Cunnilingus. Married to kikimore. Vitaly Mushkin

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      Married to kikimore

      Vitaly Mushkin

      © Vitaly Mushkin, 2017

      ISBN 978-5-4485-9380-2

      Created with Ridero smart publishing system

      Mushrooms

      September 12, on his day off, Ivan Sklyarov went by train for mushrooms. Every time he went to the same place, familiar from childhood. The train went early in the morning, there were few people in the car, the same mushroom pickers and summer residents. Ivan poured himself a coffee from the thermos, took out a sandwich and proceeded to a second breakfast. The train ran quickly, forests and villages swept past the window. It was still far to go, you could look through a crossword puzzle or take a nap. Sklyarov took out a crumpled compilation of crossword puzzles. The mythical inhabitant of the marshes, the word of eight letters, the second and fourth letters “and”. Kikimora.

      Ivan knew this forest well. To the right is a river, directly a lake, on the left a swamp. You keep to the river, you reach the lake and back. Here is the first mushroom, russula. And here is the poderezovik, handsome. The basket was gradually filled with mushrooms. Fresh air, the smell of the forest, a little intoxicated. How good that I got out of town. So to walk and walk without stopping, being filled with this force of the forest, by the force of living nature. Here is the lake. Halt. It’s already cold to bathe, and the sun is not visible. So, sit a little at the water, have a snack, and on the way back.

      Ivan decided to take to the right, a little closer to the swamp. And it proved to be justified. More often came to meet the boletus, and white. The basket was already stretching out her hand. There were no people in the forest. For the whole day Sklyarov saw only two or three. There was more water under your feet. We must leave the swamp, go closer to the river. Ivan looked at the sky, the sun was closing the clouds. I should probably go there. And then suddenly he saw in the distance a mushroom picker, a woman. In a light short coat, she walked through the forest and, bending over, gathered something, probably berries. Well, it’s almost on the road, Sklyarov went in her direction. Here’s another fungus, here’s another. After a long distance, Ivan raised his head and saw that the distance between them did not decrease. Am I doing the right thing, in the right direction? It seems to be correct. Just need a little to the left. It was time to go out to the river. Sklyarov walked on and on. Unexpectedly, looking back, he saw a light coat behind him. My God, where am I going, have I really lost my way? Ivan went to the woman. But the distance between them did not decrease. And then she completely disappeared. Then Ivan Sklyarov was frightened.

      Cyrus

      The sky was clouded by very dark clouds. The boots went deeper into the water. And how to get out of the swamp, Ivan did not know. He walked at random. Anyway, there must be some way ahead. The water was getting bigger, and the trees were getting smaller. Here, in front, seemed to be a wall of tall trees, that’s where it should be dry. And there suddenly flashed a familiar coat. “Aw!” Shouted Sklyarov. “Aw!” The woman answered. Ivan, without examining the road, jerked straight to the voice. And he was waist-deep in the water. Getting out of the pit was hard. Wet clothes and boots pulled down, there was no hard soil underfoot. I had to work hard to get out of the quagmire. Ahead he saw a big thick birch, then there is solid ground. Beneath the birch stood a woman in a short light coat and little rubber boots, waved her hand and shouted: “Ay.” Ivan boldly rushed to her and went under the water with his head. Long and difficult to get out of the swamp. And when I finally crawled out onto the dry land, there was no one there.