Shoreline

: a story about a mermaid

Cracking the shell open she exposed its glittering mother of pearl insides and the soft pale meat. Raising the shell to her lips to drink, she tilted her head back, tipping her chin to the side, showing him the long length of her throat as she swallowed, a gesture was so human it was unmistakable. So pointed it seemed entirely logical for him sidle closer and dip his head. 

His lips connected with the side of her throat, above a small fan of flexing gills. She froze, and the tremble of his touch rolled through her. Together they registered the length of their bodies pressed side by side, his shirt pressing damp against him where her skin was wet. Beneath his lips he could feel her pulse, hammering fast. That was all it took. Blood rushed to his cock so quickly it left him light-headed. He traced his fingers over her black lips, cold under his touch, surprisingly dry.




She made small sounds he didn’t understand in a low voice with a strange smooth accent that clipped off what he thought of as words.The soft rumble of the sounds she made, like an accent that was impossible to place, made him emit something dangerously close to a whimper...

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