I kicked out my eldest son at 17. I tell everyone, «He's lazy, he didn't want to study, let life show him.» But the real reason is that he started to look like his cruel father, the one who abandoned us. I couldn't stand seeing that face every day.

I've had many partners, including some from other countries, but the one I remember most is a Finnish woman. She had dreadlocks there. When it came to foreplay and I took off her panties, I was stunned. She explained that she'd been growing her hair there for a long time and was very happy with the result. Oh well, I'm not going to dump the girl. I finished what I started. But I still remember the feeling, like I was entering a tarantula, and its legs were spread out like that around the perimeter.

I was vacationing in France and decided to go clubbing with a friend. I met a muscular African guy there. We danced, and he invited me over. I decided no one would know, so I went. It was the best night of my life: delicious wine, wonderful kisses, long sex, a mind-blowing orgasm. We tried every position we knew. In the morning, he said I was the wildest, most unbridled girl. And now I'm back from vacation, modest and respectable. And I'm going back to work soon teaching children.

I've always wanted to learn to endure pain. Well, what if soldiers fight with the wounded? Am I any worse? And so I found a way, a tiny, simple one. I sit in the bathroom, douse myself with a hot shower, and imagine myself being tortured. It's hot, but without water, it's also cold and painful. I quietly scream when it's really bad, and… I jerk off. And you know, I've never experienced such pleasure.

I was riding on a very crowded commuter train. I was standing in the vestibule. There was a guy behind me. I only noticed him when I felt someone's hand reach under my skirt, groping my butt, and then moving further. I was so shocked that I didn't even do anything when he was under my panties… The guy looked so calm; the only thing that moved in his body was his hand, or rather, his fingers… It was the best fingering I've ever had. It relieved all the stress.

A friend wrote after a trip to a sex shop: «The gag doesn't fit in my mouth, and the handcuffs are too big for me—my hands keep slipping. I'm too short for rough sex.» She's 25, by the way.

My boyfriend and I are lying in bed, and he's stroking my hand as I caress his penis. I look, and he's wearing a soldered bracelet. I say, «Wow, just like Dad's!» His eyes got wide, so at first I didn't even understand what was wrong. Then I realized. Through my laughter, I somehow managed to explain that I was talking about the damn bracelet. God, when will I stop getting into such stupid situations?

My girlfriend gets incredibly turned on when I'm fixing something, assembling furniture, or tinkering with something. She pounces on me like a hungry cat. Yes, I love sex, but eventually the mood gets lost, and a lot of things remain unfinished, and then she grumbles. I have to wait until she goes somewhere and sit and do everything in peace.

My mother-in-law is visiting. I came home from work yesterday and someone had pissed on our bed. The cats (there are two of them) had never done that before. It turns out my mother-in-law was irritated by the meowing and decided to lock the kittens in the room. In her defense, she said, «Well, I can hold it when I need to go to the bathroom, why can't your cats?!»

I hate my upstairs neighbors. They have small children, and they run around all day, riding bikes, banging things, jumping on a ball. On weekdays, I get up for work at 5 a.m., so I have to go to bed no later than 10 p.m. But the kids run around until midnight, then their parents start yelling at them because they're awake, and they start crying. Then the neighbors fuck until 2 a.m. On weekends, it's the same thing, and they get up early too. It turns out I can never wake up and go to bed when I want to. I've already gone to them, called the police, and written to child protection services, but they don't care. I can't stand not getting enough sleep every day anymore; I get headaches every day. I can still hear them perfectly well through earplugs; even my bed and the walls shake from their jumping around. It's becoming impossible to spend a quiet day or evening because of these fucking horses upstairs. I'm about to put a curse on them because I hate them.

At work, I told them I don't pay for online movie theater subscriptions because my account is added to my ex-husband's family group, and I continue to use his subscription, even though we've been separated for two years. And I don't know if he's forgotten about it or just doesn't care, but either way, I like everything.

The guys were absolutely furious at this consumerism. They were foaming at the mouth, trying to convince me that I should get rid of it right now and reimburse all expenses for the past two years. That it was dishonest, disgusting, criminal, and much more.

This topic has been raging among the male colleagues for three days now. It seems like the female plate-holders aren't enough for the guys to get their asses lit up – it's time to introduce a category of female subscribers!

I can't stand simple, simplistic people who chatter about everything—there are no taboo topics for them. A new 35-year-old employee started work. On the second day, she told me how much her car, which she bought on credit, cost. A week later, we learned about her gynecological problems, digestive issues, how the underwear she bought had chafed in an unexpected place, and how she despises women who «shave there.» Now she's quiet after her boss's remark. We don't know how long she'll last—perhaps she won't pass her probationary period.

I'm waiting for the courier outside the office when I suddenly hear a sharp voice: «Open the door!» Not «please» or «open»—«open.» I see a girl striding toward the building, proudly carrying a huge bouquet. And the door is old, you could even say antique—you know: those heavy ones, three meters high, with a super-tight spring mechanism. It's hard to hold onto someone like that even with my hands free, let alone with a bouquet. Okay, I thought, screw it. Just because Mom and Dad didn't teach someone manners doesn't mean I have to be the same boor. I opened the door silently and stood there like a model doorman. The Queen didn't even quicken her pace for half a second out of politeness; she just walked on pompously, not even looking at me. Finally, she walked past… and then—I swear, it was completely unintentional!—my handle slipped, the door hit her in the back with all its force, giving her such a boost that she tumbled two meters with her bouquet to the reception desk! Holy shit!

Later, the receptionist told me that this girl works in the next department and really likes to brag about her rich husband to her colleagues, who live paycheck to paycheck. That's why she brings bouquets and gifts into the office. On the one hand, I'm incredibly embarrassed, but on the other, I can't stop laughing: well, the goal has been achieved—this bouquet has definitely been noticed and discussed!

I get aroused by fear. I have no idea why this happens; I felt this way back in my teens. My family was wonderful, and I'm quite the womanizer. But adrenaline is the only arousal, nothing more. I understand that dating guys who look cruel and dangerous is foolish and unwise. I don't want to get into trouble, I don't want to hurt my loved ones, but life without orgasms is sad. I tried dating a nice, kind guy who wouldn't hurt a fly, but we ended up using lube because it was so dry.

I like it when people spy on me. And not stare at me directly, but peek through a crack. It all started a couple of years ago when I didn't close the lock tightly in the fitting room. Then I caught someone staring at me, but I didn't feel the urge to close it up; instead, I wanted to leave that tiny gap. Since then, I never close myself completely in the fitting room, leaving a small crack and catching glances.

I told my husband about some family friends, over 65, getting divorced because they found out they were cheating on each other. He caught her jumping on a neighbor in a car near their house, and she found photos of an orgy at a fishing trip. My husband was stunned for a long time, wondering how anyone could have sex at that age! I said, «Haven't you ever heard your parents have sex?» Then I remembered my mother-in-law saying that my father-in-law became impotent after turning 35. I'm sad for them, scared for my future… I'm hoping for sex in old age!

Other Trash Stories