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From: nickurfe@yahoo.com (Nicholas Urfe)
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Subject: {ASSM} cuyahoga.005 [urfe] [new]
Date: Wed, 23 Jan 2002 19:10:05 -0500
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.
                                                  ::

                                            as falls cuyahoga,
                                      so falls cuyahoga falls

                                                  ::

Jackson Cuyahoga snaps his cell phone shut and stares a moment out the
window at the passing scenery.

Peter get off okay? says Vanessa, driving.

Don't snark, says Jackson.

I wasn't snarking.

Yes, said Jackson. He did. Had to take off his shoes, though.

His shoes?

Security. We need to talk, Vanessa.

I want you to get together, moans the radio, sampled voice over
chugging snare and cymbals, a churning piano vamp. Put your hands
together one time.

We will, says Vanessa.

Stop it! Mom! They're doing it again!

In the middle seat of the Range Rover, Addison sniggers. Her hand
rests in Edie's lap, palm flat on the flesh of her thigh, her little
finger brushing the crotch of Edie's black string bikini. Alexandra,
headphones dangling from her neck, hanging angry over the back of the
seat. Edie puts her hand on Addison's.

Addison, stop it; Edie, behave yourself; Alexandra, myob. Vanessa pops
the turn signal, brakes. Up ahead a weather-beaten sign half-buried in
greenery: 8 miles, it reads, or maybe 3. Private. We're almost there,
says Vanessa.

Addison peers up at Alexandra and bugs her eyes out and sticks out her
tongue, nyeh! Alexandra yanks her headphones back over her ears and
disappears into the back seat. Addison squeezes Edie's thigh, and Edie
giggles. Edie leans against Addison, and kisses her there on the
shoulder, and Addison tilts Edie's chin up so she can kiss her mouth.
Stop it, whispers Edie, smirking. Stop it, says Addison, quietly
mocking.

Torvald's due in next week? says Vanessa.

Don't throw that in my face, says Jackson.

I wasn't - Vanessa spares him a glance as she wrestles the Range Rover
around and down a hairpin turn. I wasn't throwing anything in your
face.

You just happened to bring that up after I express a desire to talk -

I happened to bring that up because we were just talking about Peter.
Jesus, Jack -

Don't Jesus, Jack me.

Jackson...

At the bottom of the hill is a small gravel parking lot, and in the
lot there's a battered old dusty pink Karman Ghia and a Volvo sedan of
a nondescript foresty color. The Range Rover noses between them and
crunches to a stop. Doors fly open. Addison dashes around the back of
it as the rear hatch opens and Alexandra barefoot in a short and
clingy sundress tumbles out. Edie catches Addison's hand and towels
over shoulders they plunge down the narrow trail. Girls, calls
Jackson. Girls. Slow down.

He's not here, says Alexandra, stepping over to the Volvo.

Maybe he's already down by the river, says Vanessa.

Oh, says Alexandra.

Hon? says Vanessa.

Vanessa, says Jackson.

In a minute. Hon?

Okay, says Alexandra. Okay.

Sam's lying already naked on a towel on the big rock hanging out over
the water. The man standing next to her, peering out at Edie and
Addison in the shallows, is almost entirely bald and smoking a
cigarette. He wears threadbare khaki shorts and river sandals and a
giant blue T-shirt that says Or All the Sea With Oysters in white
letters.

Probably the last day this summer we'll all be able to get out here
like this, says Sam, idly turning a page of her book. A couple of
dildos, shocking neon pink and beige and a long purple jellied one
with two heads, a couple of tubes of this and that, a battered box of
condoms all lie on the towel about her.

Damn shame, murmurs the man.

Out in the river, maybe ten yards above the falls, Addison is kissing
Edie as she unties the top of Edie's tiny black bikini.

Out from the trees pops Alexandra, her long brown hair swaying as she
stops in her tracks. Mister Tisdale, she says, but not loudly enough.

You know what we mean to each other, Vanessa is saying to Jackson as
they come up behind her. You know how this works.

Yes, but -

Mister Tisdale, says Vanessa, quite loudly.

The man on the rock turns and flicks his cigarette out into the water.
Edie giggles and shrieks as Addison nibbles on a breast.

Sandy, says Mister Tisdale, and Alexandra looks away.

Come here, Sandy, says Mister Tisdale, and Alexandra starts to walk up
to the rock.

I just don't, Jackson starts to say, as Mister Tisdale reaches down to
help Alexandra up. Her hand is small in his, and lifting her is
effortless. I just don't, says Jackson again, want to -

When is Torvald getting in again? says Vanessa.

Jackson says nothing as one of Mister Tisdale's hands lifts the skirt
of Alexandra's sundress up above her waist and strokes once her thin
bare buttock.

Yes, says Vanessa. That time I was throwing it in your face. She
unbuttons, unzips her shorts. Shucks them down her long legs.

Knee-deep out in the river, Edie's hands are on Addison's head, and
Addison's head is between Edie's thighs. On the rock, Alexandra stands
now with her back to Mister Tisdale. Her eyes closed, her mouth open,
working. He rests his chin on the top of her head and murmurs
something, his eyes on the treetops, one hand between her thighs, her
sundress hiked up so his hand is seen there, darker than her thighs,
bunching, working. Her sundress falling off one shoulder but not
enough to bare the small flat tit his other hand has swallowed. And
Jackson still says nothing.

The minute she says stop, says Vanessa, unbuttoning her shirt, it
stops. She lets the shirt fall to the grass and marches naked to the
rock.

Hey, sis, says Sam.

Hey, says Vanessa, kneeling on the towel beside her. Where's Richie?

Blew me off, says Sam, rolling over, half sitting up. You want some
lotion?

Sure, says Vanessa. Her dark, dark hair down to her shoulders the same
shimmering black as Sam's close-cropped cap.

Testis, says Mister Tisdale, is derived from the Latin noun for
witness. It is, of course, a single male testicle. His voice a deep
but quiet drone. Oaths in antiquity were sworn by gripping a man's
balls; hence: to testify, to attest. Testament.

Oh, says Alexandra. Hips rolling. Oh.

So, says Sam, kneeling behind Vanessa. Squirting some lotion into her
hand and passing the tube around to Vanessa. We had the weirdest
goddamn night, me and Richie. Smearing the lotion along Vanessa's
shoulders, shining now, greasy in the sunlight.

Oh? says Vanessa, sheening her tits, the skin between them. Her belly.

That thing, says Sam. For Jackson's friend.

Marlowe, says Vanessa.

Marlowe, says Sam.

Out in the river, Addison's mouth on Edie's mouth again, each hungry
for the other. Edie naked, tugging at Addison's swim shorts. On the
rock, Alexandra moaning, one dark hand of Mister Tisdale squeezing a
nipple between two fingers, her sundress now a ring of rumpled fabric
bunched about her waist. Praeputium, says Mister Tisdale, the
foreskin. Dozens of dried rings of skin throughout Europe were
venerated as being that of Christ, circumcised the eighth day after
his birth. His other hand slapping now between her thighs, a glimpse
snatched of fingers, glistening.

Well, says Vanessa, lotioning an arm, then smiling as Sam's knees
spread to either side of her hips, as Sam presses close, her hands
snaking around to slick her hands along the tops of Vanessa's thighs.
Oh?

Missed a spot, says Sam, tits pressed to Vanesssa's back. Her smile in
Vanessa's ear. You were saying?

I, says Vanessa, I got pulled over by a cop.

Do tell, says Sam.

The falls are not so much falls as they are a sudden sharp rapids, a
stumbling block in the river's path. The drop is maybe a yard, if
that. Some dangerously sharp rocks jut here and there from the lip of
it, but smooth ones, too, flat and inviting. The water is not ripped
so much as creamed. It's a lazy river, chuckling more than roaring
over its drop. Addison still in her swim shorts hauls herself out of
it onto a rock, flat, smooth. The river creaming about her ankles,
chuckling. Rolling over onto her butt she holds out a hand for Edie,
crouching naked against the current.

But it's a rock, says Edie. We don't have a towel.

So lie down on me, says Addison.

And out comes Edie and up onto the rock. Red hair wet a dark muddy
brown slapping her back. Green eyes shining as she laughing tumbles
into Addison's lap. Addison grunting, oofing with the weight of her.
Kissing Edie, getting kissed.

God, says Edie, fingering Addison's lips.

Nothing to do with it, says Addison, nipping Edie's fingers.

No, I mean this, says Edie. God. This. I could feel like this forever.

So do it.

I will, says Edie.

Forever and ever, says Addison.

Never end.

Ever.

On the rock he's on his back now, Mister Tisdale, the band of flesh
from waist down halfway along his thighs still pale from not much sun.
His eyes squeezed shut against the light as he murmurs Gorillas and
orangutans, with respect to, to the size of the body, have the
smallest penises of all the primates, an inch, a mere inch or two at
most. Alexandra naked between his knees, hands clasped behind her
back, hair stirring in the warm breeze as her mouth rounds, surrounds
his straining upright cock. Aw, fuck, groans Vanessa, leaning back
against Sam, Sam's hand around pink plastic sunk deep within, jerking
as Vanessa jerks. Skin oily slick and gleaming under sliding palms,
tits rolling under hands, hers, Sam's, belly shivering, thighs
clenching, Sam's lips on her throat, the corner of her jaw. Oh Jesus,
Jesus fuck me. And Alexandra hands still clasped behind her back
hunching forward now to lick up pale jellied puddles of come caught
shimmering in the tangles of hair that climb from Mister Tisdale's
softening cock, his languid balls, up his darkening belly to his navel
and above. And out in the river Addison's shorts now down about one
dangling ankle, the other foot pressed hard against a nearby rock,
legs spread wide as Edie in the water now, water sucking and churning
at the small of her back and pushing her against the rock, her hands
braced by her breasts flat against it, her head lifted and her mouth
sucking at, licking at Addison's pussy, Addison lifting her head with
straining neck and gritted teeth and slammed-shut eyes, oh! Oh!

Roll over, sis, says Vanessa. Alexandra lying curled between Mister
Tisdale's legs, her head pillowed on her hands resting on his
sweat-damp belly. His hand in her hair, big enough to cup it, thumb to
pinkie. Good girl, he says, voice roughened. A cough. Sandy. Good
girl.

On your knees, sis, says Vanessa, sitting up to reach now for a slim
beige plastic cock. I've made up my mind. I'm going to fuck you up the
ass.

Where's Jackson? says Sam, rolling around to lean forward on her
elbows, shining sun-browned ass high in the air. Wiggling. Vanessa,
kneeling behind her, peering out at the trees, hand shading her eyes.

Vanessa? says Sam. Wiggling again. Bring it the fuck on, sis.

Vanessa shakes her head. Spreading Sam's ass with one hand, thumb and
forefinger pressed into yielding flesh, holding open buttock cheeks as
the pink rosette pouts, dark and deep. I don't know, she says,
pressing slick plastic to oiled skin. Pushing. I don't know, she says
again, maybe getting the hot dogs and beer or something.

Oh, says Sam. Oh. Oh!

                                                  ::
                                                  
                                            as falls cuyahoga,
                                      so falls cuyahoga falls
                                             an object lesson.005
                                                 
                                                          --n.
                                                  ::
                                                  
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/nickurfe/www/
http://www.ruthiesclub.com/
nickurfe@yahoo.com

This story may be freely circulated by anyone, anytime, anywhere.
"Rose Rouge" by St. Germain.

.

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