“Hold on tight,” she warns, and immediately shoots off through the water. My upper body rocks like a broncobuster’s as we speed through the swaying seaweed. I have to grip her with all my might to stay on. My legs are aching and I can feel the powerful muscles of her tail rippling between my thighs. Soon her once-cool skin is plumped and warm, pulsing faintly. Or is it just me?
She swoops into a grotto and rears up to a stop. I fall forward and clutch her shoulders, panting. My veins sing with adrenaline.
In one swift movement, she twists around to face me. The slick twirl of her tail between my legs sends electric jolts through my body.
“Keep those pretty legs squeezed tight,” she says, her eyes boring into me. “You don’t want our ride to end yet, do you?”
I shake my head. What else can I do? She has me trapped in her lair, under her spell. I watch, enchanted, as she hooks her fingers under the kelp straps of her seashell bra and rips them away to expose her full breasts. Her skin is creamy, like a human girl’s, but the nipples are strange—a luminous jadegreen.
“Kiss them,” she commands, lifting her breasts in offering. Again, I have no choice. This is her realm, her laws.
I bend forward and take one shimmering nipple between my lips. The salty tang of nori fills my mouth. Suddenly I’m ravenously hungry. I tug on her, harder, as if I can satisfy the growing ache in my belly that way.
“That’s lovely, keep up the good work,” she sighs, but then her voice takes on a sterner tone. “Except it’s not really work for you, is it? I can feel what’s going on down there. Your secret muscles are all fluttery and you’re wet inside, too. You like playing with another girl’s breasts, don’t you?”
Still suckling, I nod. I must always agree, always do her bidding. But she’s telling the truth, too. I do like this.
“You are a naughty girl, but you’re making me all fluttery, too.”
Indeed, her tail is gyrating gently, pressing up against my clit, then circling away. I can tell from the way her eyes glow that she’s enjoying every second.
What comes next takes me completely by surprise.
I hear it before I feel it, her leathery tail fin landing a perfect blow on my ass cheeks. I stiffen and cry out.
She smiles.
The second time is more of a caress, as she slides the tip of her fin under my swimsuit and tears it smoothly away from my flesh.
My jaw still gaping in shock, I meet her gaze. Her eyes seem to reach down inside me. I feel a tugging deep in my belly, rising up my spine as if she’s sucking down all my soft, secret parts like an oyster. As my body grows lighter, she seems to take on more substance. Her cheeks grow rounder and ruddy, her lips plump and full. I realize it is not my flesh that nourishes her. She is feasting on my mind, every dirty fantasy that has ever floated through my brain. She knows me. No other being has ever known me so well.
“That’s right, I do know what you want,” she says, her voice echoing through the water. “You want to suck my tits while I spank your ass until your cheeks are all red and tingly. You want me to spank you until you come.”
I’m so weak with lust that I can’t even manage a nod in reply. But a moan seems to suffice as I bend to take her nipple in my mouth again. I grope for her other breast with one hand and cup my own with the other, my thumb flicking the tip, already sensitive and tingly from the salt water.
I’m ready. Now.
Smack.
I swallow down a yelp as her stiff paddle meets my buttocks. My bare cunt skids over her scaly skin, and the prickling sensation ignites into a steady burn.
She punishes me again. And again. The fin makes an obscene slurping sound as it strikes, like a pussy being fingered fast and hard. I grind my clit into her, my whole body shaking, a sob rising in my throat. I’m close. Very close. The next one will take me over the edge. I know it. She knows it.
Which is why she pauses at that very moment. I’ll have to beg for it. I always do.
Suddenly a car door slams in the driveway right outside the bedroom window.
I freeze, a bullet of fear piercing my belly. A moment later, I hear a key in the lock of the front door.
Fuck, it must be Anton, even though he’s not due back from work until six or seven. It’s either my husband or a burglar, and in my panic I almost wish it were a break-in. I wouldn’t owe a criminal any explanation for why I spent the afternoon with my hand down my pants while he had to sit through endless seminars on effective management techniques at his new company.
My chest heaving like a fish out of water, I yank up my shorts and pull my T-shirt chastely over my breasts. Too late to hook my bra or do the zipper. The footsteps have reached the bedroom door.
I stretch and sigh, feigning the yawn of a woman just waking from a nap.
“Ah, the lazy life of a masseuse.” Anton bends over me for a quick kiss. He fishes his wallet and keys from his trousers and tosses them on his dresser, then takes off his watch, the things he does every day when he comes home from work. He has no clue that his wife has spent the last hour cavorting with a piscine dominatrix.
I exhale with relief. I might just get away with my little afternoon infidelity.
“Shiatsu classes don’t start for three weeks,” I remind him. “Until then my only job is to be your love slave, right?”
It’s a risky move, but I’m feeling bold. And horny. If he has to come and interrupt me just when things are getting hot, the least he can do is help finish the job.
He pauses, fingers at his shirt buttons, eyebrows lifted hopefully. “Love slave, huh? As a matter of fact, that is my preferred job description for you. Lucky for us the seminar finished early today. The facilitator had that Friday-afternoon golfer’s gleam in his eye.” Anton’s eyes gleam, too, as he looks down at me.
I’m expecting he’ll go into the walk-in closet to hang up his suit, so I can at least zip my shorts, but unfortunately, my come-on line was a little too successful. He undresses quickly, draping his suit and shirt on the armchair, then peels off his briefs. I can’t stop staring at his hard-on, a thick, red baton, floating in air as if by magic. My mouth starts to water. On summer days his dick tastes saltier, like a big pretzel stick.
He slips into bed beside me, and I press myself against him, hoping he’ll be too distracted to notice I’m already partially undressed.
It seems, however, that my luck has run out.
He’s already reached under my T-shirt. “Hey, what’s with your bra?”
“I unhook it when I nap,” I answer quickly. “It’s less constrictive.”
His hand drops to my shorts and slithers through the gaping fly. I know my panties are damp. Sopping, actually. And there’s no mistaking that briny fragrance of aroused female.
“Okay, Stef, what were you really doing when I got home?”
My stomach clenches with guilt and a touch of fear. Which is stupid because he knows I masturbate when he goes on business trips. He certainly wanks when he’s away. But it’s different to be caught in the act with no excuse except the old saying “Idle hands do the devil’s work.”
“I was just doing what you do in those hotel rooms while you’re watching porn movies,” I say, trying my best to sound cool.
“Actually, I don’t waste money on stupid movies. There’s