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 Electronic Arts Fucking School: First Story Part I. John, a man of 40 to forty five, took hold of the desk, and pushed it against the wall watching the motion of the air above the bed, and feeling his hand frozen against the nightstand. He did not realize the violence of his act. He could not see the wonderful terror that made Ann want him more. She loved the force of the man. She wanted to feel the way his hands dug into her arm when he taught her to ride. I was a child, yes, Ann thought, but he did it all proper, and I never felt that he wanted me in any disgusting way. Well, that was when I was five or was it nine. Mom moved off the farm when I was four, and she sent me back to Dad when I was nine. So the space in between is empty. Part II (Ann almost 19) Ann opened her legs slightly inviting, showing her dirty underpants, and the tear in the seam that let the hair show. Ann was all there for him. I tore holes in my clothes to show him what I was. I told nasty jokes to the other hands. He paid me no mind. I seemed to have no effect on him. Everyone thought that he used me making me work so hard the sweat would roll off my breasts. I never wore a bra in the barn. I always let them hang free, roll hither and yon. He did look at my tits, Ann thought, I saw him watching them as I found the angle of a mirror we kept for the tender feet that came to the farm for weekend rides. Part III. I like being used. I once let two brothers fuck me, and they never spoke to me, only grunted. One was twenty and the other seventeen. They just unzipped, pulled my pants down, entered and came. I came later. They did not know that I knew more, Ann remembered. I was handy for them, and I savored every minute writing their names down in a diary I kept for my fucking. I once set up an old Kodak super 8 camera to film me making myself cum, but I was too chicken to develop the film. Thought I might be arrested. I found that film a few years after. Took it to a photographer who developed (probably made a print for himself) and I watched my 18 year old body respond to my fingers over and over again. Part IV The Shower and John Thompson I had my way with them by myself in my shower when I was alone with the soap and my sweet slit, clit hard and throbbing. Meanwhile, John Thompson, my dad's best friend, some say he really was my dad, we look so much alike, sat outside, legs always apart, while he read, taking in the fucking and sucking. He loved tit books, and sometimes I bought them for him. He would find it and say, where the fuck this come from, and he would laugh, and sit there, and I wanted him to play with himself, or me, watching me reading his mind. Once I put some black and white old fashioned Polaroid's of my cunt and tits in the magazine and when John found them, shaking his head, he said, "young lady what am I the fuck to do with you." He did nothing of course, and walked away shaking his head, and I watched his ass sway towards the room where he slept with this whore Gloria who I hated, but she didn't hate me back. Years later, long after John left, we became friends, and she made love to me telling me how much she missed John and how much that great fucken skunk of a man loved me. Not you, I said, too innocent to be real. She laughed at me and smacked my ass, telling me that she knew I wanted. I know he knew what I did in the shower. He heard me splashing once, and came in thinking I was in trouble, and I had my hand on my clit sitting on the stall floor, deeply working my clit and nipples, and didn't hide. He said his apology and left and I knew he was smiling. I told him later not to tell my Mom. She would kill me, and he said, quite openly, don't worry Miss we all do it, so when I showered in the horse stall barn I was always loud sometimes too loud. When I came out John was still reading, if you call it that the tit book, and I looked at the back of his hands imagining them playing with me, opening my legs, after all I was a woman not, no kid, and I told him, that now that I was eighteen I expected something from him. He just laughed shaking his head walking away. Now, many years later, looking at my life, and the men, and the animals and the woman, and the sweet assed women with cocks that I bought and sold for my Advertising agency in New York. I was really a pimp or was it a Madam, and sometimes I would indulge a freak or two, or a woman with need, or a man who wanted to prove he wasn't queer, and I would always come back to the farm and John, my dad's best hand, they said, and of course, he wasn't really my father, that is what I thought. Last year Mama died, and in her will, she left John things I had given her. I was surprised, and then I found a letter saying she knew I was his daughter, and that she hoped he would take care of me, and I remembered every splash when I massaged my clit getting my mind in a swirl of semen and hay, mud and leather, watching John play with my tits that one time when he was drunk and I sucked him off to sleep. In the morning, he said I must never do that again, and I proceeded to do it, and he could not resist, and about a week later, he disappeared. I got a letter from him asking me to tell no one and it was best this way. At the time I thought it was because of the differences in our ages, but no, that was never the issue, John had a girl friend I used to hate only a few years older than me, and he didn't mind when the hands joked about him robbing the cradle, he would only add well she's fucken legal so you boys can just shut the fuck up. Said it with a grin, and they all laughed and no one got face to face. I wish they did, but John was a quiet man, and I can taste his come in my mouth and the way he pushed so deep in my throat. He was a man, and all the rest boys, long ago. I want them all again. My cunt filled my face sweating and dirty -- their grinding asses against my belly. Suddenly I thought of that time on the farm. Playing with a huge cock. No man could match it. I loved it. He did too. Of course, he had four legs and huge balls, and when I played with it, I felt the music of its need, and the thickening of its walls. Took two hands to do it. When it came, I had to choke. Spit it all out, and swallow some. Smelled like the barn but I loved it. All the other horses would get very quiet when I rubbed their flanks. Yes, I know it sounds queer, but I love to suck horses cocks. Had this guy help me once put it in my cunt too. Girl friend Mary, she helped but Mary wanted it all for herself and then she wanted my ass too, and I was so dead after cumin with this horse, I could not stand it any more. Horse was beautiful. Tan. White head. Indian horse. My dad bought him for me. He was small, he said, but was tough, he also said. He was gentle dad I said after riding him that first time. He had an easy sway to him, and the first time I dismounted, his cock was out, so huge, I had to touch it. I was 18, and my boy friends were all stupid guys who came in ten seconds and I was scared of getting pregnant so I only sucked them off. We both loved that. This was years ago. I always remember Wally as I called him. FUCKING OLD HORSES I was twenty a freshman in college. Looking back on it, yes, that fucking horse had eyes just like John. I love riding horses. When I was nine I saw one fuck a stallion. He climbed all over her. What stuck was how his come poured back out of her when he was done with her. John gets a hardon when he is mad. He's like that stud covering a mare, my cunt spills, and aches afterward. I love leaving puddles. Yes, I liked sucking that horse off, she thought again. It was not hard. That fucken old man horse trainer, Bill, loved showing me how to do it. Bill could not keep his eyes off my tits. I did not help much. I carefully opened a button so my fat tits would show. I let the nipples poke out through my tee shirt. Sometimes I would spill water on it while I was drinking at the well, and then it was like being naked except I was not. When I was fifteen I let Jack Davis's father look at them. I know he was drunk, but he sucked them, and would have done more, had I not left the door opened in the bathroom. Bill the horse trainer, remember him, had these huge condoms, and he showed me how to put it on and how to rub the horse's cock until it came. I am a great student. I always take my lessons one step farther. I was also paid for it, a lot more than bagging burgers or baby-sitting. I do love making money, almost as much as fucking. When I can make money and be sexy, well that's perfect. Bill used to give extra dough if I left the window open in the shower room. I saw him there with his old fart cock out beating his meat while I carefully washed my breasts and cunt after jerking off the horse. I bet he watched me do that horse. I loved sucking that horse off. I love all cock. I always had a little extra flourish. A man I did once told me I was crazy to do it free. He would help me get work. I told him I was not a whore, but now, at times, I think how wonderful it would be to be paid by a handsome man. I know I wasn't supposed to fuck off the horse. After the horse came, I licked the long black cock, which earned me an additional small squirt that I rubbed on my face and over the top of my breasts. When I sucked that horse, he was bound up, could not move, but what eyes. I would love to tie John up and suck him off, or make him lick my cunt, or maybe make him suck off some guy watching us fuck before another stranger fucks me. What rambling thoughts, Ann had. Her orgasms were never simple. END ---------------------------------------------- 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. Please note statement copied from ASSTR Site Terms and Conditions: ASSTR's Copyright Agent for notice of claims of copyright infringement on or regarding this site can be reached as follows: Copyright Agent 6425 South IH-35, Suite 105 PMB #288 Austin, TX 78744-4230 Email: copyright@asstr.org