Message-ID: <26655asstr$970661404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Sean Farragher" <seanfarragher@msn.com>
X-Original-Message-ID: <NEBBKECCILIDDPJFHMPOIEKGCKAA.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 Fucked Henry
Date: Wed, 4 Oct 2000 08:10:04 -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/Year2000/26655>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, RuiJorge
Also From TxM6 Hyperfiction
http://www.txm6.com (updated 10/03/00)
http://www.txm6.com/enfer (updated 10/04/00)
http://www.txm6.com/lcfallon (UPDATED 10/04/00
http://www.farragher.com (Poetry updated 10/04/00)
TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only.
Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher.
0940Xjhw0314XLaurie.htm
Angela Hope Mannino
Saturday, February 6, 1993
(2/6/93): 0730 Hours
"I'd love it Henry, but not this fucken time," Angela
sang in a half whisper almost waking up.
Looking at clock radio, there was time. It's almost
five. "No, got to get going. Baby changing, baby
sitter home blues."
"Shit, I'm hungry," Angela stirs again. Almost six,
she thinks. Aaron needs us Henry. He's teaching
tonight. I got to get home to him. Yes, I know he can
do it, and I know it is Saturday morning, but here we
are dancing at your place, Henry because I wanted a
simple night and you wanted my ass without having
Aaron playing head games, and how do you do it so
often, Henry, Angela sighed.
Aaron's so good, Henry. We got to be fair. He lets us
have our fun. Stays home takes care of the kid. I know
you love him too. He'll stop. What will he stop? Yes,
that aches. Good, Henry, touch it there, underneath,
ah, you fucking driving me crazy, Hen, how can I get
the fuck up if you keep fucking. Make what stop, Hen,
Angela thinks rolls her eyes, opens on her back, legs
apart, feeling that mouth there, no do not stop you
bastard, not fucking now, one more second, No. Stop
nothing.
Angela heard her own voice. Henry heard nothing but
continue, full speed up the down inside out cunt
mobile.
Just as Henry reached down, wetting his fingers,
prepared, Angela spun away, falling off the ledge of
the bed, quickly standing up, allowing Henry a final
theatrical gasp as she shook her worldly ass, milking
her tit, spraying the air, lifting her head up,
winning something she couldn't name but knew. I have
it now, Hen. I can open into my own sex, and I can
feel it being born.
Moving quickly, Henry stopped her, shifting in one
motion, standing next to her.
"Not yet, please," he pulled gently back at her hand,
falling backward.
"Aaron's waiting. Got to get going. You know what I
do."
Resolute, Angela slowed. Reached back, she kissed
Henry's hand, as he let go, reluctantly, their finger
tips caught, entangled, as if they were suddenly
caught and then broken apart by living inside a more
ordinary world than it seems. Such branches, Angela
laughed at last. We are the enfolded leaves.
--
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. |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+