"John F. Rosmann - The Mind Masters 03 - The Door" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosmann John F)

an-cient odd-shaped buildings seem to huddle together against the mists that are beginning to creep toward them
from the marshy moorland. The cottages crouch beneath their thick thatched roofs . . . roofs that overhang white
plaster walls laced and braced by big black timbers . . . cottages constructed as if the original inhabitants of Salisbury
had lived in con-stant fear of some enemy, unknown, unseen in the gathering
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2 John F. Rossmann
fog that rises from the rotting ground like spirits deep from dark, damp graves.
Shadows grow faster, longer as our impersonal planet spins on in space and carries all the men and women of
Salisbury toward darkness in the way that a dying dog carries hapless fleas with it into a cave. Suddenly, as the
bottom of the sun just touches the horizon, a shadow shoots out from the disap-pearing town! A monstrous black
shadow straight from the Middle Ages that rapidly slithers silent, snakelike up and down over the rooftops and out
onto the moors: the stern shadow of Salisbury Cathedral's great granite steeple! En-gland's tallest spire sprouts
heavenward here from this small city like a spiritual snorkel telling us today that those who la-bored on this tower so
long ago felt strangely stifled, stran-gled by the unearthly moonlike moors that even in those old days were
dominated by rumors about the lifeless ruins of pre-historic Stonehenge.
Out! Out slides the steeple's shadow—silent, swift—and suddenly strikes a small sedan parked on the soggy
shoulder of a long-unused and death-quiet moorland road.
"What's that?" the young woman whispers, and pushes her-self up quickly from the body of the young man who
lies beneath her on the back seat. Her naked breasts sway slowly just above his hot heaving chest. In the deepening
dusk, the young man briefly watches while her full nipples become erect and firm again as they gently brush back
and forth across the hair on his chest.
"Blimey, Liz!" he hisses. "It's nothing, I tell you!" His hands rise, and each strokes a heavy breast, while the young
woman's head still glances from side to side out the car win-dows, searching for the unseen source of that sudden
shadow. Satisfied that no one and nothing is around, she permits her-self to be drawn down again by the soft,
insistent stroke of the young man's hot hands ... slowly down ... until once more she lies full on him and involuntarily
feels the surge of pleasure as her vaginal muscles tighten around his hard penis, which she holds deep in her. A
second pleasure surge is trig-gered by the touch of his left-hand index finger probing her anus. "Ummmmmmm . . ."
she murmurs as their open mouths meet, tongues thrusting in intercourse symbolic of that occurring between their
heaving hips and tightening, 'twisting thighs.
"Didn't I tell you," the young man murmurs, "that it would be just as good with you on top?"
THE DOOR 3

"Um," she pleasurably acknowledges, adding in a teasing tone, "maybe even a little bit better"
"Oooo!" she happily exclaims as her partner skillfully moves his finger, which has remained in her anus, massaging
in a gentle circular motion.
"Well"—the young man's smile is unseen in the dark of the now total night—"it's certainly easier for me. Last time
we did it in this car, I got the worst set of skin-burned knees you ever want to see."
"Still," the young woman sighs, "I feel so . . . so exposed-— like my bare bottom is sticking up above the windows
and we're parked in the center of Salisbury Square outside the cathedral with half the town watching us."
The youth begins moving his pelvis slowly, taking pleasure from the tingling that is being broadcast up through
his body from the tip of his penis buried deep in her moist, warm vagina. "Well," he says, "when I take delivery of the
'fuck-truck' custom van I ordered from the States, we'll be able to screw even in the square and no one will know."
"Unless the gas tank sloshes," she chides.
The gas tank of their current car is already quietly sloshing now with the stronger rhythm of their love. The insides
of the windows mist and become opaque as the two young bodies radiate with hot streams of pleasure.
"What's that?"
"Blimey, Liz! Again?" He's chilled by the sudden lifting of her perspiring soft flesh from his chest. "What do you
think you saw this time?" he asks with frustration toughening his voice.
"Didn't you see it, David? A flash of light—a bright flash of light!"
"... Yeah," the lad says, nodding his head. "I guess I saw something."