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Subject: {ASSM} TxM6: Taxi Murders the Novel  -- Angela, Aaron and Henry   Threesome
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TxM6: Taxi Murders the Novel  -- Angela, Aaron and Henry   Threesome
(c) 2003 Sean Farragher
sfarragher@nj.rr.com


NEW & UP AT MY SITE
TxM6: Taxi Murders the Novel Chapters 1-34


http://www.seanfarragher.com/taximurdersbook
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http://www.seanfarragher.com/Joss



Chapter 6
Henry, Angela & Aaron Leven: Threesome



I. Aaron

After pleasant hours first on top or beside, Angela would pause then nibble
at Aaron's neck drawing a trace of blood from the surface. She didn't
really bite him. Hard sucking can do wonders, she told him once when they
first fucked.

"I am not a vampire, really," she said, laughing.

"You be dead now, if I were one of those clichéd contraptions."

Kissing him she rolled him within the three multiple waves of her, fucking
him not so gently back, taking and releasing control. The first wave sucked
his cock. The second rocked it and bit at the head, massaging the glands as
she rubbed her clit against his upstanding knee and fist rounded at the
edge to get the deepest part of her.

Drawing out of him, partially, she would play with his cock, teasing the
head with her thick lips, wet from all the play, allowing him finally to
fall deeper inside. Finally, when he pulled out, almost escaping, she bit
at his shoulder striking her open hand against his back showing him what
she needed as she came, beating his shoulder with her fist.

The third wave was his, her orgasm. When Angela reached it, she would hold
him, drawing her head back, making a harsh face, letting her arms tremble,
falling back, rocking still inside until the last tremor. Screaming, as she
left him, she would push his fingers inside her cunt. Yelling at him. Feel
the tremor. With each after shock she drifted into an unknown valley where
another man, another cock struck at her face, mouth, and finally cunt.

Inside that field, with this new man, Angela imagined her veiled, sexual
lips (parting as statues). Rising erect, they finally accepting the
stranger's virtual breath, and Angela climbed Aaron's spinning arms,
falling deeply into him while the dream sequence ambled into willow trees
and cherubs wearing dildoes.

Sometimes Angela wondered what he felt when Aaron came. I often asked him
as I sucked him what he felt. Aaron rarely answered. She imagined his flood
as a great dam choking her throat. She begged Aaron to suck off a man so he
would know how it felt. You would find out, she said, that it is not easy
to control that gag that pushes back what you want to swallow.


Sometimes it didn't work, and she coughed, and the semen like noisy rivers
dripped down her chin to his face, and kissing him, he tasted himself in
her. She loved giving it all back. Surprise was best. When he thought that
she had swallowed, she would keep some as a treasure. Soon, just after he
relaxed, she would kiss him and he would know he had been had, and then the
rounds would start again.

Maybe he got hard a second time. It didn't matter. Using hands, dildo, or
strapping a cock on him (he had bought it for her to fuck his ass) Angela
expected to be taken in the ass or cunt or mouth. I want the animal in you
she would say.

Dramatically, she thrashed him with the pounding of her wide belly. She
beat him with her sex, way on top now, doing all the work, letting him take
her tits, ass, mouth, and eyes as one panoramic image. At the end her mouth
flashed when he came and the sparkle of her teeth showed the luster of
blood on her lips.

Having bitten his neck, ears, and nipples, Aaron ached, as he told her,
with sex.

"I love the flash of your mouth. It burns me when I watch your eyes drop
down when you come. Your fingers play my mind drawing prurient images of
life and also death "

"You never say anything," she said, surprised by him.

"Nothing to say," he answered. "I feel like you do."

"How can I ever stop feeling the whole belly of your glee," he told her.

"More, she said, more. You are really turning me on. Let me hear ... "

"I know, yes," Aaron laughed with Angela, nodding his head, "soon, very
soon, he said, you will want my mouth to make your wings part."

"Yes, yes, "Angela whispered twice.

Angela, intense and focused, teased and attacked Aaron, getting him into it
(didn't have to try at all) so she would lick hands, eyes, and ears not
merely to show off, as prelude and extension.

What a merry-go-round this sexual Pentecost, Angela screamed her invective
like a purged rock dance inside the minstrel folly.

"I descend; I shrink down from higher beasts, she crooned"

"Not much lower, are you there," Aaron was direct?

Now, he is talking too much, Angela thought.

"You are a wild fuck you know that," Angela twisted, ready open. Her legs
wide. Cunt flared open. All signs welcome Aaron's broadcast.

Feeling that last large edge reached, compressed, Angela let her head fall
back, closing her eyes, she swallowed her own voice, and after a long
pause, she felt her clit, rubbed it, opened her lips, knowing Aaron was
watching the motion of her respiration and the trickle of her wet.

"Yes, I came," speaking softly now. "I came so many times there's no abacus
that can count them. Can you wait five minutes and do it again, please,
just let your mouth cover my sex and suck it whole inside. Do it the same
way. Please. More."

"Use your Ben WA beads," Aaron said, almost serious.

"You stuff them and I will. Do it now that I am filled with your come. Make
it messy. Please watch while I slowly pull them out. Make a freaky slow
motion film."

Angela had left these words inside her lover's mouth at that instant when
the top was breached. Angela called it her bridge back.



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

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,
Henry 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.

IV Enter Laurie.

"Always love a foursome," she laughed at Henry.

Henry felt welcome in those bending hands of both Aaron and Angela. He
especially felt connected when Laurie came along. Laurie preferred Henry
alone.

"I am selfish," always Laurie laughed, she complained to Henry

"But I love Angela's body and when I feel her come with my hands on her
belly I can feel my own life breathe easier. You know what I mean, right
Henry, right, and then she laughed knowing the six foot red head with legs
that would not quit was teasing the 49 year old man."

Laurie only 26 like to tease Henry and Aaron about their age, telling them,
how she preferred younger men to them most of the time, and then saying,
you know I am fooling ya, and then she laughed again in a coy way looking
at Henry knowing she had loved the man (He didn't know this since she met
him when she was 18).

Henry knew that A&A as he called them were the first pair. I have my own,
Henry would say. Not one of those woman, except recently, Laurie, was
comfortable with the threesome of Henry, Aaron and Angela.

Like palm fronds Angela's nipples and Laurie's hands, hair, and mouth
dazzled them with an arbor of lights, colorful textures, and background.

Angela was never reasonable and often dangerous. Henry and Aaron accepted
all of it. Imagine being married to two gracious men, Angela mocked, taking
Laurie's clit in her mouth, showing the boys, as she called them, laughing
with Laurie, "yes, do it this way, she said, putting her two fingers on
both sides of Laurie's clit, making it protrude, and then touching the tip
of the tip of her tongue to the oblate point of its radiant centers.

"No, I don't mean you, she laughed, pulling both men on top of her.

"Why not us," Henry struck back.

Ignoring the specter of men, Angela whispered to both of them, speaking
softly, "I came three times."

"What," Aaron teased?

Repeating it, not as a confession nor for information, Henry and Aaron
certainly knew it, Angela dangling the safety rope down the cliff pulled
memory up or down, as the whim of her sexuality decreed. Speaking,
breathing, halting, I am still there, she said, always, your tongues,
positioned, as I taught you swooning with a quick pulse, gathered, holding
the crash inside, shattering the nape nerve, returning to the bliss of
Avernus.

Angela, happy but not yet desperate held it back. She kept Henry there, and
Aaron here at her mouth loving the tenderness and brutality of his kiss,
feeling him leap, restoring the oscillation, squeezing inside.

Yes, of course, I loved the leaking afterwards, she lied.

Reaching back, she thought, to dig his spine, and the shoal of ass, and
then grace, turned up, insistent, pulled down to the worn edges of her halo
cleft.

Now, I know. Henry assumed control. No, I let him, she dreamed,
withdrawing, like a warm thrush or the spice of the mouth held captive on
the slick of his glands. How I love the shine, pulling her head off Henry's
cock. Wiping it clean, she smiled.

"No, I will never lose contact, Angela happy, cried.

Holding hands, eyes, or lips, in the tender of blue, Angela restored
pleasure from grief. Pulling back, she gasped as Henry gasped and finally
Aaron came too inside the hands of both Angela and Henry.

"Wait I'm there," Aaron said, just before Henry tightened his hand knowing
the pulse of a cock and able to capture it.

Henry entered Angela not hard, but quickly, sliding on her hot ice, pushing
her back, deep into the grooves of the bed, grinding his pubic bone against
hers, and then crushing her ass, mounted, high up, numb, almost, into her
test. Allowing prick to bend and graze her clit, Henry twisted the earth
under her ass, making the sky very dangerous after all.





III Doms and Slaves: Angela, Aaron and Henry

"Take my ass, you fuck," Angela said, "and now shut the fuck up, please. I
liked it better when you were silent. "Sometimes I can't tell who or where
the fuck I am," Angela stopped on the word, "up," perplexed while she
kissed Henry and then Aaron. "Of course, nothing is ever perfect but what
the fuck."

Angela wanted perfection. I want to come at will endlessly. I want to melt
she said into a sculpture symbol to the perfect fuck.

"I am named after angels, you know, Henry," speaking as if she believed in
them. Angels expected their men to be less and more than children. Equal
complements, she said of child and man.

"Who the fuck told you that." Henry shook his head, turning his back to
her.

At times, Henry and Aaron played passive to Angela's dominant. The switch
was easy when they both were in the right mood.

I get there easy she once told Henry when he asked her how she knew the
right mood.

"Look inside you," she admonished him, teasing, being a bit pedantic,
keeping up the active stroke and demanding that he spank her when he came.

"Hard," she screamed, "fucker make it harder. Don't be a pussy," reverting
to sexist lingo, knowing how she would have hated that phrase five years
ago.

I have learned a lot about myself, she said to no one pushing her head and
Aaron's deeper into the bed, bending their necks in an impossible position.

"I really like to take and be taken."  I want to tie you up, Henry, yes you
too," Angela said. "You game. No, why the fuck not," and then she tickled
him until he agreed and they would play out the tableau.

Changing roles like costumes, the couple played their magnificent game
almost watching for the other, keeping their partner inside the lovers
storybook as tenderness or the violence of a an ultra hard core realistic
bondage flick.

Why does this all work, she asked herself all the time. I keep a balance
she answered herself and I think the men love each other more than they
want me and I care for my husband, Aaron more than I can ever share, and he
is the perfect man without prejudice, always in balance, always clean in
that he never puts his aches on others, and sometimes, I hate it though,
she thought. He is too fucken perfect, saying it aloud to herself spying
Henry who was almost perfect playing with her feet massaging them making
her feel more than any hands could bear weaving the aroma of the almond oil
with the spunk of dark sex on a trapeze.

Angela always had good words for her husband. She kept them in scale like
they're up tempos or down ones. Yes, there were days when they barely
touched each other.

Hard to imagine, Henry would laugh, telling Henry how sometimes, Angela was
so into herself she wouldn't let Aaron or anyone touch her.

Sure, I could watch her make herself come. Actually, I loved it.

When Henry, Henry and Angela first made love, before the men agreed to fuck
her at the same time, Angela liked to finish Henry first.

Angela believed that most women, myself included, believe that every man
had his own individual signature when he fucked.

When Angela Henry and Aaron together, I knew them and their differences but
at times, when I was stoned, I could not tell who was doing what. I loved
the confusion."

'Swallow my cock," Henry said, pushing it inside her. "Don't let it start,
until, my fingers, yes, yours too are there, feeling that Aaron strike, or
was it Henry, when the muscles retch, uncontrolled. That's it,

"Angela," Henry whispered. "Lift god into your hands, feel the flutter."

Henry stood over them leaking his mouth to Angela's vulva, saying the word
like the name of the flower.

Henry like to take it all in. He would stare while he watched them grind
for a time staring into each other's eyes, he would jerk off imagining
Laurie there, or if Laurie were there she would catch Henry's balls while
he jerked off letting the semen fly over all four of them, and Angela would
scream, "don't waste it. Put it inside me.

"I love the fluids," he'd say rubbing Angela's or Laurie's wet on his
chest.

Comfortable, sitting on the floor or chair, Henry watched the fluids coat
thighs, lips, and dick, glisten and leak. As he focused on her clit, Angela
stirred into a second orgasm, and then as she pushed down from the top,
harder, more ferocious, Henry or was it Aaron would bang her drum.

Without withdrawing, Henry and Aaron churned the holes holding Angela up
and then down, clinging. Henry moving left to right screwed her cunt and as
the motion was like their breath, the pace grew rapid, quicker, as she felt
him hit the plane of her cervix.

Digging her nails inside Henry and Henry's neck, not cutting Henry's skin,
she knew he didn't like pain, she cut Henry, and the taxi man schoolteacher
bit her nipple back. He told her he liked the sharpness of her claws.

Like a panther Angela's black hair, wild, shifted her head on the pillow,
smelled response. Reaching up, she came, and when he felt the clasp, the
push forward, her demon leapt and broke his back, so Henry and Henry
imagined. Shaking from the pleasure, marking the spasm in her cunt and ass,
Angela's body lifted them up, pulled them back, one at a time, and when
Henry felt the tension shift, relax, and tighten again, and again, four,
six, ten times, he came first.

The fucking lasted, and when she finished, they came one after another
serially, flooding her.

When Henry came too the pregnant wars shifted from the egg in the eye to
semen in the mouth. My daughter is conceived, Angela laughed.

Oh, let it be true, Angela laughed. Aaron or Henry, she thought. Both had
come in her cunt, Aaron first, an hour earlier, and now Aaron

Doesn't matter to them, although they really pretend, and would be glad if
the fates chose the right one. Who is right in the festival, holy or not,
in our grief, one hour of night, or the swallow of day scared, and nothing
else is torn down but ordinary conventions.
"The timing," Angela said later was marvelous."

Empty, neither of them moving for five maybe ten minutes, and only then
shifting when his cock fully softened, released, and Angela, hoping to get
pregnant, lifted her ass up, turning over, on her knees, allowing their
semen to swim inward, drawing away their hearts into hers.

"I know," she told them later. "You both came in my cunt. What a lottery,"
Angela joked

Laurie, when she was there, knowing she already held Henry's child in her
body laughed. I have him, she said. No, not Henry, she admonished herself,
his child.

The child is Aaron's, Laurie thought. Has to be fair after all. Yes, I
know, sometimes it's not. How can we predict what is fair. After all sex is
the only perfect aroma in the world. Look at Aaron, Angela and Henry. Look
at me. I am filled with all of them. How can anyone be jealous? Yes, I know
it is rare not to be.

Later that month Laurie was abducted by Lilith and Abel. Henry didn't know
the child inside Laurie was his.



Infant Sarah

Suddenly, after a moment, Sarah cried, made her wet diaper known, and then
she's softly, a silent, stop, cries again.

After two moments, the cry's became more urgent and Angela turned away from
Aaron, kissing him, quickly, trying to get up.

Uncharacteristically, Aaron held Angela back, tenderly letting loose, as if
he had caught the air. Knowing she had to leave, smiling, showing by the
movement of hands and body that Aaron knew Angela must leave, and yet not
wanting the intimacy that connection to just stop, he thought, that is the
way it is with babies.

"Sarah's up," Angela said louder, pulling up, then falling back, hugging
Aaron kissing his cheek, "I have to nurse."

"Bring her to bed here. "I'll warm up the rocking chair for you." Aaron
stood up, pulled the rocking chair closer to the bed.

"You know," Angela whispered, getting slowly up, "Sarah felt you too,
inside too. I still do."

"I loved fucking you when you were pregnant." You came loud. You almost
broke my hand. You were ripe like a sweating strawberry."

"Sometimes, I wonder about you.

"Just popped into my head."

"My darling I was never a sweating red fruit. OK. Was I ripe or green?

"Think you're cute, awful thing, she said, playing with Aaron's hands.
"Sometimes, you're too cute for your good."

"I'm not cute. I am beautiful," he teased back.

"My, you sure can bullshit. (Pausing) Besides men are never beautiful.

"No, I think a lot of you. I loved it when you were cherry ripe.

"Cherries? Ripe? You mean I was soft, yielding, perpetually horny in those
last two months. You liked getting my ass each night. You said it was
wonderfully when I pushed it back, absorbing it all from the rear.

"Don't move," you said. "Stay still. Let me do it. Not too deep I said
worried. Wait until the end to go there. I need that; I said it all. I
know."

Angela loved the slap of the angular head as she was swallowed like a deep
tongue lost in the mouth of her vulva where the crease throbbed between
vagina and urethra. Finding that hole too, much smaller, edged inside, no
stress, and just a flutter when she felt her ass turn Aaron's legs. She
held her body in place with his thighs.

"Sometimes, when I fuck you now, Aaron said, I imagine how your swollen
belly reached around it, circling the stretch of your legs, as we glided
into that rhythm long before orgasm.

"When I fuck you, dear lover," Angela kissed Aaron, giving him her lips
soft tongue, as she spoke. "You move, gentler than sand shifting, at times,
and I feel your prick rubbing my spine, and my legs are limp, responding in
many directions at once.

"I loved your profile when you were just about to drift to come."

"Remember how Sarah kicked when I came, suddenly, rapidly. She knew.
Sarah's stopped my heart more than once. You felt it too; I could tell by
your reaction.

Later when we kissed and talked, holding hands, breasts, and nipples. Not
just mine. Both. We both were pregnant, made love.

"Go get her before she starts to cry again. You know she will." Aaron spoke
almost whispering, requesting; allowing space for refusal. Let me watch you
nurse.

"I feel complete, involved, engaged when I nurse, Angela finished for
Aaron, taking the sex and milk and pregnant "warm, fuzzy wussies," over the
edge. "Aaron, you have no idea how strange and beautiful that first time
when I let down. Yes, I am, was complete when I nurse. Never want to stop.
Can I do it when she is five? It's not indisputably sexy, but more like a
rush about and inside my spine, deep in my pelvis, through my womb when the
milk first comes in like a shudder not really a spasm.

When Angela stood up, straight, she picked up Aaron's blue terry cloth rope
from the upholstered chair beside the rocker.

Aaron was bare ass naked, moved quickly, for the room was chilly, if not
cold. Reaching the rocking chair, he paced naked for a moment, and then
shivering, he pulled a blanket over his lap and around his shoulders.
Slowly rocking, grinding at it, settling down, briefly holding Angela's
hand, Aaron moved against her leg as she stood staring down at him,
intimately in a trance.

"I am fixed too in time, Angela said, staring down at breaking space
between Aaron's open, welcoming knees. Wordlessly, she pushed one knee
against and then between legs, as Aaron continued to rock. More gracefully,
now, he opening his arms, and Angela gingerly fell back into his lap, her
ass and legs covered his now closed knees. Kissing the man hard, directly
as if she were the man intent on penetrating him, and then, Angela moved
too far, too quickly, and almost turning the rocking chair on its back, the
lovers quickly righted themselves.

What seemed at first a prate fall surprised them, stopping the sex? Perhaps
we have broken the physical laws of their high romance, Angela licked
Aaron's ear.

"Stop, careful," Aaron said. "We'll break it.

"Are you saying I am fat, Mr."

"I love every ounce," Aaron's uncontrolled laughter turned to squeals when
Angela tweaked his nipple, drawing more than an ouch from her lover, as he
tried to protect his tit. As their tease grew, and attention diverted,
Aaron could not escape his hard on.

"Rape," Aaron cried, timidly.

"You would like that too much, Mr. famous artist," she said, "Can you
imagine the headlines, dear: famous NY Artist, male, files rape charge
against his over eager spouse, more to follow."

"I'd testify, Aaron whispered, in Angela's ear unless you let me."

"No way, my ass still hurts from last night. No, I am kidding, dear Sir.

"You like to mock me. Well get up here."

"If you put it that way, sure."

Aaron entered Angela as she adjusted her legs on his lap finding the best
position for the best movement.

Teasing him back, Angela kissed lips, nose, cheeks, brow, neck, ear, chin,
and shoulder blade, and each kiss was pointed like a staccato burst of
radiant high-energy charged particles; each brush of electrons and proton
rushed lips against skin, and was more appreciation than passionate
foreplay. Again the baby cried, this time, more insistent.

"I have to get her. Let me.

"Sure," he said, watching her mood rapidly shift from passion to anxiety to
the pleasure felt, inside, when she watched Sarah stir. "Bring her here, he
repeated. OK"

Kissing Aaron one more time on the cheek, "Sure," she said.

Standing up, leaving Aaron's half lap, Angela pulled her robe down to cover
her ass, and closing it, tying it hard. Angela realized that her breast had
fully wet Aaron's naked, crotch hair chest as she had rubbed against him,
grinding it out, like a cheap slut, Angela thrilled, pleased with her
attitude.

"That's right," she said: the baby's quiet again.

"Quiet, she stopped. ... Here, she said, taking off Aaron's robe, "I will
get mine."

Aaron refused the robe, and she put it back on.

"You are wet," she said, running her fingers over his chest, and circling
Aaron's nipple, digging in, not to hurt, but to see how the skin resisted,
and filled, resilient and pink, hard and soft, before the game and during
it.

"I know you cannot stand this, but I can' help myself," Angela was intense,
observant, almost consumed.

"God, I'm wet, you fucker"

Aaron grinned, loving it.

Angela got up, sharply turned her back on Aaron for a moment. Laughing at
herself, she reversed, wanting him to feel directly her wet cunt; she
pulled his hand into her robe and into her cunt.

"There," she said. "Know it."

Rising up on her toes, faced him, she took Aaron's other hand and led his
fingers to her ass, stroking gently, as a soft breeze that became too
serious. Angela moved away too quickly, off balance. Almost out of breath

"Too much she shouted, shrill, no don't you dare stop, Angela's open rope
to flared as she swirled her arms, tits following, forming that arch of
pink and umber inside his and her painterly hands. When Aaron reached that
sacred, personal stop inside her lips, Angela swooned pretending to be this
decadent slut in a dime novel.

"I want the world to fuck me," she screamed.

Describing the force of her come as subtle breaking steps. Wave coursed
through her fingers as Angela was lifted into another page, finally
resisting only "'From Here to Eternity'" and that too neat beach scene, so
sexy, but still, dead as "'In Harm's Way.'"

I came god damn it," she whimpered. I arched over him, tits pliant, wet; my
nails were lost in his neck, cutting a ribbon, curled, breaking the rasp of
his tanned skin, gently hurting him as I gasped.

I knew he loved it, and I well, never got enough arching, rising on my
back, and fucking my cunt, penetrating the nerves, ravaged like warm meat,
sliced, not cold, but bloody, in old fashioned cave man fuck, on my first
heavy day, after I came at least twice more.

"I could not hear the baby cry, Angela felt guilty.

I was lost in the fundamental organ, Angela thought. Swallowed by the burn.
It drove me across the lights until I was so crazed I raced from the beach
to the mouth of the shark and swallowed the beast, Angela imagined.
Reversing this game, I was his supper, she thought.

No, I am not. He is. Those fuckers better keep it up and not come again.
This time, I will come first; he can wait.

Sarah cried again. Now, They both realized she would not stop.

The infant's protest was steady now, and would not stop on her own this
time, although it did trail off in a hush.

"More later, darling, I've got to..."

As Angela closed her robe, quickly tying it too hard, almost making a point
of it, resolute (a completion she would have described it), for some reason
she fell to her knees. She hugged Aaron's shaved legs (taped for gym).

As Aaron reached down to kiss hair, ear lobe, lips, spit, knowing that
drool drove him mad, and slowly, as a matter of fact, Angela robe had
opened on its own. Through the art of faked half back rubs and full nips,
he spread the blue leaf of the rope halfway again.

Touching her left breast, Angela expressed a drizzle of milk that
eventually ran down her belly into the creases of muscles and fat in her
ass. She stirred.

Sarah's stopped, I got a ... moment," Angela said. Aaron mesmerized by
ringed fluffy belly, slower breasts, and milk, stared at the flow, closing
on it, watching as if each tributary were a wild ancient river like the
Tigris, Euphrates or the Colorado, ragging with muddy rapids, fecund, and
clean.

Angela, knew Aaron like to bless his brow with it as he dabbed at the blue
white warmth, playfully, opening his closed lips, as she gently forced one
then two fingers inside his jaw, penetrating Aaron as he nibbled, fucking
his mouth with three fingers. Licked and swallowed, gracefully breathing,
rapidly aroused, fully engaged, Angela, her back bent back, out of worship
rocked against Aaron like a dancer. In feast of sex and food, the couple
savored the flavor of mother and skin and fingers coated with invisible
salt.

Aaron, never content, opened Angela's robe, with or without her help
exposed more than what can be seen during the anatomy lessons of cock
sucking and fucking.

In this private moment, Angela exposed the edges of her skin, the bowed
streaks, the swollen sides, and the upturned tit. She modeled the pert
advance of her fruit watching the brown nipples, erect like subtle
statutes, she danced in their full floods.

Swollen at the bank, shiny against the soft blue, gray, peach, rose, wet
soft green enlightening light that peered down through the high windows,
Angela searched the mirror for the reflected wet manifold armor of her
skin. It was if the light exposed were two beings, exposing primitive
corpuscles.

Angela's radiance appeared one line at a time like an exact broadcast
quality TV monitor. As she pranced, she flickered in the creamy blue and
pink.

I love the Woman made flavors of manually drawn milk, making my young man,
erect, and jerking off, back of the piano, while Sister nursed the kid,
watching how she played with her infant's cheek, or tickled her toes,
played with the nipple, nervous, pulling at her shorts, sitting on her
legs, and then spread apart, drawing the lights from her hands like a cat
licked its paws, carefully, at work, marking her space with her scent and
humor.

Rubbing her nipple as the baby slept, absentminded, head back, not sexy,
clean, she thought, like dissolving hurt and the stains from murderers'
knives. The mother watched the child play with his penis, tickling it,
letting down, my tit leaked. I read that and I was wet, Angela said. I
imagined it all, Aaron and Henry, my dearest groupies, at least for now.

"I know, you like the afterglow, Aaron spoke deliberately. In fact, he
wasn't sure why he spoke at all. He didn't say anything worth remembering.

Driven by Angela, Aaron's longing became more than romantic love. He wanted
family and connection. I want to know the truth he said to himself.

"Romantic love is a crock of shit, Angela spoke finally gathering Sarah in
his arms. "Life is the real test, and my dear you pass it always. It's not
what you say but what you do."

"Now, that I have her, I want to really watch you nurse her.

"I wish I could hold her while you nurse her, but I know that is
impossible." Giving Sarah back to Angela, Aaron continues, I want to know
each nuance of your dance together. I want to follow the slight shifts with
a glance. I want to be beside you, inside your skin, so when Sarah is
older, grown up, I can put her and you back there in the rocking chair,
pleased with yourselves, as love is."

"Lie down with me here and hold me while we nurse her," Angela spoke
softly, almost in awe of what Aaron had just said. "I love you, Aaron,"
Angela said, serious, emphatic. "We do. We all do. Even the spirits."

"Love you, Darling, Aaron said, blowing a thousand kisses across the room,"
as Angela felt the milk let down.

Aaron carefully watched his wife, as he promised. He measured every motion
as if it would be the last he could know. Stopping. Angela got up. She's
really needs to be changed. That's something you can do, dear, Angela
laughed.

Aaron changed Sarah's diaper laughing, as the baby gurgled. He imagined the
baby's grin as a canvas, closing his eyes on the edge of her mouth drawing
a horizontal but wavy line from one edge to the other. Imagine the love
that makes the talk of poop, pee and Sarah's Daddy, as ordinary as I will
rub your back, come on lets cuddle on the couch," he told Angela.

"Wanna make out Baby like the old times, upstairs, in the balcony, in the
last row of that old dark movie house," he called to Angela as he finished,
drawing the baby's pajama pants closed.

Now, Angela having warmed the chair, Aaron returned with Sarah to sit on
the edge of the bed. Putting the baby back into Angela's arms, the unity of
the mother with child was certain.

No other instant past or present mattered.

Angela nursing seemed almost asleep. Aaron resting near them held the
mother's hand and then the infant. Felling the pump of the child's fingers
on his thumb, he imagined the infant beats of a universal heart. He felt
his own. He felt Sarah. He touches Angela's breast not to stimulate it, but
to know the rhythm of her heart.

In a new fantasy, not quite revealed or formed, Aaron imagined the child's
mouth pursed on his nipple, sharply, as the simple roar of each smack of
gums and flesh made life simpler, and not too complicated.

After all, love was simple, when you love a child; it responds, fully,
eager, hungry for the wet between its lips.

Every day, in such a world, you are any child, Aaron thought, speaking
slowly, he repeated over and over, "I love you, I love you, I love you, and
I love...."

Aaron spoke quietly, intent on how the lines of words fall silent in the
boundaries of a poem shifting through his tongue into Angela's dreams.

Aaron loved them, woman and child, as he loved himself, without apology.








for more TxM6  http://www.seanfarragher.com/taximurdersbook















END

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