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And I’m only thirty-five.
And I do not know how with the other.
I can not do otherwise.

Seventeen years of life you will not throw away.
So I’m looking for a car every night and driving a federal woman in the hope of breaking.
But.
I almost sleep on the side of the road, listening to Trofimov’s melting voice, when the glass begins to moan plaintively under someone’s insistent blows.
– Friend, drop off at the airport.
The boy.
Twenty years, not more.
Where flies? Dark.
Does not see.
I nod at the seat – go ahead.
Do not confuse only, I have the right wheel.
Sits down.
It smells like young sweaty body.
– Thanks, buddy.
And I have three months without sex.
I clench my teeth, try not to breathe with my nose, otherwise I will tear myself.
– When is the plane? – the voice is almost like a man’s – Time-shaft, – answers cheerfully, – there is no place to go.
So I decided to arrive early.
Thanks, buddy.
Rescued.
I turn on the light in the cabin, I see dazed eyes: – Oh, sorry, I thought that you were a man.
I’ll leave now.
Click the door bolts.
Late.
This is ROAD STYLES, man.
Do you know what two hundred and fifty horses are under the hood? Parking-reverse-neutral-drive.
Watch the second hand, buddy.
(Porn tales) Leaving this life beyond the brink of one is so boring.
I want to grab someone.
At the wrong time you knocked on my glass, baby.
Low-profile tires stubbornly eats kilometers per hour.
Forty – relaxed.
Sixty – feels good.
Eighty – like, a passenger from the Equator ?.
Hundred – on the night road almost weave.
One hundred and twenty – gaytsy and does not smell.
One hundred and forty is my usual speed, but I want to know her limit.
One hundred and sixty.
I can still take my eyes off the road and look at his pale face.

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One hundred eighty, one hundred and ninety.
Two hundred and ten is the maximum speed in TTX.
I can no longer turn my face, I can not take my hands off the wheel.
I can feel him whispering: “Stop.”
Brakes, please.
What for? In this fucking world, everything rests only in two words: why, and why.
Why slow down when an insatiable turbine cuts through the air? Why to brake, when you want to tear further? When speed dries the remnants of the soul.
When two hundred and fifty horses in the ass moan from one desire – come on, come on, come on.
– BRAKES, – and his hand falls on my left leg.
Squeezing thigh painfully.
I startled by surprise.
Do not distract the driver while driving.
But I’m not ready yet, and he tears the handbrake on himself, clicks the automat – drive-neutral-reverse-parking.
Have you ever smelt fired rubber? Mazda squeals plaintively, crashing into the bushes on the side of the road.
I turn the steering wheel to pain in elbows and recline on the seat, eyes closed.
– Are you out of your mind? Oh, how right you are, young passenger.
If you knew, how much I was crazy now.
You wouldn’t be sitting here now.

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Instead of answering, I open my green eyes.
I look around him and note.
Of course, how could I forget.
Over seventeen years of family life.
Adrenalin.
He is not more than twenty, there is no blood in his veins – but a spray of champagne, in his pants – a permanently hot mixture.
And now this boy is scared and excited at the same time.
This is ROAD STYLES.
– How much is up to the plane? – Lot.
I rip my blouse myself, he tears his pants himself.
I myself recline the seat, he reclines his own.
Parking, you bastard Mazda, I said – parking.
I fall on his body where the freaking steering wheel does not interfere.
– You say two hundred and ten? – this boy manages to take the initiative.
I forget.
I forget everything What is my name and how old I am.
He bursts into my fives, he tears my muscles apart.
I fight in the windshield.
– Hush hush.
It seems to me that this is twenty for me, and thirty for him.
Hush – it means “neutral”, stop – it means “parking”.
Don’t, baby.
I have two hundred and fifty horses under the hood.
They beat their hooves and snore in anticipation of the spurs.
Give me those spurs.
I scream when thin boyish fingers come inside.
How can I shout.
I opened my eyes – opposite me brown look.
Come on baby.
I go down the lips of the body of God, I drink his smell, I bathe in it.
It’s mine.
All is mine.
Like a cat lick his flesh, like the last bitch licking his silk.
My.
No one will take away.
All is mine. Hidden cam wife orgasm.

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