Tem 25

The Emu, the Kraken, and the Fool for Love.

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The opaque waters were calm, so still that they reflected the Milky Way back upon itself. Millions and millions of stars conspiring to shape the twinkling Emu that sparkled on the surface of this remote desert billabong. The creator spirit soared overhead, her image rendered small enough to catch my downcast eyes.Through the night air, just heard, came the haunting notes of a far-off digeridoo. Soulful, earthy; the loose vibrations of one set of lips expanding to fill the wide-open spaces of this ancient land. The sound resonated of life itself, the voices of animals – kookaburras, dingos, kangaroos – blending together and rising to Her in a hymn of praise.But that was wasted on me. I only felt the shards of my shattered heart painfully shredding my soul. Is it lèse-majesté when you don’t give a fuck anymore?Fleeing Sydney, just driving, nowhere in particular, I’d run out of tarmac and bounced deep into the outback along rutted dirt tracks until water blocked my way. Just needing to put more and more distance between me and her as my hellish early morning turned into the middle of the next night.A stand-up comic stops being funny when she cheats. Of course, Camille, being Camille, tried to brighten my mood, tried to lighten her guilt. But it was too late for humour; she’d permanently scarred my mind, searing an image of her thrusting a girl-cock, my purple Feeldoe for fuck’s sake, into the squishy pussy of some random comedy-groupie she’d picked up.“But Annie, I love you. It’s just sex with her, baby.” I knew that was the end, the joker playing me for a fool by dealing me the only-sex card. If that was all she had, it just wasn’t enough. She couldn’t glue my shattered heart back together, it was time to walk.The pretty Emu sparkling on the tranquil water was no antidote to the storm that Camille’s crappy behaviour had set raging through me. Picking up a flat stone, I angrily skipped it across the surface of the billabong, taking delight in smashing galaxies into smithereens, splash by splash.“Once trust is shattered, all is fucking lost,” I screamed into the night, my anguish startling a passing wombat.And from the starlit shadows of the Coolibah trees on the other side of the water, a sonorous voice startled me: “In a murky space we find ourselves. A deeper understanding will illuminate our life.”“Who are you? Some fucking wannabe Yoda?”Their snigger gave me pause, a melodic balm encroaching on the edges of my hurt.“Me? Not Yoda. Just an unexpected voice in the middle of nowhere. You scared?” they asked.“Would be if I had something to live for.”“Don’t drown yourself here. It’ll leave a bitter taste in my mouth.”“Why would you care?”“Organic, biodegradable, environmentally sustainable, those words are so sweet. But at the end of the day, you’ll just be a rotting corpse, totally putrid on my palate.”“You don’t have to swim here,” I said dismissively.“Forcing me out of my home, are you?”“The water? No one lives in the fucking water. Except maybe the spirit of the jolly swagman.”“Take care. This is the only place where the ghosts of his life are real and ever present.”“Unbelievable. Waltzing Matilda was born in Banjo Paterson’s imagination. And by the way, written well over a hundred years ago.”“And how do you know its fiction? And what makes you think I wasn’t here then?”“No-one lives that kaçak iddaa long,” I said confidently.I heard a splash from the shadows opposite me. And I then noticed a ripple heading my way across the surface of the billabong as celestial bodies were again disturbed. What emerged from the water stunned me, anesthetizing my mind with shock. Aspects of octopus, squid, and crab in the physique; but, in truth, this creature was like nothing I had ever seen or ever imagined.The ochre maybe-monster stood five feet and furtively moved sideways towards me on eighteen tentacles, their one large unblinking eye staring at me. And then the penny dropped, it was they who had spoken.“Fuck,” I whispered, “a loquacious monster! This is so not my day.”“I know we Kraken have a certain reputation. But monster is a tad pejorative, you know.”“A Kraken! How the hell does a Nordic sea myth end up in a billabong in the middle of the Australian outback?” I asked.“Long story. Want to tell me how you ended up in the middle of nowhere?”“Touché. Maybe that too is a story for another day.”“Well, first things first,” the Kraken said, a tentacle reaching for my hand, “You have nothing to fear from me.”The frisson of their slimy touch had goosebumps running up my arm, which gave me a shot of assurance. “That’s comforting. But this is so super weird.”“Not every day you run into a talking Kraken, I will admit. But best you put your fear aside,” the Kraken said.“Fear is the trail into the shadows. Fear leads to rage. Rage leads to loathing. Loathing leads to misery,” I replied, actually giggling for the first time that day.“By Odin, I spend a century alone, desperate for edifying conversation. And all I get is a Yoda acolyte, a wannabe Star Wars nerd.”“Small beer. I find the love of my life slut-fucking, and my reward? Social intercourse with a Kraken.”“That may be a fairer trade, you know. Look seriously, I know it hurts, but you do realize there are trails away from the shadows of your misery.”“Easy for you to say. You ever loved and lost?”“The jolly swagman eventually died.” The Kraken’s voice was tinged with a deep sadness.“You’re really are serious, aren’t you? Sorry if I’m thoughtless. It’s just that everything seems so dark after seeing Camille cheat. If she doesn’t love me, who will?”“The shadows darken everything. You can’t see there the light, the brighter future.”“You sound like a Star Wars nerd now, Kraken?”“I’m not Yoda, but I think I can help. From the water, I’ll show you what I think Yoda would have shown you.”“Like, let me get this straight. A Nordic myth and a figment of George Lucas’s imagination will somehow contrive to school me on how to mend a broken heart?”The Kraken guffawed. “Yeah, something like that. Alternatively, I’ve been smoking the billabong, not swimming in it.”“Such a dad joke. You’re just a wannabe-comic and wannabe-Yoda, Kraken.”“Wannabe!” the Kraken said. “I’ll have you know Banjo Paterson thought me very wise and very witty.”“So, you really knew him? And the jolly swagman in Waltzing Matilda is actually a real person too?”“Yeah. They both called me Matilda. You should too.”“Seriously fuck Annie,” I said.“Well, perhaps a cocktail and dinner first.”“Sorry. I mean you’re seriously fucking called Matilda. And my name’s Annie.”“I seriously fucking am. I’m why Banjo wrote Waltzing Matilda. Now, kaçak bahis are you going to get wet or not?”“Just because you knew Banjo, I’m supposed to get naked and disport myself for the Kraken gaze!”“Ha. What makes you think your actually worth looking at? Like you haven’t even got a single tentacle.”I laughed, the Kraken had me there. Disrobing, I gingerly stepped into the refreshingly cool water.“Not a bad arse though, Annie,” Matilda observed, “Though you won’t be crowned Kraken rear-of-the-year anytime soon.”As I lay back in the water, I felt the Kraken slide underneath me. Six tentacles, wrapping around my hips, stomach and breasts, secured me against Matilda’s slimy slippery skin; their first touch sending tingles through my body, tingles which shamelessly lapped against my clit.“Can you count the stars, Annie?”Overhead, given the absence of artificial light, the vast Milky Way twinkled vividly. “No, there are millions and millions,” I replied, giggling, distracted by the featherlight tickling of two other tentacles as they danced across the soles of my feet.“Astronomers say there are a hundred thousand million stars in the Milky Way, you know.” The tentacles slurping my big toes had me shivering.“Doesn’t that make your feel insignificant, Matilda?” Two other tentacles began to slowly trace abstract patterns on my calves, before squeezing them and melting the tension from my muscles.“No, I’m not alone. The Emu in the Sky is with us, watching over you, me and all of creation,” Matilda said, their circling massaging tentacles drifting up past my knees. “Which star do you think Naboo circles?”“That’s George Lucas’s fantasy, not reality.” I whimpered as featherlight tentacle touches drew star shapes on my sensitive inner thighs.“You’re snuggling with a Kraken. You’re in no position to say what’s real and what’s not.” The two tentacles pressing against my breasts changed the way they held me. As if they had suction cups, they achingly softly clasped my nipples. “Do you see the Pointers, Annie?”“Of course. Alpha Centauri and Beta Centauri.” I moaned as my nipples were exquisitely squeezed and, as they stiffened, gently tugged.“I’ve named Alpha Centauri, the Jolly Swagman. It will always be the star I look to.” Another tentacle, with the delicacy of a butterfly, danced down my stomach towards my mound. The hairs on my skin stood on end.“You know they covered Everybody is a Star,” I said.“What on Earth are you talking about?”“The Pointer Sisters; they covered Everybody is a Star.”Matilda giggled. “You’re so random. But that’s apt, I guess.” The tentacles on my thighs circled lazily, teasingly inching ever higher across my skin, seemingly surreptitiously stalking my sex.“I know my pop culture.”“Annie, I’m thinking we should name Beta Centauri after the love of your life.” The tentacles on my breasts pulsed, suckling and releasing my stiff sensitive nipples again and again. I trembled lost in the carnal touches and then whimpered when the tips of the tentacles on my thighs met and painted my perineum with slimy sensual goo.“Beta Centauri is so not going to be called Camille.”Matilda sniggered. “Look for the head of the Emu in the Sky, Annie. It’s the dark Coalsack nebula around the Southern Cross.”Everything was still, the tentacles just held me as I scanned the night sky. “I see it.”“Run your illegal bahis eyes along that extension of the Great Rift trailing out to Scorpius. Stop at the nebula where the Emu’s legs join Her body. What do you see there, Annie?” The tentacles suddenly slurped and tugged my nipples hard, the sensation crashing against my engorging clit.“Oh God. See nothing. It’s so dark, a black hole, maybe. No, wait there’s one faint star.” One of the tentacles on my perineum drifted up, rasping tongue-like between my pussy-lips sucking my oozing folds. I moaned as I focused on that exquisite touch.“A black hole’s appropriate for an arsehole, don’t you think?”“The creator spirit has a pucker?” I asked, my voice gruff as the tentacle reached my now sopping opening.“Want to know what I call the star in the Emu’s bum?” Matilda asked. The tip of the other tentacle on my perineum slid across the sensitive ridges of my rosebud, adding to the exquisite feelings cascading through my body.I sighed, too focused on pleasure to speak.“Camille. Such a shit of a star.” Matilda whispered.“Oh fuck,” I giggle-whimpered, the joy of dissing Camille adding to the frisson from Matilda’s sensual touches.Two tentacles reached out and caressed my face, those touches marking me with an otherworldly glow that left me just aching. Every touch of Matilda’s felt like a balm, somehow staunching the bleeding from my broken heart.“Annie, there’s always a choice. Want me to continue?”“Yes. Please. I so need this.”Seven other tentacles began tracing abstract patterns across my skin, their touches exquisitely painting slimy salve on my skin. And from each touch, pleasure waves started rippling through my body all seemingly intent on battering my clit into some sort of submission.The two tentacles on my breasts continued to suckle and release my hard aching nipples, the building intensity adding to the throbbing of my clit. Then the tentacle on my stomach slid down and oh so lightly brushed my clit.“Yesssssssss,” I said whimpering.Matilda held the tentacles on my clit, my opening and my arse totally still. Nothing moved except for the water lapping against our bodies. Then suddenly, surprisingly, the tips of the three tentacles began flapping like hummingbird wings and I was inflamed by a desire, purer and rawer than any previous lust I had felt.“Please,” I said, moaning with anticipation.The tentacle caressing my arse adjusted in size, shrinking and sliding, without a burn, past my anal ring. Then, expanding its girth, it stretched and moulded itself perfectly against my anal walls; the nerves in my arse throbbing with the exquisite intensity that comes with the perfect fit.But as good as that was, it only seemed like perfection. For I entered a new realm of pleasure when a vibrating tentacle-tip grasped my clit in a velvet vice-like kiss. Instantly fully engorged by that suck, the throbbing of my clit matched the intensity of my heartbeat.The third tentacle vibrating against my opening, achingly slowly spread into my pussy. Like plasticine, it moulded to me and yet stretched me, the feeling simply heavenly. Pressing deeper, it slid over my g-spot and caressed my cervix.A tentacle slid into my mouth and down my throat, delightfully caressing nerves I didn’t know I had. And shockingly tentacles shrunk and entered my ears and nose. Those tentacles didn’t switch off my hearing, smell, and taste. Rather they harnessed those senses to my sense of touch, intensifying my brain’s perception of every touch every tentacle made, wherever it caressed me.

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