Bending into the wind, Finn Cameron cursed steadily under his breath. He was well aware that he had had one whiskey too many and his cock quivered between his legs, aching and aroused because that little bitch Bridget O'Malley had given him a good feel of those big pendulous tits of hers but been adamant about allowing him no egress to whatever lay between those plump thighs. Heavy and warm in his hands, the hard rubbery nubs of her teats had driven him mad with lust. He had taken her little hand and tried to at least coax her to give his prick a rub, but squealing, she had slapped his hands away and run giggling back into the dance.
Frustrated and angry, he had slammed out of the ceidlh and headed home. What he hadn't anticipated was the gale force winds and driving rain that even now was making him breathless. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was a fool to keep the little cottage so far from town and so close to the sea.
But as his strong legs drew him close to home, the rich, salty smell of the ocean managed to send tendrils of scent through the driving rain, and stopping for a moment, Finn drew that familiar, beloved scent deep into his lungs. The wind buffeted the tousled fair hair, tangled and curly hanging to shoulders, the stormy grey eyes closed. The wind blew a little less hard and for a moment the full moon sent a silvery glow which lighted his way. Clouds, roiling and dark, scudded across its dulcet surface, creating twisting shadows and lending a softness to the sparse vegetation and wind-burned heather which clung tenaciously to the rolling hills.
He was near the cliff now, a path his feet could take him safely through whether he was blind drunk or exhausted from a hard day pulling nets and fighting the sea for sustenance. Standing on the precipice which loomed over his small home, Finn allowed the wind to flirt and push, sending softer fingers now to curl beneath the muscular arms, the strong, thick thighs and to slap gently against weathered cheeks.
The clouds cleared for a moment, pushed by eddies of a dying storm and the moon shone rich and full, illuminating the restless water below. Despite being clouded with drink, Finn's eyes searched the ocean below, taking in the eddies and flow, the white foam flecked waves and the slap of water against the rocky beach, rhythmic and mesmerizing, as familiar and dear to him as his own breath.
Dark bobbing heads and a wild cry like a woman's scream startled him for a moment, until, grinning at his own befuddlement, Finn took in the dark heads of seals bobbing close to shore. He wondered if his own pretty pet was out among them, and following a whim, began to scramble down the rocky path to the beach.
Finn knew the other fisher folk would jeer. Seals and fisher folk were not always the best of friends, each seeing the other as a potential rival for the sometimes uncertain bounty of the sea. But Finn, secretly, had an affinity for the cheeky, sleek animals with their long intelligent heads and darkly lashed eyes. He would pause in the battered scow of his boat and watch them for a moment, admiring their athletic and sleek muscled bodies and the grace they exhibited as they bobbed and dived just feet away from his puttering vessel. One bold seal in particular had become almost a pet. Finn called it a "her" but wasn't quite certain – he knew her because unlike the dark brown soulful eyes of the other seals, this one had some form of genetic abnormality and the big, dark lashed eyes were light.
She always seemed to be around when he was out, barking and flirting, flipping a bold tail and leaping in a graceful arc from the waves when he threw her a fish. He admittedly found it a little odd sometimes because occasionally the look in those unusually beautiful eyes would disconcert with the intelligence which seemed to shine from them.
Stumbling but somehow keeping his balance, Finn made it to the beach. Down here in the sheltering arms of the cliff which loomed above, the wind's force was muted. He stopped for a moment, feeling woozy. The crash of the waves slapping against the shore was loud now that he was so close, the pounding of the surf echoing off the grey rock. The barking of the seals, wild and forlorn caught his attention. Squinting, Finn tried to peer through the murk as he heard stones rattling and the sound of something dragging.
In the sky above, the full moon shone full on the tiny bay as clouds scudding across its surface cleared.
Finn could see a black mass at the far end of the beach, a mass which seemed to move and writhe but drink and night clouded his normally keen eyes and he couldn't quite make out what it was.
A heavy storm cloud roiled in the night sky, obscuring the bright silver glow of light and defeating any chance he had of making out what was occurring at the other end of the small beach.
Shaking his head, Finn thought he caught a glimpse of something pale. Stumbling on the uneven sandy soil, he tried to tread carefully as he wound his way to the far end to investigate.
Then, out of the murk, a figure, insubstantial, ghostly, seeming to almost float, suddenly appeared. His ears full of the monotonous compelling sound of surf, the muted whistle of wind rubbing soft lips against his face, Finn wondered for a moment whether he had indeed drank far too much.
"Hello!"
Feeling foolish, because after all, it was 1 o'clock in the morning on a goddam bloody stormy night, who in the name of God would be about except himself?
Unbelieving, Finn watched as a figure glided towards him, pale and curved, skin glowing translucent in the gloom, illuminated briefly as scudding clouds cleared and the full moon's sibilant light shone down.
She was tall and almost painfully slender with long sleek muscled limbs. Dense, black hair, lustrous and glossy even in the night snapped around her fine boned face, dominated by huge eyes, which even at this short distance were oddly compelling. Her breasts were small firm mounds on a narrow chest, with swollen dark nipples, tip tilted and delicious. Except for the sweep of hair which snapped and flew around her head, spilling over narrow shoulders and masking for a moment the delectable breasts, the girl was completely smooth. The soft mound of her sex, a plump vee between the long narrow thighs was completely naked yet unmistakably adult.
"Jesus, Mary and Holy Saint Joseph, sweet one, what in the name of God are you doing out here at this time of night?"
Finn felt heat suffice his face as he took in the nude figure. Nude women were not a common occurrence on the windswept beaches of the Orkneys, that was for damn sure.
A practical man, he immediately wondered if perhaps a ship had foundered and then the thought there might be others arrowed into his drink-fuddled mind.
"Are there more of you?" he asked roughly, his fisherman's instinct taking over.
