Entransed

Readers of my narratives may have noticed that sexual liaisons are often initiated by travel. On holiday and during journeys. I have found a goodly number of one-time and longer-term lovers on buses and trains, and it is a recent railway encounter I will narrate.

My tutoring on an English language course in Bavaria had been enjoyable, but had not involved any sexual activity. I think there may have been a little bedroom-hopping, but none for me. I came away fearing that I was getting too old to be attractive, especially when younger partners were present and available.

Arrived back in the UK I boarded the train home determined to be philosophical about this new situation, and about the frustration I was feeling, having not had any sex for several weeks. I would shortly have to contact someone ready to alleviate this condition.

The Quiet Coach was A that day, and it was nearly empty. I made my way to the front two pairs of seats either side of the aisle. There were no facing seats, as opposite was the entry to the driver's compartment. The left pair was unoccupied and there was one passenger by the window in the right-hand pair. I turned left but the woman to the right gave me a dazzling smile and patted the seat next to her. It would have been churlish to refuse, and I enjoy conversations with fellow travellers.

The lady in question was not in the first flush of youth, physically, though she was, as I soon discovered, joyfully youthful in mind and spirit. She was a lesson that women's sexuality and desires do not, as is a popular misconception, necessarily abate with age, or physiological change. As should be plain from my accounts, my own capacity for sexual activity and enjoyment has not decreased, even if sometimes a little lubricant is required.

Her short hair was silver and her hawk-like face had a network of crow's-feet beside the eyes and lines from her aquiline nose to the corners of her wide, mauve-lipped mouth. Her cheeks were hollow, making the cheek-bones prominent. Her complexion was tanned, as if she had spent much time outdoors, or in tropical climes. Although her eyes were hooded by the droop of the lids they were large, dark and bright. They glistened with glee, I felt, and all the lines and wrinkles gathered into that melting smile.

She studied me closely as I put my case behind the seats. I was aware of her gaze raking my body. It transferred to my face as I sat down beside her. Without any shyness or embarrassment she stared into my eyes, clearly determined to learn my nature at once.

She offered a lean, tanned hand. 'Leonie.'

I gave my name and hand, which she grasped firmly and held. 'Yes,' she said, 'As if I had confirmed something. 'I think so, yes.'

I understood I shouldn't question this. I left my hand in hers and looked into her eyes in turn. They told me she was wise, passionate, trustworthy. Indeed, though tired from Portugal and the journey, I felt excited.

She said, 'Tell me of your life as woman in the world.'

No-one had said quite that to me before, and certainly not so soon after meeting, and I took a minute to compose a reply.

Then I said, 'I was a little late finding myself as woman, self-directed. In my early twenties I experienced myself, my body, my mind as all mine. Able to relate to, but not to be defined or controlled, by others.'

'That's a good answer,' she said, in her husky voice. 'Not many women can formulate such an answer, because that's also a way of life, isn't it?'

'Yes,' I said. 'It's a matter of how you negotiate with everything and everyone outside, and sometimes touching, your skin.'

'I was helped by medical training and practice,' she said. 'It demanded I take control of my actions and attitudes, bringing a new freedom with the responsibilities.'

'It meant you had to be careful of you independence and any relationships you might have. You had to work out your responses and attitudes.'

'You are a perceptive woman. You may have guessed it was women who were most beneficial to my development.'

'They didn't try to control or make demands on you.'

'Correct. Women were at that time finding close companionship, comfort, mutual support, and possibilities for expressing these things not available before.'

'I can imagine it,' I said. 'Leading to sex, and love.'

'Yes. Sometimes just the sex, though usually without exploitation or selfishness. Pleasurable and affectionate.'

'And it's continued like that for you ever since,' I said, 'When possible.'

'The same for you, I think, though I suspect like me you're not exclusively lesbian.'

I said, 'This conversation is a nice instance of how two women, strangers, can so

rapidly get on terms. You knew as soon as you saw me this was possible.'

She released my hand, and I suspected this was because she had a use for it.

'This being the case,' she said, 'We can bypass the pussyfooting and get to the pussyfeeling, can't we? Assuming you don't find me too ancient and scrawny.'

'Leonie,' I said, 'You give off a sexual charge which would stop a tank. So I'm already gushing into my gusset. What do you propose?'

'Of course, if you can, I want you to come home with me, but my immediate need is strong. When you arrived I was on the point of easing myself off. Because, as you have understood, I am in a permanent state of potential urgenism. '

'Good word -- urgent and orgasm combined.'

'I try to avoid the conventional terminology for sex, because I am a doctor and was using

vagina, vulva, clitoris, nipple, breast

and so on in my professional life. They were simply technical terms, lacking other connotations. I've developed my own vocabulary, varying the words. You'll follow it, and may find it amusing.'

'So,' I said, 'You were urgenismic, and when I turned up you hoped I could help with this. What would you like me to do, bearing in mind our situation?'

'I want you to put your hand down my back, slide down my crevarse into my crease, slip your thumb up my cranny and get a digit on my doris. I never wear kinkers nowadays so there's no hindrance. If I just lift my bottage, like this...Oh, yes, that's right. The juice doesn't flow like it used to but you can probably...yes, you can. I like to grip with my tunc when I peak. And my doris is a hair-tricker. Just a nudge or two. Yes, that's it. I'm the quickest peaker in the world. Here I go! Can you feel my tunc fibrillating?'

'That's amazing,' I said. 'I'm longing to see your doris. It feels like a little finger with a nail. Not that it's small.'

'Sixty years of rubbing have hardened it. It has a little scaly bit just below the glans -- technical term, prefer bead. And of course it's grown -- dorises grow, you know, especially if they get plenty of use.'

'Do you always come, peak, that quickly?'

'Usually, yes. And several times, with short rests. Try it again now, if you like.'

'Fascinating, it's as if your doris is reaching for my finger-tip. Your tunc is gripping again. Here you go!'

'It's like a kind of electric shock shooting through me, as if my doris has been plugged into the mains, and the current surges along all my wires.'

'Do your breasts and nipples, whatever you call them, take any part?'

'Oh, yes, they certainly do, my treats and stipples. I do hope you'll have the chance to find out. Meanwhile, can I reciprocate? If we change places it would conceal the operation, as it did for me.'

'That would be good, though I am wearing kinkers, as already indicated. But the pricking of my thumb, or, perhaps, my thumb pricking, suggests your tunc and doris are ready for another peak.'

'Yes, I think so. Your finger-nail is so cleverly snagging my doris. Oh, yes, here it comes again, like a beautiful, sweet hot flush. Every cell thrills and sings. Can you feel my tunc fluttering? Of course you can. You are stirring me in every way.'

'I love the fluttering round my thumb, as if your tunc were gently sucking it. A whole new meaning to the idea of thumb-sucking. So exciting.'

'You should be ready, then,' she said, 'For me to ping your doris. Let's swap places. My tunc is reluctant to release your thumb, but it can probably find its way back in. Now, shall I go down your back and under your bottage, or up your skirt?'

'If no-one's looking I can slip off my kinkers. Pretty quick, There we go.'

She said, 'Let me have them.' She buried her nose in them. 'Lovely! Do you like scenting other women's kinkers?'

'Yes, indeed,' I said. 'A gust of gusset and my doris is raising its beady head.'

When she put her hand on my thigh shuddering possessed me, which continued as she sent the hand on up. She generated such an ambience of sensual awareness that it alone was almost enough to fire my urgenism.

She said 'You're ready to peak, aren't you? You are wondrous wet. Ah, you're almost there. Just let me get my finger on it. I so much want to feel it. There it is! Delicious. I want to suck it. But now -- oh, yes, here you go, here you go. I can feel the peak myself.' As I came I shot my own hand up her skirt and found that doris with its tiny tooth. She peaked at once, writhing back and forth on her bottage. So, if someone had come our way we would have been caught hands up each other's skirts, panting and wriggling in shared ecstasy.

'You can peak quickly, too, then,' she said, pushing her finger onto my doris.

'Seldom as speedily as that,' I said. 'It was your quick peaking that set me off.'

We withdrew our hands and smelt them appreciatively. She asked, 'Have you noticed how the tunc-scent changes with age? Old ladies like me give off a kind of spicy odour. Perhaps you haven't been with enough crones like me.'

'Yes,' I said, 'There's a touch of cinnamon. Delightful.'

'Yours has an undertone of hot biscuits, I think. But I want very much to experience your treats and stipples. I never had treats as large as yours, and they're evaporated now by tropical heat and poor nutrition. But they still transmit as much as ever. You will come home with me? l I want to squish our creases together.'

Of course, I went home with her, a couple of hours on the train. To find she lived in a small midland town, in a two-bedroomed cottage so sparsely furnished it looked as if she were in process of moving out. I thought I lived pretty minimally, but she had reduced her domestic arrangements to the bare necessities.

She explained as she cooked us a simple, tasty meal that she had worked abroad almost all her professional life, in third world countries where existence was tough and material goods, and food, hard to come by.

We knew where we were going to end up, but contained our urgenisms as we got to know each other a little more. Over coffee I asked, 'Forgive the question, but was it hard to restrain yourself when women bared their treats and creases to you?'

'A doctor learns quickly to separate her professional life from her personal life,' she said, 'In the surgery a woman patient is a female person who needs examination, diagnosis and treatment. So her body must be studied with scientific detachment, while at the same time she must be cherished as a human being.'

'How did you manage your urgenisms in those remote regions?'

'There were a few colleagues and social contacts,' she said, 'Though the culture might well not tolerate female-female sexual relationships. So it was often difficult to find a lover. But sometimes the nurses were, like me, strangers, not even speaking the local language, and that made for close relations within the small medical team.'

'So it was similar to your wartime experience?'

'That's right. To the extent that some women who were not lesbians in their home area would, from frustration and friendship, temporarily at least, be glad of love-making with women. Indeed, as you know, they often found their enjoyment was greater than before, thanks to the greater understanding and skill of a female lover.'

'Forgive the curiosity,' I said, 'But your travels must have enabled you to see and relish many different shapes, sizes and colours of women?'

'Oh, yes,' she said. 'I lay with massive, all enclosing black women and with small, neat Asian women. I loved the different colours and configurations of their treats and tuncs, and the sizes of their dorises didn't particularly relate to their ethnicity or size. There were little Malaysians with huge dorises and big Africans with tiny ones. I often wished I could have photographed them all -- I would have a spectacular collection now.'

'I'm longing to see yours,' I said.

'And I yours. Shall we go upstairs?'

She had dispensed with beds and used futons, which, if good quality, are comfortable, though they slightly limit the variety of sexual activity which can be practised on them.

So, we stood by an expanse of mattress and, for the first time, embraced and kissed. Her slender body was all muscle and sinew, but her mouth was soft and sensuous, a warm, welcoming haven of pleasure.

As the kiss went on our hands moved down and gathered up our skirts, so that we were shortly stroking and kneading bottage, running fingers up and down crevarses. I had never put my kinkers back on so both of us were bare.

When our lips parted, we stepped back to enable the undressing. She said, 'Let me go first. I'm longing to bring those lovely treats into view...oh, yes, they're beautiful, so full and soft, and look at how those sweet stipples are standing up, ready for sucking.'

It was time to lie down, and she encouraged me onto my back and leant over me to attend to my stipples. While she mouthed one she gently rolled the other between finger and thumb, and soon I said, 'That is so lovely I'm going to come.'

She lifted her mouth away to say, 'Wonderful. I'm not sure I can do that anymore.'

'It's quite rare for me,' I said, 'But it's happening. Right now!'

She stopped moving and just held one tit-tip in her mouth and the other in a hand, as I experienced that exquisite tingling which starts somewhere deep in the mammaries and spreads in a flush of pleasure which may be hot and may be cold, you don't know which. (How is it for you, women readers?).

'I'm with you,' she said, 'Another's urgenism usually trips mine, too. Oh, yes, it's so sweet, so sweet.'

We lay still as the tide of ecstasy flowed and ebbed. Then I said, 'Leonie, I have to see your crease and doris.'

I knelt up and she opened her legs wide 'What do you think?' she asked.

'Fascinating,' I said, gently parting her majorae. 'Your inner lips are like a little fringe around your vulva, tucked into your outer ones, and the crease goes back to become your crack. And your doris is out in the open, not tucked into the top of the vulva.'

'That's right,' she said, 'You describe my genuitalia like a doctor. My cranny is easy to enter, as you see, because there are no flips to hinder. Straight in through the folds.'

Her doris had little if any hood. It sprang straight out of her mons, not, as I had suspected from the exploration in the train, pointing down like most clitorises. It also seemed to be priapic, always erect. And on the lower surface of its glans there was that intriguing little spur, like a tiny finger-nail. It was, though slender, long, three centimetres or so.

'It's like a cat's penis,' I said, 'With that little barb. If you slid that in a molly cat it would be fine until you withdrew, when it would spike her little pussy-pussy and make her ovulate. And perhaps you can enter a woman-pussy and spike that?'

'I like to go into a woman as far is it will, yes,' she said, 'But no-one's ever noticed the spiking. No-one's said so, anyway. Shall be try it?'

'Yes, please,' I said, 'And you can snag my doris with yours, too. That would be interesting. But first I want to lick you to urgenism.'

'I love that,' she said, 'And it won't take long.'

And it didn't. Two licks and she came. 'Oh, beautiful, beautiful,' she called out. 'Do again, please, Norma. Yes, yes, here it is, here it is.' With only short pauses I kept slurping and she kept on coming, ten, eleven, a dozen times or more.

Taking a rest, for her, we changed places and she tongued me. Which was doubly delightful, because every time I came she did, too. She was so omnisexual that any form of sexual activity, even without touching, would climax her. As she said, another person's orgasm, urgenism, would do it. And her unending arousal roused me to a similar state.

Her endless excitation was so infectious I began to come myself at the slightest touch. A brush of nipple, a hand on the bottom, breath on the mons, and another orgasm blossomed.

'I have so many years to make up for, you know,' she said, as we paused for a rest. 'I couldn't do much because of my professional role. Now and then, if I had a few days off, I might get away somewhere with someone. Not all woman, either. I can enjoy with a man, if he is gentle and affectionate. I had a special lover called Alan, some years ago. We met when we could, which wasn't often, but was wonderful when we did. He was a perfect lover, because he so much loved to make a woman have pleasure.'

'He was a man running a special kind of charity, specially helping women support themselves and become independent,' I said.

'You knew him. A strange coincidence. In a few days I'm going to work for the charity he set up before he died, teaching tropical medicine to the new, young doctors.'

'That's splendid. I'm so glad his work continues.'

'You know, when he was inside me it felt as if his conch was warming my tunc and buzzing me into urgenism. When he pushed into me my tunc wrapped round him and then he gave his jetsam inside me. It was a special gift and I drank it with my cervixen.'

Of course, we got to scissoring and her doris ribbed mine and also nestled in my vestibule. And we rocked gently, clenching bottage, surfing the orgastic tide. It was even possible to test the cat-prick properties of her doris in my annulus. For with plenty of lubricant she could work it into me, and a little movement, with me gripping it in my sphincter, made her come and come. And her coming set off mine.

Now and then we rose to eat or drink or visit the bathroom. Now and then we slept a while, and awoke at the touch of a tongue or finger.

Time was limited, however, because of her new work starting. So we wanted to make the most of our intercourse.

Then there came a moment when she said, 'You know, Norma, there is something I am curious about. During my long time in remote areas there were many interesting developments in sexuality and sexual activity going on in Europe and America. All these new genders and trans-genders, and I wanted so much to understand and relate to them.'

'Leonie, I think you'd like to make love with a trans-woman.'

'Yes, I would. The combination of treats and conch would be so interesting and exciting. I haven't seen a conch sputter or felt it spume inside me for so long, and a trans-gender one would be a new experience.'

'Would you like me to summon my beautiful trans- friend Dulcinda?'

'Perhaps she would find me too old and scrawny?'

'She would love every inch of you, and she can come many times, inside and outside, tunc and bottage, and take joy in your every urgenism.'

And the phone conversation with Dulcinda was short and to the point.

'Norma! I'm so glad to hear from you. You're back from Portugal. Did you have good cunting? No, tell me when we meet. Let it be soon, preferably right now because I'm so in need my balls are overflowing.'

'Dulcinda, my darling, I need you to come at once. No, don't come in that way, because Leonie and I need you to come and come.'

'That sounds promising, Norma. I hope your Leonie has an opening for me. More than one, perhaps. Just tell me where you are and I'll be there as soon as maybe.'