Malicious hater
The TV was mumbling in the corner. One of the federal channels was broadcasting Sunday news, and a bald man, for a whole hour, gesticulating, talked about the irreconcilability of the parties. All this time, Lyuska lay on the rumpled bed, fiddling with her pussy. With her hungover mind, she fantasized about how that bald man would fuck her right there in the studio, under the cameras broadcasting live.
Her dreams were not meant to come true: Vasya walked into the room, scratching his dick. Vasya is a fat and ugly pig, also Lyuska's lover. When her husband, a plumber and just a drunkard, Kolka, goes on a bender, she invites Vasyaka over. Vasya's dick is small, but unlike
Kolka's, it stands rock hard. And Vasyaka also skillfully dives into the pilotka."What, Lyudmila, still watching that asshole?! I've already gone to take a shit and to the liquor store for vodka, and he's still sitting there! How much do they pay that faggot?! Those bitches are spoiled rotten."
"If my cuckold got paid that much, I'd be a queen."
"But you'd still only fuck me!" declared Vasya, falling with his whole carcass onto the bed. The bed seemed to barely withstand this fall: something crunched loudly under the pissed-on mattress.
"I told you—don't jump! Fuck, the loan for this bed isn't even paid off yet!"
Her husband returned unexpectedly! Lyuska was expecting him late in the evening, wanting to get properly fucked and rest. She could hear Kolya fumbling with the keys, inserting them one by one into the keyhole but always getting it wrong. After each mistake followed loud swearing. Meanwhile, Vasya, reluctantly tearing himself away from his lover's stinking cunt, put on his pants and shirt.
Out there, on the landing of the piss-stained entrance, Kolka, drunk, couldn't figure out the order to insert the keys, and after three seconds of silence, he started banging on the door with his fists, cursing the whole wide world.
"Open up, you slut! I'll fucking kill you!"
"Hide on the balcony!" said Lyuska, pulling an old, holey grandma's robe over her cellulite-ridden body, with holes everywhere, including on her ass.
"Fuck that!" Vasyaka protested.
"Hide, I said—he'll eat you, when he falls asleep, I'll get you out!"
"Fine, just give me the vodka in that bag."
Lyuska shoved Vasya's shoes and the bag with vodka at him, and, waiting for the balcony door to slam shut, opened the door for her husband.
Kolka burst into the apartment like an occupier. A fresh shiner was under his eye, and a dead "Prima" cigarette butt stuck out of his mouth. He tore off his shirt, revealing a large tattoo of the Crimean peninsula on his chest. The smell of booze-breath burst in with him, so strong that the light bulbs in the hallway went out.
"Well, what, you've had your fill of fucking, you fucking slut?!" growled the husband.
"What are you yelling about, you brute?! You come home drunk and now you're shouting?!"
"Where's that fat faggot?!"
Lyuska involuntarily glanced towards the living room where the TV was droning.
"What faggot?!" she asked anxiously, but Kolka had already disappeared around the corner.
A thud was heard, then the glass of the balcony door shattered.
"Come out, faggot! Ah, you motherfucker! The guys at the entrance didn't lie to me, your slut, they said she went home with that dick-sucker from the next yard."
"Aaaaaa!" screamed Lyuska, sensing trouble.
"Don't scream, you whore!" Kolka turned and punched her in the face. Lyusya fell onto the bed, which this time couldn't take it and broke apart with a crash, burying the entire future family budget underneath.
Vasyaka couldn't tolerate a woman being beaten before his eyes and left the balcony, throwing his whole carcass onto the skinny Kolka. One of them let out a juicy fart in the first seconds of the fight. Vasyaka mounted the unfortunate Kolka, whaling on him with his fists. Lyuska, realizing her husband was about to be seriously injured, jumped on Vasya from behind and started pulling him off. However, pulling this pig off wasn't so easy. For some reason, it started smelling strongly of shit. A second later, a reddish-brown stain began to appear on Vasya's pants. It became clear as day—Vasya had shit himself.
Kolya groaned and swore, but couldn't do anything under this pig carcass. And Vasya, having immobilized his opponent and realizing that by shitting himself he had lost honor in the woman's eyes, decided to smear his opponent with shit. He shoved his hand into his pants, pulled out a stinking liquid mass, and smeared it right onto Kolya's face. Then again. Gasping, Kolya spat, splattering shit in all directions, including onto Vasya's face.
"What are you doing, you brutes?!" screamed Lyuska.
"I'll kill you!" groaned Kolya, choking on shit.
Five seconds later, a dull thud sounded, Vasyaka went limp and fell over on his side. Standing over Kolya, whose face was hidden under a layer of shit, was his wife with a frying pan in her hands.
"Kolya, darling! Are you okay?!"
Kolya got up, kicked the shit-covered pig, and approached Lyusya. Lyusya took a step back, her husband two steps forward. Their faces ended up opposite each other, but instead of hitting her, Kolya went in for a kiss. Lyusya resisted, but weakly; the smell of shit wasn't new to her: she and her husband often practiced copro, but someone else's shit in their house was rare.
"Come on!" whispered Kolya, wiping his eyes.
"You want this? Right now?" asked Lyusya.
"Yes."
"Well, okay, I actually need to shit."
Kolya lay down on the carpet next to the unconscious Vasya and opened his mouth. Lyusya stood over her husband and took off her panties. Straining a little, she farted and a large piece of shit fell right into Kolya's mouth. Kolya began to grind the contents of his toothless mouth into mush with pleasure, and swallowed it bit by bit. Lyusya didn't forget the "dessert" either, pissing into his dirty mouth. Her husband made sounds of bliss beneath her.
***
Evening descended on the dreary city. Kolya liked to not wash the shit off himself for a long time after games, and now he was reclining in front of the TV in the same state he was in two hours ago. On the screen, "military secrets" were being revealed to him, a drunkard and shit-eater. Kolya was happy.
The apartment smelled of fried potatoes and onions. Soon, stepping over the fat, lifeless carcass of Vasily, Lyusya entered the living room. In her hands were a bottle of port wine and a full frying pan of fried potatoes.
"Even though you're a slut, where would I be without you," Kolya said good-naturedly and hugged Lyuska around the waist. She placed the bottle and frying pan on a stool.
"Eat."
Kolka stuffed his stomach with starch and cheap wine, belched and farted heartily.
An hour later, the doorbell rang. The upstairs neighbor had come. The old woman was very old but energetic. She reeked of an unwashed cunt from a mile away. She was privy to the "secrets" of this family and also loved to play. She always shit like a waterfall.
***
Three homeless men stumbled into the apartment. Lyuska immediately perked up, seeing three males. Her cunt started itching. She became active, fried another half-bucket of rotten potatoes, and retrieved the emergency stash of two bottles of Stolichnaya.
"Well, who do we shit on here?" asked the old stinky homeless man and, without taking off his shoes, walked into the living room. "This one to shit on?" he pointed at the man lying there. "But he's already shat on, covered in shit!"
"Drag that one to the dump, and shit on me!" declared Kolya, pouring vodka into glasses.
"Got it, we'll do it," said the younger homeless man and immediately got a slap on the back of the head from the older one.
"We'll do it, but will we get paid?"
Kolya nodded towards Lyuska:
"Today this bitch is yours."
"Now that's a different story," smiled the homeless man and, pulling down his pants, took out a dirty, unwashed dick.
For the next hour, Kolya's woman squealed like a stuck pig. So much so that even the neighbors started banging on the radiator. They came right in her cunt and in her mouth. And when the three men had enjoyed the female body and drunk the vodka, they turned to Kolya. They pulled down their pants and shit on his head. Kolya smiled as he consumed the contents of their asses. He slurped so loudly that the neighbors started banging on the pipes again.
Soon the homeless men left, taking Vasily's body with them. The usual family atmosphere settled in the apartment.
Before going to sleep, Kolya decided to start up his computer.
The old "Pentium 2" hummed and rattled. Kolya's only interest in the world of the internet was one—he loved reading erotic stories. This was his second passion. He loved reading about how an old man with a dirty dick fucks a stinking, rotten old woman's cunt, and how a son fucks his fat mother... Kolya loved the cuckold section, but BDSM, "femdom," and "submission and humiliation"—he didn't understand. And he especially didn't understand serious stories with strong plots. Where you had to use your brain, where the author left a hidden meaning hoping the reader would find it. He particularly disliked the author under the pseudonym—eric. That son of a bitch encroached on the sacred!! On male honor and dignity!! In his stories, men lost their wealth, surrendering to be defiled by others. It was all aesthetically beautiful, but it made Kolya sick! In this faggot's stories, there were beautiful and well-groomed women, and strong, powerful men. But it was unattractive. In his stories, shit and rotten cunts were completely absent, and that was unforgivable. So Kolya even registered several accounts to give this bastard "ones." That'll show him, the goat! So he doesn't think he's the best! Let him write about shit! Write about shit, you bastard!
Kolya couldn't write a comment about his desire—he had long forgotten all the letters. In principle, if he strained himself and sat for half a day, he could express his point of view in one or two sentences, but he was too lazy to strain. Still, putting "ones" didn't require much effort. And he slapped them on Eric mercilessly, under every one of his stories. Experiencing sweet pleasure from lowering his rating. He hadn't read his stories for a long time, but sometimes he still skimmed them, and then for some reason he'd reach for his dick and slowly jerk off. Jerk off and slap ones! That's it—honesty with oneself in its highest manifestation! Because there's no fucking point writing all that bullshit! About how they seized a business, how they were brought down afterwards. How a master took a married couple into slavery. How some loser gave all his money to some woman... Let him write about shit! A-bout-shit! And about how they fuck stinking cunts!
Then the Pentium traditionally froze, and Kolya went to sleep. He had never been shat on by so many people in just one evening. And he was happy.