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Igor sat peacefully in the kitchen and looked at me.
I caught myself flying around the kitchen.
I deliberately wag my booty, throw back my hair from my forehead, and in general, I behave like a woman admired by a man.
“Can I have one gin and tonic for me for dinner?” Igor smiled.
– I’m coming now.
– Take the money in my wallet.
– I treat you, I got a scholarship.
He gently kissed me on the cheek.
The door closed behind him.
What’s up with dumplings? He will be back soon.
Now, having exchanged the third dozen, I recall this incident with a smile, and then, at seven, I was not amused.
The main event at the age of seven was of course the school.
At the beginning of the eighties, the school was still ten years old and was taken in the first grade at seven years old, and not a year earlier, as it is now.
The age of seven was officially considered kindergarten.
Well, at seven, with the arrival at the school, everything was thoroughly changed.
Attitudes of others, clothing.
No more wearing children’s tights – at least boys.
Not to mention the pot.
In general, I felt at the age of seven almost an adult.
And hesitate, of course, began.
For my mother, I sometimes made exceptions, but my older sister could not go into the bathroom when I was standing there in the shower.
Although a year ago everything was completely different.
In the kindergarten age I liked to swim in

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the presence of my sister, because she always came up with interesting games.
(Get yourself a Russian virtual lover-davalku! – good advice) My sister Natasha was nine years older than me and accordingly studied in ninth grade.
The relationship between us at that time was rather strained.
I even got the impression that I began to interfere with Natasha.
She was constantly not sitting at home and of course did not like it when her mother asked her to stay with me.

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Natasha and her school girlfriends always had other plans that I, of course, did not include.
I do not remember how it all began that day.
Natasha was unhappy with me since the morning and constantly nagged at something.
In the evening, my sister’s discontent intensified because she had to go to the school disco, and my mother, as luck would have it, was late at work.
I wasn’t left me alone at the age of seven, so Natasha had to wait for mom.
As for his father, he then worked on a rotational basis in the north and had not been home for several months.
But in the garage in the spring should have appeared brand new “Lada”.
Finally, my mother called home and said that she was leaving.
Since it took about an hour to get home from her, my mother asked Natasha to warm up dinner for me.
Natasha, although she managed to dress up in a disco, began to mess around at the stove.
Warming up dinner, she called me to eat.
We sat at the table and I silently began to eat.
Now it was better not to mess with Natasha.
Having finished the porridge with sausages, I pulled a cup of tea to me and reached for a jar of currant jam on the edge of the table.
(Doesn’t the topic inspire? This video really inspires you! – ca.
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) It would be better if that bank fell to the floor and broke.
All this, she fell on her knees sitting at the table Natasha.
I watched with horror as the red jam slowly flowed from the open cans onto Natasha’s light beige shtoks.
Those who remember the beginning of the eighties, do not need to explain anything.
Just one word “shtroksy”.
Well, the rest, who did not find this glorious time, I will explain that imported jeans from small velveteen, called shtroks, officially cost the engineer an average monthly salary.
Of course, officially and at the official price, the shtroks were almost impossible to buy, but my mother managed to find them somewhere — so much Natasha wanted them.
My sister got mother about Shtroks almost half a year and in the end Mom gave them to her for her birthday.
Half a minute Natasha sat in shock.
– What have you done? – Sister asked me indignantly, when speechless returned to her, – Where am I going to the disco now? I shrank from fright because Natashin did not foretell anything good.
“I am not on purpose,” I said, feeling that tears were coming to my eyes.
Natasha began to insult me ??offensively.
For several minutes I silently listened to her angry speech that she had nothing to go to the disco.
“I’m sick of your antics,” Natasha finished her speech, “Now I’ll drop my pants and stick my belt over my bare bottom.”
I thought that Natasha was scaring me, but she dragged me by the hand from the kitchen to the hall.
Noticing that my sister unbuttons her belt as she goes, I finally believed in her threat. Ebony huge tits webcam.

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