Who am I?
I want to tell you about an acquaintance of mine (Maria from St. Petersburg), whom I met at a hotel while vacationing abroad in one of the Arab countries. A little over 30, with curvy hips, a waist, and no side rolls at all—I wish I could look like that in about ten years.
One evening we were dancing on one of the many dance floors on the hotel grounds. In the morning at breakfast, we said hello and sat at the same table, then went sunbathing together. She had come alone, just like me, with the only difference being that her husband was supposed to join her in a week due to work commitments. One evening, after getting quite drunk at the bar, she suggested, "Let's go to your place, buy a couple more bottles of martini and juice, and go to your room," while she anxiously looked around. I agreed, and there we were in my room, getting more and more tipsy, feeling closer and closer to each other, our conversations more and more frank. "You know why I don't want to go back to my bungalow?" Maria asked me. "I'll tell you, but let's have another glass first." So, on the first evening of the vacation, intoxicated by freedom, the sea, the sun, dancing, and alcohol, I accepted men's attention, flirted with them a little, but nothing more. And when their heated ardor became harder and harder to control, I decided to slip away quietly, to do a disappearing act.
The hotel grounds aren't small; even in daylight, I hadn't explored them all. But there I was, darting into the darkness between some buildings, structures, and trees. After some time, I realized that without help, I wouldn't find my way back to my bungalow. After wandering for a while, I heard voices, went towards the sound, and saw two men from the service staff. As best I could, I explained to them in my drunken sign language that I wanted to get to my bungalow. They looked at the number on my key and readily offered to escort me. When we reached the room, I wanted to give them 5 bucks, but seeing that I was living alone and was quite merry, one of them stroked my butt. Turning around to put the jerk in his place, I miscalculated the movement's amplitude, I swayed and almost fell if he hadn't caught me and pulled me close. Meanwhile, his hands were already openly kneading my rear.
Did I want a man? Yes, I did, but definitely not him. So I fought back and would have fought him off if the second one hadn't come to help. There was no point in screaming; music was blaring outside, the bungalow was a bit off to the side, and everything in it belonged to me. Unsurprisingly, I was soon stripped of my clothes and groped by four hands. Then everything was like in a movie: one holds my hands, the other grunts on top of me, they switched, they wanted to put it in my mouth, it didn't work, then after finishing on my face, they left, grinning and showing each other pictures on their phones. After they left, I stood under the shower for a long time, then had a restless sleep. In the morning, waking up and seeing cigarette butts in the ashtray, I realized it wasn't a drunken delusion. Feeling despondent, after breakfast, I bought a bottle of brandy and got drunk in my room until lunchtime. I woke up from something touching my lips, opened my eyes, and saw one of yesterday's bastards rubbing his dick against my face, but instead of the second one, there was another, very young guy, staring wide-eyed at this, while fumbling in his own pants. A feeling of apathy washed over me. I obediently opened my mouth, took the first one's dick, then the second one's. Satisfied orally, they left.
After brushing my teeth, I went to the beach. The evening continued at the disco. Returning to my room, I saw four locals inside. And it started spinning—sometimes two at a time, in different ways, but the end was always the same: they'd show that I needed to open my mouth wide, stick out my tongue, and they'd come, come, come. After a couple of days, the hotel staff started pointing at me and saying something to each other in their language, grinning. Now, often without asking, opening my room with their keys, they would use me. It got to the point where, while watching football on TV in my room, they drank beer, paying no attention to me. I was on all fours on the bed, someone behind me was thrusting into me without looking, watching TV, then casually waved his hand for me to open my mouth and stick out my tongue, came inside me, and his place was taken by another. One morning, I decided to complain to the hotel administration, then thought, how would that look? For 5 days, anyone could have me however they wanted, and on the 6th day, I decided to protest? Very stupid. But my husband is coming soon,
"What should I do?" Maria asked me. "Anyway, this is payback for my sins, God is punishing me," Masha drunkenly proclaimed. "You know," she continued, "I was born in the backwoods, in a village. Everything as usual: a low-income family, wore older sisters' clothes, and so did everyone in the area. In 10th grade, I really loved my desk neighbor. We walked together, went to the movies when they brought a club to town on weekends. And then, to the next street over, a girl our age was brought from the capital of our Motherland for re-education, away from the bad city crowd. Her name was Olga. She started studying in our class—fashionable, with money, full of herself, behaving provocatively, pointedly dismissive with the girls and flirting with the guys. Why? She didn't need them. My desk neighbor ran after her like a little dog. The girls were angry; I cried and wanted to kill her, then gave up and started living a normal life, but inside it gnawed at me. I wanted to show my ex-boyfriend who she was and who he traded me for."
One day, my friend suggested a plan: for a week, we'd pretend to be really close with her, then invite her for a barbecue with beer, spike the beer with vodka, and when she got wasted, we'd call a couple of guys from the village and they'd fuck her. I liked the idea, but to pull it off, we needed two weeks of running errands for her, listening to her stories about life and city parties with our mouths agape. And so the long-awaited day arrived. Evening, armed with an amateur camera (this was in the 90s, no camera phones), the two of us were grilling kebabs, bringing them to her, not forgetting to top up her beer with vodka. Olga's speech became more and more slurred, she lost coordination, laughed a lot, but kept drinking. My friend nodded—it's time—and I ran to the village to the familiar guys. I got there, the house was closed. A neighbor said they'd gone fishing. I walked back, almost crying—it was all for nothing, all for nothing, all my pocket money went on that otter. Walking back, chewing the grilled meat I managed to grab, a neighbor's dog tagged along. I fed him, and he trotted after me, not leaving me alone.
My friend suggested, "Let's extort money from the Muscovite, set a condition that she gives up your boyfriend and doesn't go near him." By that time, I didn't need him anymore—why would I want someone like that? But the anger towards her remained. So in the evening, we called her for a talk. She followed us silently. My friend showed her the photos and said ultimatively that Olga should come to her bathhouse in an hour. My friend and I were already steaming when we heard a timid knock on the door. She came in, so beautiful, confused, and mumbling something. My friend lay down on the bench in
the bathhouse, spread her legs, and ordered her to lick. How Olga resisted—you had to see it. My eyes popped out when she started moving her pink tongue between my friend's lips, and my friend moaned and said, "Try harder, deeper, you'll get a gift," and she tried. Then she licked me. After we were satisfied, she was told that now she had to come to our bathhouse every Saturday. Olga asked, "When will you give me the negatives?" "You'll get your gift," my friend said, "come on." We went into the stable. My friend said, "Suck the horse." She burst into tears. In the end, we settled on her just stroking the horse's dick for half a minute. What exactly happened there, I didn't see. I was holding the horse by the neck, Olga bent under it, the horse kicked and stepped on Olga's foot with its hoof. Oh, what a scene there was. My friend's father cursed us out for a long time, like, what the hell were we doing in the stable after the bathhouse. Olga was taken to the district hospital; she had a fracture. A week later, her parents took Olga back to Moscow. I never saw her again. I'm guilty and I want to ask for her forgiveness.
In the morning, both of us had headaches. Nevertheless, we went out for breakfast, talked little, didn't touch on the night's topics, there was an awkwardness. "I'll go to the room," Masha told me, "change for the beach, drink something for my headache." "Okay," I said, "let's meet on the beach, I'll save a lounger for you." However, she didn't come soon. "What's with you?" I ask her. "Did you fall asleep in the room? I've already been for a swim a couple of times." She's silent. "Well, what is it? What happened? Why so long?" "Yeah, I was sucking," she answered me angrily. "I was sucking off the cleaner in the room. As soon as he saw me, he didn't let me pack my bag, pulled down his pants, pressed his dick against my lips, and off we went. What, do you think I was delirious last night?" Masha, almost crying, said, "I don't know what to do." "You need to explain to them that your husband is coming," I suggested. "How do I explain to these bastards if I don't know any language? And as soon as we see them, my mouth is constantly occupied." I burst out laughing.
"Funny for you," Maria said wearily. "For me, I might as well go drown myself in the sea." I suggested she stay with me until her husband arrived. Maria agreed, "Only let's go to the bungalow together, I'll pack my things and cosmetics." After lunch, we went to her room. "Look," she nudged me in the side, "look, they're already sitting there, waiting, the studs." And indeed, three men were sitting on the bench by the bungalow, judging by their uniforms, employees of this hotel. They looked at us with interest; it was clear they were puzzled by my presence. "What should we do?" Maria whispered to me. "Let's walk past, and then somehow in the evening we'll pop in." "There's no point," I answered Masha. "Whoever in the hotel wants to fuck will constantly be lying in wait for you. Let's go now." And smiling at them as we passed, we entered the room. Maria started packing her things, creams, cosmetics, when there was a knock at the door. My friend froze,
I recognized one of them; he worked at the beach bar. No one looked in my direction. Then his place was taken by another, and Maria was given a dick in her hands and forced to jerk him off. From what I saw, I was in a stupor; a wave of excitement began to wash over me. Suddenly, the outside door slammed and another man entered. Seeing me, he pushed me into the room where the standing males stared now at me, now at him, chattered something in their native language, and couldn't come to a consensus. Masha, looking at me with a not entirely understanding gaze, said, "Don't leave." Trying to slip towards the door between two locals, I was pressed against, groped, my sundress was pulled up over my head, my butt was lifted, my panties were pulled down, and someone's dick was already poking between my legs. And then Masha and I were on all fours on the bed, facing each other, looking at each other while we were being fucked.
Well, the apotheosis of the evening was that they laid us on top of each other. Maria's shaved pussy was right in front of my face, and mine in front of hers. And so, from a distance of 2 cm, I watched as they fucked my friend, while someone fucked me from behind. The excitement was wild. And as soon as a guy was about to come, he pulled his dick out of Masha and poked it into my mouth, finished, and his place was taken by another. The same thing was happening with my friend. I don't know about her, but I experienced orgasm a couple of times. And then we were left alone. We lay there. She said matter-of-factly, "We need to change the sheets and air out the room." I suggested, "Let's go to my place, have a drink." Silently, we looked for our clothes and quietly went. After we drank, the tension eased. Masha started lamenting, "Forgive me, you got caught up in this because of me." I calmed her down as best I could, and only after a bottle of gin did we fall asleep. We slept until lunch, then went to the beach. Lying on the lounger, wanting some cold wine, I went to the bar. The bartender turned out to be my acquaintance from yesterday, who grinned at me, poured the wine, got some fruit from somewhere, and personally brought it to us on the beach. "At least some benefit," Maria remarked. We drank the wine, I went for a refill, and he, the bastard, poured it and pointed to his pants, making unambiguous movements with his lips. Taking the wine and showing him the middle finger, I left.
In the evening, Maria's husband arrived. He was cheerfully telling us something, showing photos of how he had vacationed. I thought to myself, "If only someone showed you photos of how Maria vacationed, it would paralyze you." The vacation was ending. Masha didn't tell me, but I know for sure that several times she was taken away and fucked. A couple of times I saw her returning from the toilet and rinsing her mouth. Once I noticed dried drops of semen on her face. Telling my friend about this, I got a wave of indignation. In the end, admitting that I must have imagined it, everything calmed down. We parted just as silently, exchanging contacts. I visited Maria's page a few times, wrote, but got no reply. Once she visited mine too, but that's another story.