Shorts

Jiri was travelling from Melbourne to Adelaide by train. It was a business trip: Jiri was
starting a new job, but he had a few days to spare. Jiri loved trains, and with a first class
ticket the journey was comfortable and pleasant.

The season was not very busy, he had a whole carriage to himself, and was
passing the time reading some novels, and looking out over the dry landscape.
Although not beautiful, it represented freedom to Jiri: huge
expanses of space, from which you could carve a tiny corner, and live without having
to answer to anyone. It would be a far cry from modern city life, with the endless
compromises and concessions forced upon you simply by being so close to three
million other human beings, all trying to get by.

The door to his carriage opened. "OK if I join you?" a pleasant voiced asked.
Jiri was slightly vexed at having his solitude broken so soon, but did not want
to appear impolite.

"Of course, be my guest," he replied, indicating the free seat opposite himself.
She appeared younger than his impression of her voice; Jiri put her in her early
twenties. She was dressed very plainly, in shorts, tee-shirt and sandles. She
looked like a tourist, travelling light and comfortable.

"I'm sorry if I'm disturbing your solitude, but I'm new in this country and wanted
to see as much as I could. This carriage has the best view." she said.
"I love Australia, I love its age. By the way, my name is Karen."

"Jiri," said Jiri, and they shook hands, a little awkwardly. Jiri could not place
her accent; it could have been European, but was not a strong one. She
was certainly not an Australian or a Kiwi.

With that, she sat down in the seat opposite Jiri and gazed with rapt attention
at the unchanging landscape. Silence returned to the carriage, and Jiri returned
to his book.

Jiri did not notice immediately, but Karen's posture always seemed a little awkward,
and she kept fidgeting. One rearrangement left one of the legs of her shorts
gaping somewhat, and Jiri could not help but look when a wisp of hair caught
his eye, and perhaps some other movement that did not seem quite right.

Trying to be discreet, he was surprised by the amount that he could see. Karen
was obviously not wearing any panties, and he could see her pink lips. Surprisingly,
they seemed a little moist, glinting in the sun from the window. Jiri's mind raced to
imagine what sort of a girl Karen was, and resolved to drag his eyes away.

Then, that strange movement caught his attention again, and he saw it; it was a tongue!
Its tip glinted wetly as it emerged from her pussy, and it began to lick her.

Slowly, it worked around her pinkness, leaving her sex glistening. Jiri's heart began
to pound, and he blushed for the first time in many years. Try as he might, he could
not remove his attention from her mystery, and he did the best he could to stay an
unobserved observer.

Having covered Karen's labia with moist lubrication, the tongue began to extend further
from Karen's opening, and Jiri could see that behind its pointy tip it thickened quite substantially.
Like a thick worm, it slowly crawled from beneath her shorts, trailing mucous down Karen's white,
soft, inner thigh.

Up until now, Karen had been facing out the window and had seemed oblivious to
the movement in her shorts. Now, however, she turned from the window and stared
straight into Jiri's eyes with an enigmatic expression; it was almost an accusation,
but there was also an element of taking Jiri into a confidence of hers.

As Jiri stared, the tongue began to ooze around Karen's legs, caressing and teasing.
She opened her legs wide to give it unrestricted freedom, and pulled up one leg
of her shorts to show Jiri what it was doing. Her other hand dropped languidly into
her lap, slid under the waist of her shorts, and begain to stroke herself softly with
her clever fingers. A hypnotic rhythm began to form between the tongue's movement
and that of her hand.

Soon she began to sing, some kind of enchanted lullaby. Jiri was captivated;
he moved forward in his seat, and watched all in spellbound fascination. Her voice
was clear and unaffected, and was in pure counterpoint to the images of lust
developing. His penis was straining, but forgotten in the heat of his mind and
heart's passion.

At first, Karen's movements were those of a voluptuary, pleasing only herself. As
she sang, her hand's motions began to entice, to encourage, to feed Jiri's own
lusts. The tongue moved on from pleasuring Karen, and began to reach out to
Jiri, its obscene ripples and undulations seducing him, and he wanted nothing but
to be entangled in her horror.

Sliding down from his seat, Jiri knelt in front of her. Karen's musk completed
the assault on Jiri's senses, and he was lost. The perfume was of her body only, but
older than history. The scent excited Jiri's imagination, and he could see mighty kings
lost forever in her Harem, spending their days worshipping her scent, worshipping her
body, their responsibilities broken and forgotten. Karen crooned
and encouraged as her essence surrounded him, he kissed her secretions and revelled in
the miracle of her mysteries.

The tongue retreated, as if to give Jiri full access to Karen's quim, and Jiri's tongue
replaced Karen's own in ministering to her stimulation. She reached behind Jiri's head and
held him fast against her, and she talked again. The words dripped from her mouth like
honey, sticky, and sweet, but also black, like sin.

"Jiri, I am losing myself in my love for you, and soon, soon you will love me also."
"Love is sweet, so very sweet. It is life, it is the essence of life"
"I eat souls, my Jiri, I eat sweet, sweet souls, and soon I will eat yours"

As she spoke, the lower tongue re-emerged. Her words seeped into his consciousness, as
they were meant to do, and he stiffened. Her hands held fast, and Jiri could not tear himself away
as that tongue forced its way into his mouth. His nostrils mashed against her pubic hair, he could
barely breathe.

For the first time, Karen voiced her obvious pleasure. Thrusting her hips, the tongue
was forced deeper into Jiri's mouth, and it commenced sporting with his own tongue,
in a horrible parady of a French kiss.

Karen squealed as the thrusting continued, and when the tongue had commenced worming
its way into his throat, things took a more ominous turn. Jiri first lost all muscle control,
and went limp.

She lowered him to the floor, and positioned herself above him. The tongue, having
paralyzed any resistance, filled Jiri's mouth. Jiri felt a drawing then, and an icy chill ran up and down
his spine as he realized what Karen was doing. She began to coo and pet him as her tongue
commenced its true work.

The tongue wriggled and thrust deep into his body, searching for sensation.
He felt it strike through his membranes, his muscle, his bones, licking a tasty morsel, then
drawing it into itself with a soft caress. Karen gave a sigh of pleasure as the drawing
commenced, and her thighs squeezed him. After each drawing, the tongue would strike out
again, until it found more, which it drew with another caress, or with a gentle surrounding,
or sometimes with a deep and violent penetration. For Jiri soon realized that his soul was
tied to his physical self, and this tongue seemed able to transcend the physical, able to draw
out his soul from all his secret places. Just as a good fucking could bring the soul of a
man and a woman to the surface, for them to touch, this tongue would touch his soul, then
seduce it from him.

Karen derived obvious pleasure from thrusting into his mouth, and looked into his panicking
eyes with passion, but also a little sympathy.

As she continued her assault, a new feeling, one of exultation, swept through
Jiri's mind. He did not know why, but he began to welcome Karen's thrusts,
and welcome the pleasure of feeling himself slowly absorbed by this thing between her
legs, absorbed into this succubus of a woman. He began to gaze upon her face with
open adoration, and the control of his body returned as he opened his jaw to accomodate
her tongue and its ceaseless caresses.

Karen returned his gaze with a heavy lidded kindness. "Freedom, Jiri," she
said softly. "No more struggles. Just give your all to a beautiful creature,
she will take all of your strength, all of your cares, all that you have accomplished.
She will cherish them all, and even love you, as you love her. For a moment, you
will know the pinnacle of desire, the ultimate ecstasy, have the most desirable woman
on this earth"

As he understood, her assault ceased. She stroked his hair as her tongue
slowly withdrew.

"Your sweet love, my Jiri, is what I desire, and your sweet, sweet soul.
I will come to you when you are ready, when you are ripe, when you give
yourself to me."

Pulling herself off his face, she brought a towel to wipe herself
and his face.

She soon passed out of the carriage. Her silhouette
was the same as that of the tee-shirted tourist in baggy shorts who had entered
the carriage, but this time he saw her as a woman with a terrible power, fearsome
strength, but also the woman he loved, loved above all else, loved more than
his soul.

It was dark, and the train was in a siding. The station was nowhere to be seen.
A long time had passed while he had been laid bare, but the outside world had
completely passed them by; he marvelled at how she had cocooned them both.
With some sense of himself returning, he grabbed his bags and climbed
from the carriage up to a road, lost in Adelaide, legs wobbly, unsure of his future.