I never accepted that my admission to the university was the result of my day-to-day efforts. (A sentence that my mother always said to relatives and acquaintances). I knew better than anyone that there was no such effort (at least around the clock). Despite the fact that a few months before the entrance exam, I tested for one or two hours a day, but I knew best of all that my maximum nightly effort was limited to my fights and struggles with blankets and pillows, which also had no academic aspect!
However, my acceptance in architecture (online master) sounded like a bomb in the family. My father kept his word to buy a car, but since I was accepted to Rasht instead of Tehran, contrary to his expectations, the case was resolved by buying a Renault model 57 in color! Scrap Renault who was in the repair shop six days a week and walked a few kilometers one day!
However, before the first unit was selected by my sister (who always respected each other), my car was overhauled and I traveled with my car to select the unit. My friend Hamid (who was supposed to be both an academic and not a classmate because his major was political science) was in front of the West Terminal. Our appointment was one and a half o'clock and he did not arrive until two o'clock. The terminal was in terms of the last days of summer as well as the beginning of Doomsday student travel. Little by little, I was disappointed with his arrival. I got off and went into the terminal. I visited a few cooperatives that had buses to Rasht. But there was no news that it was not.
In the cooperative, there were eight beats and a strange beating. Two young middle-aged men were beaten. A woman and a girl were screaming and people were laughing. The little girl was small but soft. It was natural that I should play the role of Fardin quickly. I looked at the body of two young men. I did not force them. Most of the passengers were Turks. A plan came to my mind. I grabbed the collar of one of them and turned it over, and rightly or wrongly handed it to a young man with a strong fist, and shouted with a shout that everyone in the terminal could hear: "What are you doing to the honor of the people?" Don't you have a mother and a mother? Why do you insult the daughter of the people ?! And I punched him in the neck.
The girl's father first looked at me in surprise and immediately noticed my mischievous plan. And he, too, defended his lost honor in an imaginary way. The spectators, who were mostly Turks and until then only spectators of the fight, immediately looked angrily at the two young men when they heard the word honor (the only word with which the Turks could be provoked). The first young man, who had just come out of the confusion of my fist blow, got up and shouted at me, "You are beating me, mother." With this sentence, any doubt that remained in the hearts of the angry Turks about the honor or non-honor nature of the fight was removed, and suddenly his twenty strong hands, which had risen to respond to my blow, were thrown down! When we (me and that family) were on the Karaj highway, two unfortunate young men were still beating each other !!!
Mr. Qasemzadeh was the secretary of literature and lived in Qazvin. His very kind wife (who prayed for me from Tehran to Qazvin and offered me a piece of fruit with each prayer) was a housewife and her daughter (whose name I did not know) was a second-year psychology student.
I looked in the mirror
- Which university are you studying at?
He smiled and said:
- Azad University, Rasht Branch
It was drying me. I was left to say in front of his parents whether I was going to be a fellow citizen with him or not. I had previously told them that my route was to Rasht and they had asked them to come with me to Qazvin. But I had not said anything about the university and myself.
- What are you doing my son?
Ms. Ghasemzadeh asked this kindly. I answered the lie with hesitation
- I am a first year student of architecture. Of course, now I am going to Rasht for a few days to do one of my father's administrative work.
I looked at the girl again and asked
- Really, you do not know the price of cheap hotel in Rasht?
- Ordibehesht Hotel is not bad. Of course it is old but clean
I took another smile from the mirror. I tried to pay less attention. The rest of the way passed to a poem between me, who had memorized a lot of poetry, and Mr. Ghasemzadeh, who was the secretary of literature. Although my daughter and her husband were helping her, she had practically failed me, and I answered myself several times. The smiles in the mirror also gradually turned into gestures with eyes and eyebrows. As they were descending on Valiasr Square in Qazvin, I said to the girl in a very quick and calm situation:
- Who is coming to Rasht?
-first of Mehr
- Waiting for my phone
- Where?
- Ordibehesht Hotel
There was no end to the thanksgiving of Qasemzadeh and his wife. Qasemzadeh even called his workplace so that I could call him if he wanted to return. Fortunately, they did not doubt. They got off and I drove to Rasht. On the evening of the first day of October, my room phone rang.
- جانم
- Hello
- Hello
We did not know each other's names.
- You did not forget us?
- No, Ms. Qasemzadeh. Can I call your little one?
-…. پریسا. You can play Saddam if you want.
- منم فرشاد. Really, why is your Rasht so lethargic? Everyone seems to be sleeping in the house
- No, Farshad Khan, only you slept in your hotel
- How much is the hotel here. It is more like a home traveler. Now do you have time to show me Rasht?
- Yeah. Do you have a car if you want?
- I have both a car and good news
- What is ?
- I'll tell you later. We are supposed to be green at half past five
- Okay, see you
That night was very enjoyable. He was very happy when I said I was going to study in Rasht. With Perry's help, I saw the whole city. I exchanged my hotel for a clean and tidy hotel on a secluded boulevard. I think it was called Kadus or something. I also got acquainted with the good and bad neighborhoods of the city. We had dinner together. Perry and three of her friends rented a basement and, as they say, had a single villa. The next nights, Perry and her friends collapsed on my head. This issue lasted for a week. Until one night the fairy asked without preamble
- I made dinner tonight. Are you coming to our house?
- Do not disturb me?
- your welcome
We waited until it got dark. In order for the landlord not to see me, we quietly went into the house of Parisa and her friends. At first I was a little intimidated by the girlish atmosphere. Gradually, my jokes started. Maliha, a friend of Parisa, was busier and more rude. I started the whole joke with him. Work also turned to Rasht and Qazvini jokes. We ate dinner in a very hot environment. We also started the game. It was about eleven o'clock when I wanted to leave. Maliha insisted
- Where now?
- Well, go to another hotel
- Spend the night with the poor poor
- that's the kind of you. I will not go anymore
- Dad, a morsel of sleep that has no compliments
- Oh, it's not true
- Do not be afraid, Baba, we do not have cards. You said you were studying architectural engineering. But you seem to like agricultural engineering more
I looked at Parisa. Ohm said
- Stay tuned tonight.
I surrendered with a state of pretense
- Okay whatever you say!
We sat down again. An argument about the nature of God began between me and Maliha. Their other friend went and slept. Parisa was more of an observer of the debate. I had put my head on Perry's leg and was lying down. Maliha was a proponent of dialectical materialism, and I am a theist of two fires! Perry's thighs were soft and hot. It was an interesting discussion. Perry sometimes played with my hair. Finally, we came to the point where Maliha accepted that in order to meet human needs, it must be accepted that God exists in the form introduced in Islam. Perry, happy with my success in the discussion, squeezed my arm.
I got up and sat next to Perry. I took his chin and said to Maliha:
- Can it be accepted at all that the creature of this beauty was created by accident?
And at the same time I gently kissed the fairy's lips. Perry smiled at me and said to Maliha:
- You do not sleep to sleep?
- Why - Farshad, should I bring your bed here?
I answered
- I do not want a bed. Only if you can give me a pillow.
Parisa got up and went to get a pillow for herself and me. He turned off the light. And he lay beside me one meter away. I leaned closer to him and put my hand on his shoulder.
- You have good friends
- Yeah. We have been living together for three years.
- I had a great time tonight
- I am glad
I pulled myself beside him. I leaned on my elbow. I looked at him a little and kissed his eyes. He gave me a beautiful smile. I put one of my hands on his stomach. And this time I kissed her lips a little harder. He put both his hands on mine. I sent smaller, more delicate kisses to her neck and cheeks. Gradually I got the right reflex. He took me and pulled me towards him. He answered my kisses by placing his lips between mine. My hand went under his T-shirt and touched his heart and back again. He was very sensitive to his stomach.
I fell asleep and pulled him over me. He obeyed softly and lightly, and in this obedience his T-shirt slipped from the tension and I took his soft and delicate body between my arms. My tongue curled from his neck to between her breasts. Sometimes I stuck my tongue under her bra. He sat on my stomach and took off his bra. He unbuttoned my shirt and leaned on my chest. With great skill, he stimulated my lips from neck to abdomen. I dipped my fingers into her hair and guided her head with it. When he raised his face and his lips rested on mine again, I turned him over and placed myself on him. I held her breasts between my hands and licked them brutally. With my right hand, I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pulled his pants off without taking off his shirt. He was wearing plain cotton shorts. I was lying between her legs and playing with her pussy with my lips over my shorts. It had reached the peak of lust. He had put one of his hands in his shorts and was rubbing himself. I got up and took off my pants and shorts. This time I slept completely on him. He immediately put his feet together. She was a girl. I wet her legs a little and put the cream between her legs. He was so tightly attached to me that he could not be separated with an ax. As I began to move, he also began to move his legs. It was very imported. He was holding my shoulders hard but no sound was coming from him. I realized that he was relieved by the pressure of his hands on my shoulders. I emptied myself on his stomach. But I did not get up from him. In the darkness of electricity, another pair of eyes could be seen from the bottom of the room. Maliha!
The next morning at the hotel, I found out that my face was sore because of Parisa's excess hair. It's like I'm sanding it! From the intensity of the burning for a week or two, I even got rid of the thought of sex!
