Shipwreced on Mermaid Isle

The roiling sky was rent by a wicked, forked lance of white-hot lightning as the full fury of the storm slammed into the merchant vessel, Abundant Horizons. Across its rain-slicked deck scurried harried, valiant men, near exhaustion as they battled to keep their frigate above the clutching, malevolent waves.

A castle-high wall of frothing water battered the beleaguered vessel as cries of "Man overboard!" rose again and again above the panicked wails of the shaken crew. Louder than all was the deep, booming, commanding cry of the captain as he rallied his men to succeed in the grandest of battles against a most unrelenting foe; a turbulent ocean.

It was a battle that looked lost as the gargantuan tidals tormented them from all sides. The captain's knuckles were white as he vainly steered the stricken vessel to nowhere safe.

Crack! Crash!

BOOM!

The doom-laden sounds transcended even the voluminous noise of the storm. All about, sailors were tossed to the deck. Suddenly, the boat lurched, it seemed to have struck some obstruction in the churning waters below, a reef or a giant wall of rocks and dozens of seamen lost their footing and found themselves flung with terrible force against the starboard railing. And they struck hard: men cried out in the agony of shattered limbs and many tumbled, end over end, to the hungry, violent sea below.

As wicked lightning lashed the deck, the captain, valiant to the last, whispered a haunted prayer as the Abundant Horizon surrendered to its doomed fate...

--

The end came upon them and a watery battering ram thundered into the stricken boat. Somehow alone, separated from his crewmates amidst the hell-sent chaos, a solitary sailor lost his usually sure footing and slammed, face first, into the deck. He shook his ringing head, his sight obscured by pained stars, and he struggled to focus his eyes on the terrifying scene before him: two of the Horizons' masts had snapped, their splintered remnants showered across the cluttered deck. His terrified eyes lingered upon the slumped body of a comrade whose chest was ruptured through with the thick, rent wood.

Above the din, the sailor heard the last desperate, haunted cries of his captain as that noble man sought to steady his men when they stared into the cold, unforgiving eyes of the Reaper. But the usually stout sound wavered and was lost to the many thunderous crashes of the unending water.

Now, in its final death throes, the Abundant Horizon heaved and churned in the roiling waters. The sailor lost his footing, slipping, tumbling, cartwheeling end over end into the hungry maw of the waiting, terrible ocean...

--

With his limbs flailing and his body twisting, the sailor fell to his doom, his battered body slamming into the black waves hard. In an instant he was beneath the tormented sea's surface, its chill enveloping him as he dropped rapidly into the midnight-coloured depths.

Panicked, his actions ruled by instinct only, he sucked in lungfuls of icy water, spewing it back out only to breathe it back in again. His nose and throat stung and his eyes seemed to be boiling and freezing in the same moment. The weight of his sodden boots tugged him further and further below the waves and the sailor felt the darkness begin to take him.

As he dropped to his watery grave, deep, deep down to some shadowy Hell, he sighted figures straight from myth. No, not angels come to escort him to the afterlife, something far more...

Though they were some distance away, and the man's eyes burned and his sight was poor in the churning depths, the sailor, if he lived, would swear upon the Throne and the Good Book to the validity of what he had spied. His eyes widened at their forms: they looked to be voluptuous women but, where their taut torsos should have extended to shapely legs, there hung instead long, scaly tails.

--

The deafening roar of the waves crashed onto the sandy shore, soaking the battered body of the lone sailor washed up on the beach. He coughed and sputtered as the water deluged his lungs. His body was slammed by the endless rhythm of the water. His clothing was torn and shredded. His pallid skin marked with harsh, red abrasions.

Tossed again as the waves reached their crescendo, his breath was poorly timed and his lungs stung again as he swallowed deep gulps of warm sea water. Violent coughs racked his shaken torso and his hazel eyes rolled back in his head. He caught a fleeting glimpse of an azure sky and melted away to darkness.

--

Some intermittent period of time passed and he was woken by the warmth of a burning noonday sun. The heat blistered his burning skin. He blinked salt-crusted, stinging eyes and rolled onto his battered back. The sky was a stunning cobalt, nearly matched by the water that licked at his heels. His clothes, leather breeks and a cotton shirt, were torn and his boots gone.

Each and every part of his body ached, but his head throbbed more than anything else. His long, curled dark hair hung messily across his brow providing only minimal relief from the damned sun in his eyes; it's blistering rays keeping him from seeing more clearly where he was. He lay on his back, lifted a weary, shaky hand to his brow and flinched as he touched a stinging bump, bringing his fingers away to spy flecks of crimson.

With a herculean effort he heaved himself onto his right side and then to shaky knees, now slightly submerged thanks to the rising tide, and looked about himself. He was on some empty, pristine beach, its sand white and pure. Some ways up from the shore the beach gave way to tall, rushy grasses and beyond that to a verdant rainforest.

He blinked, the sun strong in his eyes and then, his heavy eyelids fluttered again... No! It couldn't be! Ahead of him, some way away, he saw them emerging from the line of trees: a group of people strolling down toward the beach, come to rescue him. He would be saved! He drew a deep, exalted breath, mouthed a prayer and passed out, his head striking the sand hard as he drifted into a newly minted darkness.

--

The lost sailor awoke to a truly unimaginable scene: all about him were a tribe of... women. However, they looked unlike any ladies the sailor had spied at home, nor aboard any vessel on any sea he had sailed.

All were nude, wearing not even a single thread of clothing. While wearing no garments, their lithe bodies were decorated with twined grasses, feathers, flowers, stones and seashells; arranged in bracelets, anklets, necklaces and twisted about their tight waists. Some of the women, who looked to be warriors, carried long spears and wooden, carved shields.

The man blushed, but could not keep his dazzled eyes from their stunning forms. The women appeared as whispered goddesses of mythology: their frames tall, slender, muscular and heavily bosomed. They each wore their hair long, the flowing manes were blonde, reddish, brunette and raven-dark, and in their nakedness he spied aligning colours upon their labia.

They appeared as erotic angels, ladies of such legendary beauty as to steal away his haggard, heavy breath. The sailor's cheeks flushed as his full eyes hung upon their bareness and he reached shaking hands out towards the mysterious women and called with a croaky, weak voice.

"Help... me! Please..." At the distraught, strained sounds of his cries the mysterious women hesitated, some of them looking to a large breasted blonde at the lead of the pack, her hair entwined with seashells and sparkling prisms of colour. "

Wa-wa-ter...," He begged again and then fainted into exhausted unconsciousness.

--

A torrent of cool, fresh water was splashed into his face and the sailor woke, rising unsteadily to a seated position. He leaned forward and looked up from the sandy ground, instantly mesmerised by the heavy orbs of dozens of undulating breasts and luscious, puffy nipples that dangled before him.

Some of the women were kneeling on the ground, strangely stroking the shredded trousers upon his legs. His tattered shirt was removed, a group of the naked women were holding it up to the sunlight, peering at the frangible fabric in some awkward amazement, their lithe fingers pawing at the alien, silken cloth.

If not for his parched throat, aching body and weary mood, he would have been more embarrassed at the unseemly sight of so many unchaste, youthful women. But, they paid not a moment's heed to each other's stark nudity, instead they had become truly engrossed in the tattered remains of his shirt, such a common thing! All the while, some of the others continued pawing at his trouser-covered legs.

Their touch was not unwelcome, but he was unused to being surrounded by such lewdness and kept his eyes downcast. Yet, he couldn't help becoming aroused, nor could he stop himself from stealing furtive, lascivious, sneaked looks upon their nakedness: when had he last felt the touch of a woman? When had he ever spied such young, full, firm busts? He had mostly known a sailor's life: months at sea, away from home, sharing only the company of rambunctious, perennially drunk seamen.

And now, after his vessel was wrecked, had he found some fabled, far-off Land Of Women? Was he perhaps dead, ascended to some heaven populated by lusting seraphs? Had he hit his head so hard that this was merely some erotic dream, a made up, topsy turvy fantasy? Hurting and dazzled, he could be sure of only one thing, for he felt it...

And the women spied it too: first one and then many spotted the growing bulge in his ruined trousers. The sight of all this nudity, together with the questing caresses of such bawdy maidens, had girded his loins. The sailor felt his flaccid penis begin to fill and thicken as, despite aching weariness, lusty blood rushed down to his fast throbbing cock.

The women spotted it, noticed the swelling and suddenly spoke with each other in excited, tittering tones. The meanings of words, voiced in such a perplexing language, eluded him, yet they sounded somehow... heavenly. The women's eyes, shades of deep azure and lustrous, golden caramel and coal deep darkness, seemed to widen, curiouser and curiouser as his manliness became fully engorged.

One stepped forward, a tightly-muscled, dark haired girl with round, firm and lightly tanned breasts. She wore almost no decorations, save a few feathers in her midnight mane. Her hands reached towards him and her long, slender fingers appeared to him more like talons as they gathered the remaining tattered fabric of his breeks. Then, in one strong and swift movement, the sound of rending cloth filled the air as the woman yanked hard and his trousers were torn from his legs!

The sailor gasped in horrible fright, at once overawed by the sea woman's strength and, again, bewildered and embarrassed by his sudden near-nakedness. He lay on his back on the sand, his legs hurriedly crossed and barely concealing the waterlogged, flimsy fabric of his undergarments which were already stretched by the elongated form of his hard fiddle.

Two of the nude women unceremoniously gathered up his feet, lifting his legs into the air and the raven haired lady who had removed his pants knelt between his thighs. Her smouldering eyes bore into his and her voiced chirruped and tittered excitedly as her hands darted forward. The giddy maiden grabbed two fistfulls of his wet undergarments and heaved!

"Aaargh!" the sailor cried as the fabric was torn and his ramrod cock burst forth from the destroyed undercloth. He heard the gathered women gasp, an unusual sound: at once filled with fright and wonder and awe. With all this nudity about him, his penis stood hard as a mast and pointed up into the hot air, it's stretched shaft, near eight long inches, escaping dark tufts of wiry pubic hair. Along its length, blue and burgundy coloured veins throbbed with lusty blood. His stretcher's bulbous head strained just past the wrinkle of fleshy foreskin as he grew ever harder in the presence of so many naked angels. His heavy balls hung below, their sack covered in dark, wiry pubes.

"My... Oh my...," He stammered with some embarrassment, his breath laboured. The air about him was filled with the excited sounds of siren gasps. He felt so many, many eyes drawn to his stiffened knob and his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Seized by instinct, he rushed his hands to cup his nakedness. But his modesty lasted mere moments as two blondes strode forward, seized his wrists and lifted him to his feet.

The muscular dark haired girl strode forward, her chest seeming to rise and fall rapidly and she pointed to his hard flesh and spoke again, a lilting, lyrical tone that commanded attention. In answer to her calls, another woman strode from the treeline, and she was unlike any other of the naked, lustrous girls before him. She walked with a regal grace that left all the others seeming awkward scullery maids. In their presence, she strode as a monarch, the undisputed ruler of this island of nymphs.

The Queen, as she appeared, was a tall brunette with striking, sultry, ocean-green eyes and a wax-like, smooth face of eternal youth and beauty. Her visage was angled and bronzed by the eternal island sun, filled over with curling dark hair. The Queen's frame was toned and, like her sisters, her breasts were full; her's crowned with sun darkened areolas and hard, distended nipples. The woman's fawny pubic mound crested impossibly long, taut legs and her buttocks were hard; she was a Sexual Goddess. She appeared to him a woman no older than her early twenties.

This embodiment of unworldly beauty stood before him, a sensuous, wanton force of untamed nature. Her body was decorated with bracelets of wood and twisted grasses, as well as jewellery fashioned of shells and coral. Her chocolate brown hair was woven with feathers and flowers and precious gemstones. At the imperious wave of her hands, the blondes dropped his wrists and he stood naked and alone, about to be subjected to the wilder-ravishings of a carnal Mermaid Queen.

Her eyes met his briefly and she stood close, facing him, the heat of her skin on his own. His cheeks red and his head spinning, he struggled to lock his eyes with hers, his own chest bursting with a mix of heady lust and deep, unparalleled fear.

The Ruler Of Tides allowed her ripe lips to brush his, their softness and fullness tickling his stubbled visage and causing his inches to leap as more blood rushed to the stiffed rod. His hard dick pressed into the flesh of the Queen's abdomen and the touch of her hot skin sent delightful shocks through his aching shaft. At the sight of his bouncing ballocks, the gathered women whooped and hollered, their cries emboldening their lustful queen.

The woman's hands came upon his muscled chest and the gathered girls cried again. The sailor felt his legs begin to buckle as her paws wound their way down his torso... Warm waves of lust rushed down his toned abdomen as the alien Queen tightened her fingers to grasp around his dick stick. The nude women howled again as the Monarch's hand encircled the thickened girth of his pole and a quizzical look danced in her wide eyes.

Lost in a daze, it took the awestruck sailor a moment to realise that the woman had absolutely no idea what to do with his engorged prick. How had such a wanton beauty never before sighted such a lust-bloated cock? The gathered women waited in a silence heavy with anticipation as they looked to their leader with expectant, yet unknowing, eyes. She stood and held his hardness, yet seemed unsure of what to do next.

The sailor, although himself greatly puzzled at these events, took the initiative to act upon his own building urges and placed his hand upon hers. He grasped the Queen's slender fingers and guided her into rhythmically stroking his building hardness. His own breath quickened and the Queen gathered her palm into a loose fist, learning quickly and now taking long, slow strokes up and down his pulsating sex stalk.

Sweat began to bead on his forehead as the hotness of the sun mingled with the scorched heat of the moment and waves of bliss crashed upon his shaft and twirled their way across his aching body. In his pleasure, he had begun to moan loudly and soon noticed that many of the nude women were wailing in time with his smutty cries. His horn grew even harder, it's full head now nearly free from his foreskin, as he spied some of the women easing fingers up into their own dripping slits. At the same time others, overcome with lust, were pleasuring their sisters in totally wanton displays of deeply depraved sapphic sin...

Minutes passed and the Queen's handheld ministrations gathered, in time with his quickened breaths and building, ecstatic moans. The panting cries of the mermaids became a raucous cacophony of raging desire and he felt his pebbles tighten as his seed began to gather for its coming eruption.

Glistening dollops of pre-cum oozed out from the opened eye of his glans, their ropy strands dripping over the stroking fingers of the Queen. The sailor was rock hard now and his cries became a loud, gathering crescendo that roared above even the sounds of the wild ocean.

The deep, emerald eyes of the Queen met his and, in her gaze, he saw some animalistic... plea. Her eyes begged for his coming release, looking as though she expected some unknown, heaven-sent, holy nirvana was almost upon her. He was unsure if she knew what was to truly come, but his knob was now slick with the sweat of her palm and his own jizz juices, enabling her to quicken her jerking pace.

Untold waves of ecstasy swept along his straining cum-stick, engulfing his tightened ball sack and burst with boiling heat across his abdomen. His early man cream now totally slicked the eye and throbbing head of his pointer; its trail of boiling lust streaking along nearly half of his huge shaft, some of it twisting, dripping to the sandy ground at his feet.

At the sight of the dangling, syrupy strands of his sex ooze, dozens of sea sylphs ran long, wet tongues hungrily across their starving lips. The Queen momentarily took her hand from the man's sex rod and brought her hungry tongue to sticky fingers, tasting his juices; some of the gathered merewifs cried out in their own jealousy and others forced fingers into the swollen honeypots of their loves and drew out their own slicked fingers to taste heady fuck musk.

The sight of the women pleasuring each other, together with the Queen's handjob was becoming too much for the wench-spoiled sailor. His laboured pants were now full-bodied lust cries and, where his testicles were brought close to his body, they now ached in such a dastardly manner as an overwhelming pressure built and surged between his bags and the base of his sex shaft.

"Puh... Ph... Please!" He wailed. "I... must!" He begged and the Mer-Monarch released her grip on his now bruise-coloured cumpole. The wailing of the mermaids ceased and no sound was heard above the ocean's waves.

The sailor's almost eight inch tool was now a deep purple-red, glistening with slippery pre-cum that still flowed from his pleasured, tortured dick's splurge hole. He needed release and reached his own hand to his sex mast.

The Queen scowled and violently slapped his hand away before it even got close to his own cock; the gathered water sprites hollered again.

"I... I... Must! I must CUM! Please!" The man cried, tears leaking from his eyes. "It's been so long... I... need... this!" The sailor's cry was desperate, rasping with pent up, beastly, sexual fervor. And then, for the first time, he heard the Queen speak in an alien tongue, the accent unworldly, yet the word was clear.

"Cah-Uh-Mmm?...," She mouthed the syllables that did not belong to her world, her time.

"Yes!" He cried, his eyes wide in hope. "Cum! Please!"

"Cuh-Mh?... Cum?"