"Picnic At Lac Du Sang" - читать интересную книгу автора (Masterton Graham)

edge of ejaculation and then letting him subside, until his balls ached
and he was right on the edge of anger.
The bedroom was dark when she led him over to the chaise-longue and made
him lie on his back. She straddled him, looking down at him, and it was so
gloomy now that he couldn't see her face beneath the shadows of her hair.
He could smell her, though. Her sex and her perfume and the same smell
that he had detected on Mme Leduc: the smell of memories.
'I think you should make love to me properly,' she whispered. 'It's what
you want, isn't it, to share my body with my baby?'
He half-rose, saying, 'I can't.' But she pushed him back again. She took
hold of his erect penis and positioned herself right over it. She rubbed
the head of his penis backward and forward between her lips until it was
slippery with juice. 'You want to meet my baby?' she teased him. 'Don't
tell me that you don't want to meet my baby.'
She sank down on him, until he was buried right inside the warm elastic
tightness of her body. She leaned forward so that her nipples touched his
chest, and then she kissed him, and made a snorting sound of satisfaction
in his ear. He felt her child kick and stir against his penis and he
climaxed with such violence that his whole world went dark.


It was almost eight o'clock when he left her sleeping on the four-poster
bed. He dressed, and crept out, taking one last look at her. She was lying
on her back with her hand lying idly between her legs, her hair fanned out
across one of the pillows. It unnerved him to think that he had probably
started to fall in love with her. He knew for sure that he would have to
see her again. You can't have an encounter like this and just forget about
it, just let it go.
He had never experienced an afternoon like it in his life. The way she had
eaten his balls as if they were fruit. The way she had rubbed him until he
had climaxed all over her breasts, and it had dripped from her nipples
like milk.
'I want to feed my baby, when it's born,' she had told him, massaging his
sperm around and around.
'So when will that be, exactly?'
'I looked at my horoscope and my horoscope said soon.'
'What about your gynecologist?'
She had frowned at him as if she didn't understand what he meant.
He walked hack along the gloomy corridor feeling both elated and deeply
guilty. He loved her, he wanted her, but he knew that he had to save her,
too. He had to save her from Mme Leduc. Most of all he had to save her
from men like him.
He had almost reached the hallway when he saw the shield-shaped plaque on
the wall. He stopped, and peered at it, like Lawrence of Arabia peering at
a mirage. It said '╔cole St Agathe, fondщe 1923,' and underneath the
lettering was an emblem of a goose flying from a blood-red lake.
He was still peering at it when a voice said, 'Did you have a good time,
Vincent?' He turned to see Mme Leduc standing in the hallway. He didn't
know whether it was the dim evening light or maybe his own sexual
satiation that made her look older, much older, and far less beautiful.