Chapter 1

Have you ever counted how many Yous there are inside You? The number is different for everyone, but it is never 1. So, it is with divine Annette. A moment ago, she had been the Annette who let an insolent immigrant guest slap her ass and seemed utterly conquered. Whether by Suhrob himself or by the black passion inside her, the sickness with which angelic Annette had fallen gravely ill, no longer mattered.

And suddenly ... another Annette! With a sharp smack she knocks the immigrant’s hand away from the back of her head and straightens up. Furious. Proud!

“I’m not sucking you off!!! Learn how to treat a woman first!”

Wow, right? Yuri, at least, appreciated it. Exulted. What was this — the return of Ann? His Ann, his own, his beloved? Suhrob frowned. Let him frown.

“What are you trying to prove?” he said irritably. “The guys told me...”

“The ‘guys’ didn’t behave the way you do!” the yoga instructor said firmly. Her breasts bounced as she spoke in quick, angry bursts. “What, surprised I’m not denying anything? I’m sure they exaggerated plenty and dressed it up, but I’m not going to convince you that nothing happened between me and them! I’ll tell you one thing: they behaved like men, not like boorish trash!”

The incomparable woman’s face was purple, her breathing ragged, yet she still found the strength to control herself. Yes, this was another Annette, and this was her choice: to become another. How many times in the course of your life have You chosen which you you would be? Which one did you choose?...

I admit it — I could not stop admiring her. Neither could her husband. The immigrants were not admiring her. This Annette was alien to them.

“They pissed on you!” Suhrob burst out. He was not used to local whores refusing him and putting on airs.

“They did plenty of things,” Annette replied, her voice trembling. “But let’s not talk about hypothetical people. Omar brought you here, didn’t he? Let’s talk about him. How does Omar behave? Like an obedient little dog ... and so he gets what he wants from his mistress...”

That was when I began to notice something was wrong. This did not look like a rebirth. Not like a complete return of the innocent, pure Annette. You probably felt it too, from her words. I could tell by her eyes. As Annette spoke, she never took them off Suhrob’s impressive cock, which refused to believe it had been rejected and stood, ready for a woman’s body. The veins were swollen, a drop of precum glistened at the tip ... My love studied the cock as though she were speaking to the penis rather than to Suhrob. Her gaze quivered, her lips trembled, her tongue moved awkwardly in her dry mouth.

“I’m not your obedient little dog!” Suhrob said indignantly.

“Too bad,” Annette replied in a strange, almost incomprehensible voice. “Look how much access my little dog gets to his mistress...”

With those words Annette spread her trained legs wider and, gripping him by the hair, pulled the fat goat between them. Omar groaned, thinking, “What am I getting punished for?!” Then again, he had been asking the universe that question his whole life. Scape ... goat.

So, the ridiculous fat man found himself between Annette’s legs. Reaching back, she held him by the hair, lifted his face to her vagina and onto Omar ... something dripped. Female juice. Secretion. The drop landed just below his goatish eye; the old man blinked and squinted as though it had gone into the eye itself. But what it had hit was his pride.