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I walk up behind him, gently put my palms on his bare shoulders and nuzzle him in the back, enjoying the smell of his skin with pleasure.
Of course, it should be just that – a mixture of cigarette smoke, expensive toilet water and clean, sleek skin.
I think I could stand there all night like that, but he turns around and I see a sly half-smile on his beautiful lips, and his eyes glow gray in the dark.
I want to hug him, I rise on tiptoes, he puts his big warm hands on my waist and presses him to his inflated body.
I try to lay my head on his shoulder, but he doesn’t let me do this, lifts my head and literally bites my lips with a sharp, bitter cigarette kiss.
The insistent language unceremoniously penetrates my mouth, it keeps me closer and closer, it seems that soon I will hear the crunch of my own ribs.
As soon as my hands manage to touch his black hair, he suddenly, with such force, shoves me away from me, that I fall to the floor, painfully hitting my elbow.
Oooo.
– from pain, I curl and rub my bruised place.
And he towers above me, and in his steel look there is not a shadow of regret.
I creep closer to him and, I answer, looking him in the eyes with the eyes of a resigned dog.
He laughs, and in the dark his white teeth glisten wetly.
With a jerk, he picks me up from the floor and hurls me onto a huge bed.

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Who would know how I like it, I’m all trembling with an irresistible desire to obey in all my master.
And he knelt above me, and the skin of his black pants reflected the glare of the wrong light of a billboard.
I want to reach him, lick him from head to toe, sink his teeth into his shoulder to find out what his velvet skin tastes, scratch his smooth back to blood, and then lick off the dark red drops that are slowly flowing down.
I want to tear him apart, rush to him, but he is older, stronger, grabs me with an iron grip on my fingers trained on the guitar, and I can no longer move.
His palms hold mine tightly and I feel the cold of his rings.
There is absolute silence in the room, in which his heavy breathing is echoing.
I see him licking

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his lips and automatically doing the same.
A strange red dressing gown, dressed on me, causes frank irritation and all I want is to get rid of it quickly.
He, as if reading my thoughts, immediately grabs his hands on the buttons, but there are too many of them and, in order not to waste time, he simply tears the beautiful little thing to hell.
I hear the cracking of the fabric, the knocking of the scattered buttons, and at the same time I understand that my hands are free, I jump on the bed and grab the iron buckle of his belt with German crosses.
He helps me by unbuttoning her, lowering her pants and pulling the belt out of them with a sharp sound.
I am sitting on the bed in front of him, already completely naked and ready for him to take me this minute without any sweet preludes.
But he does not want it.
Smiling slyly, he pushes me and I fall on a dark blanket, and then he takes me by the wrists and, having stretched both hands at once, ties them with a belt to the iron headboard of the bed, then leaves me in that position.
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