The best sex

My friend measures the time she's lived like everyone else, in years. Only her year doesn't run from January 1st to December 31st, but roughly from February 1st to February 1st. During this period, she always goes on vacation, to Truskavets. About 2-3 months beforehand, a list is written of what needs to be bought, taken along, or done in advance, then it's all pedantically executed and crossed off as completed. I never understood such fanaticism. Going to the same place, and even to the same sanatorium for 6 years in a row. That's boring. I never understood the need for sanatoriums at all (I absolutely hate being treated), but if you really need to drink some water, you can just rent an apartment (much

cheaper).

February was approaching, my friend was all in anticipation, and I was in complete incomprehension of what was happening. And then it turns out that not one voucher arrived, but two. Skipping the details, I'll say I was persuaded.

A couple of days before departure, her mood began to gradually transfer to me. The treatment didn't interest me, though I promised to drink the water diligently. As ashamed as I am to admit it, I was interested in men. Or rather, not them themselves, but the competition, the flirting, the conquest. During the day-long train journey, Svetlana had enough time to explain all the intricacies of the hunt to me.

We're there. The sanatorium is average, but we got a decent room (not for free). On the very first evening, offers of a sexual nature appeared, and so primitively that you're simply amazed. A slow dance. First question, normal: "What's your name?", then "Are you alone in your room?". Answer: "Is that so important?". Man: "Of course, I don't have anywhere, I'm in a double room, and I already want to." Anyway, after the evening of dancing, settling into our beds, Svetka and I exchanged impressions, lamented the degradation of the stronger half of humanity, and fell asleep.

It was a snowy winter. The central alley to the pump room, located on a decent slope, had already been trampled down and resembled more of a ski jump than a pedestrian alley. We didn't want to go anywhere, but what's decided is decided. On the way to the water, a group of 4 guys overtook us and ran down quite briskly, while Svetka and I measured every step, thinking how not to slip. And thinking is harmful, one more step and I fall, grabbing my friend and we fly down together, knocking down one of the brisk company along the way. They caught us, of course, dusted us off and set us on our feet. But we didn't get far. After a couple of steps, it all repeated.

 — Well, girls, seems you can't go anywhere without us

 — Seems so! — and after brief hesitation, we entrusted ourselves to their hands.

We returned home together too. It turned out they lived in our same sanatorium. I didn't remember their names. They were from Chisinau, so they weren't immediately considered as potential "suitors," and they weren't much to look at either, and two of them looked well over 40.

In the evening at the dance, we met this same company surrounded by ladies, and quite nice ones. We politely said hello and moved on. But the presence of women around "our" Moldovans didn't stop them from starting to invite us to slow dances. I kept refusing, and Svetka, out of politeness, agreed a couple of times. Right before the end of the evening, two of them escorted the girls accompanying them somewhere and came to invite us to the sanatorium's cafe. Naturally, we refused. Sveta, guided by the principles of female solidarity (the most attractive one from that company was paying attention to her), and I simply (my "suitor" was just plain ugly and quite grown-up, if not old).

Another week passed in roughly the same vein. They still went around with women, continuing to pay attention to us and regularly inviting us to the cafe. No one worthy of attention crossed our path in the sanatorium, our mood was starting to sour, and the men were just getting on our nerves.

On the bus, we had to get acquainted again, as we didn't remember anyone's names at all. Sveta's turned out to be Mikhail, and mine was Boris Mikhailovich (with the patronymic, exactly), and that's what everyone called him. The company turned out to be very friendly and cheerful. They knew 4 languages. A French couple was riding in the bus with us for the trip, and they freely translated from Ukrainian for them, which even we didn't understand all the words of. On the slope itself, BM took it upon himself to teach me how to ski. He chose the equipment, explained how to position my feet and hold the poles, how to turn and brake, pulled me out of snowdrifts countless times, dug snow out of my ski boots again and again, and admired with me when I succeeded. When we went to warm up, a set table and hot wine were already waiting for us. Memories galore, even though the bus was cold and all our clothes got wet, the overall impression was pleasant.

I don't know how, but I managed to fall asleep in the sauna, and woke up because BM came in:

 — Alright, enough, time to come out, or you'll feel sick, let's go for a swim!

I started quickly pulling on the sheet

 — Don't rush so much, I've already come in three times and saw everything long ago, and don't be shy, I'm not seeing a naked woman for the first time

I wrapped myself in the sheet and climbed into the pool. The water was very cold, the sheet stuck and hindered swimming. I got tangled and couldn't manage to get to the ladder in the water. Everyone watched my struggles with interest. Sveta wanted to help me, but BM stopped her:

 — No need, Natasha can always ask me, but apparently she wants to do it herself.

I finally got out onto the ladder, but when I put one foot on the tiled edge, I slipped and fell back into the water.

 — Alright, give me your hand, and he pulled me out easily.

I got thoroughly chilled, my skin covered in goosebumps, and my nipples were poking through even the sheet. BM carried me to the sauna, brought a dry sheet and laid me on the bench, and left himself. I even got a bit upset. Then Sveta came and told me how everyone teased BM when I was sleeping, and he would come in, look, and then, covering himself, jump into the pool to calm his rebellious flesh.

We warmed up and went to drink herbal tea, not without Moldovan cognac. Then the bath attendant offered us, for an extra fee, birch whisks, massage with honey and essential oils, whatever anyone wanted. We took everything, but without a masseur. BM volunteered to play that role, at least with me. The dose of alcohol plus the heat took effect and I didn't even resist, surrendering to the skillful hands. The whisks are well-steamed, in two hands alternately descending on the back, then the legs, then the butt. So pleasant, a little painful, but just a tiny bit. Then they washed me under the shower to remove the leftover leaves. He washed very gently and carefully, standing behind and directing a rather strong shower stream at me, I was blissful, pressed against the wall, and felt the water stream moving over my body, causing light tingling. I felt a warm male body press against me, the boy at full combat readiness. I was scooped up in an armful and they started kissing me. Everywhere. On the lips, and the neck, and breasts, and stomach, and legs. I had already stopped being shy, and responded to the kisses when BM rose back to my face. We returned to the sauna, which had already started to cool down. BM smeared me with honey and started giving a massage. He kneaded my back, shoulders, every finger on my hands and feet, moved to my thighs, turned me over, and continued all the same in front, not forgetting to eat the excess honey from my breasts. Then he sat me on the top bench and spread my legs:

 — How sweet you are!

 — That's not me, it's the honey

 — Honey isn't that sweet, you have a special taste, I'll try, may I?

 — (silence and embarrassment)

He began moving his tongue over the lips, periodically drawing the entire clitoris inside and sucking on it. And two fingers of his hand he inserted into the vagina and began moving them, the sensations were unbearably pleasant and so strong that I could no longer endure and tried to push his head away, but he wouldn't let me move my legs. Everything inside clenched so tightly it resembled a spring. He releases my clitoris for a short while, slightly easing my tension and again takes to my breasts. His hands glide easily over the skin covered in melted honey, he kisses one nipple and kneads the other with his fingers, then switches sides, and his member slides between the labia, continuing to massage the clitoris. I want only one thing, for him to be inside, I try to catch him, but BM doesn't allow it, continuing to torment me. I'm not just trying to catch him anymore, but asking him to enter (what is this? This never happened to me before. Could it be that I'm asking for sex!!!). Finally, BM responds to my pleas and turns me over doggy style (now he'll enter me, I hope I...), but with his left hand he continues to caress my clitoris, and two fingers of his right he inserts into the vagina, while lightly pressing on the anal ring. I can no longer hold back and start moaning loudly. In exhaustion, I clench my legs and ask him to stop. BM calms down a bit, we wash under the shower and without saying goodbye to the others, even without underwear (just in a robe), we go up to his room. We start kissing as soon as we cross the threshold, and it seems we even forget to close the door. How he kisses! Excitement runs in waves through my body, the clitoris is still pulsating, we fall into bed. He throws my legs over his shoulders and finally enters me strongly and quickly. I've been wet for a long time, so he manages it without much difficulty. It feels so good to feel his member inside. With each movement, the tension grows and grows, everything inside starts clenching again into a tight spring, the sensations from sweet become agonizing, I ask him to stop, but he doesn't hear me, only repeats that he waited so long for this and wanted me so much. It's already becoming hard to breathe, and my body tenses like a string, and then... an explosion happens, the spring inside me finally releases from what was holding it back and with each new turn releases waves of pleasure, which rise from the lower abdomen upwards, causing burning flushes and light tingling. I can't think straight, just lie there and revel in the new sensations.

I don't even remember how I fell asleep. Through sleep, it surfaces how BM carefully covered me. He no longer seemed old and unattractive to me, but was the most desirable man. And the vacation spent with him the most memorable. And my biggest regret became that we lost a week we could have spent together.

Author's e-mail: nаtаliyа. cimbаluk