As soon as I decided to finally tell her the truth and was about to say the first words, she suggested that we have sex for the second time and she began to touch me in the southern latitudes, arousing me.

I am not sure if my first and last cunnilingus was worth the untold truth – no, of course not. During our intercourse, she rushed me, looking at the door and saying something about time.

We finished, and I thought to tell her again, but if before she was very nice and amiable with me, then she just walked coolly to the window while I was dressing up.

While Natasha had her back turned to me, my brain, oversaturated with almost ideal forms of female bodies from porn sites, could not hide the thought that the shape of Natasha's bottom was not to my liking.

Then I once again made a fatal mistake, deciding to fix in my head the fact that she herself made her choice, given that she had a father in Podmoskovye and could just go to him. This was the second time that I consciously blocked my feelings for another person, putting in my own mind a block in the form of an idea – in this case about Natasha’s choice. When I was creating the metal block, I remembered that I regretted that I had once in the same way blocked the other girl mentioned earlier in the tenth grade – even if in the end those fantasies actually turned out to be comparable with the truth, since that school girl slept with a lot of guys from our class —they boasted about that. But I wanted so much to go to the USA that I could not allow the feeling of love to continue to live in me – and it immediately was gone.

Almost immediately it became clear that it was naive to think that the loss of virginity would ease my desire for sex. I wanted sex even more. “Fortunately”, I knew what to do.

This next Stalinist house in the south-west of Moscow, if I remember correctly, was near the metro, and I did not have to walk for too long.

The door of the apartment was opened by a young woman of about thirty years. She was a pretty blonde with good shapes – which compensated for the fact that she could not be the girl in the photo, because of whom I came there.

When I spoke to her, while still in the corridor, her smiling face was visited by obvious shock, if not horror. I did not understand what was happening – such things had happened before – for example, when I was with Natasha, she clearly noticed something in my face during our conversation, and then there was that strange case when I was going to Moscow by train a couple of weeks ago, and a young woman sat in front of me looking at me for a couple of moments, and then she sharply and quickly ran out of the car, turning her head to look at me when she was already at the doors. Then I thought that this was due to the fact that I was attracted to the nipples of her small breasts, which were clearly visible through her unusual white blouse with numerous small cutouts – I saw something like that worn by Abby Martin when she spoke with Peter Joseph about capitalism – but then I almost immediately stopped looking in that area and redirected my eyes to the window, only occasionally looking into the eyes of that pretty woman…

Perhaps I relaxed, and the prostitute invited me in. There were no choices this time, since she was alone.