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Subject: {ASSM} Tales of the Lorelei 05/10 {virgosun} (msolo mf 1st cons rom voy pett oral)
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<1st attachment, "05lorelei.txt" begin>
Lorelei part 5
The lowermost drawer had no label. I tried it
experimentally. At first it didn't budge, so I thought
it locked; but then as I stood up and closed the upper
drawer, the lower one slid out as if of its own accord.
Freed up by the shifting of weight. There were a few
folders up the back, pushed there by the object inside.
I gasped. With a dread fascination, as though in a
dream, transported in time, I put my hand down and
brought the thing out, and gazed with childish horror at
its empty orbits and sharp fangs. It was a cat's skull,
nailed to a short handle, adorned with feathers, ribbons
and rusty bells.
"Oh my God!" I wanted to giggle, my heart thundering in
remembered panic. "Do you still use this, Kieran?" I
giggled to myself. Next time he accused me of being a
voyeur, I could shake this ridiculous thing at him. The
angry girl in me wanted to throw it in the creek. I
settled for leaving it on top of the filing cabinet, in
arm's reach. I closed the bottom drawer and checked
another cabinet altogether, discovering a new group of
sketches. These were torsos, male and female, twisting
and rippling. There were a lot of breasts - I was later
to learn that getting hand-sketched breasts to look
right is actually an art in itself that required plenty
of practice. No wonder Kieran enjoyed his work.
Breasts, hands, ears, noses...all those tricky parts.
And then there was another folder, headed "Genitals".
Both kinds were here, although the female certainly
outnumbered the male. These were closeups in perfect
anatomical detail. I skipped past the labia sketches,
but lingered over the few male sketches, of both flaccid
and erect examples. Who needed porn? These were, simply
put, beautiful.
"Ah hah! Caught you looking!" Kieran was grinning as he
shouldered through the door, a mug in each hand. I gave
a guilty start in spite of myself, then grabbed the cat-
stick.
"Yeah, well, mind your manners or I'll tell the world
about this!"
He scowled a moment, taken aback, then shut his eyes and
gave a slow laugh. Did he redden just a little? "Oh,
man, where did you find that?"
"Laying around. What kind of cat lover are you? This is
so gross."
"It's magic," he said seriously. "When I was eight I
found the skull in a roadside ditch. I'd never thought
much about death before then. It scared the hell out of
me. I didn't realise it was a cat, I thought it was some
kind of alien thing. I was feeling a bit scared and
hassled at the time," he shrugged, "so I brought it home
and turned it into a charm for scaring fear away."
"Did it work?" I asked dubiously. I didn't know about
the fear thing, but it had worked fine on young girls in
kayaks.
"It helped," he said easily, setting my mug down. He
grinned at the drawer I had left open. "Find anything
interesting in there? You don't have to worry about me,
I'm not ragging you about your cave. The human body's a
thing of beauty, and you obviously have an appreciation
for that. Which feels all naughty, but is perfectly
natural. You want something from there, I'll sketch it
up properly for you, no worries." He made an expansive
gesture as he returned to his computer. "All teenagers
are sexual creatures, with this strange kind of innocent
overlay. But still sexual. You don't know if you were
being sinner or saint playing serpent to Sean and
Cathy's Adam and Eve, eh?"
"I don't know," I admitted.
"Curiosity's all it was. I was the same during my
awakening years. I did it, and I seen it all here." He
batted a hand at the screen. "Now it's just another part
of life. But I see kids like those two in there, and
Renton, who comes over here and surfs for naughty stuff
- that's a secret, mind - and you with your cave, it's
all new and exciting for you. But it's also serious
shit, you can get hurt or burned or whatever."
I thought of Lyn, and agreed.
"Which makes it all the more dangerous and exciting. But
natural. That was the point I got shot down for trying
to make. Well," and he scratched his head, "tact ain't my
strong suit."
"You mean your infamous senior high art project?" I
smiled. "Where is it?"
"Preserved in all its glory for posterity. You want to
see it? Cost you fifty a look," he grinned. "Nah, all
depends why you want to see it. Want to look at sexy
pictures, check folder Karma Sutra there, third drawer
in that cupboard there, rather than high school art. The
gear for the school project was really very tame, and
none of it got past rough sketch stage. Enclosed with it
are the comments from the educational staff." His lips
peeled back bitterly. "Fun reading. Look for the skull
and crossbones file. My closing sketches were crude
cartoons of the principal and Art Mistress in
compromising positions; pathetic really." His eyes were
on the screen.
Maybe that had been the one at the back of the lowermost
drawer. I picked up the cat's head stick and opened the
file, replacing it and drawing out the nameless files
that were behind it.
These pictures were particularly beautiful, and all
stuck to a single theme. The subject was a lean, elegant
woman, variously posed on rocks or sand, or swimming in
the sea. She was not a mermaid, but had a long whippy
tail, and scaled skin. Colour developments of the
sketches showed her as dark and metallic, wearing
nothing but fine silver bracelets and charms. She did
not belong to any mythology or fantasy I could easily
recognise.
"Who's this?" I asked, taking the file toward him. He
looked up, then sat back from his screen and saved his
work.
"Her? Uh, well, she's special. She's...the Lorelei, I
call her."
"As in the Point? I thought it was named after a boat."
"Yeah, but what was the boat named after? A lorelei's
like a siren, you know, a beautiful but daemonic woman
that lures young sailors to their deaths on the rocks."
He fixed me with a dark, steady stare that dared me to
argue. "There's no way that point was named for a boat.
She's real, and she lives in the seas just off those
rocks, down in the kelp. Sometimes she comes to the
surface. I used to think, when I was a bit younger, she
fed on the sexual energy of young men. But now I think
it's innocence she feeds on."
I laughed and shook my head. "Ah c'mon, there's no such
thing!"
"Do you think Sean and Cathy are the only ones who've
lost their cherries out there? Uh uh. Even you lost your
innocence at that cave." Although he smiled, his words
were sober with knowing.
"Yeah, but if there was a wicked mermaid sitting out
there, Lorelei Point would be as famous as Loch Ness." I
flicked through the pictures again. "How do you even
know what she looks like?"
"I know she's real, because I've seen her," he said
softly. His brows gathered in a sharp expression,
expecting my disbelief.
"You've seen her. How drunk were you that day, or was it
something else you'd had?"
"Of course, Little Miss Sanctimonious, lah-de-bloody-
dah! I was neither high, pissed nor stoned. I came back
to town and got myself that way after I saw her." He
reached for the folder and I handed it to him, and he
leafed through its contents gently, his expression
softening. Something wistful was revealed there, that I
had never seen in Kieran tough-guy before. "I never
could quite get the iridescence right," he said softly.
"Never did her full justice. You want to hear about
her?"
Of course I did. Who doesn't enjoy a good mystery story?
"First, you gotta swear secrecy on this. Okay, people
think I'm a bit unhinged, but this'd blow me out of the
water and I've got a nice little business going here."
He went to the drawer again, and took out the cat's
skull. "Swear on this you'll not breathe a word of what
I'm gonna tell you."
"All right." I didn't much like the shadows in the eyes
of that damn skull. I chose some relatively inane words
that seemed to suit the solemnity in his face. "If I
fail to keep your trust, my kayak will split and sink
for no apparent reason with me aboard. Which wouldn't
kill me, but it'd be a hell of an inconvenience."
"I would have suggested the penalty be you'd have to go
out with Mitch again," he grinned, and my jaw hit the
floor.
"So much for secrets! Renton told you, did he?"
"My source shall remain nameless, for all that he's a
long red streak of information. I could have spared you
the distress and told you from the start, Mitch's a
wanker with a few weird ideas."
"No doubt you let him surf his porn here too!"
"I did for a while, until he turned out to be a bit of a
tool. He don't hang around here anymore."
"Bloody hell," I muttered. "All right, just get on with
the damn story, will you!"
***
Kieran didn't think much of school, the teachers or his
peers. He was happiest away from it, spending many a day
exploring. He had found a great place to get away from
all his troubles out at Lorelei Point, but only went
there during school hours, which is why I'd never seen
him from my pirate fortress window. He went there to get
away from all his hassles, to do some serious rock
fishing, and of course, to pleasure himself in privacy.
Five years before Sean, he spilled his sperm in the sea,
and wondered if the fish ever fed on it.
On first arriving there he would lay face-down on the
sunwarmed rock and relax, letting his stress and hassles
drift away. For a while he would close his eyes and
focus on his other senses - the roar of the sea in his
ears, its salty tang in his nostrils and on his lips. He
would feel how his body lay along the rock, yielding
flesh upon solid stone, but for one part of him that
would grow hotter and stiffer until it seemed the
stone's equal. Safe in his isolation, there was no limit
to what he would do, in his imagination. He told himself
he wanted to be alone, when in truth he despaired of any
woman wanting him - he wanted badly to be grown-up, to
be a man, and the years would not pass quickly enough.
He tried hard to act the man, to be the man, but the boy
was still afraid enough to need his cat-skull charm, and
to believe in magic.
The day came when he was not alone at the Point.
He arrived at his regular place on the rockshelf, by the
little beachlet, and put down his rucksack and fishing
gear. Finding a place on the stone that faced the sea,
he got down on all fours, ready to lay on the rocks. The
swell rushed in to perhaps knee-depth, and as it came he
saw something dark move with it along the sand.
A shark? He stood up to better see - but then the water
billowed and burst as the Lorelei erupted from the sea,
going from swim to stand in one fluid motion.
Staring slack-jawed as he realised how alien she was,
his knees slowly buckled. At first he thought she was a
spearfisher wearing a full-body black wetsuit. But there
was no mask or breathing gear, and sunlight flashed from
scale. He had seen fishscale beneath the sea,
silverlight and iridescence. She was jet black and steel
blue as a raven, and a long, whippy cord trailed behind
her, snapping about like the tail of a tetchy cat,
cutting the water. She looked down at him archly from
enormous, slanted eyes the colour of stormclouds, that
had no whites and vertical slits for pupils.
All he could think was that he had left his catskull at
home.
Her head tilted as she looked him up and down with a
gaze as cold and impassive as the open ocean. She was
naked but for a few strings and garlands of pearl and
polished coral, and his gaze lingered upon breasts that
were small and conical. Long, pointed nipples dark as
black coral emerged from her sleek scales. Aside from a
narrow black mane that sprouted from the crown of her
head and ran right down her spine to the root of her
tail, there wasn't a hair on her, and his gaze went down
to the bare V of her pubis. He gulped when he noticed
that secret, sacred notch where her labia began, and in
spite of his shock, his penis throbbed and began to
grow.
She gave a long, slow blink. A small smile curved her
lips, and he tried to identify that expression. Was
it...knowing? Then she turned away and walked gracefully
for the water's edge, sunlight playing upon her swaying
hips. Her tail emerged from the root of her spine
naturally, between lean rounded buttocks that he yearned
to touch. Strange she was, yes, but also beautiful
beyond his wildest dreaming.
As he managed to regain control of his legs, his intent
being to follow her, she turned again to face him, and
knelt at the highest reach of the seawater, with her
knees wide apart. She rested her hands on her knees and
drew a deep breath, arching her back and closing her
eyes as the swell washed in. Foam rushed up her thighs
and splattered her belly, and her lips parted in
ecstasy. Then she ran her hands slowly down her torso,
over her breasts and down, along a seamless stomach and
beneath, to that place where her labia were parted.
Within that slit, her flesh was rose and scarlet, a
stunning blossom against the glistening dark of her
skin.
The effect on him was electric, his half-risen cock
snapping to attention and straining against denim. Her
eyelids half-opened and she gave him a hooded glance,
her smile widening. The tip of her tongue appeared
briefly between her lips, moist and pink, an echo of
what was below. She drew her hands up her thighs, an
unmistakable gesture of invitation.
Like a sleepwalker, he moved jerkily toward her,
shamble-footed; down from the rocks and splashing into
ankle-deep water, wading against another foaming rush.
When he stood almost between her knees he knelt, the
cool caress of seawater that soaked his pants doing
nothing to soothe the fiery lump at his groin. For a
moment he gazed at her face and shoulders, the texture
and sheen of her scales. Up close, she was even more
lovely, and there was kindness in her strange eyes.
Slowly, hesitantly, he raised a hand, and brought it to
rest upon her shoulder. He had expected she would
disappear. Instead, her skin was warm, smooth and satin-
slick along the lie of her scales; rough as sharkskin
the other way. Gulping, still unsure he could trust his
senses, he drew his hand across her collarbone, then
down between her breasts.
She leaned forward a little and raised her arms, cupping
his face in strong, slender hands. Her eyes moved across
his features, and with one thumb she traced his jawline
and immature whiskers. A brief, quirky grin lit her
face, as though she found his boyishness endearing. Then
she pressed her lips to his, kissing him with supreme
authority.
He'd never been kissed so fully and passionately before.
Her lips captured his and showed them how to move, how
to dance. She tasted of sweet, fresh springwater, and
when he leaned into her, showing that he could give as
good as he was getting, she slipped her tongue in to
join that dance. He ran his hands down the elegant
length of her spine, arms pulling her body against his,
feeling the tiny hard buds of her nipples against his
chest through his teeshirt. Their tongues swirled and
rolled together like dolphins playing, her leading, him
following; with each kiss she urged him to match her,
flicking and whirling the tip of her tongue light and
fast.
When she was satisfied with his response, she took her
mouth from his. With fingers knotted in his thick,
shaggy hair, she pulled his head down as she arched her
neck back. For the first time in his life, he was
presented with naked breasts that were for him to touch
and caress, to kiss and suck. They made wonderful,
rounded shapes that cupped neatly within each hand,
nipples drilling holes in his palms.
Breasts! He brought his mouth to one, sucking the nipple
and flicking it with his tongue. Her fingers curled
against his skull as she gave a soft moan of pleasure,
the first sound either of them had made. His pulsing
groin was tensing and clenching, and as he moved lips
and hands from the wonder of one breast to the other
there was no containing his orgasm.
When the hot hammer-shocks passed he found himself
pressed between her breasts, gasping for breath, his
groin a strange swirl of cool seawater and hot, soft
cum. She held his shoulders and hugged him gently,
holding him through the explosion, stroking his hair
with one hand. His wits slowly returned. With the
urgency gone, he could take the time to enjoy all of
her, while she was here to be enjoyed. Soon he was
kissing her breasts again.
There was a positively wicked gleam in her eyes as she
leaned back, way back, so flexible she could lower her
body to the sand while her knees remained wide apart. He
followed her breasts down, but she guided his head
firmly lower, down her body. He paused to kiss her lower
belly, but knew what she wanted from him next.
Aroused already, her inner folds were swollen and
scarlet, her clitoris a red pea. He did not hesitate,
bringing his lips to her labia and opening them out,
kissing them as surely as he had kissed her mouth. His
tongue flicked into a deep, hot well with the ocean's
flavour and hints of a sweeter musk. Like a diver in red
coral, he found crevices to explore, and delicate
structures to flick his tongue along and around.
And with every small motion of his tongue, she moaned
with pleasure. He licked her slit from end to end,
lingering and whirling around her clitoris and trying to
catch it and cup it. His tongue ached from exertion but
he kept at it, for she started raising her pelvis off
the sand and tugging his face in harder, her gasps and
moans increasing in volume and need. His penis was
stirring again, and he plunged his tongue in as deeply
as it would reach, waggling the tip. As he withdrew he
licked her clit again, and she gave a great gasp and her
whole body spasmed, gouging the sand. He thought she
might crush him between her thighs, so he sat back,
taking in the view of this amazing sea siren sprawled
before him, helpless with the pleasure he had given her.
Her eyes opened when she realised he had stopped, and
the glare she gave him was one of pure hunger, a
sharklike ferocity. Her tail, which lay along the sand
between his knees, twitched as she pushed herself
upright and he glanced down, suddenly afraid of what it
might do to his most sensitive region. The tail curled,
snaked, then its tip whipped up with blinding speed as
if to confirm his worst fear.
But she didn't use it to smack him in the cods. The very
tip of it glinted like blue steel, and whisked close by
his chest before coming to rest in the sand. It had a
barbed tip with a keen edge, and had slit his shirt
neatly up the middle. She shuffled forward on her knees
to rub her hands up and down the skin of his chest and
stomach.
"Uh, how about I get this?" he said, hastily undoing his
wet, sticky pants. Although she helped him peel them
down his thighs, her attention was on his rigging. His
cock was not yet fully upright, but was pleasingly
enlarged. She ran her hands up and down one of his
thighs, feeling and caressing the musculature. Just the
hot look of her, the lust with which she eyed him was
arousing enough. Then she bent down, and he felt the
warm wetness of her tongue beneath the head of his
penis, catching it up and drawing it between her lips
and into her mouth.
The world seemed to spin about him, and he locked his
teeth over a deep, low groan of pleasure. With that
strong, soft tongue slipping up and down most of his
length, he was swiftly hard again, and although he ached
to rock back and forth, the natural instinct to thrust,
he held himself still lest he disrupt her rhythm. Her
fingers kneaded his taut-muscled rump, or gently caught
his scrotum, and he wondered then was it his milk she
sought, his sperm for sustenance? His balls were
charging, and it would not be long before he fed her.
She knew well enough what she was doing to read that in
the way his body tensed, and she drew away, leaving him
wondering and somehow disappointed. But only for a
moment, for she lay down on her back again, knees still
wide but this time up in the air. As if her open vagina
wasn't invitation enough, she raised her arms toward
him.
In wonder he leaned over her, bringing his throbbing
self to touch that most delightful of places. He had
never navigated here before, and at first although he
leaned, his cock wanted to slide up and off rather than
into anything. Their hands touched as each of them
reached for his shaft, he to steady its wanderings, she
to guide it home. He let her lead, and pressed against
resistance...briefly.
Submerged into a hot, silken wonderland of sensation.
Thrust in and out as though borne on the swell, the full
force of the ocean's power, up, almost out, down and in,
goaded by her soft cries that mixed with his gasps. Not
even the tiny, sharp stings where flecks of sand abraded
his skin could take him from this ultimate pleasure. Her
tail had coiled around his left leg, trapping him; her
legs twined with his, hands tugging his rump and urging
more from him, more.
And then the world vanished in a white-hot gush, his
whole being consumed in rhythmic bursts of agonising
pleasure. He thought he would faint...
Salty white foam trickled up his face where he lay, face
down in the sand. The tide had turned, the waters
rising. The wash splashed into his nostrils so that he
snorted seawater, gagged and coughed, and struggled to
his knees.
He was alone.
Utterly disoriented, he picked himself up. Rationality
argued he had fallen asleep face-down on the beach. But
hadn't he been on the rocks? Of course she had been
there. His jeans and jocks were down around his ankles,
his shirt shredded.
He dipped in the sea enough to rinse the worst of the
sand off and pulled up his pants, and tore the shirt off
over his head. Laying by his unused fishing gear was a
large silver dory he coudn't remember catching, a
magnificent fish that would make splendid eating.
Gathering up his things, he stumbled back toward town,
craving whisky or a joint, preferably both.
<1st attachment end>
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