Message-ID: <25845asstr$966453028@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: "seanfarragher" X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 (Normal) X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.50.4133.2400 Importance: Normal Subject: {ASSM} from TxM6 Forced Dream Journal II Date: Wed, 16 Aug 2000 15:10:28 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: Lambchop, english From TxM6 Taxi Murders Sextet Hyperfiction Novel http://www.taximurders.com/ (updated August 13, 2000) TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only. Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher 1035XDreamJournal1.htm Laurie Catherine Fallon Stream of Consciousness Day 50th: May 29, 1992 Laurie Fallon: In my dream, in the female blood of my menstrual cunt I held pieces of my skull. Inside the crease of it, in the place where the ax cut the stone, I became Hamlet's bare belly and my mouth made his cock my bone. Don't deny that sexual shimmy, that throb that opens doors faster and faster than the balls cupped can be felt or not or with my mouth dangling from the pink hood of his Lordship's prick. Yes, I let my fingertips tingle them to sensations as exquisite as my fingers thumb or crisscross my clit to marvel at the ages of men borne from the Saddle of the Cross let down to ache without any squire or bar child to hump at beck and call for fucking car hop, down and dirty bar girl blow job behind the bathroom door as filmed in action color. Have you ever looked at any human skull of any age or gender inside out or upside down? Inside inner roof, grooves writhe within the belly of it. Behind the trees, inside the moss, a thousand paths wander outside calm mystery. Feeling, they stretch death too far and the match boxes struck for fire place romance suddenly are more risk than pleasure. Yes, I think so now. I would give it up. I would blank pleasure allowing those male dense walls to encircle soft insincere words uttered more as perfunctory scales practices as will tames attitude: his becomes the tame space and I exorcise all the petty gods and dance above the rape barely letting my whistle ricochet from back of my cunt to the front of the flap of my clit and the pubic bone that pressures it all making my whole body cry. I want more than a whistle. I want to be tiny nipple tits with cunt shaved. I am his child again in a field of scams. I want abuse to be viable. Step father saints gather in childhood crib to measure the depth of my dark cunt hole and feeling two and three fingers there, I am held. What kept me alive through all of this. I knew Henry believed in my life. His tenderness kept the possibility and retained my triumph. At first I imagined Henry's hand replacing Abel's and Angela's Lilith, then I forgot differences and allowed myself to be caressed in every space known to my pain. How Henry would laugh when we cuddled into a new position. What about the times that he and Aaron fucked ass and cunt at the same time, or Angela helped by licking the joined cocks and finding the bulb of my clit and sucking it into her lips to feel the round swagger of its pumping up the iron as she said using a body builders term because she liked large men who had huge cocks. She told me her preference after I had fucked her husband in her presence, and afterwards she said wasn't he powerful. I agreed but though that his cock ordinary in size but his manner of movement the best I had ever known. I wasn't afraid of Able. My child churns inside, now awake I know my account of the dream pushes backward to bang against the inside of my mouth as I fell the slip of a cock inside my mouth to know my throat can close and breathe through its stem as if inside a man is a reservoir beyond seeds. I am not empty. My cunt is filled randy racing up and down the merry-go-round, knowing that pulse, the thick push and drag inside of air, making the pulse shift between Abel's huge cock and Henry's more modest surprise that always rocks its head against my cervix and feeling Henry's uncut skin I can make his pink head bounce out to flatter my face with that ache or grimace he floods when the semen shooting not like a star but a wad from a pump gun lands in a burst on my tits, or Angela quick to the draw takes it all inside. Inside my orgasm, I watch the skull emerge, more horrible than the clean artifacts. I fondle mine, hold layers of skin, eyes, veins, and in the empty cave, the brain having drained, the ordinary paste of blood and rotten meat has set the switch for me to genuflect as Henry or Abel making me suck their long thick cocks feeling the twitch and then choking on the stream until it dribbles, just a small line from the corner of my mouth, and then that exhilaration after when you look into Henry's and now Abel's eyes and realize they would do anything to keep that sensation. Perhaps Abel might make me live. When I was done sucking it all, letting my teeth gnaw on it, feeling his protest, pushing my head away, making it so hard and uncomfortable Henry would murder almost to stop it, but not Abel. The brother of Lilith loved the after come chewing and never satisfied he would open my mouth, put his fingers inside and feel the edges of my teeth and the remains of his semen would bark at him, he said. I became a magician and I swam within these shift of mouth and gum and marking on his prick the vector force of momentum and angle I became that great fortress holding his place as the bed rock foundation of bridge and its lip contained by rock bottom for bridge tower. When I was done filled, I imagined my arms extended and holding fingers with Angela we were the fucking cock sucking bridge in an imaginary world built to last as a monument for pure reason and a fake, fabricated amusement. I knew I could do it all, as I warbled my lips and then returned after letting go, biting at the air my hands supporting my head at my neck upholding my skull feeling the pump of dick and the passing through the message, almost an imaginary waste pit of undigested remains. When I stopped when I was done, I trembled waiting to start again. Knowing there was only a soft dog of meat I had a vision of life not death. I wanted more a dam had stopped and the log jam opened and I was rising in the cream of it imagining the explosion like a musical war of notes or a painting of clashing values and darker hues made blank. Leaning forward, demanding more, my hands holding his dick and balls tighter, I pulled my voice back. I tensed, released, clasped and then pushed open, extending my diaphragm, as if that helped to relax my arse. Taking deep breath like a long distant runner I let go from my lips the whole of the prick, and after quickly seizing and releasing several times the empty bags, and never done I pushed the veil of my cunt out not noticed by the selfish Abel Appreciated by Henry, I imagined Henry say thank you. I heard Abel pet my hair, and softly touch my breasts. I heard Able but imagined Henry sitting at his feet mesmerized. I can hear Henry say it. I can. More American Adventures in erotica and other works by Sean Farragher: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sean_Farragher/ Sean Farragher Poetry Site: http://www.farragher.com (updated 8/13/2000) TxM6 Sites: http://www.taximurders.com http://www.taximurders.com/enfer http://www.taximurders.com/lcfallon -- 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: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+