Message-ID: <25386asstr$964084203@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: "seanfarragher" <seanfarragher@email.msn.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <NEBBKECCNOEJHMGPDAFHKEOPCCAA.seanfarragher@email.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 Runaway V Mf Date: Thu, 20 Jul 2000 05:10:03 -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/Year2000/25386> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: newsman, gill-bates From TxM6 Taxi Murders Sextet Hyperfiction Novel http://www.taximurders.com/enfer TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only. Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher Runaway V 0950Xrunaway0266X.htm Emma Cavanaugh DOB: 8/10/1974 November 29, 1987 Wandering Never been scared before even when I sat in the corner with Johnny playing with my pussy on the bed talking nice, I felt like his puppy dog. I guess I should be mad at that but he told me he'd take care of me, just get dressed, he said, held his robe out, exposed himself, I was so fucken wet and hurting, and wish he'd just let me do it to myself. He has nothing to prove. I couldn't keep my eyes off him. He was dressed in tan work pants and a tee shirt, his Billy hung out and he smelled of beer, offered one, don't like the stuff, really don't. He was calm, and said he wouldn't hurt. Wouldn't hold me against my will, I could leave any time. Home, no way, I said. I'll stay here. My step Mom screams, no, your Dad's never really here anymore, what's he out fucking you, she said. You're drunk I said, proud of myself. Your fathers down at the bar, drunk. GOOD MOTHER held me tight. Dad doesn't want my life, too complicated. Every day we shift one foot towards the other, out of control. Behind the darkness, left, right, or inside out, carefully marked the edges of the room, I guilt wall there of dolls, digging holes in all of them for a cunt and ass, pin holes for nipples. Make them anatomically correct, what a fucken joke. I carefully built up the walls of my room, Used old broken dolls and dirty blankets. The I added bricks, carrying one at a time. Built a cave. Drove my stepmother crazy. Fucken bricks, she said, laughing at her ass, giggling when Gail came over, we would hide behind the walls, and she'd be my daddy, and then she left, taking away by her parents and college. We really believed no one could see what we did together. She liked my tits. I had some. Almost curious, she'd touch the nipple, massing all over, tickling, getting out of breath, and then she'd hold me, get out of sorts, and shiver. I felt save. Couldn't believe she moved away. Her Mom and Dad left. Picked up one weekend, and she was gone. Threw all the bricks out the window. Step Mom laughed, came in, two days latter, wearing only a night gown, and no panties. Showing it off, she laughed. Hard to know what else to do. Step Mom coming on to me, feeling real sick, dropped the walls one part at a time to let them all know how far I could go to get what I wanted. Let the bricks make a darker circle. Stole fifty bucks from my dad, I had earned it, easy to do, from the drinking stiff. Mom watched, and said good-bye, if he doesn't shake it off soon, gonna cut it off, rubbing her pussy, she was drunk too, he had the money, where was it. Mom had it. Come here, she said. Kiss me, she said, and when I reached to pull it out of her hand, which I did, she tried to kiss me, grabbing me by my shirt, pulling me down on top of them, and I kicked her in her full tits. Just got paid, what the fuck, packed up back pack, working hiking books, sweat shirts in layers, looked like a little boy, running out of the house in the November wind and rain. My friend Dave drove me to the bus confessing how he'd like to have sex with me now as I looked like a boy. Give me another chance, he suggested. Told Dave the truth. If I ever got back there, I'd fuck him silly, that he turned me on. I'm ten years older he said. So what if you're a cousin. You think I give a fuck. No, he didn't really want to do it. Couldn't say good bye, He didn't want me sad, he said. Gave me $20.00, forget it, he said, so surprised, by it all, couldn't believe it. The air was cold, she said, Mom came when she died, she loved what to become, as I sat there within the debris: broken glass, car lights flashed about the tops of our heads asleep on the ground, I want to sleep too much, and could not keep it out of the metal ride. I won't cut, not awake I felt the air beneath my backside, cold, again my calves ached, it is cold I told my real MOM, she was gone, didn't stay, Not just show how many days pass from here to there. Riding the street magic carpet when I was small the entire world followed each back, side, front, identifying steps, out of sequence. Dance steps. Leaving the old fart steps, cross over, inside out, outside. The backs of my legs are frozen stiff, how long Pops before we get there. No, sure, honey, he said. More erotica and other works by Sean Farragher: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sean_Farragher/ Sean Farragher Poetry Site: http://www.farragher.com TxM6 Sites: http://www.taximurders.com http://www.taximurders.com/enfer http://www.taximurders.com/lcfallon http://www.taximurders.com/paradisio (forthcoming) -- 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+