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Having managed to run up, Vika realized: she squatted next to Tanya, flashing out from underpants with the same black as her friend’s thong, put a plastic beer glass under the stream.
Tanya removed her hands from her face, and looked at Vika.
– Thank! she said, with trembling lips.

– Do not cry and do not worry! – said Vick, looking at the glass, which is already one third filled.
– Anything could happen! – Vika! You see, I pissed! – I almost burst into tears, said Tanya, continuing to write.
– The pants are dry? Does it not flow down your legs? So not pissed! – reassured her Vika.
– I wetted pants while running home! – continued to wail with trembling lips Tanya.
Tanya, perhaps, would have cried, unable to withstand the nervous stress, but Vika knew how to calm her down.
With her free hand, she ran over Tanya’s pee clitoris.
Tanya instantly forgot what had happened, looked at Vika, smiled.
Vika continued to caress.
When the glass was filled to the brim, Tanya stopped writing, at least she wanted a little more.
She stood up, put on her thongs, straightened her skirt, and gratefully embraced Vika with both hands, holding a glass of urine in her hand.
A girl’s glass was thrown into a garbage bin, then, going into the room and taking towels, they merrily went to the shower together.

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There, Tanya, standing, under the sound of water, added the rest.
And Vika, released outside her beer, while waiting for Tanya.
The girls began to caress each other in the shower, and finished up in their bed in the morning to sleep a little.
The next evening, Lera told Tanya that as soon as she and Sasha drove onto the track, Lera flew out of the car, and having no more strength to endure and look for bushes, went under Sasha’s Ford wheel.
Then they had wild sex, everything, as Tanya supposed.
Through the creaking doors of the little train station we are on the square.
It was much quieter and cleaner than ours in the city.
– Well, where now? – asked Marrying.
– At the bus stop, – I replied, – let’s go show.
Taking my aunt’s hand, I led her through the station square.
On the way, we stopped several times, Zhenya threw bags onto the ground, crouched beside them and corrected something.
– Very hard? – I asked.
“Nothing, so far I suffer,” she answered.
We approached a small pavilion in the center of the square.
– How long do we stand here? – asked aunt, looking around.
“First you need to buy tickets, right here,” I kicked the wooden box office wall, “then the buses will arrive.”
– when? – again asked Eugene, looking at the structure, on the border of the square.
“They always drive up to the train,” I explained, “take passengers and return only to the next train.”
“An intelligent boy,” a drunken uncle, who was sitting in the shade of the ticket office on an empty bottle box, praised me.
Zhenya glanced at him, it was obvious that she didn’t like her uncle much.
Without taking my eyes off me and things, my aunt took a queue at the

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cashier.
And I again took out a pistol and began to guard the bags, while my aunt, shifting from one foot to the other, stood in the queue.
Waiting for Zhenya to return, I pulled her over for a sundress.
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