The Mermaid And The Fisherman 1

The Mermaid-

The sun hung high in a cloudless sky when a crown of golden hair broke the surface of the water. A pair of sea blue eyes emerged, followed by a set of shapely cheekbones. Finally, a perfectly pouty mouth came into view. These exquisite features belonged to Delphine, Daughter of the Sea.

With graceful ease her slender white hand reached up to block out the blinding glare. Once Delphine's piercing gaze had adjusted to the sunlight, she scanned the endless blue expanse. Her vision wasn't quite as sharp out of the water yet it was good enough to quickly confirm that she hadn't been followed.

These forays to the Above Lands weren't forbidden by the merfolk, strictly speaking, but they were strongly discouraged, undertaken rarely and cautiously. At the very least, an explanation would be asked. One Delphine wasn't sure she could give, even to herself.

Afterall, Delphine didn't have much esteem for the human world. They were oath breakers. Their violence and deception were legendary, and their thoughtless consumption caused them to ravage the ocean's precious resources. In contrast, her people were wise, measured, hard working. Never warring over territory or taking more from Mother Sea than they needed.

Admittedly, humans did have one major point in their favor- they had fun. Where Merfolk were serious and practical, humans, on the other hand, ran after pleasure without a thought. They ate what they wanted, did what they wanted, danced and sang for the pure joy of it. It was... intriguing.

Still, Delphine had no particular interest in humans. That is until she laid eyes on

him

. She'd been sunning herself in her favorite spot, a sandbar a few leagues from the shore, like any other day when suddenly his small fishing skiff appeared on the horizon. Quick as a flash, she slipped behind a rocky outcrop and watched transfixed as he cast his net again and again into the sparkling water.

She couldn't say exactly what drew this fisherman to her. The bronze skin stretched over his long, lean frame. Or maybe it was the eyes the color of summer grass. (At least what she imagined summer grass to look like.) Delphine hadn't seen many of his kind, mind you, yet enough to know that this one was an exceptionally handsome example.

But it was more than mere looks which drew her attention. Perhaps it was how he moved with such purpose and vitality, or how his eyes scanned the horizon as if searching for something beyond. Then there was the way he wrapped a rope around his rough hands. Suddenly a vision of those hands gripping her flesh flashed before her eyes. As he covered his lips over his wine sack she inexplicably wondered how those lips would feel on her bare skin.

Strange thoughts.

Since that day Delphine couldn't get this human out of her head. She found herself pulled away from her duties of seeding the coral beds or tending the pearl harvest to seek him out. She kept her distance, watching him do many things, fish, haul, swim, eat, sleep. One day she saw him rolling around in the sand with a woman. It looked as if they were fighting or maybe playing? She couldn't be sure. Her only reference for human behavior had been fragments of roman urns that made their way to the sea floor and they weren't any help in this case. She tried asking the elders to no avail. They clammed up like... well, clams.

Finding no answers from her own people and tired of wondering, she resolved to find out for herself. Today was the day. The sea was telling her so. The lapping of the water against her back murmured a call to action. The still air was suddenly broken by a wind gust that whispered the same wordless appeal.

Onward.

Who was Delphine to ignore such a command?

Once assured that none of her kind had followed, Delphine turned and sped towards the shore, anticipation fueling every flip of her powerful tail. With one final burst of speed she projected herself out of the surf and onto dry land. After the last drops of water had rolled off her scales, the change began. It started as a slight tickle, then an odd tingle, followed by a painful prickling sensation, as her scaley flesh separated and formed into two smooth shapely human legs.

With great care, she rose to her feet and took a few unsteady steps on her newly formed legs. It was a surreal experience, feeling the strange pull of gravity and adjusting to the dizzying height. The transformation did not end there though. Delphine became aware of a flood of human emotions too numerous and unfamiliar to name.

She didn't have time to dwell on these novel sensations. Her ultimate destination was calling her. The Voice of the Sea grew ever louder. It was an irresistible force beckoning her to go forward and she answered without hesitation. She knew just where he would be, having watched him for many tides. Today she vowed to do more than just watch.

Sure enough, there he was. In a secluded cove deeply inset into the coastline. He was dozing on the prow of his small fishing boat that had been hauled up on the shore.

Approach with caution

Delphine reminded herself. She had grown up with the stories, after all. Lore handed down from one generation to the next of a time when merfolk ventured more often onto the Above Lands. Sometimes gifting them with great treasure or even taking them as mates. Yet as man grew greedier, more rapacious, they went less and less onto the Above Lands until the practice was all but abandoned.

There were other stories too. Darker stories told to frighten merchildren. Ones of retribution against humans who had wronged the merfolk or took more than their share from Mother Sea. Avenging angels, sent by the Mother herself to lure unworthy souls to muddy death. Though it should be said that not all legends are true.

When she looked upon this fisherman those stories were swiftly forgotten. A hat over his eyes, he lay motionless apart from the even rise and fall of his chest. A coating of stubble shadowed his well-cut jawline. He looked even more beautiful up close. It made her long to throw caution to the wind. Creeping nearer, she thought he must be sleeping until a strange high pitch breathy sound came from his lips.

"What is that noise you're making?"

At the sound of her voice, he jumped up hastily, dropping his hat onto the ground.

"It's called a whistle. We're a long way from anywhere miss. Are you lost or hurt?" He asked before averting his eyes away from her nude form and towards the sand. Shuffling off his overcoat he held it out to her to protect her modesty. She took the garment, examined it and then dropped it the ground.

Silly humans,

she thought with a smirk.

"A whistle." She tried the strange word out on her tongue.

"You've never heard a whistle before?"

"We don't do that where I'm from."

"And where might that be?" He inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Not far from here," was all she said.

Despite his initial shyness he began to study her, letting his eyes drink their fill. Mermen didn't pay her curves much notice. Yet his gaze was as piercing as any fisherman's spear. It made her feel surprisingly... exposed. She was told that merfolk were created to be found beautiful to the eyes of land dwellers. Afterall, beauty could be a powerful defense (or weapon). That appeared to be the case here, judging by the way the mariner's gaze heated.

Delphine felt a similar heat. Her human form seemed to feel things that her mer self had only the smallest inkling. She tried to quell the unfamiliar sensations bubbling within her, focusing on the task at hand but visions of what it would feel like to touch this human, to be touched by him, would not be suppressed.

"You can't possibly be a local, if I'd see you before I would have noticed." He looked again at her naked body and then dropped his eyes down. Who knew humans could be so prudish?

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No of course not. Pardon my poor manners. Perhaps the lady would be needing some assistance? "

"With anything?"

"Anything, miss. I am at your service." He made a slight dip at the waist.

"Anything at all? You swear?"

"On my honor." He placed a hand over his heart in a gesture that was adorably sincere.

"Will you teach me how to whistle?"

He laughed at that. A low, sensuous sound that did strange things to her human stomach. "Not what I was expecting but a promise is a promise."

The Fisherman-

The fisherman beheld this gorgeous stranger wearing no more than a smile and a small necklace around her slim neck. Lithe limbs, golden hair, skin as pale white as moonlight dancing on the crest of waves. Eyes a deep fathomless blue. Lips redder than rubies. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. He wondered if he'd really woken from his afternoon nap or if he was still dreaming.

With a few steps she had closed the distance between them, her motions almost impossibly fluid and agile. She held his gaze for a moment and then coyly looked down. By the time she looked up again he was utterly entranced. And if he wasn't completely mistaken she was looking back at him with interest. The kind he'd recognized before in the women he had bedded. Their names and faces suddenly washed from his mind the moment he laid eyes on her.

"First shape your lips into an O." He instructed once he'd gathered enough of his wits to speak.

"Show me." Her voice, soft and melodic, swept over him like a lullaby.

The woman was close enough to pick up her smell. The long golden hair cascading down her back carried with it the scent of fresh ocean air. With slightly trembling hands he gently squeezes her face to demonstrate how to purse her lips. Just the slight contact of his hand on her smooth perfect cheek left him hard as brass.

"Wet your lips." He watched with rapt fascination as her pink tongue obediently swept across her lips. "Now blow."

She did as he directed. Only a quiet gust of air came from her captivating mouth which soon turned down into a frown.

"You must be thirsty. Here, have a drink."

"Thirsty?" She knitted her golden brow in confusion.

"Its not the finest vintage." He lifted his wine sack to her mouth. The red liquid dribbled down her chin and onto her chest. Without a thought he reached up to wipe the wine from the hollow of her collarbone. Embarrassed, he went to snatch his hand away but she stopped him. Their eyes met, his gaze searching hers as if in their depths he would find the key to unraveling the mystery. "Who are you?"

She answered him with a kiss. Their lips met in a collision of two worlds. The shocking intensity of it rendered him momentarily breathless. Once he'd caught his breath, he nudged her lips open gently so that his tongue could explore her mouth fully. She let out a gasp of surprised delight then quickly followed suit, entwining her tongue with his. He reveled in her eager curiosity. Everything seemed new to her. New and exciting.

He didn't dare to press her further about her identity. 'Never question a bounty from the sea', the words of his grandfather rang in his ears. A fisherman too like his father and his father before him. Generations scratching out a living from its fathomless waters. 'If she chooses to bless you with a good catch, who are you to wonder why?'

Their embrace deepened, fueled by an unspoken connection that transcended their short acquaintance. Time seemed to stand still as they explored this newfound passion. Clutching the back of her head, he feasted on her mouth that tasted of lust and saltwater. The fisherman was drawn to her with a hunger he couldn't comprehend. His lips left hers only so that they could trail down her neck while his hands toyed with her nipples, testing her reactions.

She inhaled sharply. A sound that he found infinitely charming. Her eagerness in the face of apparent inexperience was utterly bewitching.

Once he was confident she wouldn't object, he began touching her all over, handling her like the precious object she was. All the while her own hands were not idle. Her curious fingers explored his body like it was uncharted territory that she was determined to map.

She took the lead in removing his clothes. In her eagerness she ripped open his shirt as if she'd never undone a button in her life. He chuckled at her enthusiasm while the buttons scattered into the sand. When she slipped her slender fingers down is pants he was quite sure he'd actually died in his sleep and had gone straight to heaven.

The Mermaid-

Delphine's head was reeling. The kiss had been a revelation. Watching was one thing, experiencing was quite another. When their lips first touched the wave of arousal that had washed over her was the most intense sensation she'd ever felt. A hundred times more intense than any feeling she'd ever experienced in her mer form. That is until his hands slid down to toy with her nipples. Then that became the top moment. By the time his touch had reached the delta between her legs she ceased keeping track.

For the merfolk procreation was a sedate and impersonal affair. Drop your eggs and go. This was something entirely different. This was lust that clawed at her belly, a living thing trying to break free. Lust- a force fabled to have the power to build empires and raze kingdoms. Delphine was starting to believe the fables.

Delphine's human body seemed to work on pure instinct and she let it take over. It sprang to life, yearning to be an active participant. She ran her hands across his chest, now freed from those silly human clothes. It was warm and bronze from the sun's caress. Her inquisitive fingers reached out to touch the dark wisps of hair there, a thing unheard of in the male of her species. It seemed exquisitely masculine.

Her nose greedily inhaled his scent, the smell of rich topsoil, lush vegetation, earthy spices. All unique and exotic to her. Her senses couldn't get enough of him and the feeling was evidently mutual. Her fisherman was kissing her as if he wanted her more desperately than a drowning man wants his next breath. His strong arms held her close enough that her breasts were crushed against a chest as rough and hard as she'd imagined.

Longing made her suddenly doubt the strength of her fledgling legs. Fortunately he was thoughtful enough to pull her down slowly until their bodies were nestled together on the sun-warmed sand. With a wicked grin he settled between her thighs, slick as a seal with arousal. Slowly he parted the lips of her shell-like sex exposing them to his view. To the place where this newly discovered awareness seemed to be centered.

"What a delectable pussy." He rasped.

Pussy?

Delphine had never heard the word. She didn't get the chance to contemplate the information further as his tongue came down to lap at the flesh there. He did this over and over until the thought flew from her head. Until her own name was forgotten. The stubble of his cheeks rubbed against her pale thighs as he plunged his tongue into her wet heat over and over. His finger joined in, dipping between her sensitive folds, opening up a world of fresh sensations. Delphine was quite sure she had never seen that on any ancient pottery before.

Soon his devoted attentions had her writhing like a fish on a hook. Her hands clutched fistfuls of sand. She couldn't remember the word for the ten little things at the end of her feet but she'd finally figured out what they were made for- curling.

Delphine couldn't take it any longer. She was seized by the urge to return the divine gift of pleasure. Without warning she wrapped her legs around him and rolled so that she was on top. Bit by bit she crawled down his body until she was face to face with his male member. She hadn't seen one up close before. A fascinating creature; firm yet supple with a delicate lattice of purple veins running along its proud length. She decided that despite the talent of Roman potters they didn't do the real thing justice.

"What do you call this?"

He gave a low laugh. "It has many names, but I prefer cock."

"Cock." She tested the word in her mouth and decided that she liked the strong, hard sound of it.

Delphine lifted her hypnotic blue gaze so that she was looking him in the eyes when the head of his 'cock' slipped between her lips. He tasted briny, vital, elemental, like life itself. Strictly speaking, she didn't know what she was doing so she let instinct take the lead. Wrapping her lips around his member, she took more of him into her mouth.

Clearly she was on the right track judging by the low appreciative groan that spilled from his throat. It gave her a surge of feminine power. The same age-old power, Delphine thought, that Helen must have felt as 10,000 ships sailed to war in the name of her beauty. With it came an intense sense of possessiveness. She wanted this man all for herself. She wanted, no- needed to make him forget all mortal women. Pouring that feeling into the act, her cheeks hollowed at the effort. He pressed her head down to bring her closer, coaxing him even farther down her throat. His breath had become rough and uneven.

"Enough" the fisherman growled. With a deep groan, he pulled from her mouth. In the span of a heartbeat, she found herself looking up at the bright blue sky, her back pressed flat onto the sand. In the next moment he was on top of her coaxing her legs wide. Aided by her wetness his manhood slid easily inside her 'pussy' until they were one. It hurt for only a single moment. And then it was bliss.

His thrusts were deliciously deep, his rhythm as sure and smooth as the tide. Savoring the feeling of fullness, she reached down to his waist to press her palms into the small of his back, angling him even deeper. He gripped her hips tightly, his fingers biting into her flesh in such a way she couldn't decide if it was painful or pleasurable. Perhaps there was no firm line between the two.

Her mind flashed back to the day she had slipped into the cove to find the fisherman with a woman. At the time she didn't understand what they were doing. Now that she did the memory made her feel angry and vaguely nauseous. He should be hers and hers alone!

As if reading her thoughts, he clasped her wrists and pinned them above her head in a clear act of possession. It reminded Delphine of the old fish tales, of the covetous qualities of men. The ones who took what they wanted from the sea without asking. Who stole mer brides, chaining them up far away from their home.

Her eyes slid to the ghastly nets piled on the deck of his boat. A reminder of the hundreds of fish he had ripped from the sea. She had seen them. Their wide, dead eyes peered from beneath those tangled nets, slowly rotting in the sun. He didn't seem capable of such cruelty towards her yet who knew the darkness that lurked in men's hearts. Could she really trust him? Her people warned against the dangers of men, fishermen most of all. Hunters of the sea. Killers and looters, all.

Then he released her wrists and his fingers found the nub of flesh at the apex of her sex. His thumb circled the hard pearl as he worked in and out of her with his cock. Her doubts dimmed. The heat of anger turned to passion. Her whole existence diminished to the divine sensation being produced in that miraculous little spot.

Just when she thought it couldn't possibly get any more divine, it did. The sensation crested, striking her with the sudden force of a tidal wave. Keening cries spilled from her lips. Her human lungs sucked in gulping breaths. Desperate fingers clung to her lover, nails digging red crescents into his biceps. He swiftly followed, pleasure breaking and crashed all around them as he spilled his briny seed deep inside her.

Exhausted and breathless, they collapsed into the sand, side by side. He pulled her in fiercely, their bodies inseparable, his arms wrapped tightly around her as if he would never let go. Playfully she nuzzled his shoulder, savoring the sharp tang of salt from sweat and sea. In the overwhelming afterglow, utterly spent and entwined, she finally grasped the intense, consuming human obsession with pleasure.