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This time there was silence, but whether she was dozing again or not, she moved the ring and middle fingers of her right hand and, having launched it into her vagina, also without opening her eyes, brought it to her nose, sniffing and licking the remains of the sperm that had gotten in. She threw off the blanket and lay down on her side, now in the light of the moon and street light from the window. They illuminated her figure, turning her into a silhouette of an acoustic guitar that had been forgotten on the bed.
She was facing away from her husband, so her prominent ass was on Jan's side, and in this position it looked even bigger.
She opened her eyes and stared for a long time at the far corner of the large bedroom, which was larger than the guest room. The tube of rema-lube cast a fairly large shadow on the wall, but that was more from the street lamp, which was apparently so lonely that it wanted to somehow attract attention to itself.
She, not having had an orgasm, wanted to have something resembling it, stretching her hands to her navel and below. She was more excited by her velvety and at the same time silky skin than by sex with her husband, and she certainly set a goal – to finish, to groan and have nervous convulsions, which only happens during intense satisfaction.
She climbed into the bedside chest of drawers on her side and with a precise movement of her hand took out a dildo, which was made of transparent silicone, but remembered that the lubricant remained on the nightstand on her husband's side, not wanting to climb over to his side, she wet the head with saliva and stuck it into her crotch and began to actively move it in different directions.
Jan, of course, heard all this, but did not see, because he, as if in a doze, also turned over with his back to her.
He heard her start to breathe deeply, and that the orthopedic mattress, despite the vibration dampening, still transmitted vibrations to his body. In the darkness of the night, in the moonlight, lay a naked man and a girl, looking in different directions, both awake.
Diana massaged her breasts, occasionally putting her thumb in her mouth and closing her eyes. At that moment, she imagined that a second guy was fucking her in the mouth. She changed guys in her fantasies, imagining one, then another, and now she imagined that she lay down on a sports bench in a doggy style, and the gym goers took turns satisfying her, with music and the approval of those around her. She imagined how she would accidentally walk into the men's locker room, which was shrouded in water vapor, and start sucking everyone's cocks, splashing sperm on her face, smearing it on her face later, making a cosmetic mask.
She felt like thousands of needles were pricking her buttocks, and she came so violently that she jerked her legs, and her husband could not help but wake up from such a movement, but he did not pretend to wake up, but gradually and quietly masturbated himself, hearing the sounds. He imagined his boss, who was flunked by Irina, and who was constantly picking on his presentations. He imagined that he was fucking her tomorrow in front of everyone and telling her:
– Well, bitch, are you going to bullshit some more?!
He came unexpectedly for himself, splashing the sheets, and his hand movements could not go u
Diana did not want to take the phallus out of her vagina, she wanted to keep it inside, when it, warmed by her own warmth, warmed her. She fell asleep like that, and then did not hear how it slipped out, fell on the floor and stuck with a nipple, remaining not only until the morning, but until the next night, when she returned home, after some events.
When he woke up in the morning, he found his wife already up and taking a shower, and not wanting to be distracted, he went to the kitchen, thinking about what to eat for breakfast, and what would be quick. And he cooked scrambled eggs with tomatoes, which he usually cooked when there was no time and concentration on something important was required, like today.
Now, on any other day, he would have taken a shower and fucked Diana so hard that the neighbors would have to wake up without an alarm clock.
Having had a quick breakfast, having washed his face in the kitchen sink, having washed his upper body a little, having wiped his face and body, he had a quick breakfast, collected the documents that had already been prepared in the evening, put them in a leather bag that he had bought at a buy-back. It was a good and rather stylish bag, but heavy, but he, having fallen in love with this business bag, almost never parted with it. When he held it in his hands and walked around the office, he imagined himself as a big boss, which was not far from the truth, he was a boss, but a middle-level one.
– Hello, Yan Konstantinovich.
– Hello,– he would say in response, not knowing the names of many of those who greeted him; he usually remembered their last names because they were written in documents without initials.
"A world of surnames, where they are known, but you can't address them," he often thought, as he did today, entering his office, where it smelled of freshness and a carefully washed floor, on which he almost slipped, going to the window to open the vent. He didn't like air conditioners very much, because they didn't freshen the air, but only cooled it, accelerating it in a cycle, so a properly opened window at the right angle saved the situation.
– Christina, please make a quarterly report,– he said, looking out the door.
In addition to today's presentation, there were also current tasks that did not disappear anywhere.
He laid out around him a pile of papers on the technical documentation of the finished product for launching sales.
The presentation of the program, which began exactly at 11:00, began with a short speech by the company's executive director, who introduced Yan Konstantinovich to investors.
– Hello, this product will allow designers to work in a team without resorting to other additional communications, our team has undertaken … – here his speech was interrupted by one of the investors, asking:
–Have you tried working with this product yourself?
– Yes, but I'm not a designer, I'm a programmer.
–Yesterday I gave the trial version to my daughter, she didn’t figure out the interface right away, although she is an excellent student at school, which means the user won’t be able to quickly launch the new product on their desktop.
– But she's not a designer.
– She is an excellent student and used to draw well, so we gave it to her to use, and your product needs to be improved, the interface needs to be simplified.
– But it is made for professional designers, and working with this pr…
Here he was interrupted again by the same investor, who had 31 percent of the shares, which was considered the largest in one hand, the next owner had only five percent, the rest even less, but they were the majority. The majority, which now did not decide anything, which could be presented as a violation of the internal charter, but this holder of a large block of shares was so charismatic that no one dared to correct him.
The project was returned for revision.
Jan returned to his office, the ten minutes that passed after that did not change his body position, and the employees who came in, his subordinates, understanding what had happened, seeing his abstract gaze out the window, went back out, not trying to disturb him.
– Fuck! – he said so loudly that the employees passing by couldn't hear it through the open door.
Jan picked up his phone and started scrolling through his contacts, wondering who he could call to distract himself a bit.
He called a friend he went to university with, but he didn't pick up the phone. When he called his wife, he also heard beeps that seemed to go on forever, cutting through the silence like a knife through butter.
He went out into the corridor, but everyone seemed to be hiding from him, so when he went out into the smoking room where the employees were sitting, and he only knew half of their names, and almost all of their last names, the conversation did not work out.
Having delegated his powers to his senior department employee, he went down to the cafe, where he decided to eat a sweet dessert, which gave his brain activity a boost.
The cake that was offered to him was surprisingly similar to the cake from yesterday, and the whole evening and night passed before his eyes, he remembered his wife, who, with her back turned, fucked herself with a silicone cock, and himself, who spilled sperm on the sheet.
The thoughts in his head were mixed up like vegetables in a salad, mixing with fragments of reality, when he managed to catch a glimpse of an employee of his department, whom for some reason he had noticed before.
She was sitting in the corner of a small cafe, where music was playing softly and the smell of roasted coffee was strong. He decided to sit down next to her and start a conversation, breaking all the rules of subordination. But today was a special day for him, a particularly tragic day, so he deliberately went against the internal company rule – not to talk to subordinates about personal matters and especially not to fuck them.
– Hello.
– Hello. We said hello this morning. I'm Nadya, although you probably already know me, but how can you remember everyone?
– I know,– said Jan, although he didn’t know her name, and it’s not like he’d forgotten it; he’d never known her.
She was wearing black trousers and a light shirt, which was the recommended dress code, although not all employees tried to adhere to this rule.
There was no ring on her hand, but she could have been divorced or simply not wearing a ring. Various thoughts continued to visit Jan.
Getting up from the table, he wrote his personal number on a napkin and, patting her on the shoulder, said:
– Call after work.
She didn't answer and stayed to finish her portion of food.
The day at work ended, and Jan was in no hurry to go home, waiting for a call from his co-worker Nadya, whose phone number he for some reason did not ask for. But the phone was silent, he called his wife, but the receiver did not answer.
Having found Nadya’s number in the internal database, he sent a message: – Hello, this is Yan Konstantinovich.-
The answer came five minutes later: – I’m going to a friend’s birthday party today, if you want, you can take me home later.-
He replied:
– Okay.
But Jan had no desire to go home, and he decided to take a walk around the city. He parked his car in a paid parking lot and went on foot, and he decided that walking would be the best way to relieve his depression from the undelivered work. This promised new problems, but technically they were all solvable, but he was close to losing faith in humanity.
The benches in the park, past which he made his walking route to nowhere, without a goal, were all filled with people walking, walking, and walking.
Having found one free half of a bench in one place, he walked with a confident step and, having reached it, asked permission to sit down.
– Sit down,– said the girl, who was dressed in a tracksuit and was probably either walking or returning from the gym, because there was a large sports bag on the bench nearby.
– Jan.
– A