I lay back on the cushions of the taxi seat, filled with a sense of her closeness. I did not even try to take her hand. She came, and in this was the supreme pleasure ...

We sat in the institution of Jimmy Kelly until the morning: drank, ate, danced. We talked, fully understanding each other.

We didn’t have time to get into a taxi, as Mara climbed on me without any prefaces and immediately rampant intercourse began. The car lurched and swayed, our teeth were chattering, biting our tongues, and from the girl flowed like a leaky pan. Driving through the square, I saw the face of a policeman stretching out - he noticed us.

“Mara, it's morning already,” I said, trying to clean up.

“Now, now,” she gasped, she muttered, and with these words, violently clutching at me, broke out into a long orgasm, bent over with such force that she almost tore off my penis. Finally, she got off me, slipped into a corner and lay back, not lowering the dress. I leaned over to hug her again and, holding out my hand, I felt a wet crack. She dug into me like a leech, twirling her smooth backside in a fit of pleasure. I felt a love eruption seep out of her in a hot stream. All four of my fingers were inside her, arousing her vagina, and the fifth was pulling at her wet moss with a spasmodically twitching triangle. She had finished two or three times in a row and finally fell off on a seat, completely devastated, helplessly, like a female trapped in a trap, smiling at me from the corner.