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Subject: {ASSM} TXM6 Angela Leven Part II
Date: Sat, 19 Feb 2000 08:10:02 -0500
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Angela Leven from TxM6. March 11, 1992: Part II
Copyright c 2000 Sean Thomas Farragher
>From Taxi Murders Sextet: Hyperfiction Novel
http://www.taximurders.com
By Sean Farragher All Rights Reserved.

Part II



II. Another Night or Day (Henry's turn with Angela)

When done with one, the other would be there, Henry ready, playing with
it, letting the bend in its neck show against the lights of the
windows. Watching him, staring Angela waited for Henry. Reaching down
kissing him. Henry 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 Henry, 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, Henry 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," Henry called back.

On other days, Angela loved to tease the two very great friends being
with both men at the same time. They like it better that way for some
reason.

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." Henry 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 Henry probed her divided spaces softly, harder,
faster, slow. So slow, at times, he would seem disconnected,
disassociated. That was at least, what Henry had 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,
Henry would wake with Angela's mouth on his cock surprised by it all.

(c) 1999 Sean Thomas Farragher from
Taxi Murders Sextet: Hyperfiction Novel http://www.taximurders.com

http://www.farragher.com (The Selected Poems of Sean Farragher)

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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