Bedtime stories for adults to read. Beautiful short bedtime stories

Recently I found a book with my parents, author A. N. Afanasiev, 1992. the book is called "Russian cherished fairy tales only for adults, only for men" For the sake of curiosity, the girl looked there and hung for an hour))))) So I haven't laughed for a long time! These tales can be safely sent to 100500. The bottom line is that they are vulgar, but funny... here's one of them...

DOG AND WOODPECKER

... The woman began to catch a woodpecker and caught it, and put it under a sieve. A man came home, the hostess met him.

Well, wife, - he says, - misfortune happened to me on the road.

Well, husband, - she says, - and misfortune befalls me!

They told each other everything.

Where is the woodpecker now? Flew away? - asked the man.

I caught him and put him under a sieve.

All right, I'll deal with him, eat him alive!

He opened the sieve and just wanted to take the woodpecker in his teeth - he fluttered right into his mouth alive and slipped his head right into the ass. He stuck his head out of the man's ass and shouted:

Alive, alive!

The peasant sees that there is trouble, and says to the hostess:

Take a log, and I'll become a cancer, as soon as the woodpecker sticks out his head, you do it well and heat it with a log!

He became cancer, his wife took a log, and only a woodpecker stuck his head out - waved a log, didn’t hit the woodpecker, and kicked the peasant’s ass. What is a man to do, a woodpecker will not survive from himself, everything will stick his head out of his ass, and he will shout:

Alive, alive!

Take, - he says to his wife, - a sharp scythe, and I will again become a cancer, and as soon as the woodpecker sticks out his head, you and brush it off with a scythe.

The wife took a sharp scythe, and the man became cancer. As soon as the bird stuck out its head, the hostess hit it with a scythe, didn’t cut off the woodpecker’s head, but cut off the peasant’s ass. The woodpecker flew away, and the man bled all over and died.

And another one))))))

FEARED BRIDE

Keepers of fairy tales | Russian cherished tales of Afanasiev Alexander Nikolaevich

The two girls were talking to each other:

Like you, and I, a girl, will not marry!

And what a shame to go! After all, we are not masters.

Have you seen, girl, the instrument with which they try us?

Vidal.

Well, what is fat?

Oh, girl, right, another will be as thick as an arm.

Yes, you won't be alive!

Come on, I'll poke you with a straw - and that hurts!

Foolishly, she lay down, but smarter, she began to poke her with a straw.

Oh, it hurts!

Here is one girl the father captivated and gave in marriage. She endured two nights and comes to her friend:

Hello girl!

Now ask her what and how.

Well, - says the young woman, - if I knew, knew about this matter, I would not have obeyed either my father or my mother. I already thought that I would not be alive, and the sky seemed to me the size of a sheepskin!

She scared the girl so much that you don’t even mention suitors to her.

I will not go, - he says, - for anyone, unless my father forces me, and then I will go out for the sake of glory alone for some fool.

Only there was a young guy in this village, a poor man. They don’t give a good girl for him, but you don’t want to take a thin one yourself. So he overheard their conversation. “Wait a minute,” he thinks, “fuck it like that! I’ll make time, I’ll say that I don’t have a gag!”

Once, somehow, a girl went to mass, looks, and the guy drives his thin and unforged nag to a watering hole. Here the horse goes, goes, and stumbles, that girl is so filled with laughter. And then there was another steep hill, the horse began to climb, fell and rolled back. The guy got angry, grabbed her by the tail and began to beat mercilessly and say:

Get up to get ripped off!

Why are you beating her, robber? - says the girl.

He raised his tail, looks and says:

And what to do with her? Now to eat it and eat it, but x * I don’t!

As soon as she heard these words, she immediately pissed herself with joy and said to herself: “Behold, the Lord gives me a groom for my simplicity!” She came home, sat down in the back corner and pouted her lips. Everyone began to sit down for dinner, they called her, and she answered angrily:

Do not want!

Come on, Dunyushka! - says the mother. Or what are you thinking about? Tell me.

And the father says:

Well, did you pout your lips? Maybe you want to get married? Do you want for this, but not for this?

And the girl has one thing in her head, how to marry the mindless Ivan.

I don’t want, - he says, - for anyone; if you want - give it back, if you want - no for Ivan.

What are you, a fool, mad or crazy crazy? You are with him in the world!

Know that this is my fate! Don't give it back - I'll go drown myself, otherwise I'll strangle myself.

What will you do? Formerly, the old man would not even take this poor Ivan to his eyes, but now he himself went to stuff himself with his daughter. He comes, and Ivan sits and repairs an old bast shoe.

Hello, Ivanushka!

Hello, old man!

What are you doing?

I want to pick up bast shoes.

Bast shoes? I would walk in new boots.

I forcibly collected fifteen kopecks for my bast; where are the boots?

Why aren't you getting married, Vanya?

But who will give the girl for me?

Do you want me to give? Kiss me on the mouth!

Well, we got it right. The rich do not brew beer, do not smoke wine; at the same time they got married, feasted, and led the young friend to the crate and put him to bed. This is a familiar matter: Vanka got the young to the ore, well, and the road was there! "Oh, I'm stupid! Dunka thought. - What have I done? It would be exactly to accept fear, to marry me for the rich! Where did he get the gag? Let me ask him." And she asked:

Listen, Ivanushka! Where did you get the f*ck?

Borrowed from my uncle for one night.

Oh, my dear, ask him for at least one more night.

Another night passed; she says again:

Ah, my dear, ask your uncle if he will sell you x * d at all? Yes, trade well.

Maybe you can bargain.

He went to his uncle, conspired with him at the same time and comes home.

Well?

Yes, what to say! You won’t run into him, he broke 300 rubles, you can’t buy it like that; where can I get money?

Well, go ask for a loan for one more night; and tomorrow I will beg the father for money - and we will buy it completely.

No, go and ask yourself, but I really feel ashamed!

She went to her uncle, entered the hut, prayed to God and bowed:

Hello, uncle!

Welcome! What good can you say?

Why, uncle, it’s embarrassing to say, but it’s a sin to hide: lend Ivan your hu * ka for one night.

Uncle thought, hung his head and said:

You can give, but protect someone else's x * y.

Let's take care, uncle, here are those cross! And tomorrow we will definitely buy it from you.

Well, send Ivan!

Then she bowed to him to the ground and went home. And the next day she went to her father and begged her husband for 300 rubles. And she bought herself an important gag.

At the very beginning of December, I suddenly had a couple of free weeks from work, and I decided to visit my homeland, visit relatives and friends. A plane ticket the day before departure is a lottery, but I was lucky to buy almost the last ticket for the London-Moscow flight with one stop in Riga. Insignificant, in fact, transit nuance pleased me separately. Just once in my youth, Riga seemed to me, a native Soviet Union, a fabulous city where the most lovely women in the world. I have not been fifteen for a long time, and my attitude towards this city has remained as bright as before. I was looking forward to seeing my old dream at least from a bird's eye view, but, alas, the weather did not allow me to admire the view from the plane's window. Thick, heavy snow clouds hid the city, and only occasionally did I manage to see the icy Latvian land.

In the waiting room for passengers flying to Domodedovo, unpleasant news awaited: all flights to Moscow were delayed indefinitely due to a snow storm - landing would be impossible. After talking with an airport employee and making sure that my flight was delayed until at least tomorrow noon, I decided to rent a room in one of the local hotels and instead of the dull, exhausting expectations “on suitcases” take a walk around the snowy beauty of Riga. Well, hello, my dream!

I settled in a cozy hotel in the very heart of Riga, not far from the old church of St. John. After an invigorating shower, I reviewed the contents of the bag I took with me on the plane. What happiness! Along with a camera and a phone, there were jeans and a warm knitted sweater, gloves and a dress, which I decided to take at the last moment, having already packed a large suitcase. Great, you can go to the hotel restaurant in the evening, but for now, go ahead - to the old streets of Riga!

The elevator went down to the hotel lobby. I entered the cockpit, glancing at my reflection in the mirror panel: no, after all, I am very good today! Out of the corner of her eye, she also noticed the reflection of her companion, a tall, stately man with ashy hair, dressed in a solid, protective green coat. Satisfied with myself and with how well the journey was going, I turned and, in European habit, recent years, restrainedly - politely smiled at her companion.
- It's pretty cold today, don't you think? he kindly replied.

My heart skipped a beat. If I were suddenly doused with liquid nitrogen, it would hardly have had a greater effect. I stood face to face with a person who was impossible to meet under any circumstances, especially by chance, in a country where we are both just guests on a short time. I looked into these unforgettable grey-green eyes and was silent. Was it Björn Larsen of flesh and blood or his ghost? The elevator stopped and its doors swung open. I rushed away into the wild, into the air.
- Helena, wait! You don't recognize me? - he rushed after me.

I had only a moment to take a deep breath, “put on” a polite smile and turn to face my Past.
- Good afternoon, Lieutenant Colonel. I wasn't sure it was you in person.
"Now it's a colonel," he corrected me with a slight smile.
- Congratulations on your promotion.
- What are you doing in Riga?
- Passing time, waiting for my flight. And you? - I frankly looked at such a face that was dear to me: there were more wrinkles near the eyes since the day of our last meeting, the folds near the mouth appeared deeper, more severe, and the temples were already well silvered with gray hair ...
- Ended today preparatory stage joint exercises, and now I have a couple of days of vacation, I want to see Riga before returning to Amsterdam.
- Understand. Why Amsterdam and not Copenhagen?
- Now I live in Holland, I signed a long-term contract with the Academy.

We were standing in the middle of the hotel lobby, in the way of people and luggage, and Björn put his hand on my shoulder, pulling me aside. It felt like I was on fire, despite having several layers of clothing.

Tell me about yourself, Lena, - he said my name as my relatives and friends call me, as he once called me.
"I'm fine," I said curtly. - Forgive me, but I don’t have much time - I won’t have time to see everything, I have to go.
The instinct of self-preservation ordered to disappear immediately, and my heart ached and begged to linger for at least a couple of minutes.
- I think you and I are on the way. I don't know anything here either. Let's take a walk together, - suggested Larsen with his characteristic, timeless charm. In a way, nothing had changed; he still had an inexplicable power over me. Cursing my cowardice, I obediently followed Bjorn to hand over my room keys.

We went out to the snow-covered old square. Although it was only the beginning of December, the city was already living in anticipation of Christmas. At shop windows, on the streets and boulevards, pre-holiday revival reigned everywhere. Here and there along the way we came across flocks of children, noisy, sonorous, playing snowballs or making a snowman. Young people gathered in couples or companies near cafes and cinemas, adults sedately walked along the embankment ... Filled with lights, the evening Riga was dazzlingly beautiful.

How is Annie doing? I asked Bjorn about his daughter.
- As you said, she will not be a professional pianist. But she is smart, studies well and now dreams of becoming a lawyer, like her mother, - pride sounded in his voice. - Since I live and work in Holland, I see her less often than I would like, but regularly.
“She is a wonderful girl, Bjorn.
- Ann still plays for his own pleasure and to please me. Even sent a note recently. She hasn't forgotten you, Helena.

And you? I wanted to ask. - Do you remember how, thanks to your daughter's music lessons, we met?

Three years ago.

At that time I lived in Copenhagen, I was a fairly well-known concert pianist and additionally studied with talented guys at my home. Annie Larsen was one of my favorites, although I am not a fan of favoritism. Naturally, I knew both of the girl's parents, but more often she came with her dad. If he brought it to me, returning from service, he was dressed in military uniform with officer insignia. Tall and stately, Lieutenant Colonel Larsen always exuded some special confidence and instantly aroused affection. Annie was very proud of her father, and both certainly adored each other.

According to the schedule, her lessons were twice a week; one day Björn arrived without his daughter: the girl caught a cold and stayed with her mother for several days. Little students often share what's on their minds, which is why I knew that Annie's parents had broken up. more than a year ago, and she lives in two houses, like many of her friends. Apologizing that he forgot to call and warn me, Björn - as compensation for the lost time, I guess - offered to have coffee with him. It's not my tradition to go out with the parents of students, but he wanted to talk to me about his daughter's progress, and I suggested that he talk - and also have coffee - at my place until the next student arrives.

We spent forty minutes together, starting with a conversation about Annie and her game, and somehow imperceptibly moved on to abstract topics. Shortly after that, it was my birthday, which Björn apparently learned from his daughter, and quite unexpectedly for me arrived in the evening with a beautiful bouquet of white roses and an invitation to dinner ... This is how our romance with him began, magical, and alas, short-lived but changed my life forever.

I fell in love with Bjorn Larsen like a girl. At twenty-five, I lived for music and only music. My life abroad, away from relatives and friends who speak and think the same language as you, was almost monastic, filled with service to only one deity - Art. And now he appeared in it, a man whom I admired immensely for his courage, for strength of mind, for a keen sense of justice and decency, which in our Time of Troubles rare... Besides, I've never known such a fantastic attraction before. As soon as I heard his voice on the phone, my heart immediately began to beat at a crazy pace, and what happened to me when he appeared next to me cannot even be described in words. Everything intimate that I experienced with a few before him faded, lost all meaning.

Wherever we were together, whatever we did - whether we cooked dinner, or walked near the famous Eriksen's Little Mermaid, or listened to opera at Operaen pa Holmen - it seemed that all his words and actions were a prelude to love joys. Our first night with him opened up a whole world of sensations that I had never experienced before. He felt me unmistakably, over and over again shifting the boundaries of what was permitted, built in my mind. For Bjorn, there was nothing reprehensible, shameful, forbidden in sex. He helped me get to know my own body and taught me how to bring it to the maximum peak of pleasure. Sexuality, courage, even impudence, unprecedented for me, manifested itself in me. We made love not only in bed, but also on the table in my kitchen, in his living room, in the bathroom, in the car, hiding in a secluded bay ...

I was glowing with happiness, inspiration overwhelmed me, which could not but affect my playing - at the same time with love, I experienced a wild rise in my popularity and recognition in the musical environment.

Well, nothing could have prepared me for the news that Björn brought one spring evening: in three weeks, their group would be sent to Afghanistan as part of the Security Assistance Force contingent.
For six months...
For a real war...

We still had twenty days of happiness to be together, but this happiness was mixed with the pain of realizing an imminent, inevitable separation. Bjorn said that we will pass this test, that the Internet is available at the base, and we will be in touch with each other, that we need to survive and endure these circumstances, and we will be together again. Missions in combat points are carried out constantly, although he is not always away from home for such a long time. I agreed with his arguments, and what else could I do? Such was his life, his duty. And I, like thousands of other women all over the Earth, had to carry a heavy burden, watered with tears of loneliness, sprinkled with hope and prayers - fate loving woman, waiting for her man from a war she does not understand.

Bjorn flew to Afghanistan at the end of May. The first weeks of summer for me were colored with gray longing for him. I looked forward to each letter, sometimes unable to fall asleep until late at night, sorting through the printouts Email and photographs, remembering his eyes, words, touches... I loaded myself to the limit with work, hoping that the less time for myself, the sooner November would come, the time for Bjorn to return home.

By the end of July, the limit of my physical strength, and I began to feel constant fatigue, weakness and even, at times, nausea. I passed out right after a class with one of my students, and his terrified mother called an ambulance. The doctor sympathetically asked me questions during the examination, and then delicately asked if I could be pregnant ... A little later, on the same evening after taking the test, I laughed and cried when I saw those same two strips. It seems that my little spring cold nullified the effect of contraceptive pills, and, in the whirlwind of endless concerts, I did not even pay attention to the absence of "women's days".

I didn't know how to break the news to my loved one. Letters came less and less, he referred to the crazy busyness and tense situation in the region, he became more distant and colder. I explained this by fatigue and constant overload, shuddered and ran to the TV screen as soon as the evening news uttered the word - the spell "Afghanistan", waited and believed that everything would be between us as before, as soon as Bjorn returned home - to me, and then I will tell him about the baby.

I spent the whole of August in agony because of his silence. In a month I received only two short, dry messages. Cursing the wars of all times and the toxicosis that tormented me, I spent hours on the Internet, reading everything that was available about the events in the region. Exhausting expectation has become my habitual state ... Everything that I could afford, as a teacher, to ask Annie Larsen about her dad, I already knew from her words: he called, is healthy, thinks about her, loves ...

In September, Annie stopped making music with me, enthusiastically switching to a new hobby. My letters to Bjorn went unanswered.
I was almost seven months pregnant when Lieutenant Colonel Larsen returned home in late autumn. Having exhausted myself for another two whole weeks, I, as before jumping into the abyss, dialed the cherished number on my mobile with trembling fingers. Björn did not answer for a long time, and then he called back himself and said in a strange voice that we should not meet.

With my heart broken into small pieces, I flew home, to my homeland, to my mother.

Three years later.

And in some incomprehensible way, life again brought us together with him. It seemed that I had fallen into timelessness, or I was sleeping in reality and having a fantastic dream. We wandered through the snow-covered streets, admired the city, I took dozens of pictures of local beauties - and, as if at the same time, I photographed Bjorn several times. Somewhere among these shots were those that, at our request, a passer-by made, capturing Colonel Larsen and me together. At least something will remain in my memory of this meeting. Then we drank delicious chocolate in a small cafe in the Lido and talked ... talked ...

I want to apologize to you, Lena,” Björn said, gently squeezing my fingers in his palm as soon as the waitress brought our order.
- I am very guilty, it is not easy to explain my behavior, but I will try anyway.
- There is hardly anything to discuss here. I gently freed my hand and tucked it in my lap.
Please give me a chance to speak. I know a lot of water has flown under the bridge in three years, but you should know that I deeply regret my act towards you. When we met, I was not looking for a serious relationship, I had recently divorced and knew that there was a long mission in the Middle East. But I lost my head because of you, took advantage of your love, your naivety ...
- Really? I asked coldly between small sips of piping hot chocolate. Bjorn's words gave me chills.
- You meant a lot to me then, but it turned out to be impossible to maintain our relationship in the midst of Afghan reality. There were hard times. Not all my friends returned... I started to abuse alcohol... When life returned to normal, I could no longer find you, - Bjorn's fingers touched my hair, gently slid down my cheek.
- Your phone did not answer, letters were sent to nowhere, some people settled in your house, the impresario only said that you broke the contract and left in an unknown direction ... - Björn's voice sadly faded away. - Some time later, I met Ulrika, we have been married for a year ...

I didn't know what to answer. The past again stood before me as a sad ghost. I collected my thoughts for a few moments.
- If you need my forgiveness, I give it to you. But let's not talk about the past anymore - it hurts too much.

And how do you live now, Lena? Björn held an elegant cup of fine china in his hand, and I looked at his fingers. Musicians always pay more attention to their hands than other people. The hands of this man were strong, reliable, caring for those whom he endowed with his love. They, accustomed to weapons and hand-to-hand combat, were fraught with a deadly danger to enemies. Now one of the fingers gleamed wedding ring- a symbol of our final separation. I have never been good at lying, and now, excited by our meeting, under his tenacious gaze of an experienced military analyst, I felt completely insecure. I was afraid to accidentally mention something that Colonel Larsen should not know.
- Well, I left the stage for a while, concentrated on teaching.
- Yes, my daughter said, they say, it's strange that there are no announcements about your performances.
- I will have concerts in London and Copenhagen in early January. It's scary to come back after such a break.
- I'm sure you'll do better, - Björn smiled warmly at me, as once in the past, when I was worried before the next serious concert.
My heart felt like it was being squeezed into a vise. Ah, if he only knew that in that very summer I already carried his child under my heart! If only I could take it all back!

We returned to the hotel late in the evening. Taking the keys from the porter, I thought that the moment of farewell had come. It cost me a lot of work to calmly wish Björn all the best and, smiling like an old acquaintance, tightly close the door of my room behind me. I didn't know how long I stood motionless, with my back against the door, tears streaming down my face. I haven't been in so much pain since we broke up.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock behind me. Thinking it was the maid, I quickly dried my eyes and opened the door. A colonel was standing on the threshold with my camera in his hands.
“Your camera remained with me…,” Larsen began, but when he saw my condition, he, without finishing the sentence, instantly crossed the threshold, resolutely pulling me into his arms. - Well, my girl, don't cry.

These words, which I never hoped to hear again in my life, were the last straw. Hiding my face on Björn's shoulder, I let my anguish spill out into tears that were by no means beautiful, like in the movies. I felt his hands caress my hair, my shoulders, and I was overwhelmed by a storm of emotions. Knowing that Bjorn would stop me, I still shamelessly, desperately pressed my lips to his. But against all odds, he didn't pull away. We kissed like there was no tomorrow, frantically tearing each other's clothes off, and nothing else could hold us back. I could not think of anything but an unbearable desire to press my whole body against his body, feel his strength and merge with him without a trace. If my flesh burned with passion, then my soul was on the road to paradise. I'll think about hell tomorrow.
I followed Bjorn along the path he had chosen. Giving and receiving caresses, kicking back, obeying and demanding to go on the offensive, I seemed to climb higher and higher up the mountain until we both fell into a sweet abyss. And then, powerlessly stretched out next to Bjorn on the crumpled sheets, hand to hand, heart to heart, barely breathing, I struggled with sleep with all my might to enjoy the magical moments of intimacy with him, to see how he sleeps, to listen to his breathing ...

At dawn, trying my best not to wake Björn, I pulled on my clothes, took my bag, and, pausing for one long moment by the side of the bed to imprint the image of the man I loved in my memory, went out, silently shutting the door behind me.

After paying the bill for accommodation, I hastily rushed to the taxis parked at the hotel. “To the airport, please,” I asked the driver, handing him my luggage. On the way, I did not notice anything around, look only at the roadbed spread out in front of the car. My eyes were dry. I was devastated, only somewhere at the bottom of my soul splashed sadness. I was determined to move on without being tormented by questions about what happened to Bjorn after his mission in Afghanistan in the summer of 2009. As much as I would not like to be with him, this man now belongs to another woman, from whom I already, without shame or conscience, stole tonight. Such a night was mine by right, even before Ulrika came into Bjorn's life. But that's where it ends, this time it really ends.

I arrived at the airport well before the scheduled time, so I had to take a seat in the waiting room and get a book out of my bag. At least I'll be on the plane soon, on my way to the son my parents had while I was busy preparing for the London gig in January. I missed my baby terribly, and now, after meeting his father, I needed the strong hugs of small hands more than ever.

Time flew by imperceptibly. I was getting ready to check in when I suddenly heard my name over the loudspeaker and a request to come to the information desk. In bewilderment, I quickly walked to the indicated point and saw Colonel Larsen standing alone by the plastic column.
- Bjorn? Why are you here? - to say that I was surprised - to say nothing.
It seemed that he wanted to look like a razor blade to cut me into pieces.
- First, you disappeared without saying a word. Helena, do you want to explain anything to me? Bjorn's voice sounded metallic.
I caught the threat coming from him, but in my current state, without flinching, calmly replied that I had nothing to say. And why?
- Secondly, how do you explain it ???
Seething with overwhelming emotions, he took out of the case ... my camera.
Completely forgot about her! She must have stayed in the room with the covers thrown to the floor. Björn did not give me the camera, but began to take it out of the case. Then my heart seemed to break, I guessed that he was looking through the files, and there, in addition to yesterday's Riga pictures, there were photos of my - our - son! So it is, he showed me the first frame with the boy.

There is no doubt that this is your child. – He did not ask, but seemed to rebuke me of all sins. - This is a recent date. How old is he now? Do not answer. I remember what Annie looked like when she was three years old. But they look so much like her! Helena, explain to me how this can be!
The people around us began to look at us. Bjorn did not notice anything or anyone.
"When was the baby born?" he gritted through clenched teeth.
- At the end of January two thousand and ten ...
Bjorn clutched his head.
- How, well, how could you not tell me, Lena ???
- When I found out that I was pregnant, you already became cold to me, rarely wrote ... Then it got even worse ... And didn’t you tell me after returning that we shouldn’t meet? I have already raised my voice. Bjorn became whiter than white.
Why didn't you say yesterday? She didn't even say a word tonight! And if I hadn't seen these shots...
"You should have gone home to your wife," I finished coldly for him. "As you will." And my son and I have our own lives.
- Really? Bjorn chuckled ironically. “You don’t know me at all, if you can even imagine such an alignment.
- And what do you propose? I went cold, knowing how he treats children, his children. Bjorn ran a hand through his hair.
- I can't say for sure yet. We need to think about how best to proceed.
- Well, when you think about it, then you say it. Then I will decide whether to agree or not. Find me in London if you want. Now excuse me, I have a plane.
I resolutely grabbed my bag, turned around, it was time to go, but he held my hand.
- What is our son's name? Bjorn asked with an unexpected, happy smile on his lips.
I hesitated for only a second, looking into his eyes - into the very depths, into his soul.
- Alex. His name is Alexander.

I flew to Moscow. Instead of one question about the past, I now had a dozen about the future. How to solve an equation with many unknowns? How will Bjorn react? He will certainly want to see the child, the flight from Amsterdam to London, where I now live, takes only one hour ... How will his wife react to such news? But most of all, I was not sure of myself: can I make my heart be silent? Will Bjorn be able to...

Once upon a time there were a Bunny and a Squirrel. They were friends, they loved each other. Somehow the Bunny suggests:
- Squirrel, let's live together, get married.
- How so, because you are a Bunny, and I am a Squirrel.
- The strength of our love is higher than stereotypes and species-racial considerations, Squirrel.
They began to live as a family, and there is love, and understanding, and there is sex. There are just no children. They got sad. Bunny says:
- Do we really not have children because I am a Bunny, and you are a Squirrel? How so? Let's go to Owl, she's smart, she knows everything.
They came to the Owl and the Bunny says:
- Owl, tell me why we don't have children? Because we are Bunny and Squirrel?
- Are you crazy or what? You don't have children because you are a boy and he is also a boy!

There lived an old man and an old woman near Lake Chad. The old man went fishing. The first time I threw poison curare - only toads surfaced. The second time he threw poison curare - only crocodiles surfaced. The third time he threw the poison to the curare - the Golden Piranha surfaced and wanted to say, they say, let me go old, I will fulfill three cherished desires Yes, I couldn't, because I was paralyzed. The old man returned to the old woman with prey, the old woman was delighted, they salted the toads for the winter, they dried the crocodiles for the summer, and they immediately ate the Golden Piranha right raw. Thus, all three wishes were fulfilled by themselves.

Once upon a time there was a sister Alyonushka and a brother Ivanushka. Alyonushka was smart and hardworking, and Ivanushka was an alcoholic. How many times did his sister tell him - “Don’t drink, Ivanushka, you will become a kid!” But Ivanushka did not listen and drank. Once he bought some singed vodka in a stall, drank it and felt that he could no longer stand on two legs, he had to lower himself by four points. And just then the shameful wolves come up to him and say: “Well, the goat, did you drink it?”. And so they hit him on the horns that he threw back his hooves ...
And his sister Alyonushka got his apartment, because good always triumphs over evil!

Bear hut
Who ate from my plate? Father Bear asks menacingly.
Who ate from my plate? the eldest son asks.
- And who ate from my plate? - squeaks the youngest son.
“Fuckers, I haven’t poured you yet. - answers the bear.

A soldier was walking home from service. He knocked on the way to a house. “Let me in,” he says, “to spend the night, masters.” And in the house lived a greedy old woman. “Spend the night, sleep,” she said, “only I have nothing to treat you with.” “It doesn’t matter,” the soldier replied, “just give me an ax, and I’ll cook porridge out of it.” “What are you, a soldier,” the old woman was indignant, “do you think I’m completely stupid? What will I cut wood with then?” So the soldier remained without salty slurping. By the way, his name was Rodion Raskolnikov.

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- Funny and vulgar tales!

Pros: funny, fun, turns on

Disadvantages: accidentally read by children

We all love fairy tales since childhood. But when children grow up, their circle of interests changes dramatically. And even stories about familiar from childhood and favorite characters may be of interest to an adult reader only if they are overgrown with more “adult” details. Yes, I mean vulgar tales). So, if you want something to entertain your soul mate before going to bed, I can offer you a couple of interesting, but vulgar fairy tales for adults!)).

Once upon a time there were Ivan Tsarevich and Vasilisa the Beautiful. Happiness and harmony were in the family, but there was not enough understanding: no matter how Ivan Tsarevich asked, Vasilisa did not give him. Nobody knows the reasons, and Ivan Tsarevich has nowhere to go, as long as she is his lawful wife. Over time, the peasant had to get used to and forget about this matter.

But one day, trouble came to the kingdom: the Serpent-Gorynych got into the habit of ruining villages in the kingdom and kidnapping local girls for obscene purposes. Ivan Tsarevich led the detachment, they went to look for the damned snake. We walked for a long time, told many ruined villages on our way. And now they see: the Serpent-Grynych is sitting in an open field, waiting for them. The good fellows were frightened, they gave a tear. One on one, Ivan Tsarevich fought with a snake. But as he realized that he was losing, he began to retreat into the forest. Decided to spend the night here. Ivan Tsarevich was looking for a place to sleep and wandered to the swamp. The poor fellow got lost, completely despaired. And suddenly he hears a thin voice:

Warm me, Ivan Tsarevich, take a nap. I want warmth and sex.

Better take me out of the swamp, - he answers, seeing a green frog in front of him. You are not fit for this job. You have holes, go, no!

And you love me the way I am: cold and green - I'll take you out of the swamp. Get your farm, I'll open my mouth wider - plant me as your soul desires!

At first, Ivan was afraid of such a proposal - what if he picks up some other disgusting thing in this swamp. But he remembered his wife, which did not give him, remembered the Serpent-Gorynych, whom he could not defeat if he did not get out of the swamp. And made a decision. He sees: the frog has already opened its mouth. He put it in her mouth all the way to the bottom. And the frog was just waiting for this - how let's try! Ivan Tsarevich received incredible pleasure, all the seed splashed out, accumulated over the years. He looks - and instead of a frog in front of him, a naked girl is already sitting on her knees, offering to stay with her until morning. Ivan Tsarevich could not resist, succumbed to the charms of the Frog Princess. And in the morning the hero got up, straightened his shoulders, and it became easy for him, as if a large stone had been removed from him. Ivan Tsarevich went into a clean field, took a sword in his hands and defeated the Serpent-Gorynych.

Once upon a time there was one normal kid in the world, whose name was simply - Ilya. He is simple Ilyukha, correct, but he had one oddity - he did not want to get off the stove! He told everyone, they say, he is sick, his legs do not hold, and not only from a hangover. Well, the villagers quickly realized that our Ilyusha was too lazy to just get up from the stove. And his father was a noble governor, but he died in an unequal struggle with the damned Polovtsians! All that remained of him was chain mail and a rusty sword.

The villagers got tired of Ilyusha's wild life and his heroic strength. After all, whoever says anything against him can get hit on the head with a log from the stove. Ilya has already killed three of our fellow villagers, crippled eight, filthy Herod!

The villagers gathered and decide what to do with Ilyusha?

"Let's get together with the whole gang, we'll fall on him, and we'll plug him with stakes in the ass, for the glory of Perun!" - alas, this decision was not liked by the mother and sisters of Ilya's half-womb, who suggested that he be simply humanely drunk with marsh water, raped and strangled with a rawhide strap.

But there was one stray sorcerer, who, for being allowed to get drunk, offered to cure Ilya. However, he did not want to get up from the stove, to defend his homeland - he sent the old man to hell. The sorcerer was offended, rolled out the zenki, built a goat on both hands, spat the jamb on the floor, waved his hand, and went back to the forest, swollen. And a miracle happened here! He used to swear, booze, women tore in different poses, and weak legs were not a hindrance. Now, in general, the mouth does not open, the member hangs from the stove to the floor, does not eat, does not drink, does not fart, does not fuck, swears.

But the sorcerer nevertheless took pity on Ilyusha and promised to remove the curse. But for this, Ilya had to give the old man his stocked joint. After the words "Get up and go, damned" - Ilyusha, disenchanted, jumped from the stove, swung at the grandfather, and he had already caught a trace.

Having nothing to do, our great Ilya Muromets went to perform feats for the glory of the Russian land! ..

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Vulgar bedtime stories for a girl are short, probably available on the website of the section sponsor:

The old man threw the net into the sea for the first time and pulled out a lot of fish, the old man threw the net into the sea the second time, and all the fish swam away.

The father gathered his sons, picked up a bar, bent it - and the bar broke. Then he took a bundle of rods, began to bend it in any way - but the rods did not break.
So, sons, the moral is this. If you need to bend someone, then the whole team is better at once. Nobody breaks down, nobody quits.

Bear hut
Who ate from my plate? Father Bear asks menacingly.
Who ate from my plate? the eldest son asks.
Who ate from my plate? - squeaks the youngest son.
“Fuckers, I haven’t poured you yet,” the bear answers.

“Where are you going with these charred firebrands?”
- We'll have a barbecue.
- Stupid, this is a hospital!?
- We're kidding. We carry Pinocchio to the burn room.

Caught by an old man goldfish, she prayed and said to her grandfather:
- Let me go, grandfather, I will fulfill your every desire.
“I want to be a hero of the Soviet Union.
And the grandfather was left alone with two grenades against five tanks.

A guy and a girl got married. And they agreed that each would save a grain of rice after treason. They lived to a ripe old age and decided to open up to each other. The grandfather took out his pile, which fit in the palm of his hand. The grandmother unties the handkerchief - and there are only a few grains.
Grandfather asks in surprise:
- And it's all?
- And who fed you porridge throughout the war?

Night. Little Red Riding Hood is walking along the forest path. Suddenly towards - Wolf.
Hat, what are you doing? Night! Forest! You never know what - attacked, robbed, raped!
- Come on! I still have no money, but I love to have sex!

Koschey the Immortal, Kikimora and Baba Yaga decided to get higher education. They meet after six years, ask each other who became who. Koshchey says:
- I entered the Institute of Steel and Alloys, what armor I made for myself!
- And I, - answers Kikimora, - I studied as an ecologist, now I have complete order in the swamp.
“Ah,” says Baba Yaga, “I studied at PhysTech!”
Koschei with Kikimora in surprise:
- What are you all of a sudden?
- And I'm the most beautiful girl there!