Posted from Taxi Murders Sextet Hyperfiction (c) 2000 Sean Farragher. All Rights Reserved. Comments are desired, welcome, and helpful. Please reply to: seanfarragher@msn.com Full site at: http://www.taximurders.com Angela Leven. Novel Date: March 11, 1992 Parts III and IV Laurie Fallon "I miss you most," Laurie said as she hugged Aaron, leaning back unbalanced against Henry, and finally gracefully braced against the bare studio wall, she lifted her leg upward like the exotic dancer she was, presenting that one sculpted gam to Aaron, almost as if it were a sword. "I miss you because Angela owns you." Aaron said nothing. Sometimes a well placed laugh quietly directed is all you need. Not content with that sign to the men, Laurie eased her long tapered thighs wider, marking them more open, letting her ass fall slowly down the wall leaving a wet stain on the brown enamel paint. At the bottom, she let her fingers find the groove of the space between her pubis and thighs, and accentuating the lines of her cunt opening it, playing with the inner folds intently she drew her own fingertips down the insides of her legs as if her nails would draw blood opening her ass with one last spreading screech and then smacking the top of her thighs, welcoming someone to sit down, as if the welcome of her body was not sufficient. As both men knew that they were welcome, Laurie shifted her face towards Aaron's hands. Waiting patiently, staring back at Henry, she wordlessly asked Aaron to start something. "Now, fuckers, she whispered almost purring like some silly fake pussy cat mimic. What hands he has, Laurie thought as the artist Aaron kissed her hair, face and neck with the edge of his two longest fingers, lifting a strand of the hair from her ears, and placing his lips carefully there, sucking in a soft dance the back of Laurie's neck where her red hair was soft and out of control. In so doing, Aaron, always more reticent at first, could would freely caress her breasts, pubis, thighs and kiss her easily on the lips obviously sharing his tongues as a deceptive phallic fruit hiding from her as he kissed and felt her breast softly aching his fingers to the mound as Laurie watched him, wanting him to do more, pulling him lower, biting his neck, saying fuck my mouth, please and taking hold of one of the fingers (as it turned out Henry's) she sucked it deeply inside her mouth. Henry stopped them when Angela walked into the room. Not that they had or wanted to stop, but they did, and not out of respect. Laurie leaped up and kissed Angela full on the mouth, feeling Angela's much larger breasts against her own rubbing back they pushed and felt the other slowly sway in that subtle dance that they had perfected last year when Laurie lived with Angela and Aaron. Wearing just one high top sneaker, jumping around, dancing as the stripper "Blaze Starr Herrig," Laurie threw her hands up, and said "I love being naked with my public, but I love it here more for I can get back and not just give it up." Angela holding Laurie, almost protectively, added her hands to the two men as they removed the last of Laurie's jeans. Laurie rosy cheeked red hair bare ass except for that one athletic shoe, seemed the perfect Sheelanagig (what her mother called her when she was drunk). "You are more splendid than Athena," Angela would offer and Henry would bite his teeth thinking of the feel of Laurie's pale white skin against his mind. "Don't worry love, petting Angela's breasts from the bottom up, Laurie kissed Angela opening her mouth slightly and holding her mouth without motion until Angela released the tease and kissed the woman hard. Yes, I know you want my skin, Angela said. With that last word "skin." Angela caught Laurie and let her easy hands waltz up to the pears of Laurie's full but delicate breasts taking Laurie's hands in her own and kissing the palms. Watching the men want them, Angela sucked Laurie's dark nipples, turning her face back to them, breathing hard, saying quickly, you have that pregnant look at last and with that she touched the top of Laurie's pubic hair and held the soft mound that was the sign of the child inside the skin. 2. A Second Look: Framed by the double sized oak door and the gray light of a rainy day, Laurie's natural red hair and long slender frame balanced against the gray men and the black hair and almost gray eyes of Angela. The air was open and clean and except for noise of the almost frozen rain outside, there was heat was intense. Henry loved it when Laurie surprised them. Angela got wetter, and Aaron, slightly uncomfortable, because he knew that Laurie was the one woman he thought more beautiful than Angela. Aaron, so loyal, always added to himself. Laurie is not the artist Angela became, but lately, Laurie's poems, pure, intense, and filled with pain, had made him feel when she read them often late at night while Aaron painted the color's of Laurie on an abstract canvas. Aaron would finally say on those nights, "You are perfect." Laurie would smile back and say, "but you feel guilty for loving my poems." "Yes," He would whisper. "Yes." Laurie did not come often to these sexual gatherings. She preferred Henry alone, but today, feeling estranged from Henry, she joined the men with Angela. Laurie always knew of the planned afternoons. Invitations were never secret. "Less confusing, she told Angela, if I have sex with you and Henry alone, one at a time. I know our roles. I do not long for more. When Henry told her last night that he planned to spend the next night and day with Angela and Aaron, "I might be there too," Laurie answered." "I am selfish," always Laurie, the brown eyed red head shifted fast in the light, and Laurie laughed almost as a wise warning of something inchoate that would run into their lives larger than death or perhaps sin. Why did I think that, Laurie remembered much later. Why does sin sometimes play its notes as surprise? 3. 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 for seven years. I was eighteen when I first fucked him. He thought I was a slut and whore and that seemed to turn him on more. Henry also 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 ambiguity 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, yes, I loved the leaking," 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. IV 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 bondage movie. 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," Henry said. "Actually, I wanted 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 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, Lilith and Abel abducted Laurie from the outside the Gables pub. They just pulled up and threw her into the van. Henry didn't know that Laurie had lied to him about her pregnancy. Knowing Henry knew about these things, she told him her last missed period was two months earlier than the actually date. She also told the man she loved she didn't know the identity of the father. "It could have been four men," she mocked. "You weren't one of them. You hadn't loved let alone fuck me for at least a year. You jumped back in my life too late, and were a fool like most of your kind." When Laurie said this to Henry, she did not laugh. ---------------------------------------------- These Sites reflect my life in writing and are offered to readers free of any cost to further share my work with ASSTM Readers. http://www.taximurders.com Taxi Murders Sextet Hyperfiction Novel http://www.farragher.com the Selected Poetry of Sean Farragher http://www.taximurders.com/lcfallon The Journal and Poetry of Laurie Fallon Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Thomas Farragher under US and International Copyright laws. All rights reserved. May not be re posted to any site without the express written permission of Sean Farragher. If you are downloading for your own reading enjoyment there is no charge solicited. 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