Blowjob that freed me from depression

March 15, 2015. A month later, I was already feeling a bit better. I was playing my favorite champion, Veigar, in League of Legends - mainly because he could execute cool spells like "Primordial Burst" and "Event Horizon".

Suddenly, the phone rang in the next room. After a few seconds, someone picked up. It had to be Mom because after a few minutes of silence, I heard her loud crying. It was a completely different kind of crying than what I usually knew from her. That's when I knew immediately that something terrible had happened. My two sisters and Tobias, Dascha's boyfriend, were there that evening. We all hurried to Mom.

"What's wrong?" Dascha asked, but Mom kept crying without answering us.

"What's wrong? Come on, tell us what happened? Please answer," Dascha urged more dramatically, while we waited anxiously.

"My dad passed away!"

Dascha started crying too.

All night long, there was terrible lamenting. I couldn't sleep because it hurt to hear my mother cry like that. I went to her and hugged her. I talked to her about death and heaven, telling her that Grandpa wasn't really dead, but that he was still living - in heaven!

Faith was the only way to calm my mom. In difficult times, when a superstitious person like my mother longed for a miracle, that person couldn't handle rationality. My mother simply didn't want to believe that it was all over and she would never see her father again. At that time, she needed the hope of life after death, the hope of the existence of heaven, the hope of a reunion. It was only when I made my mom aware of life after death, assuring her that Grandpa was now safely with God, that she calmed down.

That night, I understood that from the perspective of a person in crisis, it doesn't matter whether God exists or not, as long as belief in Him helps to cope with the crisis. Without God, I could never have comforted my mother.

That night, I realized that from the perspective of a person in crisis, whether God exists or not is irrelevant. What matters is belief in God, which helps to cope with the crisis. Without this belief, I could never have comforted my mother. It was faith that gave her solace, and in that moment, I was very grateful for it, regardless of the question of God's existence.

After my mother fell asleep around two in the morning, I went to my room. I opened the window, looked up at the dark starry sky, and whispered, "Thank you for your help." I bowed and went to sleep.

Later, Grandma Lina recounted over the phone how it happened: After a drive, Yura got out of the car and simply collapsed to the ground. After a few hours in the hospital, he passed away. It turned out he died from untreated stomach cancer. Grandpa was buried right next to his mother, Anna Solomonova, at the cemetery in Kharkovskiy.

In Russia, it is a common tradition that after the death of a loved one, all relatives and acquaintances gather to mourn together, talk about the deceased, and exchange memories. Grandma even invited Galja and Gogi, and they came to this memorial service.

Grandpa Yura's death brought an unexpected turn in my grandparents' relationship. His death managed to shatter the indestructible hatred between them, but it plunged me even deeper into the depths of sadness.

Future Learning after Grandpa Yura's Death: If I am a very emotional and particularly lonely person, faith in God is the easiest way to cope with difficult phases of life.

The Crying

March / April 2015. I wasn't doing well. Heartbreak, the sudden death of my grandfather, and the loneliness, permeated by the sad atmosphere at home, drained me of all strength. I was completely burnt out, finding it hard to go to university. But I didn't want to disappoint my mother. She was always so proud of me for studying such a challenging subject. If only she knew that things weren't going well at university...

Every day, I tried to pull myself together and keep going. But in lectures, I just stared at the board without seeing the content. Then the tears would start flowing, and I wanted to go home as quickly as possible or at least lock myself in the bathroom so that no one would see. Once, I started crying on a crowded train. I felt incredibly embarrassed when I noticed people staring at me. To top it all off, an elderly man started comforting me - when all I wanted was not to be noticed by anyone.

It was an exhausting time, full of grief. It was hard for me to fall asleep at night, and I didn't want to get out of bed in the morning. I felt empty, and everything seemed meaningless to me. But I had to get up. I didn't want to show my mother that I was mentally struggling and add to her burden. She worked hard and was at the end of her nerves after Grandpa Yura's death. She had constant panic attacks; she would wake up at night thinking she was about to die. With a racing heart and also full of fear, I would stay by her side. After measuring her blood pressure, I called an ambulance because I couldn't calm her down. She didn't come back home until the next day. Her vitals were back to normal, but our lives were in disarray.

Eventually, I started having panic attacks too. I would wake up at night, sometimes completely drenched in sweat. In nightmares, I kept encountering that mutilated face I had seen in that video game at the end of the labyrinth or the Queen of Spades that haunted me. Upon waking up, my heart rate was incredibly high. It felt like I was about to die. Then I would briefly open the window and pray to God: "Free me from this fear. My mother is fine, and I'm fine too. It's just an illusion." After that, I could usually calm down and go back to sleep.

Julia's Mother

April 2015. One evening, Julia's mother messaged me on WhatsApp, asking how I was feeling now. I told her the truth about Jana, the stress at university, the death of my grandpa, my nightmares, and panic attacks - I poured out all my feelings and worries to her. She understood me and comforted me with her messages. Even from her vacation in Switzerland, she sent me chocolate and a book about Buddha's philosophy on life. I could always reach out to her when I was feeling down. After each brief exchange and voice message, I felt significantly better.

Within a few weeks, she became a kind of counselor for me, to whom I could tell everything. A counselor whom I knew almost nothing about - neither her name nor her age. I didn't ask her, and she didn't tell me anything about it. I didn't even know what she looked like.

Every morning, she wished me a good start to the day and reminded me that she was always with me. Surprisingly, this eventually brought me to a somewhat stable state. There were good days again, where I felt fine.

Our Father

April 2015. One of those days, we spent several hours chatting in the evening, and somehow, the topic of sex came up. She asked me about my fantasies, and without hesitation, I told her what I would have liked to experience at that moment. We had no inhibitions towards each other anymore. The next day, we continued talking about sex. I had a hard-on all evening long. Of course, I told her about it too. We both got so turned on by each other that we arranged to meet in person.

I waited for her at the university, working on practice sheets in the meantime. Eventually, my phone vibrated. "I'm waiting for you at the parking lot," the illuminated display read. Finally, I thought to myself, packed my things into my bag, and left the university building towards the parking lot.

It was already getting dark. When I stood in front of the parking lot, I wanted to ask which car was hers. But before I could type the first letter, I noticed something in the corner of my eye. I raised my head and saw the rear lights of a car briefly flashing red. I put my phone in my pocket and approached the car cautiously. It was dark, and I couldn't see well who was in the car. I walked around the car, trying to peek inside, but could only make out that one of the rear windows was covered with a cloth or something similar. My phone vibrated.

"Come in the back," the display read.

"Ok," I typed quickly and went to the uncovered side of the car. I opened the back door and glanced briefly into the dark interior before getting in.

"Hello Alexander," came the familiar voice that once freed me from my emotional torment. It smelled faintly of strawberries. In the rearview mirror, I could see that she was looking at me.

"There's a cloth on the right-hand side. Cover your eyes with it," she said in a seductive whisper. I quickly took off my jacket and followed her instructions. It was kind of scary, but so exciting at the same time.

"I'm coming to see you now," she continued.

A few seconds later, I heard the back door covered by the towel open and noticed my counselor sit down next to me. Then I heard the click of the door lock.

"Don't worry, I'll just cover the window on your side so no one can see us," she whispered. I felt her lean over my lap with her rather large, soft breast, causing my penis to stiffen and push through my jeans. She leaned back again. I guess she was done covering up.

I felt her hand slide over my chest towards my stomach and my jeans.

"Do you want to be released?" she whispered in my ear, causing me to flinch slightly.

"Oh yes, set me free!"

"Pray! And you will be delivered."

"What do you mean?"

"How about the Lord's Prayer?" she said, undoing the button of my jeans and the fly.

"Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name..." I mumbled impatiently. As I said this slowly, she pulled out my penis.

"Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done," I continued in a state of trance. She started to suck me off.

"Ah, that's awesome. As in heaven, so on earth," I couldn't stop praying.

I couldn't hold out for long, but when I came, she just kept going. Until I had finished praying.

"Now you're free," she said and put my penis back in my jeans.

When I got home, I threw myself straight into bed without eating dinner and tried to grasp what I had just experienced. It was like an awesome dream. But I felt guilty that I had been praying during it, so I started whispering to myself and asking God to forgive me if I had actually sinned.

Blowing and talking

April / May 2015. Julia's mother asked me via WhatsApp if I had enjoyed it and suggested I repeat it until I felt better. Getting a blow job helped with depressive moods, so of course I agreed.

She came to Borsum by car late in the evening for the next few weeks and waited at St. Martin's Church, which was a hundred meters away from my home. Then she wrote me a message to say she was there. Everyone was already asleep and I quietly slipped out of the apartment and went to the church. There, in her car, I blindfolded myself, just like the first time. Then we drove somewhere. As it turned out, she took me to the nearest forest. Then she came to me in the back seat and healed me orally. Every time I came in her mouth, she let out a loud moan as if she was eating the most delicious food of her life. This made my climax even more intense.

I was then allowed to get out of the car briefly without looking at her and take off my blindfold. She offered me a cigarette, which I accepted as an exception. I hadn't smoked for a long time, but I was happy to do it with her. Afterwards, we talked about my current situation while I smoked and looked around. We were standing on a forest path and the treetops were swaying in the wind around us. I couldn't see much. It was pitch black.

After the cigarette, I got back into the car, covered my eyes and she took me back home. I was naturally very curious to see what she looked like. But I knew that if I violated our agreement, she wouldn't heal me. It wasn't worth my curiosity.

1. Just because I got a good grade in a school subject doesn't mean that I will be just as good in that subject at university. The grades at school represent the performance of the teachers. The grades at university represent my own performance.
2. It is normal to fail exams in the foundation course.
3. In a depressive mood, it helps to get a blow job and talk.