scribbled something on a piece of paper, stood up, and left.

I pondered. The idea was terrible… to say the least. Of course, part of the reason was that I had gotten carried away. Women were accessible. Husbands couldn’t do anything, and this guy even came himself. I decided to go! I threw the photos into my briefcase, left the office, and ordered a taxi.

The house, standing somewhat lonely by the roadside, looked rather grim. The darkness was impenetrable. At least there were some streetlights, though they were dim.

– Morning will come, and the house will probably be entirely black – I thought as I looked at the building.

It was somehow gloomy there. My taxi gave a few beams of light from its headlights and left, and again… darkness, gloom, and sadness. Well…

I approached, opened the heavy doors of the entrance, and went inside. There was no elevator, so I walked up to the second floor. I found the needed apartment, number 79, but the door was already ajar. I entered. Twilight. Someone was in bed, the moon peeked through the curtains, casting shadows on the table and drapes. I undressed and lay down. A gentle sensation, a warm woman. She moaned and started touching me. It seemed to me that I had felt these breasts before, but then, recalling a stranger's words, I realized, yes – I had felt them before. She moaned and said nothing else. Her movements synchronized with mine. I spread her legs and entered her. She moaned even louder, but didn’t utter a word. I finished and lay back. I started talking after sex. I tend to talk a lot. Then I fell asleep. I woke up several times and through my sleep, I saw that she seemed to get up and get dressed, then lay down again. At night, I woke up and decided to run my hand over her face, but my hand felt some kind of moisture and a strange smell, and she was cold, unusually cold. I got up and turned on the light… before me lay a corpse in blood.