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Subject: {ASSM} From TxM6: Sam Zartarian Beaten Almost to Death
Date: Sun, 8 Oct 2000 15:10:19 -0400
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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.
1094 Sam Zartarian
TxM6 Hyperfiction Novel
Samuel Zartarian Assaulted
7:00 PM December 31, 1990
Sam Zartarian smoked Cuban cigars. He rolled them in
his fingers. With his mustache and thick black hair,
Sammy looked the spit and polish working man. Wafts of
smoke rose through the windows of his cab. Odor fucks
the mind. Scent drives women, Sam would always brag.
All tastes combine to make the slut and grifter the
true marriage.
Stinking the stair well of the taxi office, he made
the smoke fragmented light a great preserve. You knew
Sam was there. By his laughter, you knew he was
fucking with a driver or dispatcher. Grab ass was
Sam's great charm. A hungry driver, he never stole
calls or lied to other drivers about stealing their
calls. He always admitted the theft up front. When the
fucked driver took a swing, Sam would weave from under
the punch, grabbing the man in a half nelson and
almost breaking his neck until he gave it up. Sam made
his extra money off the company. He used to say.
"Don't they call it tips and clips?"
I have one rule in life Sam said: "When a cunt sucks
my cock, I eat her pussy twice as hard or soft as she
sucked. When you come sitting you cab from a blowjob,
you can feel the traffic lights as gray primary
colors. After semi-closed dark, your hands taste of
sex and blood, come and a woman's moist puddle. You
always ask before you grab unless you know the bitch
well, he said. "I love how the residue of sex dries on
your fingers."
If Sam was doing coke, freebase or crack, then the
above description was bullshit. Then he stole,
connived, fucked with drivers and was a general pain
in the ass. However, he did not deserve to be beaten
half to death for fucking others as they fucked him.
As over weight Heavyweight boxer fail, Sam failed at
crime. Nothing stops greed or any obsession with
wealth and political power that grates headlines out
of sound bytes. Coke drove the baseball bat into
Sammy's skull; Avi directed the strike putting the
seams of his mind to empty.
Sam was warned. He couldn't leave the coke alone. He
had to steal to make it. Stolen cars and drugs keep
the cash flow like the coke running from a faucet.
He never believed anyone could hurt him. On his last
day before the assault, Sammy drove the fearsome New
York streets until the lights on the taxi failed.
Black dark on the bridge, the neon sign of the
Tollgate motel led him home to a broad with a cunt
hungry for a pipe. Just as he came, the bitch on top,
Avi and his thugs crushed the door learned the names
for almost death and it was no joke. No punch line
would be revealed.
Porno on the VCR, Sammy pushed upward into the girl's
cunt feeling consumed caressing her tits watching the
stripper descend the staircase. Some blond bitch, hair
tied back vigorously chewed a well-sucked cock;
fucking agony of after come on the guys face. The
bitch didn't care. She would not let go of the dick.
The loop played on the VCR while Avi and this thug
beat Sammy. Gallons of semen splattered like ashen
flowers on Sam's litter strewn floor. The Taxi owner
leered at the screen and at Sammy's whore unconscious
on the floor. Avaram had a hard on. Everyone knew that
Avi was a coward. He paid the thugs chump change to do
what would become five years to ten in Federal prison.
Rubbing his half hard feeling the tits of the
unconscious and dying girl Avi didn't hear the last
whoosh of Sam's lungs or the soon to be grimace of the
dead girl's smile. When Sam felt his mind run gray,
the porno showed a man with his cock sucked bloody.
Porno loops blasted come from thirsty pussy. Meanwhile
on the screen in a new loop, a blue eyed fake blonde,
make believe little girl with tiny tits, barely legal,
took over from the old whore. She was a real ham
dressed as a catholic schoolgirl. In the scene Sammy
never saw, she lifted her skirt showed pink inner
lips. Peering back through the camera she beacons
jerking two cocks now and then opening her mouth
taking a third. Spinning her saliva from her mouth she
spun webs, twirling the head of the prick she lifted a
small puddle of semen from her tongue letting it drool
back as a flare across her cheek on her lips, bumbling
across the skin like a lake of bloody honor. Finally
the little girl falls down, shows her ass, then her
underpants covered crotch, takes off the disguise,
shows her prick. The loop showing that nothing is
simple when it is out of control. Just like Sammy's
memory it was stopped short of consummation.
Finally loops ends. After the thugs disappeared. Cops
arrive and carefully break down the room. Realizing no
one is there, one called for paramedics and two
ambulances; another watches the porn. What the cop
didn't know: semen would stain his ass drawn from the
bed sheet where he sat. No one could see it. Some call
it a reaction mechanism. Flesh transformed in liquid
spirit. Dead fucks have tongues jammed into pussy.
Dirty asses are licked. Piss runs in an arch from some
woman who loves to play the man. Night is welcome when
the spirit is beaten. The stripper shows the bruises
on her breasts to the porno director. Her mouth fully
open she winces when he touches the darkest bruise on
her nipple. The fuck almost bit it off, she screams.
The motel was real. If you sat there quietly you cold
smell the salt of old cock or perhaps you could hear
the rattle of Sam's fractured ribs, brains.
Sammy half mad babbles about a VCR. Cops record
everything he said conscious or not. How did it end he
asked the Dr. The nurse smiled and told the Dr. what
Sammy had babbled. Seems he was watching some
transsexual porn. That is the best I can figure out,
the nurse added absentmindedly touching her breast.
"Porno has become a wonderful commodity the Dr said,"
watching the nurse, who withdraws uncomfortable.
"Traded like wool or salt, it's shared like the
crucifix held out to the believers of the fourteenth
century. After all, if you accepted death and god, why
worry about the Black Death. Just like AIDS."
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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