Message-ID: <26581asstr$970301470@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: 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 CJ Parker IV The Fakery of the "Perils of Pauline" Date: Sat, 30 Sep 2000 04:11:19 -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: gill-bates, dennyw Also From TxM6 Hyperfiction http://www.txm6.com (updated 9/16/00) http://www.txm6.com/enfer (updated 9/17/00) http://www.txm6.com/lcfallon http://www.farragher.com (Poetry updated 9/24/00) TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only. Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher. TxM6 Hyperfiction Novel: CJ PARKER IV Fakery in the Perils of Pauline October 17, 1982: Today was all day of the millennium following the heroin OD death of Lara Klein half sister to CJ Parker. God did not win. Pain got the best score marked by the plot master as perfectly impossible but delicious. Lara, 15 had the street name "Baby" but Miss L refused to quit on life. Collapsed and extended like a twist and shout accordion, Lara lived three years as the child whore of a man who stole her from another. CJ could do nothing about it. Lara was the stronger of the two sisters. She held CJ while the older sister cried unhappy that she could not help. While Lara waiting for the man to come and claim all she had earned. Sucking a line of cocks did pay part of the premium on the rancid dick insurance she had purchased last year as a joke, but now seemed quite straight. CJ in her altruism gave Lara more money before she left her sister alone to face the devil pimp she had acquired. CJ wished she had the courage to simply take that working World War II .45 she hid in her middle drawer covered with silk and raise it up on his arm for balance and then simply blow the fuckers away one by one. Sometimes weakness breeds flights of Rambo foolishness. No one is a coward or a hero unless they plot their daily bread. When CJ gave the money to Lara, CJ knew that Lara would give it to her pimp. CJ reasoned perhaps that way Lara might be beaten tenderly. When Lara died, CJ Parker stopped shooting horse for a few extra hours and for the 532nd time she quit making an act of resolution. That was all the mourning that CJ could afford. "My body demands attention," she said. Five hours later, sweating, feeling nausea, CJ sucked two dicks in a half hour and was coming down two hours later pulling her body literally off the floor where she caught ten minutes sleep. Need all the strength in the world, she said. Have a date with a man who likes to suck shit out of my ass and then for every kiss I sustain with him for five minutes or more, he pays me $500 per kiss. I must also pretend that I don't smell it. If I screw up my nose once he gives me half the money. When he smacks my ass while I suck him, I pretend it turns me on to suffer subjugation. The 72-year-old man, Paul, would pay five times the standard BJ rate. CJ didn't have time to mourn her sister by pretending she was above that kind of fake possession. You can't always do straight blowjobs with a rubber you pull quickly over the prick and beg the man by massaging his balls to stay sober and come quicker. Sometimes you have to put your ass on the ground, spread your legs, open your cunt lips and let some man fill you with his stinking crap. By the time he has done you twelve times on the two-week trip, you are sucking him in the moonlight and loving his toothless jaw on your nipples. ON OCTOBER 17, 1991 at about 2 AM Mostly clean the reformed hooker CJ looked for an honest loving (I wasn't back in the game or doing shit), as she put it, got myself raped, and beaten almost to death, and back again." "Every October 17th I remember my sister's death and mourn for my own life," CJ thought as she dressed too quickly wearing the same dirty clothes she had word last night. She knew she stank, but she needed to get out of the house and shoot some photographs of dying animals. They make me feel clean, she said. Magical escape. The spirits saved me. Police came. True spirits gave me back to life. Why me? The true spirits had enough of the game, the Gadfly said. Time to stop Genesis. No, I will remember and not remember Maria and her brother, Antonio. Imagine, she said years later, fucked up by a bitch and her faggot pussy. Couldn't pick them out. Showed the cops. No one could find them. Not really criminals. No Rap sheet. "I didn't do anything," CJ said. "I couldn't stop him. I was an old friend of murder. Have I told you that before? One thing I know is true. Never mix sex with dying, although after I shot death, I was weak in my thighs and felt that sexual pulse that drives you mad unless you scratch it. I rubbed it with some oil and put the long neck in a noose pretending to be strangled. Able ordered me to die. He said, don't worry. No more fretting over what you cannot control. I did not die. Can you stop your breathing? Can you imagine how easy it would be if I grabbed hold of your balls with my hand and rip your dick with my teeth while I sucked it? When you came, I would mix the blood with the goop and drive you madder as the ocean floor quickens and you bleed to orgasm. It could be lovely, don't you think to die as amorphous pigment strewn as dust in the universal sky. It would be raping the abstract noun of your sex to make it into mud pies. Taking your cock in my hand, I offer it to some higher force symbolized by raising my arms. Taking your sex dropping into an industrial blender with ph 6.6-phosphate buffer and blending it while you scream rape, would give the freaks their orgasm. CJ listened to Abel as he carved letters in her arm with a sharp hobby knife. He's a good man. Let him alone, CJ said when interviewed after regaining consciousness. Abel is not as bad as some who would take without inflicting pain. Unless you know the screams, you have not lived in the suffering. If you are able to place yourself in an orderly arrangement of lives, then you can track the crystalline faces you create by the tension between the fantasy and the marked down letters of the actual event as recorded by some character we name arbitrarily TRUTH. "I wanted you to feel my heat. It felt perfect, CJ told her sister Lara. Yes we possess the same waves. We speed into each other like blood into our multiple hearts." "I liked that line, CJ wrote to her dead sister with her mind acting as pen. After I wrote it, I felt our skin and wanted to save the line for a poem. When I write you Lara I set what I feel down as words but when I write something that seems perfect I am amazed by how we are layers of those waves on the ocean of orgasmic beaches marking the placement of the harmony and the necessary dissonance. Is that too sick my twin, Lara asks CJ? Who wrote that, Lara asked her sister seeing how the words were ground as a message in perfect typography on the painted sandy beaches? "Lara, you were unconscious." I called 911. I watched the self-beating. I didn't hear all the layers of that action. I had no idea what truly happened until the morning when I saw Lara cold and stiff. I stood in your deadly circle Lara. I left confused about space and sequence. I know I was there, but I didn't see, he said. Couldn't know how the temporal displacement figured in the story of multiple murders and darker sex where all that is given is stolen but gladly surrendered. Tabby a good man, I told the Gadfly like a fool. I didn't know Tabby was the Gadfly as all the spirits. He plays the multiple roles and never misses a line. Tabby always helped. No drugs. No sex. I liked him, had hoped he would really care. Not take care. I can take care of myself. Just to be there and talk. He called the cops. Right. When will he come and visit. I know he's hurting about my return to the scum vats. Police questioned Tabby, called him the defrocked Priest. They didn't know you couldn't be "not ordained. "Tabby was wonderful 4x4 times. Good cop/bad cop/switching, confusing. Want killers ass. [Do they really? Can't pin it. No useable evidence. Certain as the forensic data, that he did it. No, never shall I pass this way without loss, CJ sang wanting Lara to come alive on the spot and make her sisterly orgasm faster and harder. Who can't remember lust? Was it us alone or all of them outside gathered in the cathedral watching God stain the wall deep blood. -- 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+