"Defloration"
Between us girls, this is not a very pleasant event that we want to forget about once and for all. This is a separate topic, for many more unpleasant than masturbation.
You know, lately I have been feeling my loneliness especially acutely because I have realized a wild thirst for female communication. I don’t have friends, and a little later I’ll tell you why, but now I get great pleasure talking with you, mentally imagining that each of you readers is my friend.
Husband, this is wonderful, but he will never become your girlfriend in the full sense of the word, no matter how hard you try. And to find such a man and such girlfriends who will not conflict, and because of whom you will not lose this or that, is difficult, very difficult.
I could not. For now. So, alas, this fate befell you. The fate of dumb friends who can only listen and understand.
A nightmare, of course not. I don't want to give you such a role. I sincerely appreciate and respect you. I will be glad to receive feedback and letters. Since my husband approved the publishing of this book, he is ready to come to terms with the girlfriends in my life. Thank him very much for this.
My dear husband, I want to thank you for this patience and courage to allow me to publish my deepest and most intimate experiences, as well as those subtle and awkward details concerning you, including yourself. Let this book help many women, and maybe married couples, let this sacrifice in some way – our souls wide open with you – will not be in vain.
Girls, don't let me down.
Thank you.
So, defloration.
Almost everyone's deflowering, with rare exceptions about which I know nothing, is carried out in fear.
Even if a girl is getting ready, like my American friend, who got married as a virgin, it’s still scary. According to her, it was so scary, for both of them, although the husband was already an experienced thirty-year-old uncle, that they had to get into a hot bath and relax with a glass of wine in order to even touch each other.
By the way, they were not fans of alcohol.
I also dreamed of saving myself for my betrothed, or at least until my eighteenth birthday.
But one day, my best friend, who promised to protect herself just like me, admitted that she couldn’t keep it.
God. How can you not hold back? I was so angry with her. I was even offended for several days. I didn’t want to fall behind, so I decided to repeat the trick.
I can’t say that hormones interfered with our lives, and that I really really wanted to lose my virginity, but I wanted boyish attention more than ever.
I didn't want sex. This is true. I don’t know about others, but I wanted love. I dreamed of a prince charming, a rich, handsome young man, a man who would pay no attention to my teenage stupidities. I wanted him to hug me, take me to warm countries, take care of me like a small miracle that appeared in life like a ray of light.
Ah, naive soul. Grown-up guys from the south walked around my provincial town, tanned, loving, ready to call you their princess, their only one, pretending to be caring and gentle. They stood out strongly against the background of Russian guys, cold and rude, and almost everyone wanted to sleep with them at least once.
But everyone knew that no love could be achieved from these machos, only window dressing and disappointment.
As a smarter person than my peers, I tried not to get confused with people of Caucasian nationality, although my friend believed every word they said.
She just gave herself to one of them at sixteen.
And so, I, too, have two years left before I come of age, I don’t know how long before marriage, I decide to sleep with the first guy I come across who is more or less attractive to me, to spite my friend.
This was revenge. The game that cost me my health.
Girls, don't repeat my mistakes. Women, take care of yourself if you are still healthy.
Never have sex without a condom or a certificate from your partner, and still only with a condom the first hundred times. Then somehow you can still trust him and consider him your boyfriend. Well, this is a lyrical digression.
I then developed a slight bouquet of sexually transmitted diseases. Of course, I was treated and everything went away, but I was ashamed of myself.
He was twenty-five, handsome, brown-eyed, athletic, supposedly in love, although his flattery and insincerity were hard to miss.
We went to his house for rented accommodation, it looked like it wasn’t his at all, it was cold and without hot water.
He changed the bed in front of me, for which I thank you.
He was gentle and courteous, for which I am also grateful to him. Quickly and without much pain. It’s rather unpleasant and wet between your legs, but your soul is disgusting and so sad.
I didn’t love him, I knew that he had a dozen more like him, but I decided to prove something to someone.
I trudged home alone in the morning, it was already light. The homeless husky tagged along and followed me for half a block, as if she sympathized and understood everything.
At home, I quickly came to my senses, and even in the evening I proudly told my friend the details of what happened. We laughed and shared our impressions, as if we had gone to war and won. Inside we knew that we had won only a frivolous battle; the real fight lay ahead of us. But they tried not to show it and had fun like children. The struggle of life in which we were no longer worthy, self-respecting ladies. We took the path of depravity, which turned us into mediocre girls, with ordinary goals, without ambitions and principles, without big plans. Just frivolous talkers from the provinces.
Fortunately, I felt this very keenly at the time and did not want to agree with such a future.
For three whole years I locked myself in a Christian youth community and never dated anyone else. Only girlfriends, friends and an imaginary god.
I'm not saying there is no God. I just know that mine was not real. Whether it exists or not, what kind it is and whether a person needs it, I still don’t know; it doesn’t stop me from enjoying life.
The stories of my friends about defloration all confirm the fact that there is no orgasm in this dirty business. Just kidding, it's not dirty, but it stains the sheets.
If a woman goes through this and also enjoys it, then she should be given a medal. What do you think?
"Lesbian tendencies."
It’s a nightmare, it’s not a topic, it makes me blush even more. Thank God you don't see this. The spectacle is terrible. I get spots all over, especially my neck. Sometimes listeners of my webinar or seminar are scared that I have angioedema or anaphylactic shock, but I reassure them “you’ll rejoice early.”
In general, it started in kindergarten. I noticed that if we take my sexuality in general, then eighty percent I liked boys, about twenty percent girls.
So, of course, I am a heterosexual person.
But I admit that in past lives I was a man at least once.
Are you laughing? Didn't this happen to you? Have you ever seen yourself as a man in sexual intercourse?
Then you should try it, it's very interesting. Of course, I’m talking about fantasies. After all, it makes no sense to become a man while you have a female body; you shouldn’t live in the past. Well, I was a man, everything is in the past, I need to move on. Now I'm a woman, it's time to take full advantage of all these bells and whistles.
As I write this, I’m just in awe of how funny and cheerful I am.
How did my first homo sensation happen?
It was a beautiful spring day, the kindergarten was showing a Soviet cartoon about a girl lost in time, the whole city had disappeared, and there was no one left. The character was portrayed by a doll with long shiny hair. Apparently, she reminded me of my ex from the sixties. It seems to me that it was in the USA, but that’s not the point.
I remembered the image of this doll and subsequently led an adult lifestyle at home in my cozy children’s bed.
My parents considered me a real angel.
It was funny how my mother protected me from the stove so that I wouldn’t get burned, from needles so that I wouldn’t prick myself, when I had long known the delights of orgasm.
Yes, I learned to sew and put on a kettle later than my peers, by the age of seven, because it seemed to my mother that I was still a mere child (one “c”).
Wow, in real life I only fell in love with boys, guys, men. Never in women. This is true. Surprisingly, I’m really completely hetero.
So girls, if this has happened to you, don’t be afraid, don’t be shy, leave the past in the past. Live a new life. Use your feminine energy to the fullest.
I remember exactly two girls who were lesbians, but then married a man for love.
One of them was a good friend of mine, everyone loved her, an exemplary girl, an excellent student, a Christian, somewhat reminiscent of Hermione Granger. Lily didn't date anyone until she moved to St. Petersburg.
Then we didn’t communicate with her anymore, but I heard rumors that she was living and, let’s call a spade a spade, having sex with a girl.
Social networks have made it much easier to find information about people, and the rumors were confirmed. Later, on the same vkontakte, I discovered that Lily was already married and gave birth to children, and looked happy. Surprisingly, it happens.
My second friend, a former work colleague, received gifts from her fans straight into the office. Flowers, sweets, soft toys, everything as it should be, only from former lovers.
I was surprised:
–How so, you have a boyfriend?
– Apparently, I'm bi. Because I've been married before and am getting married again, but in between I had a wonderful affair with a girl.
Bi is the next fashion trend in the sexual revolution. Previously, of course, it also existed in the Middle Ages and the Old Testament, but as you know, fashion tends to return.
As they say, in every person there is both a feminine and a masculine principle, everyone could potentially be both a man and a woman in a past life, which is why, in my opinion, all this confusion arises.
A bisexual guy once approached me, it was funny, but nothing more. There was also a girl who tried to pick me up, but I ran away as if scalded, politely bowing out.
One day, my ex-boyfriend, a lawyer, taekwondo master, Tatar, told me how as a child he and two friends played in the forest and decided to try it, and what it’s like when your penis is not satisfied with your hand. Are you blushing? Me too. But what should I do? He was also embarrassed when he told me. But they did it (his friends, not him). They didn't like it and decided to forget everything. Of course, he didn’t reveal their names to me; it was their secret.
For some reason, it seems to me that almost every second person, and maybe more often, has had a homosexual experience.
My gynecology teacher Anna Vladimirovna explained the male desire to have a foreign object in the anus by the fact that the prostate is stimulated in this way and this is a separate type of sexual arousal. And if for diagnostic or therapeutic purposes it is necessary to collect sperm, but the man cannot, then the medical worker puts on a glove and massages that very place.
Dear ladies, don’t be surprised if your husband asks you to wear a strap-on, he’s not gay, he just wants to get that same pleasure.
I had a friend who with her boyfriend (almost her husband, they had been dating for so long) had anal sex in his direction. Don't think about it, she didn't look like a stern, masculine aunt who dominates her perverted sexual partner. This is a beautiful long-legged girl with light brown curly hair, facial features like Khodchenkova, dressed in a shawl and midi skirt.
My eyes also widened when she shared such an intimate detail with me in the solarium. I spent the whole day thinking about how easily she discusses such things in public places with a not very close friend.
Apparently this is liberation.
Or some form of perversion.
Or am I simply behind the times, and women should give all men a prostate massage so that he doesn’t go to his lover?
My dear readers, if any of you suddenly judged me for a second for writing so openly, then drop it, don’t read.
But I will continue anyway.
Life is too short to be afraid of being judged.
Once, by the way, I talked to my mother about my nephew’s masturbation, that he didn’t need a girl yet, supposedly it was too early, and he already copes with his hormones with the help of masturbation.
Mom asked: “What is this?”
I answer: “This is masturbation.”
She meaningfully: “Ah.” This is what polite people say to hide their misunderstanding.
I decided not to educate her about this in her seventh decade.
Mom, if you're reading this, know that I didn't come up with this. The Bible, which you love so much, says this. There was an Onan who practiced coitus interruptus; for some reason handjob was named after him.
Back to homosexuality. Here’s another example: two women of about forty, but very beautiful and obviously rich, recently approached me, gave me a lot of compliments and invited me for a cup of coffee.
Women do not meet people like themselves on the streets. No heterosexual woman would make acquaintances so daringly. In a beauty salon, yes. Mutual friends, yes. Friends in misfortune, perhaps in a bar, or at the gym, yes. On the street, no.
This is what men do in order to later get them into bed. It's not bad. It’s just that this way of behavior is characteristic of the stronger sex and lesbians.
I refused, but later I told my husband that I had never received a better compliment in my life.
Between us girls, we love competition. And if a man admires us, it’s nice, and if a woman, then doubly so. After all, if your opponent likes you, it means she recognized your superiority. You win.
Well, maybe we don’t think so directly, but somewhere deep down, I believe, we do.
Well, that’s probably all on the topic of same-sex love, let’s move on to the next chapter of my life.
“What if I’m on a vow of celibacy (the existence of which, of course, only God knows)”
Another story that left a mark on my life.
I really thought that if the mountain does not come to Mohammed, then Mohammed has no reason to try.
They assured me that everything was God’s will. Single and older friends from the youth Christian community constantly said that if God does not give you a husband, then he has a different plan for you.
There was a little happiness on their faces, and I’m sure each secretly wanted to quickly get married in order to prove to everyone that there was no curse on her. Oh, sorry, celibacy.
Well, what is this if not a curse?
You want sex, you want a handsome, smart, kind, sexy, preferably financially secure man next to you. And here it’s “on you”, you need to dress decently, behave decently, be an obedient and exemplary Christian, because there is no place for harlots in heaven.
So you stand in a dilemma: bright makeup is not allowed, God does not want it. You walk around pale as a moth, and pretty boys pay attention only to those whose natural beauty outshines all the other parishioners.
Brad, really?
That is, in the battle for the best guy, the one who doesn’t need makeup a priori wins.
And the dull gray mouse gets exactly the same mediocre guy. And everything would be fine, because there are a lot of couples like that, and they live happily, love each other (I don’t mean it as a reproach, forgive me for God’s sake if I offended anyone), but there are also those who don’t settle for the average, give them the best .
I'm very ambitious. I always wanted to be on top.
I don't think I'm giving up yet.
Every time I increase the upgrade level to reach new heights.
Now I’m thinking about going to Hollywood, I’ll start with small roles, and then we’ll see how it goes. Look, in this life I’ll star in the main one.
Then, at fourteen, I didn’t want to agree with the vow of celibacy. She constantly tried it on herself and threw it aside with contempt.
I prayed that God would not give me such misfortune, that he would bypass me and reward Olya, well, let Christina, Nastya, Valya in extreme cases, but not me.
They are all married now, just like me, but then they were so afraid. They were afraid, but did not show these feelings. They held firm.
I was the weakest of all, the first to start putting on makeup, and so brightly, to be sure. I didn't even give up on getting David.
He was in a relationship, and I asked him to teach me how to play the guitar, suggested we go for a walk, supposedly discuss the Bible, and arranged gatherings with mutual friends at his house. All this was seasoned with a ton of makeup and a deep neckline.
Even after that unfortunate under-kiss, I carried out attacks on the poor couple of guys in love. I think these were attacks on my loneliness. I fought him desperately.
I went to clubs, met with guys in between, until I left for a bigger city, where, as I wrote earlier, I almost locked myself in a monastery for three years.
Do you know what was there? Three years of celibacy. It’s so funny, I fought with him so much and lost. Beaten and defeated, with my tail between my legs, I resigned myself to this fate and stopped trying.
In the dorm, I was a nasty nerd who, at twenty-three, could go into the kitchen and rip someone's stereo cord out of the socket because I wanted to sleep. The whole floor was having fun and listening to this music, it didn’t bother anyone, but they were afraid of me. I complained, after all.
I laugh, but in those years I was stiff and hypocritical, like an old woman.
I masturbated then too. But she hid it from everyone, fearing to spoil her image of decency.
These were strange years in my life. I had a lot of friends, I won’t say that I missed you, but life in fear of God’s punishment is very depressing.
Christian girls, friends of those days of mine, if you are reading this book and are still not burned with shame, then come to your senses.
There is no one in this life who would live it for you. If you are unhappy, then it will get worse, only depression and antidepressants while waiting for a better life in paradise. I have already seen girls like this, dreaming of quickly getting off this rushing train called “life”, instead of picking up speed and winning themselves.
There will be no other source of happiness except yourself. No one, no heavenly powers will make you happy if you have not learned to generate happiness in yourself.
Okay, let's move on. I'll tell you a little later about my episode of apathy.
In the meantime, here are examples of girls who thought they were under a curse, ugh, you misspoke again, a vow of celibacy.
Inessa, a plump thirty-five-year-old girl, married a rich Finn, travels with him around the world.
Sonya, a masculine, stooped, bespectacled daughter of a village priest, married a young pastor from another village.
Another Sonya (the spitting image of John Lennon in a skirt) married a new parishioner.
Masha hurried up and married an alcoholic, but the truth overcame loneliness. Was it worth it? She knows better.
Sveta, she went on exchange from the University to Norway, there she found herself a tall, curly-haired Jew who lives in Israel.
Zhanna married her childhood friend, but I think she’s worried that her betrothed is still wandering around somewhere.
Zoya married a very hardworking guy. Do they have orgasms? I don't know, but they have fun together.
Zhenya is married for the second time.
Edita is on the verge of divorce, but in my opinion she never doubted herself. If he gets divorced, a dozen more people will immediately appear.
I… But about myself a little later (I’m married, I looked for a long time, I found it).
You know, there is such a belief that if a woman is over thirty and has not been married, then she is an old maid.
I think we weren't afraid of celibacy, we were afraid of being labeled an old maid. We were afraid of old age in principle.
And if someone had shown me then an example of a happy old woman’s life: a biker jacket, a biker jacket, no wrinkles, pumped up, wearing makeup, well, maybe a little Botox for the sake of gloss, heels and latex trousers, my life could have been different.
Have you seen Mylene Farmer? Not married, no children, that is, no relationship with some handsome guy, and all this is seasoned with concerts for millions of fans peeing with delight.
These are the kind of women that need to be shown to young girls, so that they don’t realize themselves yet, and don’t even worry about being lonely after thirty.
Now Mr. President will condemn me, but what about the state order for children? Dear sir, I am not against children or marriage, I am for conscious marriage and creating a family.
Girls, girls, women, realize yourself, strive to be happy, the rest will come later.