My college friend, Lera, invited me out for the weekend—her husband, Sasha, and his friends had rented a large cottage by the lake to celebrate his birthday. I'd recently broken up with my boyfriend and agreed right away: I wanted to unwind, get away from it all. Lera said it would be a small group, seven or eight people, all close friends, and I got ready without a care in the world. I had to take the train, then a taxi. I put on my favorite sundress—a lightweight one with thin straps, white with tiny blue flowers, and mid-thigh length. I only wore a swimsuit underneath, because Lera had promised a sauna and a dip in the lake. The sundress was slightly see-through in the sun, but that added to the feeling of summer freedom. The cottage turned out to be large, wooden, with a terrace and a barbecue in the yard. When I arrived, Lera happily hugged me and introduced me to the guests. The group included: the birthday boy himself, Sasha; his colleague Denis, a large, bearded man of a... continue reading

My name is Artyom, and I'm twenty-nine. I'm an ordinary IT guy from Moscow who rented a huge two-story house in the Moscow region last summer to finally take a breather after endless deadlines. How did I end up pushing my wife toward my brother? It didn't happen overnight. It came together piece by piece, like code that only works when all the lines are in place. Back in college, I loved the dorm parties. They were always full of girls from good families—modest-looking, with pigtails and quiet laughter. During the day, they'd hold hands with their boyfriends, and at night, after a bottle or two, these same girls would end up in the common room and take whatever was offered. I didn't participate. I watched. And I remembered how their faces changed when they were taken hard and for real. That left a stronger impression on me than any sex I'd ever had. Vika and I met three years ago. She was twenty-five then. Petite, with a short haircut, big brown eyes, and a b... continue reading

I never thought I'd be fucking my best friend's mother while lying on a lounge chair in the middle of a pine forest, while the birds sang as if they were requesting a soundtrack. Seriously. My name is Alexander, I'm twenty years old, five feet five inches tall, I play basketball at the college level, and I'm used to getting what I want. But Anna... that was on another level. We went to Vitka's dacha for the May holidays. He, his parents, and I—like, to get away from the city, have a barbecue, go to the sauna. I'd known Vitka since first year, but I'd only seen his parents briefly a couple of times. He'd say, "My mom's strict, my dad's busy." Okay, fine. I thought it would be a classic woman in a robe with curlers. I was wrong. When we walked into the house, she was standing by the living room window, adjusting the curtain. The sun was shining from behind, shining through the thin knit of her housedress. Her silhouette was simply stunni... continue reading

I decided to leave work early. My boss, of course, grumbled, but I told him that my pipe had burst and I needed to go urgently. But in reality, I just wanted to go to the dacha. Marina left last week, saying that I needed to pick raspberries and currants. Well, I was glad to have a little rest alone. I bought some cold beer and shashlik on the way. I drive up to my plot, and at the gate is Lyokha's car, my neighbor. Well, I think, cool, I'll pop in to see him, maybe we'll have a beer. Our gate doesn't creak, I treated it with oil a week ago. I enter quietly, and from the open window of our house there are strange sounds. Not exactly screams, more like groans. Marina's voice was always quiet, but here... somehow loud. And Lyokhin's laughter. So rude, so smug. I froze. My heart immediately sank into my heels, and then hit my head. I sneak up to the window, through a crack between the curtains. And... I was stunned. They're right on our couch, the one I drag... continue reading