A mermaid tale. X, FF 1994

Impatiently, I follow the narrow path, away from the village. The beauty of the summer forest in early twilight is lost on me at the moment, I'm interested only in what lies at the end of the path. As much as I love my job, I sometimes resent the cold lonely nights away from my Tarrelle.

The path opens onto the lakeshore, a dozen feet of clear grass and clover, and beyond that the abrupt drop-off into the water. She'll know I'm here; I spread the blanket I brought, kick off my boots, and relax to wait. Wait as Tarrelle always waits, for her ranger lover to finish each scouting job, each hunting job, and come back to her.

I'm tired, I travelled quickly to get here this evening, rather than taking my time and spending another night alone. I strip off my clothes, let myself catnap, grateful for the shade of a huge oak, for the cool breeze off the lake.

Did I not know the sound so well, the soft splash of Tarrelle's arrival might never have disturbed me. I open my eyes to find her sitting on the edge, her upper body silhouetted against sunset sky, the last traces of sunlight glinting off her scaled tail as she stirs the water with it absently.

"I missed you," she says simply.

"Missed you, too. As always. Won't you join me?"

She pulls herself the rest of the way up onto the bank, sprawls to her full length of some eight feet. "Of course I will."

She isn't in reach; I get up, kneel straddling her so I can bend down and kiss her. She lets her lips part, lets me run my tongue over her sharp teeth and slip deeper inside. I release her, shift my attention to the feathery gills on the sides of her throat. She murmurs softly, that's a very sensitive area for her kind; she goes limp beneath me as I tease her with my tongue, run it with careful pressure over her gills, probe inside -- that makes her react more strongly, squirm a little, the noises she's making escalating in pitch. I stroke my hands down her slender sides, feeling the transition from soft skin to hard scales, then back up. I lick her left nipple, circle it lazily with my tongue a few times, suck hard on it the way she likes me to. She moans a little, and I switch to the right, linger there to do the same until her moans dissolve into small whimpering sounds.

Tarrelle is dry now, in a heartbeat her tail becomes legs. I plant a kiss in the middle of her belly before I urge her to the blanket. She moves, lies down on her back again. I kneel between her legs, lean down to lick the damp opening there, press just inside with my tongue as she moans again. Up just a little, slow vertical strokes, gradually stronger and faster; she grabs my shoulders, I feel her feline claws dig hard into my skin, that only arouses me all the more and I increase my efforts. A sudden, sharper whimper as she climaxes, her body spasms; I ease off for just a moment, then get back to work, sucking gently on her swollen clit, occasionally pausing to catch the delicious wetness just below. She comes again, with a low cry, and her claws dig in deeper, I feel a wet trickle down my back that might be sweat or blood, I don't care. That pain, Tarrelle's scent, my own long loneliness on my last job, all combine, making me wild, I want nothing more than Tarrelle forever....

"Enough," she begs. "Please...."

Reluctantly, I sit back, licking my lips. I can't resist sliding my palms down her outer thighs. Even now, there are scales there, up over her hips, but nothing save soft skin between those perfect legs. She lies still and pants, if her kind could sweat she'd surely be wet with it.

"Your turn," she tells me. "Lie down."

I obey. Slender webbed hands part my legs, and she begins to return the favour. She knows I like it hard, and she gives me that, strong pressure with her tongue back-and-forth sideways, it makes me twitch and whimper. A little lower, frustratingly, she enjoys my taste as much as I love hers, that's fine but it's distracting right now. She notices, comes back to my clit. I feel the familiar tension building, the edge of pleasure... and I'm past it, with a low cry, every muscle is taut for a heartbeat of ecstasy, and then releases as it slides away. Tarrelle never pauses, her skilled mouth coaxes me into a second orgasm, one even stronger than the first. I'm breathing hard, sweat-damp, shivering, by then.

She reaches for the small pack I brought, finds the bottle she wants, begins to coat her hand in the slippery lotion. I realize suddenly what she intends. I've never been able to do it with any human, but Tarrelle's hands are inhumanly fine-boned. She inserts one finger, slowly, strokes the walls of my vagina. Two fingers, then three. Gradually she eases her hand deeper, I feel pain flare as she is balked at the widest point of her hand. She pauses there, slides her hand out and in again as far as it will go, and my moans of pleasure are louder, it feels so good. Carefully, she leans forward, kisses my right breast, nips it with her sharp teeth. I whimper, torn between two sensations, Tarrelle's hand, Tarrelle's mouth. She bites again, harder, then circles my nipple gently with her tongue, sucks on it lightly, switches to the other side. The sucking first, there, while I wait impatiently, then the bites. Back down, lower, she nips my navel and straightens. Returns her attention to getting her hand inside me completely. Pain, as she presses farther, I'm being stretched too far, but she twists her hand just a bit... and the pain fades. I feel her close her hand into a fist, feel her pump it slowly in and out. The sensation sends me into another climax, I feel internal muscles clench tight around Tarrelle's small wrist. She waits while it passes, leaving me shuddering in its wake, and carefully turns her fist inside me, back and forth, begins to add in and out. I know how much noise I'm making, I don't care, nothing feels like this.

Too soon, Tarrelle opens her hand and eases it out. I feel incredibly open, like anything could fit inside me without difficulty. I lie still and wait for my pounding heart to slow, for my ragged breathing to even out. Tarrelle curls herself against me, also waiting.

"How was your journey?" she asks. She always wants me to tell her. So while we rest I do, about the caravan of a dozen wagons, my job scouting the area for any possible wilderness hazards. I tell her about the city, too, she's never been to a city, large crowds terrify her. She listens in fascination, one hand stroking me lightly, neck to knees.

I run out of stories, we lie quietly for a moment. I move my hand between her legs, rub her clit with a fingertip; she parts her legs a little farther, arches her body towards me in encouragement. Teasingly, I run that finger lower, slip it inside her, a second finger with it, no more than that, my hands are too large to fit inside her light-boned body. She moans, but I remove my now-wet fingers, slide one into the tighter opening farther down. Her cries climb in pitch to hover on the edge of human auditory range; I hope she doesn't go any higher, I remember the headache it left me last time. I move, so that I can keep that finger inside, caressing interior walls with increasing pressure, and have my other hand free to steady myself with while I go down on her again, hungrily. After a moment, I ease the other finger inside her; she writhes, it's impossible to keep her still until she settles on her own and lets me return to my very pleasant work.

When she orgasms this time, it's violently intense, the shudders take a long time to pass.

"Thank you," she whispers. "Do you want more?"

"No. Just sleep."

"Good night, love."

"Good night."


(c) 12/93, last revised 02/02