Warning: horror, M/F?, man abuse, myth abuse, anthropophagism, tentacle sex, violence, gore, flowery prose, and gratuitous alliteration. May contain shellfish.
The Little Mermaid
by Mary Harris
She loves them, each and every one. And they love her too, she thinks.
This little cove of gently undulating water is a likely place to wait. And why not? Her lovers are drawn to the same lovely, lonely spots as she; it is fate that they should meet.
She rises near the surface by moonlight, so they can see her - just barely; a pale, amorphous shadow beneath the dark ripples. The sailors, the fishermen, those who wander the coasts staring at the warm sea by night, craving its salty, mysterious feminine embrace. Others, women and children and the aged, don't see her, because they don't wish to.
Sure enough, a dark shape comes and stands on a rock, gazing out into the night. A man, bare to the waist like a workman, he seems restless and lonely. She knows who he seeks; he is searching for her. Blushing with pride, she raises her lips above the surface, blows him a kiss. He doesn't see her yet; it is very dark even with the moonlight, but he hears the moist breath. Looking down and around, more listening than seeing, he finds her pale form under the water, her rosy lips pursed in another kiss.
From the gasp, and then the moan which escapes his lips, she knows she is lovely to his heartstruck eyes.
* * *
Andros sees the milky shape of a woman wavering under the clear seawater. A soft, round face wreathed with dark hair like seaweed, and arms undulating about a bare bosom; further down is too dark and indistinct to see. She hovers just under the water, gazing up at him with longing. Not a woman... He realizes with a shock of excitement what he is looking at. The legends...by the lyre! She's a mermaid!
Her skin glows like alabaster where the moonlight strikes it, but her lips, raised again to beseech him silently, are flushed and full. They form into a soft kiss, sink below the water again. His heart pounds for a moment, thinking she might slip away. But no, she is waiting, extending her arms towards him beneath the water. Her fingers curl in a beckoning gesture.
He leaps down to the water's edge, hopping heedlessly from rock to rock until his feet splash into warm salt water. Soft fingertips brush his sandalled feet; he feels the touch all the way up to his groin. The momentary doubt, some half-remembered warning about these daughters of the sea; such intrusions are swept from him by a kiss on his big toe. Andros groans, barely able to stand; it feels as though she were mouthing his penis. The mermaid drifts back, her white arms still reach towards him in supplication. Stumbling over the slippery footing, he wades deeper, follows her swaying form.
The nymph waits until he is neck-deep in the shifting water, then she pauses and begins to explore him with gentle wonder. Andros feels the softest touch as one hand caresses down his chest, over each rib. Another touch on his side, sliding back to explore the roundness of his rear. Remotely, he feels the seam of his trousers rip; she is gently pulling them apart. Tiny fingertips sear delicious lines of unquenchable fire on his belly, the small of his back, across the tenderest flesh of his inner thighs. Still, she moves as though entranced, eager yet without hurry.
His hands fumble towards her through the clinging water, trying to grasp the mermaid's body, to pull it closer. He touches for the briefest of moments a surface too smooth and giving, too chill for such a creature of passion, and then his hands are grasped firmly, thrust away from her. She continues, but he heeds the warning, and does not touch the magical creature further.
Her mouth presses to the skin of his chest, slides over a rigid nipple, brushes through the fine hairs that trail his belly. Andros cries out when full lips suck at his navel, her tonguing insistent and nearly hard enough to bruise. She relents, soothes him again, coaxes with anemone fingers and loving kisses, drifting lower.
The mermaid caresses his urgent stiffness carelessly, slides her cheek past it, playfully winding thick tendrils of her hair about the strained flesh. She lunges, and he loses his footing for a moment as her mouth encloses that inflamed part of him. Strong fingers brace him up again, and he coughs out saltwater with a grunt of ecstatic dismay; there are another pair of hands still fondling his rear, pinching and tickling like tiny mouths.
She engulfs his penis in her slippery orifice, suckling without mercy or reservation. Taking him more deeply within, her whole mouth seems to pulse and swell like a restless sea. He pushes his hips into her, desperate for her greedy hunger. Her hands, many hands, press him tightly to her face.
The soft lips stretch around him, envelop even more, take his testicles within the warm, clasping embrace. He can no longer wonder about the fingers, so many fingers, kneading, sucking all around his thighs, in the cleft of his buttocks. No mortal woman could ever swallow him so fully.
The heat of his pleasure is like Greek fire, spreading uncontrollably through his helpless, submerged flesh. His entire pelvis feels enveloped by her magical lips; the rush of fulfillment sweeps over him, a drowning swell, and he spurts into her with a hoarse cry. Helpless in the delirium of orgasm, he watches his severed legs fall away and drift to the shallow seabed.
Still, she kisses him. With her whole mouth, loving, until he is all but consumed.
The eyespots atop her head stare sightlessly into the depths, but her soft lips curve up in a sincere smile.
"You were wonderful," the mermaid sighs to his head, before engulfing it with a wet crunch.
by Mary Harris
All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
(Anyone feel like a midnight swim?)
the Little Mermaid Copyright 2007 by Mary Harris [aka redplanetes]
~plagarists will be flayed alive~