Message-ID: <26510asstr$969945003@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: "Sean Farragher" <seanfarragher@msn.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <NEBBKECCILIDDPJFHMPOIEPFCJAA.seanfarragher@msn.com> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 (Normal) X-MSMail-Priority: Normal Importance: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.50.4133.2400 Subject: {ASSM} From TxM6: Angela, Henry, Aaron What a Fuck they had Date: Tue, 26 Sep 2000 01:10:03 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2000/26510> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, gill-bates Also From TxM6 Hyperfiction http://www.txm6.com (updated 9/16/00) http://www.txm6.com/enfer (updated 9/17/00) http://www.txm6.com/lcfallon http://www.farragher.com (Poetry updated 9/24/00) TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only. Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher. 0885X Extraordinary Conventions Angela, Aaron and Henry Tearing down extraordinary conventions When she was done with one, Aaron would be there, ready, playing with it, letting the bend in its neck show against the lights of the windows. Watching him, staring Angela waited for Aaron. Reaching down kissing him. Aaron on his knees now put his cock against Angela's breasts, rubbing between them. Angela ready again, catching her breath, feeling the ache in her cunt where Henry had ravaged, she signaled Aaron, now, crawl forward speaking softly, curling her finger, beckoning. Brushing her mouth on his breasts, as she called them, imagining them as hers, confusing man and woman. Bite my tits, Aaron laughed. No, you bite mine, she screamed back, and then in this odd circle they sucked the other, punishing. Angela finally said, lifting them up, offering, what only could be a second and third stretch to more and longer orgasms: "make them drip again." "Make mine," Aaron called back. On other days, Angela loved to tease. Switching between the men, their cocks, their mouths, she rubbed them inside her thighs, not letting them inside, until she was ready. Intent, focused, she lowered herself slowly down on one then the other. Inch by inch, slower and slower, taking their dear pricks into throat of her cunt she invoked the gods with curses. "Fuck, shit, fuck me cock sucker, motherfucker, daddy, shit, beat it baby, don't you stop, shit, no, make me come, you mother humping fuck." Sometimes, bored with holy drama, Angela would delicately moan when she was done, crying aloud that ragged animal sound, known by all and invisible. Quiet. Aaron loved silence, and Henry directed his silent, pained expressions, catching Angela in that after breath of orgasm, when she had finished him, licking the patch of his cock and he her clit, taking her whole cunt in his mouth. Covering her completely Aaron probed her divided spaces softly, harder, faster, slow. So slow, at times, Henry would seem disconnected, disassociated. That's what Aaron called it. As the beats of Henry's life and heart were not congruent with Aaron, pure delusion, he told them both. "I do not know you then," Aaron said, touching Angela's face, lifting her hair from her cheek. Not knowing her talent for mimicry, Angela appeared neither whore nor prude. Not lecherous nor calculating and often, suddenly, surprised, Aaron would wake with Angela's mouth on his cock surprised by it all. Aaron felt welcome those bending hands. Like palm fronds her nipples dazzled him with an arbor of lights, colorful textures, background. Angela was never reasonable and often dangerous. Henry and Aaron accepted all of it. Imagine being married with two gracious men, Angela mocked. "No, I don't mean you, she laughed, pulling both men on top of her. "Why not us," Henry struck back. Ignoring Henry, Angela whispered to both of them, speaking softly, "I came three times." "What," Henry teased? Repeating it, not as a confession nor for information, Aaron and Henry certainly knew it, Angela dangling the safety rope down the cliff pulled memory up or down, as the whim of her sexuality decreed. Speaking, breathing, halting, I am still there, she said, always, your tongues, positioned, as I taught you swooning with a quick pulse, gathered, holding the crash inside, shattering the nape nerve, returning to the bliss of some long ago fuck me when I was a teenager. Angela, happy but not yet desperate held it back. She kept Aaron there, feeling him leap, restoring the oscillation, squeezing inside. Yes, of course, I loved the leaking afterwards she lied. Reaching back, she thought, to dig his spine, and the shoal of ass, and then grace, turned up, insistent, pulled down to the worn edges of her halo cleft. Now, I know. Aaron assumed control. No, I let him, she dreamed, withdrawing, like a warm thrush or the spice of the mouth held captive on the slick of his glans. How I love the shine, pulling her head off Aaron's cock. Wiping it clean, she smiled. "No, I will never lose contact, Angela happy, cried. Holding hands, eyes, or lips, in the tender of blue, Angela restored pleasure from grief. Pulling back, she gasped as Aaron gasped. "Wait I'm there," he said. Aaron entered her not hard, but quickly, sliding on her hot ice, pushing her back, deep into the grooves of the bed, grinding his pubic bone against hers, and then crushing her ass, mounted, high up, numb, almost, into her test. Allowing prick to bend and graze her clit, Aaron twisted the earth under her ass, making the sky very dangerous after all. When Aaron came the pregnant wars shifted from the egg in the eye to semen in the mouth. My daughter is conceived, Angela laughed. Oh, let it be true, Angela laughed self-mocking. Henry or Aaron? Doesn't matter to them, although they really pretend, and would be glad if the fates chose the right one. Who is right in the festival, holy or not, in our grief, one hour of night, or the swallow of day scared, and nothing else is torn down but extraordinary conventions. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+