0 comments/ 4400 views/ 0 favorites Hortensia By: Scorpio58 Evenimentele fiind adevarate, unele nume si locatii s-ar putea sa fi fost schimbate. Dr_Vlad, multumesc ca v-ati facut timp sa parcurgeti textul inainte de a fi publicat. Doamne, e atat de cald! Soarele pare sa fie intaratat rau -- arde, pur si simplu! Terasa este plina, iar mie mi-e o sete de zile mari. Nici o masa libera! Observ, totusi, intr-un colt umbrit un scaun liber. Masa este ocupata de trei persoane -- un domn si o doamna, probabil parintii si o domnisoara, probabil fiica celor doi... Sincer, urasc ideea de a intra cu bocancii in intimitatea unei familii, insa, cum observ tot asteptand sa se elibereze un loc, tipii nu se obosesc sa faca conversatie... Pana la urma, ce naiba! Este un local public, fara mari pretentii, iar mie mi-e sete de crap! In sfarsit, imi iau inima-n dinti si ma indrept spre masa lor, salutand politicos si cerand permisiunea sa ma asez... Cei doi mai in varsta imi zambesc si ma invita sa iau loc, in timp ce tanara domnita isi vede linistita de farfuria ei... Le multumesc si iau un loc. Ca de obicei, mai ales cand ti-e sete, berea cea rece -- sper -- se lasa asteptata mai bine de zece minute inainte de a-si face aparitia pe masa mea... Am grija sa rog, din timp, sa mi se mai aduca una. Cand apare si cea de a doua bere, ospatarul aduce si o nota de plata, pe care o lasa in fata tipului. Dupa cinci minute, revine, ia banii, inclusiv bacsisul, multumeste si se retrage. Omul se ridica, o ajuta si pe doamna sa faca acelasi lucru, apoi saluta politicos si... pleaca! Culmea, ca si cea care credeam ca le este progenitura le zice larevedere... Ma uit la ea, cu mai mult curaj de data asta si-i observ parul blond, ochii albastri, fata frumoasa, pielea fina, fara machiaj, cei doi sani minunati, sfarcurile ce se itesc de sub textura tricoului alb -- este limpede ca nu poarta sutien, insa, sincer, credeti-ma, nici nu are nevoie! Restul nu se poate vedea, fiind sub masa... Termina de mancat, isi aprinde o tigara si soarbe din bere. Eu n-am comandat nimic de mancare -- e prea cald, din punctul meu de vedere... Trec vreo cinci minute pana cand, in sfarsit, imi fac curaj si incerc sa demarez o conversatie. - Imi cer scuze, dar credeam ca cei doi care au fost aici, la masa, sunt parintii tai... Fata se uita la mine, aratandu-mi clar, din priviri, ca realizeaza ca vorbesc cu ea, apoi imi comunica, in franceza, ca... ea nu intelege romana... Pai, hai ca-i bine! Ii explic ca vorbesc mai multe limbi straine, printre care si franceza. Incep sa rad, explicandu-i, de data asta in franceza, cine am crezut ca sunt cei doi. Ma lauda ca vorbesc bine frantuzeste, iar eu simt nevoia sa ma laud ca, la engleza, stau si mai bine... Se entuziasmeaza, spunandu-mi ca engleza este singura limba straina pe care o cunoaste si ca, daca n-am nimic impotriva, mi-ar fi recunoscatoare daca am continua conversatia in engleza, ca sa se mai perfectioneze si ea... Intr-adevar, are nevoie sa se mai perfectioneze, mai ales ca... engleza vorbita de ea are un puternic accent frantuzesc... Cum apare ospatarul, ii mai comand doua beri, apoi incep sa-i povestesc Hortensiei, pentru ca asa o cheama, cum, pe vremea cand inca eram elev de liceu, noi, copiii, ne tot vaitam ca ce greu, daca nu imposibil, ne este noua sa invatam frantuzeste, intrucat toti eram "specializati" pe limba engleza... Ii povestesc cum, proful nostru de franceza, un bine cunoscut Don Juan daca e sa ne luam dupa barfele fetelor, a inceput sa ne vorbeasca, timp de vreo zece minute, intr-o limba engleza impecabila. Din clipa respectiva, eu, cel putin, mi-am jurat sa-l fac pe dracu-n patru si sa invat franceza corect, cum trebuie... Poate ca mi-am ratat menirea, poate ca trebuia sa ma fac profesor -- incep s-o corectez pe biata Hortensia la fiecare fraza. Culmea, nu se supara, ba chiar se dovedeste a fi foarte atenta la ce-i spun. A terminat sociologia, este membra a Partidului Comunist Francez, ceva de genul asta si a venit in Romania la nu stiu ce schimb de experienta... Este interesata sa vada cum se traieste in "inima" comunismului... Din pacate, translatoarea ei, o tanara studenta, a trebuit sa plece urgent in provincie, intrucat, se pare, bunica ei este pe moarte, asa ca astazi, cel putin, este "lonely"... Ii explic diferenta dintre "lonely" si "alone"... Izbucneste in ras, apoi imi spune, in franceza de data asta, fixandu-ma cu privirea, ca, de fapt, fara sa vrea, mi-a spus adevarul... Chiar ca se simte singurica!... A sosit la Bucuresti cu vreo zece zile in urma si, de atunci, a tot avut intalniri oficiale, insotita fiind de translatoarea ei si putand sa simta, din plin, ca oamenii cu care s-a intalnit au fost atenti mai mult la ce sa nu zica... Suntem in epoca lui Ceausescu, iar oamenii sunt atenti la ce vorbesc... Realizez ca nu se poate sa fi fost lasata asa, de capul ei, ma gandesc la legislatia noastra, la interdictia de a vorbi cu strainii, insa, in fond, daca asa s-a nimerit, suntem amandoi comunisti, doar ca din tari diferite... O scot eu, in vreun fel, la capat -- doar nu pot lasa frumusete de fata sa se plictiseasca, singura, intr-un oras strain... O intreb daca gazdele ei s-au gandit sa-i arate parcurile capitalei. Raspunsul este negativ. De fapt, imi povesteste ca nu cunoaste decat cateva strazi din jurul hotelului -- in rest, in viteza masinii, n-a apucat sa vada mare lucru... Cerem notele de plata, achitam, apoi pasim pe trotuar, in fierbinteala asfaltului, de zici ca or sa ni se topeasca talpile de la incaltaminte... Nu stiu cum se face, insa nu trece nici macar un minut si... apare un taxi liber... Nu sunt prost, insa nici nu mi-e frica -- in fond, am intrat in hora, trebuie sa joc... Ridic mana si taxiul, prompt, se opreste langa noi... Il salut pe sofer, care arata a orice numai a sofer nu, apoi il rog sa ne duca la parc. Ajunsi la parc, o iau pe Hortensia de mana -- nu protesteaza -- si o conduc spre debarcader. Vaslesc, ducand barca inchiriata undeva, in mijlocul lacului. Pur si simplu, o intreb pe Hortensia daca e constienta ca este urmarita -- eu, deja, realizez ca nu suntem "de capul nostru"... Pufneste in ras si ma intreaba: - Adica, vrei sa ma faci sa te cred ca tu nu faci parte din echipa care sta pe coada mea?!? Practic, ma abtin de la vreun raspuns, asa ca Hortensia incepe sa-mi povesteasca cum i s-a explicat, de catre traducatoare, ca va fi "preluata" de cineva care sa aiba grija de ea... Aha! Deci fata ma crede cu totul altcineva decat sunt!... Ii explic ca, in cazul de fata, singura vinovata de intalnirea noastra este doar... intamplarea... Mi-e clar ca nu da doi bani pe explicatia mea, asa ca ma hotarasc sa vaslesc inapoi la mal si s-o conduc pe fata la hotel, apoi sa-mi vad de ale mele... Nu apuc sa pun mana pe vasle, ca Hortensia se ridica in picioare, intr-un echilubru destul de precar, isi scoate, rapid, tricoul, apoi isi da jos fusta si... sare in apa lacului! La naiba! In lacul asta, scaldatul este interzis!... Degeaba-i explic, ca Hortensia imi rade in fata spunandu-mi ca asteapta autoritatile sa vina si s-o... aresteze... Rahat! Mi-e clar ca suntem urmariti, atat de pe mal cat si de pe lac -- in ce nebunie m-am bagat!... In timpul asta, fata imi tot povesteste ce bine se simte -- cat de buna este apa... In fine, daca asta este atitudinea comunistilor francezi, imi place... Dupa vreo douazeci de minute, timp in care Hortensia se delecteaza cu racoarea apei, in timp ce eu ma tot astept sa fim abordati de cine stie cine, fata se hotaraste sa revina in barca... Ma intreaba, amestecand engleza cu franceza -- nu stie cum ii zice la insula in engleza -- daca putem sa mergem pe insula din mijlocul lacului... Insula este pustie, neexploatata si inchisa accesului publicului. Ajunsi acolo, leg barca si ne strecuram printre tufisuri pana intr-un luminis, unde ne intindem pe iarba. Confirmarea ca insula este pustie ne vine de la un sarpe de apa, care, evident deranjat de prezenta noastra, se straduieste sa dispara -- Hortensiei nu-i este frica de serpi... Isi da jos chilotii si-i intinde pe o creanga, sa se usuce. Acuma, n-aveti decat sa va uitati la mine, un tip in jeansi si o camasa cu maneca scurta, langa o tipa complet dezbracata... Ma caznesc sa zic ceva, insa, sincer, ma simt depasit de situatie... Se pare insa ca Hortensia n-are astfel de probleme -- ma apuca de cureaua de la pantaloni, ma trage spre ea, apoi ma incurajeaza sa-mi dau jos hainele, pentru ca imediat dupa, sa-mi ia pula-n gura... Frate, dar ma suge! Mainile mele sunt pline cu pletele ei, in timp ce o fac sa ia mult, mult, mult mai multa pula-n gura, pe masura ce secundele trec... E "sportiva" fata, nu protesteaza, ci doar inghite, chiar daca, de la un moment dat, mi-e clar ca are dificultati respiratorii... Nu stiu de ce, dar cu toate tufisurile si copacii din jurul nostru, am sentimentul acut ca suntem urmariti... Ma straduiesc sa-mi mentin erectia -- ii scot pula din gura si o intreb direct: - Ma lasi sa te fut? Sare pe mine, ma face sa ma intind pe spate, ma incaleca, si-o baga rapid in pizda, apoi imi spune cateva cuvinte in franceza, probabil in dialect, ca nu pricep nimic... Tot bombane, uitand complet de engleza sau de franceza literara... E o dulcica! Se misca "de milioane"! E plina de energie, hotarare, pasiune... Doamne! Ne simtim atat de bine!... Isi da drumul, tremurand si uitandu-se in ochii mei de parca ar vedea acolo harta lumii... Dupa vreo douazeci de minute si vreo cinci orgasmuri din partea ei, imi aduc brusc aminte ca stau intins pe iarba, pe spate, probabil la dispozitia a mii de furnici si dracu' stie ce alte insecte... O fac sa se opreasca si schimbam pozitia. O iau pe la spate... Sincer, sunt tare atras de gaura curului ei, insa sunt constient ca ne aflam pe o insula realmente pustie, fara macar, cel putin, un centimetru de hartie igienica... Dupa ce-si da drumul si a sasea oara, simt ca sunt si eu aproape, asa ca ma intreb daca "sa am grija" sau sa las, pur si simplu, sa-mi curga slobozul drept in pizda ei minunata... Mi-ar place, e drept, insa nu e genul meu sa fiu "magar si nesimtit"... Pur si simplu o scot si-mi las sperma sa cada pe iarba... In fond, imi aduc si eu contributia la buna crestere a ierbii... Se pare ca Hortensia, savurand momentele, a pierdut startul -- ma prinde de mana si ma trage, energic, spre ea si-mi ia pula-n gura -- deja, tot ce poate sa mai faca este sa mi-o curete... Intr-un final ma lasa, apoi face o chestie pe care, sincer, n-am mai vazut-o pana acum. Se intinde pe spate, isi desface picioarele, apoi se apleaca si-si pune antebratul, aproape de cot, intre bucile pizdei, stergandu-se asa pana ajunge cu antebratul aproape de palma... Isi prinde apoi bucile-n palma, pentru ca imediat dupa sa-si ia palma si degetele la lins si supt... Nu pierdem timpul -- ne imbracam si mergem inapoi la barca, apoi la mal... Hortensia insista sa mergem la ea la hotel, insa ii explic si eu ca e mai bine daca vine ea la mine... Pana la urma, "cadem la pace", in sensul ca o conduc la hotel, sa se schimbe si, probabil, sa faca un dus, apoi ma va insoti oriunde consider eu... Cunoscand regulile si mentalitatea, aleg s-o astept jos, in holul hotelului... Receptionera, ca orice bagaboanta de informatoare din acele vremuri, este numai lapte si miere cu bagaboanta franceza, insa, imediat ce se inchid usile de la lift, face o fata de smochina si se uita la mine de zici ca vrea sa ma omoare... Gagica, precis ca nu mai are mult si implineste patruzeci de coti -- imi vine s-o intreb daca e vorba de "datorie", sau de invidie ca boarfa franceza are parte de o pula tanara si viguroasa, pe cand ea, cel mai probabil, de pulica obosita a vreunui sef burtos... In fine, probabil ca deja sunt in "cacat", asa ca evit sa-l imprastii, lasand-o pe vaca cu boii ei... Oricum, stiu ca atata timp cat sunt in preajma frantuzoaicei, "baietii" vor sta cuminti, ca sa nu ne faca tara "de ras"... Vad eu, dupa, cum ma descurc... In mai putin de cinspe minute, Hortensia coboara, iese din lift si se arunca pe mine, dandu-mi cel mai original sarut frantuzesc despre care, in general, vorbim toti... Chiar ma gandesc cate poze ni s-or fi facand, daca nu cumva suntem filmati... Sa te tii intrebari dupa plecarea fetei... Pur si simplu, ma distrez, de zici c-am luat-o razna... Chiar imi amintesc de un tip care, dupa o aventura la mare, fiind luat in chingi de "ai nostri", s-a dus la ambasada si a gasit modalitatea sa o contacteze pe tipa si... s-o ceara de nevasta... Imediat l-au lasat in pace, insa omul, revoltat, tot a ajuns in Belgia... Ajunsi la mine, nu pierdem vremea -- suntem deja in pieile goale, in timp ce Joe Dassin ne face viata mai frumoasa, iar pula mea ii storceste cervixul cu entuziasm, mai ales ca, intre timp, am aflat ca pot sa ma slobozesc, linistit, oriunde vreau si am chef... Chestia asta ma face sa nu "rezist" mai mult de un sfert de ora... Ce ma distreaza este ca Hortensia vorbeste in engleza sau franceza tot timpul, mai putin in momentele de extaz, cand o da pe dialect -- nu mai inteleg nimic din ce spune, insa corpul ei "vorbeste" in limba universala a dansei intr-insa... Seara pe la unsprezece, Hortensia ma roaga s-o duc inapoi la hotel. A doua zi dimineata are nu stiu ce intalnire oficiala si trebuie sa fie odihnita si imbracata corespunzator... Plecam pe jos -- are un soc -- habar n-avea cat de aproape este apartamentul meu de hotelul ei... Ajunsi in holul hotelului, ne sarutam de "good nite", stabilind sa ne vedem a doua zi, tot acolo, la ora cinci... Nu apuc sa intru bine in apartamentul meu, ca suna telefonul -- raspund -- e tata. Imi cere sa merg la el acasa. Ma conformez. Il gasesc pe taica-miu cu o ceasca de ceai in fata -- este dusman declarat al consumului de alcool -- de fapt, drumurile noastre s-au cam despartit, inca de cand eu aveam numai paisprezece ani... Pe scaunul de langa el mai este un tip, cam de aceeasi varsta si, culmea, destul de asemanator, atat ca fizionomie, cat si ca atitudine... Nu se oboseste sa mi-l prezinte... Oricum, daca sunt aici, e destul de limpede ca sansele ca sa fiu anchetat, arestat, sau dracu' stie ce, sunt minime... Taica-miu, cu ochelarii pe nas, studiaza niste chestii care, de la distanta, par a fi fotografii... Brusc, imi arunca peste masa o fotografie. Suntem eu si Hortensia, in timp ce ne futem pe asa-zisa insula pustie... Probabil ca baietii au instalate aparate de fotografiat comandate de la distanta... Nu stiu ce fata am eu, ca n-am la indemana o oglinda, insa bosorogii, e clar ca se distreaza si se delecteaza cu futaiul nostru... In doua vorbe, activitatea mea de la servici este suspendata, intrucat am de dus la indeplinire o sarcina de partid. Dimineata, trebuie s-o iau pe tovarasa venita din Franta si s-o conduc si indrum... Mi se spune unde, ce si cum, apoi sunt trimis acasa sa ma odihnesc... Imediat ce ies din camera, ii aud pe cei doi, razand in hohote... Uneori, l-as omori, dar e... tata... La opt dimineata sunt in holul hotelului, rugand o receptionera, de data asta numai lapte si miere, sa sune la camera... Nu va spun ce fata face Hortensia, vazandu-ma... Este atat de dezamagita, incat, zau, imi vine sa ma duc, sa-mi atarn o piatra de gat si sa sar in Dambovita... Cum dracu' sa-i mai explic femeii ca, pe bune, treburile doar s-au "brodit"!... Fizic, nici macar nu m-a atins, in schimb mi-am luat puli in gat si suturi in cur cam toata ziua... Unde mai pui ca si tovarasii pe care i-am vizitat m-au tratat ca pe un outsider... Deh, nu eram "de-al lor"... Cand tocmai imi pierdusem orice speranta, ma pomenesc cu Hortensia ca se indreapta spre apartamentul meu... Ma ia de coaie, la propriu, ferm, aproape dureros, fortandu-ma sa intru cu ea la baie... Cat de frumos se vede apa udandu-i parul, in timp ce gura ei este plina cu pula mea... Este probabil pentru prima oara cand spal o femeie pe cap, in timp ce ea este ocupata sa-mi suga pula... Unde mai pui ca, din cand in cand, imi mai si baga texte, ba in engleza, ba in franceza. Oricum, in sinteza, ca tot vrea sa-si perfectioneze engleza, cuvintele sunt cam astea: - I am a slut, your slut, please use me and abuse me!... Nu stiu cat de dur ma port, realmente, cu ea, insa, sincer, am si eu dracii mei... Nu mi-a placut niciodata sa mi se amestece cineva in "afacerile" mele sentimentale sau sexuale... De fapt, in timp ce-mi bag pula-n gatul Hortensiei, eu visez, cu ochii deschisi, ce-ar fi daca, pur si simplu, as fugi din tara... Slobozul care-i umple gura fetei ma face sa revin la realitate... Pare sa fie fericita -- e pentru prima data pe ziua de astazi... Inghite, apoi ma ia la lins... Bai, da' asta nu se mai opreste! Ma linge pe coaie, in spatele coaielor, pe cur, in gaura curului, apoi se arunca la buric, in gaura buricului, pe piept, imi suge sfarcurile... Ma gadila de dracii ma gasesc, insa nu pare sa vrea sa ma ierte... In sfarsit, se apropie de gura mea si ne sarutam... Brusc, se arunca pe capul pulii, sarutandu-l, sugandu-l, apoi se intoarce cu spatele si, tinandu-ma asezat pe marginea cazii de baie, se arunca cu pizda in pula, fortat, aproape dureros... Mi-e clar ca are si ea dracii ei... Orisicum, mi-e clar ca bagaboanta asta comunista ma corupe!... Da' ce naiba?!? Eu nu sunt tot comunist?!? Cine pe cine corupe?!? In fine, da-l in pizda ma-sii de comunism, ca acuma ne futem!... Ma evacueaza, rapid, din pizda, pentru ca, imediat, sa si-o bage in cur -- fara masaj, lubrifiere, preambul, sau altceva... In nici zece minute explodez, in timp ce ea-mi spune ceva, referitor la pula mea, ca ar fi "bijou"... Draci! E prima data in viata cand aud o asemenea caracterizare! Auzi! Pula mea, bijuterie!... Dupa doua zile, in sfarsit, apare o fata draguta, dar trista, cu atitudine de soricel, care, intre timp si-a inmormantat bunica... Frate, dar asta e ca o lipitoare -- are ea grija! Vorbim, ne plimbam, facem orice, numai sex nu... Nu pleaca de pe capul nostru inainte de ora zece seara -- la opt dimineata e inapoi! E atat de grijulie cu Hortensia, ca incep sa ma intreb daca biata Hortensia nu e construita din sticla sau din coji de oua... In fine, vine si ziua plecarii -- o ducem pe Hortensia cu un taxi la aeroport, apoi luam un taxi inapoi, spre centru. Observam o masina neagra care se aliniaza paralel cu taxiul. Soferul pricepe semnele si trage pe dreapta. Lina, traducatoarea, coboara din taxi si se urca in masina neagra, nu inainte de a-mi lasa, pe bancheta, un biletel cu numarul ei de telefon... A doua zi, ajuns la institut, sunt chemat la biroul de contrainformatii... Fumez cate o tigara, cu colonelul, in timp ce ma intreaba daca am constatat vreo chestie deosebita... Singura idee care-mi vine in minte si pe care, in gluma, o spun, este ca femeia a reusit sa-mi ia toata pula-n cur in mai putin de treizeci de secunde, fara pic de pregatire prealabila... Nu stiu daca mai tineti minte, insa pe vremea aia fututul in cur era... infractiune! Tipul zambeste, apoi, stingandu-si tigara, imi spune ca a auzit ca am o gramada de treburi ramase nerezolvate... Dam mana, iar tipul imi sopteste: Bravo! Ati facut o treaba buna! Multumesc! De atunci, nimeni, inclusiv tata, nu m-au mai intrebat nimic despre episodul asta ciudat din viata mea... SFARSIT Hortensia - English Version WARNING: English is NOT my first language – I have learned it in school and practiced it a lot in trading, but this is (even though pornographic) supposed to be literature. So please bear with me, or, if not, just read something else. I also need to mention that the story is true, depicting my personal memory. All the names and/or places may have been changed, due to privacy reasons. God, it's so hot! The sun is practically burning! The terrace is full, and I'm thirsty. I really am! I look around, absolutely no empty tables, except for a chair at a table for four, where there are sitting three persons. A he and a she, in their early fifties, and a she, in her very early twenties, probably their daughter... Honestly, I'm not the kind of guy to get with my boots full of mud into the privacy of a family, but I've already been standing at the entrance, for more than ten minutes, and I couldn't help but notice that they aren't really having a conversation over there... Finally, what the heck! It's a public place, and I'm thiiiiiiirsty! Finally, I approach their table, salute them, and politely ask them if I can take a seat at their table... The two old guys smile at me, and invite me to take a seat, while the young lady just takes care of the plate and the food she's serving... I thank them and take a seat. Like it so usually happens, especially when you feel an urge, the bloody cold bear appears on my table after more than ten minutes... I'm careful enough to ask for another one... When the next beer appears on my table, the waiter also brings a bill, and leaves it in front of the guy. After five minutes, he's back, gets the money and the tip, thanks them, and leaves. The guy stands up, helps his wife to do the same, then they say good bye, and leave... I say good bye, and, to my surprise, the one that I've thought that she was their daughter says good bye too! I look at her, more attentive this time. She's blond, blue eyes, beautiful face, a very refined texture of skin, with no makeup, a nice pair of boobs, with the nipples protruding through her white teeshirt – it's clear that she's not wearing a bra, but, please believe me, she doesn't need to – the rest is hidden by the table and by the table cloth... She's finished eating, and now she's taking care of her beer, also lighting a cigarette. I haven't ordered anything to eat, since, in this heat, I can do anything but grab something to eat... After another five minutes, or so, I gather enough courage to try to start a conversation. "Please excuse me, but I've thought that the lady and the gentleman that just left were... your parents"... The young lady looks at me, clearly understanding that I've been talking to her, then she explains to me, in French, that she... doesn't speak Romanian. Gosh! Great! It so happens that I do speak, beside my native Romanian, English, French, Italian, and even a very little of Arabic. So, I just start laughing, explaining, this time in French, what I've been thinking about the connection between her and the two folks... The girl is clearly surprised by the quality of my French, and, when I explain to her that I also speak English and so on, she asks me to speak with her in English, since that is the only foreign language that she knows, and she would love to have some more training at it... Gosh! English, spoken with French accent! Great! Sweet! Silly!... When I see the waiter, I order another two fresh beers, and then I start telling Hortensia, since this is her name, how, while being in high school, we, the pupils, were complaining that we couldn't learn the French way and accent, since our main foreign language that we've learned, was English... I simply explain how our teacher, a very well known Don Juan, has spoken to us in a bewildering English, impeccable, for about ten minutes, and how, afterwards, I have sworn to God that I shall do whatever it takes to make myself speak French as it should be really spoken, with accents and everything... Maybe I was born to be a teacher, or, maybe, I'm just crazy, but I start and keep correcting poor Hortensia at every phrase that she dares to speak in English... To my surprise, she isn't bothered, but, on the contrary, when I excuse myself for being such a jerk, she just thanks me and encourages me to keep on doing it... She's graduated her sociology studies, she's a member of The French Communist Party, or something, and she has come to Romania to do I don't know what studies, in the core of communism... Her guide, a young student, has had to go and see after her dieing grand mother, so that, at least for today, she is alone – actually, she's said lonely, so that I've had to explain to her the difference between alone and lonely... She bursts into laughter, then tells me, in French this time, looking straight into my eyes, that, in fact, without intending, she's told me the truth... She really feels lonely! She has arrived, ten days ago, at the Bucharest airport, and, ever since, she's only has had official meetings, accompanied by her guide, with people who are much more attentive to what they shouldn't say... It's the era of Ceausescu,and people are being... careful... I do realize that, in fact, she's surely being supervised, but, since I've already crossed the line, and my father is who he is, I consider that I shouldn't care... Finally, the girl comes from I don't know what shit of a communist organization, so... what the heck?!? I simply ask her if her guide has taken her time to show her the beautiful park that we do have here, but she tells me that, except from the few streets in the neighborhood of the hotel where she's living, she hasn't seen shit... We ask for the bills, pay, and get away from the terrace, in the heat of the street, with the asphalt melting around our feet... I cannot tell why, but, a minute after we get out from the terrace, it so "happens" that an empty taxi is approaching... I'm not stupid, but, also, not afraid, so that I wave with my hand, and the taxi stops. I say hi to the driver, who looks anything but a taxi driver, and ask him to take us at the park... Reaching there, I take Hortensia by her hand – she doesn't protest – and lead her to the rowing boats. I start rowing, and, after reaching at the middle of the lake, I ask her if she is aware that she is being watched, step by step... She looks at me, bursts into a laughter, then asks me: "What? Do you mean that you aren't in the bunch of the guys that are following me?!?" She then explains that she's been told by her guide that, in no time, someone else will come and take care of her... Gosh! I can realize now that she has completely misinterpreted my presence... I give her a hint about who my father is, then let her know that, this time, she sees a guy with no mission... She surely doesn't believe me, but... what else can I say?... Actually, I feel that things are too complicated, so that I decide to get back to the shore, and lead Hortensia back to her hotel, and... bye, bye... She suddenly stands up, takes off her teeshirt and her skirt, remaining only in a pair of panties, and,,, out she is, jumping into the water of the lake... Gosh! In this place, swimming is forbidden! Shit, shit, shit!... I'm explaining to her, but she laughs, telling me that she's expecting the authorities to come and arrest her... Shit! I'm absolutely sure that we are being watched from the shore, from, probably some other boats on the lake, and so on... Shit! But... now I'm in it!... She keeps on telling me how cool and good the water is being... Well, if this is the French communist attitude, then... I like it! Finally, after more than twenty minutes of tormenting my mind, feelings, fears, and so on, Hortensia decides to get back on the boat... She asks me, in a mixed English and French, since she doesn't know how to say island in English, to take her to the island in the middle of the lake... We reach there, and she lays on her back on some grass, from where a water snake leaves in a hurry... She's not afraid of snakes... Suddenly, she takes off her panties, putting them on a branch of a tree, to get dry... Now, look at me – a guy in a pair of jeans and a short sleeved shirt, standing, like a stupid monument, beside a completely naked girl... I get closer to her, intending to say... I really don't know what... She grabs me by the belt of my jeans, unbuckles it, then encourages me to take off my trousers and shorts, and... here I am, with my throbbing dick deeply impaled in her mouth... Gosh! How she's sucking me! Her hair is filling my fists, while I keep on making her take more, and more dick inside her mouth... She's a real champ! She keeps on sucking, licking, engorging, without gagging, only with enthusiasm... We are surrounded by trees and bushes, so that I hope that nobody can see what we are being doing over here... Looking around, the natural environment gives me a kick to fuck... I take away my dick from her mouth, and ask her: "Honey, will you let me fuck you?" She jumps at me, making me lay on my back, and, in a second, she's riding me, telling me some words in a French that I really do not understand... English is long gone and forgotten... She's so fucking sweet... Her moves are exquisite! She's full of energy, determination and... lust... Gosh, we both feel so good, and when she's trembling and milking my dick with her cunt, she looks into my eyes as if she sees there the map of the world... After twenty minutes and around five orgasms from her side, I remember that my back lays on grass, that may contain ants, bugs, who knows what else, since I already know about the snake, so that I make Hortensia stop, raise, sit on her fours, and, on my knees, I start pumping her from behind... Looking at her arse, between her ass cheeks, I'm tempted like hell to stick a thumb of mine in there, but, since I realize that we don't have even a serviette over here, I prefer to postpone everything... Hortensia is terminated, once again, washing my dick with her juices, while I start asking myself if to take care, or not care, and shoot my sperm deep inside her womb... No! I'm not that kind of a guy... The moment I reach the end of the journey, I take my dick off and, jerking it, I let the grass get some pure, natural proteins... Hortensia turns, sees what I am doing, grabs me by the hand, and makes me turn toward her mouth, then starts cleaning my dick, licking me clean... She then does something that I've never seen anybody doing before. With her legs widely open, she puts her forearm between her legs, right at her pussy, and starts wiping, until she reaches the tips of her fingers, then, she just keeps her arm at the same level with her mouth, while her mouth licks and kisses her forearm, hand, and fingers... Anyway, we get dressed, back in the boat, and I row back towards the shore... Afterwards, Hortensia insists to take me to the hotel, while I keep on telling her that it's much better if we go at my apartment... Finally, we reach to a compromise. We first go at her hotel, so that she can change, then we go at my place, or wherever I wish... Since I know the policy, mentality, and all shit, I choose to stay and wait for Hortensia in the lobby. The receptionist, a fucking informant, just as they all are, is only sweet and gentle with the French bitch, but, the moment the doors of the elevator are sealed, taking her up to her room, her face becomes bitter and as screwed as a raisin, giving me some excruciating looks... I feel like asking her, who now is in her late thirties, if she's envying the French bitch for getting my young strong dick between her legs, while she's probably fucking some lousy big bellied boss around, but, since I can realize that I am already fucked, with the political police on my tail, I simply choose to behave... I know it very well, that as long as the French woman will be around me, or expecting to see me, somehow, they will let me be... In less than fifteen minutes, Hortensia is back in the lobby, comes towards me like a storm, and lets everybody see how she kisses me – the original French kiss that we are all talking about... I'm almost sure that everything has been recorded, and I'm asking myself what they will be asking me about, when we shall be parted... I honestly have a lot of fun in the back of my mind... Yeah, I know, I'm somewhat crazy, and I also have the "shield" of having my father a big shot in the bloody system... At my place, we don't waste time. We are stark naked after less than five minutes, while Joe Dassin is accompanying us with his tunes, and the way she's milking my dick with her cunt, this time knowing very well that I can let my jizz bathe her cervix, since she's on the pill, makes me blow in less than a quarter of an hour... The funny thing is the way Hortensia speaks, in English, until she gets fucking excited, and... starts mumbling in French... Gosh! This woman loooooves sex! At around eleven in the evening, Hortensia asks me kindly to take her back to her hotel, since, according to her schedule, the following morning she needs to go to I don't remember what shitty meeting, but she needs to be changed into some adequate clothes... She is literally shocked how close her hotel is to my apartment... In five minutes, we are in the lobby of the hotel, we kiss goodbye, arranging that the following day we will be seeing each other in the lobby, at five o'clock in the afternoon... The moment I enter my apartment, I can hear the bell of my phone, ringing, so that I answer. It's my father, who asks me to come at his place as soon as I can... Shit! They've done their work good! My father is sipping from a cup of tea. He's a dedicated enemy of alcohol consumption, and, generally, we are not in real good terms, ever since I was only fourteen... Right beside him, there is a guy who looks just like him, somewhat the same age and attitude... Anyway, if I am here, then chances to be arrested, or something, are really close to null... My father has his eye glasses on his nose, and he's looking at some photos... He suddenly throws one towards me, letting me see how I've been taken pictures while fucking Hortensia on that so called deserted island... The bloody bastards have probably installed some remote controlled cameras on some trees, since the photo has been taken from upside down... The two old guys keep on looking at the pile of photos, having, both of them, lots of fun... They look at each other, don't smile, but ask me to be veeeeery attentive... My activity, at the institute, is suspended, since I'm supposed to attend the new task, the French lady... I'm given the address for the following morning, then I'm asked to leave the premisses and... rest... I say good bye and leave, hearing the two old guys laughing... It seems that they are having a lot of fun, on my behalf... At eight o'clock in the morning, I am in the lobby of the hotel, asking a very kind receptionist to call room number.... Seeing me, Hortensia is convinced that everything has been, in fact, arranged... Her attitude is, somewhat, aggressive towards me... I hate the situation, but, unfortunately, I have to face it... I won't bother you with what we've been doing,during the working hours, the only important thing, if you want, being the fact that everyone was, somewhat, against me... You may say whatever you want, but, unfortunately, there was being a system over there, and, unfortunately, I was being an outsider... We are back at my place, and, gosh, how she grabs me by my balls, forcing me into the bathroom... The water showers her beautiful hair, while her mouth is soooooo busy sucking my dick... Actually, I cannot remember washing some chick's hair while she's making herself busy with my dick, sucking it, licking it, and telling me words, both in English and French... In English, at least, her preferred phrase seems to be: "I am a slut, your slut, please use me and abuse me!"... I cannot tell if and how much I use and abuse her, but while sucking my dick, she oftenly gags, but this doesn't make her stop... The flood of sperm, filling her mouth, seems to make her really happy. She swallows it all, then starts licking my fucking dick... Whawwwww! How good she can be at it! She continues with my balls, the back of them, my ass hole, then goes to my pubes, my belly, the belly button... She's tickling me like hell, with no mercy... She smiles, then makes her tongue encounter mine, so that we have a long and wandering kiss... When she reaches, again, at the head of my dick, it's already as hard as a rock, and she pushes me on the margin of the tub, then, turning around, she jumps on my dick, impaling her cunt and humping it with a frenzy,as if we're supposed to go somewhere, and we're already late... Gosh! How I loooooove it! This communist party member girl is thoroughly corrupting me! Luckily, I'm also a member of the communist party, so... who the heck is corrupting who?!?... It doesn't take her more than thirty seconds to have her arse completely filled with my throbbing dick, when she gets the need to have her back door filled... The way she works, makes me ejaculate in less than ten minutes, while she's telling me that I am her "bijou", meaning, as far as I know, a jewel... Gosh! It's the first time in my life when my fucking dick becomes a... jewel!... After two days, a young and good looking girl, sad and with an attitude of a mouse, the one with her grand mother problem, who, by now, is already dead and buried, joins us, asking me about the alphabet and some astrological reviews, so that I cannot fuck Hortensia but only during the night, comes and follows us, keeping us company, and taking care that we don't stumble on who knows what dangerous rocks... After a few days, we drive, by a taxi, Hortensia at the airport, and, after her departure, we take another taxi to come back in town. A black car comes parallel with out taxi, and the man beside the driver makes a sign to the taxi driver to stop... The guide, Lacy, leaves the taxi and gets into that car, not before leaving, discreetely, a note, with her phone number... The following day, when I reach at the institute, my place of work, I am asked to visit the counter espionnage officer, who, while smoking a cigarette with me, asks me if I do consider that I have any remarks, or something to declare... I simply tell him, jokingly, that the woman has cracked all the rules about ass fucking, since she's managed to take me all in, in less than thirty seconds... Please note that, those times, here, ass fucking was a crime!... He finishes his cigarette, smiles, and tells me that, as he's heard, there is a lot of work expecting me to do... We shake hands, and he whispers: "Good job! Thank you!"... Ever since, nobody, my father included, has ever asked me about this episode of my life... THE END