Kot blonde in boots from perfect morocco decorated with spurs, gold with emeralds and sapphires, loudly cried out:
- Your highness, a cat walks in itself, and the cat prirulivat only in time!
During an exchange of courtesies, the young man with the girl on a shoulder jumped out of a scorching heat. There they were already waited by a pack from under cigarettes from the half-naked, suntanned and graceful and brawny girl represented on it in blow of the leg breaking a black swastika against a white circle and a red cloth. As Bulgakov was not shocked, but considered that it looks like a flag of Hitlerite Germany. The country which was an unarmed dwarf several years ago, and bends under itself Europe now, threatening to be splashed out over time and to the USSR!
Pack, it is similar instead of a flying carpet here, but already a matter of taste who on what flies. And to get down from a rigid shoulder and it is much more pleasant to lay down a back on a glossy, paper surface, than to dance on fire. The back, fortunately, was almost not singed, but here barefoot soles became covered by the whole scattering of large and small blisters, got also to calves a little, honor reddenings to hips. And on fingers of hands several small, but unpleasant burns. Bulgakov even lifted up above a leg somehow to suppress to a painful zudenia and to force to rush back blood. The young man, having folded the raincoat and boots with diamond spurs which it is unclear when he managed to pick up, turned in the little girl. His face, beautiful, but still young and not quite issued, expressed pleasure though it was covered with wounds and burned far stronger, than the imaginary girl rescued by it. Though, of course, the knight won and rescued the strange beauty. By the voice full of tenderness, he said:
- The first good news, we survived and came off prosecution ...
Kot blonde, on it gloomy noticed:
- And the second news bad, effect of a puzyryaniye will come to an end soon, and the dragon will recover again and your highness will rush for us!
- Let us, at first, will find! - Carelessly the prince threw. He looked on lying, thrown, at fairly burned legs up, the girl, on her turned pale person, on convulsively twitching fingers of hands and legs, a crack in which it is full of sympathy and love, said:
- You it is visible got a fright, the poor thing ...
The young man carefully took in the palm her leg, really, to a napodoshva there was no live place, skin rather thin, not coarsened as if at the notable person though in general, the girl rather sports. Here and now, does the bicycle, trying to escape. Quietly groans:
- I do not want to hell! I do not want in a scorching heat!
The guy, with not absolutely clear cheerfulness, winked at it:
- So we already in an underworld ... In the place where the Satan over souls of not rescued people dominates.
Bulgakov shuddered, but quiet and even cheerful tone of the interlocutor calmed him. It is valid, not everything is so bad also in a scorching heat, it is possible to fight and to reprimand devils. Even the itch in extremities became weaker and it tried to rise. Here the young man put on a shoulder to the girl a hand and by a quiet voice reported:
- The dragon by all means will find us, and the following time it is so easy not to cope with it, you understand?
The girl leaned on hands not to fall, but again zanyl the burned palms, and Bulgakov just nodded. And the prince continued with very lovely smile:
- We should not fight with a dragon weakened and covered with wounds. We need to be fresh and full of strength, you agree?
The girl pale lips whispered:
- Yes. Yes ...
The prince continued, having strengthened a tonality:
- And in hell cures love, only the love or Lucifer cures at once! You understand?
And his hands laid down on a breast of the girl and began to mass them. Bulgakov though found the woman's flesh, began to be discharged desperately ... And to mutter:
- No, so it is impossible!
- It why? - The young man pretended that he was surprised.
The girl bryaknut first come to mind:
- You are still a child, it is too small for this purpose!
In reply snicker:
- Nonsenses! I am a prince of princes elves and am more senior than the cracked terrestrial mountains and hell!
Bulgakov after these words felt only the growing fear though the treacherous body and was excited from similar touches, everything seemed pleasant, even the honey smell proceeding from the young youth aksakal. Then the writer, not in forces to oppose moaned:
- But I am a man, so it is impossible!
The prince, on it already with cold in a voice, answered:
- You died! At the same time both flesh, and a man's Ego died! And smothering it is the spirit which does not have bones and flesh. Soul not the man and not woman, as by the way and angels! Therefore time your spirit in a female body - you are a girl, and be installed in a demon, and a devil horned you will be ...
The voluptuous wave and scarlet nipples foully again rolled on the girl hardened, and the velvet grotto of Venus was humidified. And here it became so good, so excellent, so fine, more than ever in life. Two bodies smoothly, and at the same time are prompt, merged in a single whole. Billions of stars at the same time dispersed dazzling flashes, each cell of a body was overflowed by ecstasy and volcanoes of all continents of millions of worlds were cast out.
What was tested by the girl cannot be described, the tornado which involved in herself myriads of galaxies is similar. Thousand geysers from under ice, only a mote in the ocean of the cascade of orgasms.
The girl Bulgakov remained to lie dumbfounded, it is impossible neither to describe it, nor to worry for the second time. But the prince of princes did not allow it to lie and almost roughly lifted the beauty for hair:
- Will be enough, the Dragon flies up!
And the cat blonde added:
- Now you as newcomers so - that ...
The young man sang:
- Do not long and forgive him for the sake of your name-day!
Bulgakov was stirred up, all scum and fatigue, and also a shock from occupation by love with the supernatural prince, at once disappeared. And the body zaklokotat by force as if the powerful engine, or the jet fighter. The writer who was ill much in recent years and was sick as a dog as if drank now the ocean of water of life. The body, though maiden, became where atletichny more widely in shoulders, under suntanned skin balls of flexible and at the same time rigid muscles were rolled. All scars and burns completely disappeared, and now and the soul was eager for a fight and feats. Bulgakov with delight answered: