My little one

He crashed into my life like a blazing meteor. Just like that—there was nothing, and then out of the blue. I was working at a godforsaken little newspaper back then, whose owner dreamed of sensations and had high hopes for me.

"Masha!" he would often say. "Your bright mind will surely lead us to success!"

That time, I was lucky enough to be conducting a journalistic investigation into recruitment for a rather notorious cult. I had to pretend to be a naive twenty-year-old girl and find myself some adventures.

I registered on their website and started posting the saddest, most melancholy texts in my profile that could possibly

be born from me, an incurable optimist. Sometimes I would reread my own fairy tales and even feel a little sorry for my lyrical heroine. The bait worked; I was invited to a private chat, and soon I was in a group of similarly sad people. Among all the sorrowful ones, a certain Pafnutiy stood out. He wrote a lot and passionately, trying to instill at least a drop of thirst for life in everyone. He joked, argued, tried to help with advice, money... Finally, we started messaging privately.

He told me he wasn't "one of them" either but wanted to help them, though he had initially joined out of curiosity. We got to talking, my investigation was completed, and that would have been the end of it if not for his sudden message. "Coming to your city, need to apply to university." Of course, I agreed to help him, but, oh god, I didn't know what to do. After all, he expected to see a girl his own age. And I was already thirty, damn thirty years old. And I liked talking to him in our correspondence. I wasn't ready for a face-to-face meeting, not ready at all.

I arrived at the station, of course, earlier. I stood on the platform and felt myself shaking from cold and terror. I had long only dated men my own age, with whom everything was simple and clear. As if prearranged. But this... Darkness.

I recognized him immediately. A tall, blue-eyed blond with a light bag over his shoulder jumped out of the train car and headed toward me, glancing at me sideways a bit. Something in my stomach plummeted downward, my breath caught, and—oh no!—I felt my nipples harden and painfully rub against the lace of my bra. I wrapped my cardigan tighter and tried to force a smile.

"Hi!" I said.

"Hi!" he said and kissed me on the cheek. "You have a car, right? I need to go here and here." He shoved a piece of paper under my nose.

"Got it," I replied. "Let's go."

And we walked to the car. Me a little ahead, him behind. I felt like I could sense his gaze. Full of disappointment. I needed to pull myself together. Now. I gathered my courage, and...

"Get in. How was the trip? Where do you want to apply? For what major? And where will you live?"

I chattered and chattered to somehow hide my embarrassment. Slowly, the ice between us began to melt.

"It's still very early. Shall we stop by a café?" I asked him.

"Sure. Just somewhere cheap."

We went into a coffee shop and sat at a table. Gradually, all the common topics we had talked about online surfaced, my companion became animated, started waving his hands, arguing loudly, frowning, thinking, laughing uproariously. He was impossibly handsome in his youth, audacious, insanely attractive in his maximalism and youthful naivety.

I listened to him with envy and delight. He was wise beyond his years. He easily rolled over me in all arguments about history, politics, technology, and I yielded to his pressure even when I was sure I was right. Time flew by unnoticed, and we drove to his university. I stayed waiting in the parking lot while he went to find the admissions office.

I blushed, quickly pulled my hand out from under my skirt, and pursed my lips in embarrassment.

"You're so fast," I said.

"Yeah, sorry."

I blushed even more.

"Where to now?" I asked without much hope.

"Help me choose a hotel for a couple of days," he said, smiling impudently.

We arrived at some terribly cheap hostel. He paid for the room and nodded his head, inviting me to enter. I shook my head and started mumbling something about needing to go home. His eyebrows shot up.

"Come on," he said, "I'll walk you to the car."

He sat in the passenger seat. We were silent for a bit. Then he looked at me and said:

"What's that on your cheek?"

And he leaned toward me, close-close. And then he burned me with the hot flame of his kiss. kkiss18.net I tried to pull away, but he grabbed the back of my head and held me tight. I started fighting back with my hands and finally jumped out of the car. I walked around the car and opened his door.

"Get out!" I barked, almost crying.

He grabbed my arm, pulled so hard that I plopped onto his lap on the front seat, pressed me against the glove compartment, and started unbuttoning my blouse.

"Stop! Please, stop!" I whispered, sobbing. "I can't do this, really, I can't."

He abruptly removed his hands.

"What the hell?" he roared. "How?"

"I know I'm already old for you and my body isn't girlish at all... You shouldn't do this out of pity."

"Are you stupid or what?" he yelled. "F... ck! Are you completely stupid? It doesn't get hard out of pity!"

He pushed me off his lap and covered his face with his hand.

"You're not twenty. Why are you so stupid?" he said wearily.

I sighed.

"I can't. Really. Unless you rape me," I tried to joke.

He looked at me with a heavy gaze and said:

"Fine. If you don't want to—suit yourself. I'm not some kind of maniac. Let's forget it. I probably misunderstood everything. I tore a button off your blouse. Let's go upstairs, you can sew it back on; I have a travel sewing kit with me. We can also think about where we can go for a walk around here. Just a walk." He looked at me meaningfully and smiled.

I also tried to smile.

"Yeah, you misunderstood."

We went up to the top floor. It was somehow damp, cold, and empty. The sounds were muffled by heavy old carpets on the floor and massive doors. He opened the door, pushed me inside, and quickly slammed it shut. From his heavy breathing, I understood that I was going to have sex today after all. He grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back. Pushed me onto the bed, pressed me down with his body, and with one hand pulled the belt from his pants. All this time, I tried to free myself, not trying too hard. I couldn't believe what was happening. How? Like this—I'm being raped? He folded the belt and lashed my thigh. It felt not like a belt but a red-hot rod. I cried out.

"It hurts!"

"Did you think you were in a fairy tale?" he sneered impudently. "If you don't want it to hurt, don't struggle." He tied my hands to the headboard with the belt.

He pulled off my skirt, then my tights and panties. Unbuttoned my blouse and bra. I tried to yank my hands free from the belt, to which he flashed an unfriendly look and slapped my butt with his palm. And again, it felt like I was burned.

"That hurts!" I whimpered.

"Then lie still and don't jerk around," he said irritably. "Do I need to tie your legs and gag you too? Really, why didn't I think of that earlier."

I was in mild shock. He lit a cigarette and sat down next to me.

"F... ck," he said. "I've slept with so many women in my eighteen years. But, f... ck, I've never had to rape anyone before. Especially a woman significantly older. My mother... she's thirty-seven. And you're how old? Thirty? You know, I read in sexology that all men deep in their subconscious want to sleep with their mother. Hence the attraction to older women. You know, babies suck their mother's breast. And that attachment lasts a lifetime. I always want to touch a woman's breasts during sex. You have gorgeous breasts. What size? Fifth?"

He ran his finger along my neck, then over my breast, making several circles around my nipples, then over my stomach, my hips. I knew all this was wrong, but my body shamelessly broke out in goosebumps, arched, and moaned, all on its own, as if I had no control over it at all. Or maybe that's exactly how it was.

"You want me, look, the whole sheet under you is wet."

He began caressing my clitoris with his hands, his fingers going deeper and deeper. I felt how wet it was there, and I was ashamed that I was flowing like the worst slut. But all the shame was overwhelmed by heavy, hot waves of orgasm, one after another, breaking me and spreading over my body. I was already exhausted when he undressed and lay on top of me. He kissed my neck, then lightly bit my breast. I felt how huge and hard his cock was and waited for him to enter me and for this sweet torment to end. When I felt his cock right there, I moved my pelvis to meet him.

"Ah, you lustful bitch!" he whispered in my ear with a smile. And he drove his cock into me.

I moaned as much as possible with my mouth gagged. I moved my hips, helping him enter me as deeply as possible, and after another orgasm, I realized I had no strength left. At that moment, he slapped my thigh.

"What, just lying there? Move your ass!"

I tried, but it wasn't as active anymore, and he had to encourage me with slaps on the butt. Finally, he came, exhaled loudly, and dropped his head onto my chest. He grabbed my breast and started moving his finger around my nipple. Then he somehow relaxed his grip and started snoring.

Little by little, millimeter by millimeter, I pulled my wrists out of the belt. The buckle clinked against the headboard, and I placed my numb hands on his shoulders. Pins and needles started running through my hands, they prickled terribly; I needed to massage them, but I was afraid of waking him. When the feeling in my hands returned, I untied my mouth and started thinking about what to do next. At that moment, he turned onto his side and slid off me.

Strangely, at that moment, I felt a deep tenderness toward him. I wanted to hug him and endlessly stroke his hair, kiss his cheeks, his lips...

I untied my legs, massaged them a little, got dressed, and saw his ticket on the table. His name is Roman. Roma... Romochka... My little one...

I left the hostel and decided to walk to the pharmacy. At the pharmacy, I bought emergency contraception, but as I was leaving, I suddenly felt sick and sat down on the steps at the entrance. What do I have in this damn life? A series of stupid bosses and small paychecks, a string of men whose sex is so simple and banal it makes me nauseous from the first kiss? Maybe today is the only good thing I'll remember about my life. And really, what's the point of my stupid existence?

I stood up, decisively threw the pills in the trash, and strode toward the car.

Maybe meaning will appear in my life? A little one...