Message-ID: <26184asstr$968022606@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: "Sean Farragher" X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-Priority: 3 (Normal) X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.50.4133.2400 Importance: Normal Subject: {ASSM} From TxM6 Adultery or Kink? Date: Sun, 3 Sep 2000 19:10:06 -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: RuiJorge, newsman From TxM6 Taxi Murders Sextet Hyperfiction Novel http://www.taximurders.com/ (updated August 13, 2000) mirror site: http://www.txm6.com TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only. Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher Adultery or Kink 1087Xfrom0845Angela TAXI CABS Henry Whitman, 49, wrote poetry and drove a cab. "When I drive a cab, I am not a poet or a college professor, I am a fucken cab driver. All these drivers who claim well I am doing it until, or I do it part time, are really missing the point. If you drive a cab, you are a cab driver while you drive. What you do later is your own fucken business." "Don't pretend. Play the game fair. What the fuck do you think you are the only intellectual who has to driven a cab? You're a dime a dozen cliche," he would laugh, pointing out the usual that he used clich s when they represented more truth than failure. APRIL 23, 1991 "Often less is more," Henry told Aaron about the new poems he had crafted about Angela and Laurie. "Sex like poetry confuses need and attraction. The more you have, the less there is to know. The more you limit the words, minimizing all of it, the easier you feel. Sometimes, when you touch so softly you do not quite touch, like touching the surface of quiet water. If you touch a woman that softly, when she is in the tenderness mode, you might imagine caressing the surface of quiet water. When she is in a dark mood, you could be trying not to drown, touching the curl in the wave when you are in the trough or high on the crest. When you reach the edge of pleasure and don't fall, you might feel more when you do the next time." "What the fuck are you talking about," Aaron said, "connected the dots. He wanted Henry to take it further, and that was his way of bringing Henry to that rise. When Aaron, Henry and Angela talked about painting or poetry, they also could be talking about women and men, friendship and sex, commitment and deceit. "You take small changes in color to make the drama whole, Henry continued. I know myself better after I watch you paint. Your choices are often perfect, and if not, you never are afraid to change what is almost there into what could be or never known." FIRST FUCK: Angela and Henry (1982) Aaron and Henry shared the best of life. They allowed the other their personal world, but they shared Vietnam. They shared Angela with her eager and from Aaron's point of view too eager consent. A question they often asked the other, changing the terms, framework, and analysis, often: did Angela plan it? All my life she said, I wanted one man like either of you. How lucky I am that I can have you both. I am so fucken selfish, darlings, she said. Another possibility: was it a great accident? How do we (more why do we meet) important people? These steps forward mark us and keep us in place. Aaron postulated that Angela became their medium for a bisexual exchange. That face made Henry uncomfortable. No way, he said. What Aaron didn't say, the idea made him more uncomfortable, but comfort has little to do with possibilities or the broadly painted truth of one honest or even half relaxed semi drunk conversation. What is truth? How does change and truth interact? How do we know what to name, when we play the real against the unknown? Angela shared more than sex with Henry and Aaron. She allowed them (and she reciprocated) to know the hidden faults and mountains of her mind. I am a geological excavation she said, when Aaron pushed inside her cunt, and when opening her wings, he opened her skin. Intimacy is the most splendid pleasure, she often said. Angela shared more than the spirit. One evening, Henry told Aaron he was a lucky man. Aaron, knowing that Henry turned on Angela, offered him one night alone with his wife. Henry wasn't too surprised. They had teased each other about the idea. Henry knew that Aaron and Angela had a very open relationship. Aaron sometimes reached too far into the skin of his female models. Angela knew what she wanted. I am bisexual she told Aaron that first night they made love. I have many women lovers. Is that OK? I don't intend to stop. Aaron sometimes joined Angela and her lovers. Aaron's tolerance turned Angela on. When Aaron offered her a night with Henry, she loved it. How could I not, she told them. "Every woman dreams of having more than one man. It is more than a multiple of two." "Not at once," Aaron laughed. "I am going out. Have a good night." Aaron left, returned in the morning. "OK," Angela asked Aaron, "who did you fuck?" "Are you jealous, darling Angela?" ------- Comments appreciated seanfarragher@msn.com 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+