|| -------- -- -----  A E R I E   O B L I V I A N A . singular book of text wandertainment by Frank Edward Nora ------------------- ----------- HONEYSUCKLE ROVER--CUP 9--"GOD'S ASS" <-------  ||  Severe Repair  ||  Honeysuckle Rover  ||  -------> (Cup SRhr009, Created v2 (6/7/99), Copyright 1999) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = That was the last time she'd seen Sleap, since she got a job on this train and moved onto it soon afterward, just a few days after seeing Sleap, actually. Then 6 or 8 months afterward she got a letter from Sleap, saying that she saw Tav and made love to her several more times--but that Tav pressured Sleap into performing an act she didn't want to do. But she did, and she said in the letter she didn't like it at all and she broke up with Tav. She said in the letter, she had somehow started seeing a 50-year-old professional mountain-climber woman, who she said looked only about 30. She said the sex was good--but not as good as the best of the sex with Tav. Quile was amused by the letter--but never got around to answering it. The idea that Sleap had become a full-fledged lesbian did disturb Quile--years earlier everyone pointed out how similar Sleap and Quile were--like sisters or soulmates. Quile hoped the similarities had ceased--for she did not desire that lifestyle. And yet, several times a week Quile would think of Tav and get a tug at her heart and a flash in her groin, very briefly--too insignificant to even consider. Well now, Quile often fantasized, when she was masturbating, about God's breasts. Large, firm, perfectly shaped. She reasoned, the cause of her finding God's breasts so erotic was that she desired big breasts--not so much consciously--more like subconsciously. She often commented that big breasts were no more than toys for men, beverage containers for babies, and logistic hassles. But really she wanted them. She did she did. She did she did. She most certainly did, I guess. She irrationally felt that large breasts were analogous with power, and that part of the reason she was living such a low-excitement-level, ratherdreary life was because she wasn't powerful because her breasts were so small--almost not there at all. As she sucked God's breasts in these fantasies, she imagined also warm milk coming out of the nipples, flowing smoothly down her throat, into her stomach, and then coursing thru her veins--power. And this milk nourishes her, empowers her, makes her breasts grow--in a painful instant expansion, to the size of God's pair--maybe even a little bigger--as if God had come to Her senses and realized that in reality, Quile is more powerful than even Her. Ah, these fantasies. All this in masturbation--and the pounding pummeling throb of the massive train as it screeched and tore its way forth. God and the train seemed to be different aspects of the same primal force--the same primal power--the same primal scream. And she felt secure in the safe scrotum of her metal lover--or was that the safe arms?--inside the warm embrace of the train--herself, train, and God as one. Sometimes she would swallow the narcotic "hallway"--which came in clumps and had the consistency of dry mud, and an earthy, spicy taste. With it, her fantasies seemed to be exceedingly real. Too real. Too real--the tracings of her tongue and lips over God's lithe form--so real--sensual. Here on the train, Quile felt as if every inch of the train's forward motion in its momentum erased part of her past--that she had nothing left outside of the train. At times, Quile thought her life was fascinating and involved and... challenging. She drew occasionally--won a few art contests as a child--drew funny pictures at work for her co-workers--et cetera. Abzarby! The word for wanderlust in her country. She had it. What was happening. What was happening to Quile. Where was Sleap Drassy. Where was Tavmatey Numblem. Not on the big train. Quile was startled out of her dreamy thoughts by the crash of the office door exploding open. Someone jumped into the room--it all happened very fast. A woman--a woman with a huge mop of hair, a dirty T-shirt, and a crossbow. The intruder stood there, silent for a few moments as Quile's co-workers started to shrink back. Then the woman spoke. "Is there a Quile here?" Quile swallowed hard. Her jaw trembling, she slowly stood up. "Me." she said with difficulty. The woman strode forward in a casual manner and extended her hand to Quile. "How're you?" the woman said, grasping Quile's unsure hand and shaking it. "I'm Liss, and we really gotta get you outta here." "O-okay." Quile said. -------> ------------------- ----------- -------- -- -----