As usual Mistry was wondering what it was like for the Dryworlders. They had all covered the stories in history lessons at school, but Mistry had continued to ponder the unanswered questions on and off over the years. For long periods of time she barely thought about them, but then it would all come flooding back, and she would become obsessed. Her work suffered, and her friends worried about what was wrong with her.

The basic facts were undeniable, no matter how vague the details were. Before the time of the Big Wet, most humans lived on dry land, and some couldn't even swim. How they could manage to breathe for more than a few minutes out of the water she couldn't understand. The historians insisted that they had been built differently, and they could extract oxygen straight from the air, using something called lungs. It sounded more than a little unlikely. That they could walk around out there she understood. The People could do that themselves, and some of the young athletes could survive in open air for as much as thirty minutes before desperately tumbling back into the real world, under the water.

It was also said that Dryworlders consisted of only two genders, male and female, and that with a few exceptions, they were all breeders. Mistry found this entertaining, wildly unbelievable, and just a little sinful. As thankful as she was to be a breeder, she couldn't imagine existence without the warriors, administrators, and workers. Oh, and the male breeders, of course, she thought, blushing a little as she floated alone in the still water.

She had a whole list of things she wanted to know about the Drys, but she couldn't ask anyone. Such curiosity was frowned upon among the People, and she knew she would be reprimanded if she brought the subject up. They couldn't stop her thinking though...

Mistry had been confined to the blood hut for the last few days, as she was at her time. Confining the menstruating breeders was undeniably good for the People. The number of shark attacks had decreased markedly, and the People were increasing their foothold on the shallow shelf that they called home. The blood huts had been designed by a very clever administrator, and the water flowed in and out of it via an effective filtering system. Some of the young administrators monitored the filters, and released the young women once the blood flows had stopped. She hated the hut, but she put up with it for the good of the tribe.

She was expecting to be released in the next few hours, depending on when the normally reliable administrators checked the filter next. As it turned out, a male administrator named Leeson was just unlocking the door as the thought was filtering through her mind. She knew him reasonably well because she had undergone breeder initiation with his older brother, a grumpy, selfish boy, who might well have been banished had he not been a desperately needed breeder. She saw this as the ultimate proof that the world was conspiring against her. She was compelled to complete the rite with the one she couldn't stand, while the handsome friendly one was incapable of any involvement.

"There you go Mistry. Free again."

"Thanks Leeson. See you later." Tucking her legs and thrusting strongly, she launched her slim naked body through the doorway and out to the open sea, looking back over her shoulder at the handsome Leeson, and wishing again that he was the breeder. This was the sort of thing Mistry was always thinking, but she had learnt enough by now to say nothing to anyone.

Returning home to check on anything that may have happened while she was in the hut, she found out that there would be a private rite in the Head Administrator's home the next day, and that she was expected, along with the obligatory male; in this case Tosil. That wasn't so bad. Tosil was getting a little old, but he knew how to behave, and he was both gentle and relaxed.

Private breeding rites were thought to bring good fortune to the owner of the home in which they took place, and Mistry had been involved in many of these in the past. She preferred these rites to the public ones which took place on feast days. Somehow having the tribe watch her was disconcerting, and she found herself distracted from the act itself.

Meeting some of her friends that evening, Mistry went out to dance and sing in a huge natural amphitheatre in the middle levels of the tribal home. The whole area the People occupied was surrounded by huge seaweeds, laboriously moved to their locations over many years. Sharks found the odour emitted by the plants offensive, and avoided the area unless they were threatened, injured or starving. One of the perimeter warriors could be seen from the spot where the group of friends rested between dances, and told stories. Mistry watched him for a while, and then once again her mind wandered of its own accord, and she thought about what it would be like to breed with a warrior. Of course, to actually do so was impossible. Whilst warriors were equipped with a semblance of the necessary equipment for breeding, none of it was operable, and the idea was incomprehensible to them. She might just as well select one of the giant seaweeds for a partner. Still, they had such large hard muscles, and that solid dependable aura about them...

The whole group of friends called it a night relatively early, and headed to their various homes. Mistry was in the mood to take home another breeder for a little late night fun, but cirumstance conspired against her, and all the eligible males were paired up with other girls. She had to go home alone, and decided on getting a good sleep ready for tomorrow.

Hitching her sleeping strap to the wall as usual, Mistry floated peacefully in the dimly lit room, her gills fluttering leisurely on the sides of her neck, her eyes closed, her body slowly rotating in the water as her gills pumped. She couldn't get to sleep, and eventually her thoughts returned to the Dryworlders and their sexual antics. She wondered what it would be like to breed without the support of the water; she thought about clothing, and the thrill she assumed would be part of removing it; she thought about how it would be to become pregnant without having to make a conscious decision during the rite; she thought about the feel of a dry rough man's skin against her, his penis deep within her, sliding without the lubricating water they all took for granted.

As she floated, eyes tightly shut, her hands, which had been clasped to her shoulders, began a slow descent to the heat between her legs, pausing for a time at her small breasts, stroking her nipples with precision and the sure knowledge of familiarity, the ruddy points rising crisply to become firm mounds of delicious sensitivity, remote controls for her more tender places.

Mistry always enjoyed this solo play, completely in command of the speed and pressure of the caresses, drawing out the teasing just long enough, travelling to far-off impossible places in her mind, partaking in activities she couldn't even mention to anyone else.

Her hands had made their own way to her thighs as she dozed a little in her imagining, but she took more notice as she felt her fingers on her sparsely curled mound, stroking the hair delicately, before reaching a little further, to the tender slipperiness of her labia, sliding her fingers lazily up and down the ridges, her pulse quickening whenever she neared her clitoris, retreating again from the potency of the feeling, to slide back down toward her ready vagina.

Pulling her knees up to her breasts to better reach, she dipped the tips of her fingers inside herself, the intoxicating odour drifting through the water to her nose, the heat apparent to her gently probing digits. Pushing with a little more pressure, she eased one finger down deep inside, and relished the melange of pleasure pulses hammering at her. As she casually withdrew her finger only to thrust it in again, her other hand found its way back to her clitoris, and soon she was circling the sensitive bump of flesh with one hand, impaling herself with the other.

Her sweaty glistening body was performing an impromptu dance in the water as she concentrated on her imminent orgasm, teasing herself as only she could, irritating her nerves just enough to evoke a response. The sleeping strap attached her to the wall in a vague fashion, the other end looped about her waist, forgotten for the time being.

As the pace and stress of the strokes increased, Mistry felt the release rising in her loins, like an anemone in wait for a careless fish, ready but waiting for the right moment. At some point the sensations plateaued, and she knew she was nearly there. Continuing the caresses, she imagined again how they must have done it in the Dryworld, and as the imaginary rough muscleman sank again into her, the waiting was over. The feeling of power overcame her as always, and her clitoris blossomed into a pleasure pump, filling her body with electric pulses, exploding in her mind with an intensity that surprised her, as she screamed aloud with the release, her fingers stopping instantly where they were, unable to cope with any more sensation, any more pleasure, any more anything.

As her body slowly ceased shaking, and her heart returned to its normal steady beat, she slept deeply, dreaming again of the wondrous people who could walk, talk and even fuck on dry land.

Waking late in the morning, Mistry remembered the intensity of the previous night and the following dreams, and wondered again if there was something wrong with her. After considering it at some length she decided that even if there was, she liked it that way. That gave her the confidence to untie the strap, and get on with the day, putting her aberrant thoughts aside again, at least for a while.

After dinner that night, Mistry made her way to the Head's home, and presented herself to the household staff. Most of the People were respectfully polite to breeders, and the Head's employees were no exception. One of them showed her to the breeding suite, though she had been there before, and left some food and drink for her and Tosil to nibble on. It was considered exceedingly rude to leave the suite before the morning, so Mistry appreciated the food, even though she was not hungry just now.

After waiting a fair while, Mistry became worried that Tosil had not arrived, and asked one of the staff to enquire as to his whereabouts. After disappearing for a few minutes, the young administrator returned to let her know that Tosil had suddenly taken ill, and a replacement would be sent, and should arrive soon.

She felt sorry for the gentle Tosil and hoped he was not seriously ill, but at the same time wondered who would be sent as a replacement. It was technically feasible to refuse to breed with an unsuitable partner, but Mistry was too much of a professional to consider the option seriously. As it happened, a young breeder she had never met was sent for the rites. His name was Lessint, and he seemed a little nervous.

"You needn't worry Less. I don't bite. Well, not unless you want me to." A smile accompanied the joke, but he didn't seem to comprehend.

"Sorry Mistry. Listen, would it be alright if we talked for a while first?"

"Sure thing. They've left some food and drink over here for us. Come and tell me all about yourself." Mistry hoped by getting him talking she could relax him a little. It worked, but not the way she expected.

"What do you want to know?" Picking seeds from a bowl, and chewing them absently.

"Well, everything of course. Hasn't anyone told you how nosy I am?"

"I've never heard of you before today Mistry. Tell you what, how about I tell you what's worrying me, and cut out all the legwork?"

"You are smarter than I gave you credit for Less. Go on then."

"Well, it's a little embarrassing, but this is my first official rite. I just want it to go well."

"Oh, is that all? Don't worry about it." Mistry was relieved. She knew how to deal with this. "Tell you what, I'll make you a deal. If it all goes wrong, I won't tell anyone, and if it goes well I'll tell everyone. And it will, I promise."

"Really? You seem very nice Mistry, but I can't ask that of you. Perhaps now you know, you'd rather get someone else?"

"Someone else? Nonsense. You'll do just fine. "

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Listen, lets go in the chamber, and we can talk while we drift."

"Oh, that sounds good. I thought you'd just want to get it done."

"Nonsense. No rush. We can trade secrets and then just see how things go."

And she led him back to the chamber, and holding his hands, she launched them up to the centre of the tall room, specially build for the purpose. Small pumps pushed fresh water from the walls of the chamber, which made the inhabitants gently drift to the centre whenever they relaxed. Now that they were in position, only a deliberate act of swimming would get them to the walls, floor or roof.

With just the tips of the their fingers in contact, they continued the smalltalk into the night. Mistry knew better than to press the reason for their presence, and resigned herself to the possibility that the rites would be a failure. It turned out that Lessint was a smart capable young man, about three years younger than Mistry, who had been studying water physics in his spare time. Most breeders had a hobby, but this was an unusually intellectual pursuit. As the time wore on, Less relaxed somewhat, and allowed Mistry to put her arms around him, and talk more intimately. Eventually, the discussion turned to Mistry's own interests, and she was feeling so comfortable with Less that she told him about her obsession. She justified this in her mind with the thought that seeing her as a little unusual might bolster his own confidence, but the reality was that she was desperate to talk to someone about it, and Lessint seemed trustworthy, even if he was young.

Unexpectedly, Less listened attentatively, and then began asking questions. He wanted more details about the lives of the Dryworlders, and also wanted to know how Mistry felt about them. Somehow the discussion made its way to their sexual habits, and Mistry was bold enough to admit that thinking about this aroused her. More questions followed, and she gave him details that had never passed from her mind to her lips before.

Rather than being disgusted, as she had half expected, Lessint pressed for even more details, as he physically pressed himself closer against Mistry, seeming to have forgotten his worry and shyness. As Mistry told him about some of her dreams relating to the Drys, she noticed that his penis began to protrude toward her. He was becoming aroused. She was amazed, but kept delivering details as his erection became more and more obvious.

Somehow, whilst they continued to talk, their physical activities became the focus. Less began stroking lightly up and down Mistry's spine, one of her favourite activities, primarily because she couldn't do it for herself. As he busied himself there, she nibbled his earlobes gently, and pulled his chest hard against her breasts, rubbing skin deeply on skin. Mistry could feel herself becoming damp deep inside, and the heat slowly rose from her, and seemed to infect Lessint, who somehow knew exactly what to do to increase the arousal of them both.

Continuing to whisper in each others ears, each stroked every part of the other's body, sparks jumping between them until Mistry could stand it no more. She reached down between them, and began slowly stroking his penis, her long fingers circling it, and pulling the skin gently from the base to the tip of it, feeling the slippery pre-cum gathering on top, and gently rubbing this into the head, before travelling back to the base.

Less stopped chatting as he concentrated on the sensations she was causing, and then shyly and gently moved his hand toward Mistry's thighs, hesitating politely but infuriatingly at her hair covered mound. Continuing to stroke his manhood with one hand, she took his hand in the other, and pulled it down where she needed it most. Gathering that he was welcome there, he took the task to heart, and proceeded to thoroughly massage all of her most tender places, concentrating on her firmly protruding clitoris. He might have been new, but he had an instinctive way about him that few could match.

Eventually he let her know that if she wanted him inside her tonight she had better stop stroking his penis, and she reluctantly let him go. Realising again what she wanted, he drifted down until his mouth was between her thighs, and proceeded to squeeze a jet of water from his mouth in a controlled fashion instinctive to the People. The water spray was accurately directed toward her nubbin of pleasure, and this was more than she could stand. Thrusting her hips helplessly at his mouth, she erupted in pleasure, muscles flexing and relaxing out of sync, the pleasure moving as close to pain as she could handle, a violent pulse of contractions in her vagina as she rode the wave of agony/pleasure.

"By all that's holy Less, where did you learn to do that?"

"I didn't Missy. I just seemed to know somehow."

"Missy? No one calls me that."

"Sorry. It just seemed right."

"No, that's alright. I like it. When you say it."

"Good. If you like it, I like it."

"Just as well Less, because I want you inside me. Now, if not sooner."

As they repositioned themselves relative to each other, Less again stroked his hands down Mistry's spine, and she shivered all over with the pleasure of it. Taking command then, he took hold of her and turned her around, so that her back was toward him. He leaned his head forward to nibble gently on her neck as he pulled her butt toward him and over his erection. Mistry reached down and positioned him at the entry to her slippery tunnel, and he thrust gently while pulling on her hips. Suddenly he was deep inside her, tightly and firmly held, but slippery enough to move in and out of her, just enough friction between them to excite the nerves.

Slowly they started a rhythmic thrusting action, slowly becoming faster and faster as they both moved closer to the inevitable explosion, the collapse of the drumbeat, the release.

Faster and harder they pumped, both on the edge, and knowing it. Suddenly the moment arrived, and Mistry clamped hard on Lessent's penis, squeezing involuntarily, trapping him within its confines momentarily. That was all he could take, and his penis swelled and pumped his seed deep inside her, hard and fast, seemingly endless quantities of it, filling her rapidly pulsing womanhood as they both collapsed together, too weak to speak, to move.

As his manhood eventually dwindled and the connection was broken, Mistry did something she had never done before. She made the conscious decision to allow Less's seed to pass the barrier her body maintained, to seek the goal of her egg, to make a baby. The deliberate effort was wasted in this case, as this was not her fertile time, but the symbol was a potent one, and she knew that this was the man with which she would bear children. It was also a conscious attempt to emulate those people she was most intrigued by, to become like a Dryworld woman.