The story was written to order for my beloved reader and published with his approval. Background: The Perfect Cell Yana married Oleg at twenty-two. He was ten years older, confident, and as steady as a Swiss watch. He was the epitome of success: a burgeoning career, an expensive car, a spacious apartment in a prestigious neighborhood. For many of her friends, she had won the lottery of life. But after three years of marriage, Yana realized she'd won a ticket into a gilded cage, albeit a cage nonetheless. Their life was scheduled down to the minute: Oleg's work, his business dinners, their rare social outings where he'd talk business deals and she'd have to sit there, smile prettily, and nod. Her own life, her dreams of something more than decoration, were slowly fading. Oleg loved her, but he loved her as a valuable possession, as part of his successful image. He adored her beauty, but he took it for granted, like a pretty painting on the wall, something he could occasionally glance at. Their intimate life had become routine, predictable and fast-paced, like everything else on his schedule. He didn't notice how she yearned, how her body, young and thirsty for passion, began to demand more. It was at this moment of internal vacuum in her life that Denis appeared. Chapter 1: Spark The restaurant was expensive and pretentious. Yana sat across from Oleg, half-listening to his conversation with Denis about some new project. She was wearing a form-fitting black dress with a low neckline, the one Oleg had given her for their anniversary. The dress accentuated her curves, but he seemed oblivious to it. Just as he didn't notice the admiring glances of the other men in the room. And Denis noticed. He noticed everything. His gaze, heavy and enveloping, slid down her cleavage, lingering on the curves of her large, lush breasts before meeting her eyes. Yana felt goosebumps run across her skin. Unlike Oleg's absentminded gaze, Denis's was focused, searching, hungry. "Yana, you look absolutely stunning," Denis said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. He said it not as a formal compliment, but as a statement of fact, tinged with lust. "Oleg, you're incredibly lucky to have such a wife. A real Aphrodite." Oleg smiled indulgently, sipping his wine. "Yes, Yanochka is a beauty," he said, as if commenting on the weather, and then plunged back into discussing the tenders. Yana felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Denis's compliment wasn't empty courtesy. It was a challenge. An acknowledgement of her not just as "Oleg's wife," but as a woman. A sexy, desirable woman. "Thank you, Denis," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. She leaned over to pick up her glass of water and felt her large, heavy breasts jiggling beneath the fabric of her dress. It seemed as if Denis had noticed the movement, causing her nipples to swell and harden, protruding treacherously beneath the thin fabric. The evening went on. Denis spoke to her more and more often, engaging her in conversation, joking. His foot under the table accidentally brushed against hers. Yana jerked it away, as if she'd touched hot metal, but a wave of heat rushed through her body. It wasn't an accident. She knew it. And he knew it. At that moment, Oleg was telling something, clearly pleased with the evening and the fact that his colleague was so kind to his wife. "Denis, don't pay attention," he slapped him on the shoulder. "Yana's a shy girl. You're probably embarrassing her with your compliments." Denis grinned, his eyes meeting Yanina's again. They held not embarrassment, but triumph and promise. "Oh, I don't think so. Modesty is just a mask. Beneath it often lies a veritable volcano of passion. Isn't that right, Yana?" Oleg laughed loudly. "Volcano? My Yanochka? You've got something mixed up, my friend. She's like a porcelain doll to me. Fragile and delicate." Yana sat, clutching a napkin in her lap. Her body was burning. A porcelain doll. Yes, that's exactly how he perceived her. An unfeeling, fragile thing. But Denis... Denis saw a volcano. And this volcano was beginning to awaken. As they left the restaurant, Denis, helping her put on her coat, his fingers lingered for a moment on her bare shoulders. His touch was scorching. "Let's write to each other sometime and discuss art," Oleg said, tying his scarf. "Otherwise, Yana gets bored with me, a bore." "With great pleasure," Denis responded immediately, looking directly at Yana. His gaze said, "This is just the beginning." In the car, on the way home, Yana was silent, looking at the city lights. She could smell Denis's perfume mingling with her own arousal. She squeezed her thighs, trying to suppress the throbbing in the pit of her stomach. Oleg was right—she was like a porcelain doll. But inside that doll slumbered an insatiable, lustful whore, and Denis had just pulled the trigger. The spark had been lit. And Yana realized with horror and delight that the dry grass of her marriage was about to burst into a bright, destructive fire. And she no longer wanted to put it out. Chapter 2: A Game of Cat and Mouse A week passed. Seven days, during which Yana's world narrowed to the screen of her phone. Her shared Telegram chat with Denis became a illicit drug, which she secretly took while Oleg showered or fell asleep after work. Every time she opened it, she felt a rush of adrenaline, making her heart beat faster. Their correspondence had long ceased to be innocent. Denis (9:30 PM): I'm lying in the bath, thinking... about your eyes. They're so innocent, and your lips... Lips were made for sin. I imagine them wrapped around... a martini glass. Too bad it's not something else. Attached photo: his torso, damp from the water, his hand resting relaxed on his stomach, his fingers tucked under the waistband of his swimming trunks. The hint is more than obvious. Yana, lying next to Oleg, who was already asleep, held her breath. Her hand instinctively reached for her breast, squeezing it through the thin fabric of her nightgown. She felt her nipple swell and harden under her touch. Yana (21:33): Martini is boring. I, for example, am drinking mint tea right now. Very chaste. And I imagine someone's fingers... drawing patterns on my thigh. Completely by accident, of course. She sent the message and, glancing at her snoring husband, quietly slipped out of bed. Entering the dark living room, she leaned against the cold glass of the balcony door. Her body was burning. She unbuttoned a couple of buttons on her nightgown, releasing her ample breasts. The cool air made her skin prickle, and her nipples became two hard, demanding nubs. She cupped one breast in her palm, imagining it was Denis's hand. The phone vibrated again. Denis (21:37): Voice message (17 sec). His voice was low, breathing directly into my ear: "Mint tea... You know what I'm thinking about? I'm thinking about who you really are. All that doll-like innocence... It's just a mask. Underneath it, there's a body that begs for rough hands. Do you like it when your big, firm breasts are squeezed so hard you almost scream? When your wide areolas turn a deep, deep shade of arousal? I'd start there. With those two ripe peaches just begging to be picked..." Yana played the message twice. A shudder ran through her body, stopping in a hot, wet pulsation between her legs. She ran a finger over her nipple, and a spasm of pleasure ran through her body. She was wet. She hadn't felt this way even with Oleg in his best times. Yana (21:40): Voice message (10 seconds). Her voice was quiet, hoarse: "You... you're dangerous. And my tea doesn't seem so chaste anymore. My peaches... they're really juicy. And very lonely." She took a selfie. Not her face. Just the lower half of her face, her full, parted lips, and her large, bare breasts spilling out of her unbuttoned nightgown. The light hit them in such a way that it accentuated every curve, every curve. She posted the photo with the caption: "Guess which one is sweeter?" The answer came instantly. A photo of his hand, clutching his clearly erect penis. Denis (21:42): I need a taste. Of both. Now. I can't get the image out of my head of you, all doll-like and innocent, kneeling, and your mouth... your mouth is occupied with something completely different. Would you kiss it tenderly, like a princess? Or would you swallow it all the way down to your throat, like a real... well, you know. "Whore," Yana mentally finished for him. And that word, dirty and shameful, made her squeeze her thighs with a wave of lust. Yana (21:45): Princesses don't do things like that. But bad girls... they can learn anything. If they find a good teacher. As she wrote this, she imagined him. His scent. His hands holding her waist. His cock sliding between her breasts, coating them with precum, and then entering her wet, prepared mouth. She swallowed, feeling everything inside her burn. Denis (9:47 PM): The teacher is ready for the first lesson. Gallery Shopping Center. 4:00 PM - 5:00 PM. Café on the third floor. Come on in. No bra. I want to see your charms move under your dress as you drink your coffee. I want to know that hidden beneath the fabric are those very peaches I dream about. Yana closed her eyes. This was no longer flirtation. It was an invitation to the abyss. Dangerous, dizzying. She looked toward the bedroom where her husband slept. Peace, stability, safety. And then her fingers typed out the answer: "I will." She hung up and pressed her palms to her flushed cheeks. The whore inside her rejoiced. Tomorrow was the beginning of something real. And she, with her doll-like face and porn star body, was more ready than ever. The reader will await this encounter with bated breath, knowing that the first step toward the point of no return has already been taken. The argument with Oleg flared up suddenly, like a fire in dry grass. He arrived tired, irritated by some delivery delay. Yana, still burning with emotion from her correspondence with Denis, tried to hug him, but he pulled away. "Yana, not now, for God's sake! My head is splitting. I don't have time for tenderness." His words were like a slap in the face. "No time for tenderness." The phrase pierced her. Denis's hoarse whispers describing her body still echoed in her ears, and her own husband refused to even touch her. "I need something too, Oleg!" she blurted out, her voice shaking with resentment and hormones. "I'm bored! I feel like furniture in this apartment!" Oleg merely waved his hand in irritation and went to take a shower. Yana remained standing in the middle of the living room, her fists clenched. Humiliation and rage boiled within her. She was too agitated, too wound up to simply lie down and sleep. Oleg stepped out of the shower and, without a word, collapsed onto the bed. Ten minutes later, his breathing became even and heavy—he was asleep. Yana lay next to him, staring at the ceiling, feeling every nerve ending scream with frustration. Then she picked up her phone. In the darkness, the screen illuminated her face with an ominous blue light. She wrote to Denis: Yana (23:47): He's sleeping. Next to me. And I... I'm all on fire. He said he's "not in the mood for tenderness." The answer came almost instantly. Denis seemed to have been waiting. Denis (23:48): He's an idiot. His loss is my gain. You don't deserve to be ignored. You deserve to be torn apart with pleasure. Right now. Yana caught her breath. She rolled onto her side, her back to Oleg, and pulled the blanket over her head, creating a cocoon. The world narrowed to the glow of the screen and her husband's snoring half a meter away. Yana (23:49): I can't... he's here... Denis (23:49): Voice. His voice was quiet but commanding, as if it were right there in her ear: "You can do it. You'll do it for me. Unbutton your shirt. Take off your panties. I want you ready for me. Show me. Prove what a bad girl you are while your husband sleeps two steps away." With trembling fingers, Yana obediently unbuttoned her silk nightgown. Cool air touched her hot skin. She pulled down her panties and, biting her lip, took a selfie. Her breasts stared into the bukvoeb.run lens – large, full, with dark, erect nipples. Below – a flat stomach and a neat, shaved pussy, already wet with arousal. Yana (23:51): [Photo] I'm ready. I'm all wet... because of you. Denis (23:52): God... Perfect. Now put the phone down. Imagine it's my dick. Your lips... they're so plump. They need to be busy. Take it in your mouth. Gently at first, just the head. Wrap your lips around it. Play with your tongue. Yana, eyes closed, obeyed. In the darkness, under the blanket, she imagined the tip of her finger was him. She wrapped her lips around it, her tongue sliding over it. She let out a quiet, stifled moan, muffled by the fabric of the blanket and Oleg's snoring. Humiliation and danger mingled with a wild, forbidden arousal. Denis (23:55): Voice. He was breathing heavily: "Yeah... that's it, slut... Now deeper. Take it in your mouth properly. Imagine me fucking your throat. Do you want that? Do you want to feel me go deeper and deeper until your lips touch my stomach?" "Yes..." she whispered into the pillow, simulating a blowjob on her finger, drool dripping onto the sheets. Her free hand caressed her breast, squeezing it, pinching her nipple. She was on the edge. Denis (23:58): I'm going to cum... right on your face. I imagine my sperm flowing down your lips, down your cheeks... And you... you'll look at me with your big, innocent eyes and lick it off your lips. Cum with me, Yana. Now. His words were the trigger. Yana's body shook in a silent orgasm. She dug her face into the pillow to muffle her screams, her legs stretched out convulsively, and everything inside her clenched and thrashed in delicious spasms. She lay there, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat and her own juices. When she came to her senses a little, a new message was flashing on the screen. Denis (00:02): Incredible. You're a dream. So innocent on the outside, so depraved on the inside. You know what I was thinking? Your body... it's too beautiful to belong to just one man. Even me. It was made to be admired. To be driven wild. Imagine... several pairs of hands on you at once. Several mouths exploring every fold of your body. Several cocks ready to give you their full attention... Wouldn't it be wonderful to be the center of the universe for a whole group of real men? Yana read the message, and her body, still warm from her orgasm, shuddered again. Not with disgust. No. With a strange, nerve-tingling curiosity. The whore inside her, freshly fed, lifted her head with interest. Yana (00:05): You're crazy... Denis (00:05): No. I'm just the one who sees the real you. And I know what you really want. Sleep, princess. Dream of my arms... and the arms of others. Soon we'll make your fantasies come true. Yana turned off her phone and rolled over onto her back. Oleg was still snoring. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling a tiny, poisonous seed sprout in her mind, fertilized by lust and resentment. A tiny seed of the thought that perhaps one man really was too boring for a woman like her. The game had moved to a new level, and the stakes had risen.