Message-ID: <34903asstr$1011831005@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: nickurfe@yahoo.com (Nicholas Urfe) X-Original-Message-ID: <5a5d3dd2.0201231012.49022779@posting.google.com> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: 23 Jan 2002 18:12:03 GMT X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 23 Jan 2002 10:12:01 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} cuyahoga.005 [urfe] [new] Date: Wed, 23 Jan 2002 19:10:05 -0500 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, kelly . :: 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. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+