From the Sea [3461 words] (FF, oral, toys)

Copyright © 2005 by Crystal

I am not afraid of death. Death is more welcome than an existence where she is not. If I cannot touch her body, there is no place for me. If I cannot breathe in the sweet scent of the sunshine from her skin, then there is no point of living. If I cannot hear the sound of her laughter drifting through our house, there is no home. Parisa has returned to the sea.

As is my want, I love to wander at night. I would not recommend this to those who are strangers to these parts, but I know every crag and hill by heart. The Orkney Islands are alight with stars, so bright that if I stretched a little more, I could bring one home with me. The moon was full, lighting my path as I started down the rocky incline towards the beach. As I approached the shore, I heard voices and slowed my steps. There, dancing in the surf were eight of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. They were tall and lithe, with skin the color of alabaster. They laughed amongst each other, splashing and teasing in the cold waters. I knelt down on the sand and my eyes took in their graceful play.

One of these gorgeous creatures stood and stretched her arms towards the heavens. Her hair was a dark sheet of black that sparked with brilliance under the moonlight. Her lips turned up in a generous smile as she brought her hand in front of her. A moonbeam fluttered in her palm, sparkling with light. She turned her back to me, and I felt my pulse race at the sight of her full hips, and dimples just above the curve of her posterior. She made herself comfortable on a crop of boulders that jutted from the sea, lengthening her body under the night sky, and the light of the captured moonbeam accentuated her every curve.

One of the other women swam out to the rocks and climbed up to lay beside her, draping her arms and legs over her body, nuzzling her neck. Then another came and curled around the other. One after another they joined the object of my interest. All lay in a comforting pile, gently touching and breathing together. I was drawn to them.

I stood and removed my sandals and skirt, wanting to be as they were. As I walked towards the shore I took off my shirt and tossing it to the sand; I froze. My shirt lay amongst the skins of seals. I knelt, picking up one of the pelts; it was the softest fur I had ever touched. I rubbed my cheek against it, my eyes not leaving the mass of beauty upon the rocks. They were Selkie. My grandfather lulled me to sleep with their stories. My heart jumped and I clutched the skin to my chest.

“Release the skin!” Her voice carried across the water to my ears, yet it sounded like a whisper spoken in my head. I clutched the skin tighter to my breasts and backed away. They dove from the rocks into the water as one, their heads bobbing to the surface as they reached the beach and rose out of the water in a graceful wave. They quickly gathered their skins from the sand and pulled them over their heads. They slithered into them, twisting their bodies back and fourth, breasts bouncing and hips swaying. The skins molded around their torsos, covering their backs first, and enveloping their limbs and chests until you could see nothing of their former humanness. They leaped into the sea and swam out to where I could barely see them. All accept the Selkie I had admired earlier.

She stood her eyes fierce and lips drawn. I swallowed hard as I watched the beads of water traverse her body. My eyes greedily took in her full breasts, the gentle curve of her belly, and the down at her center. I wanted her.

“Look your fill, mortal,” she ordered, “Then give back what is mine.”

“No.” I knew the curse that plagued all Selkie. If I did not give back her skin, she would have to come with me. She would live docile and do my will. She would please me for as long as I kept her skin from her. So strong was my desire that I didn’t care if it was wrong. All I could think of was her long limbs wrapped around me. Her beautiful face staring at me from across the dinner table. Her laughter would be a song as I worked in my garden.

“Please, return my skin,” she demanded again. I picked up my shirt and tossed it to her. I turned from her and went to where my skirt and sandals were. I knew she would follow. Her hand found my shoulder and she squeezed hard…not in a friendly way. I looked over my shoulder and our eyes held. “Remember this. If you bring me to your home and make me your lover, you will die on our parting. That is the cost.”

I knew what she said was true but her hand on my shoulder sent electricity through my body. The warmth of her skin so close called to my own. A Selkie could not leave unless she had her skin. I would be sure that she could never find it.

“Is this what you seek?” she growled, pushing me against the kitchen table as we entered the house. The vase fell to the floor with a crash. Her lips were hot and insistent on mine. She swallowed my voice as our tongues tangled and my hands sought the curves of her body. She was warm and soft like the sun; all heat and energy beneath my palms.

“Or this?!” she insisted, her hand pushing up my skirt and squeezing my thighs. She nailed me to the wood of the table with her hand. It swam in my juices, diving in and out like a dolphin. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe…the air was thick with the scent of my need. She laughed against my thighs, her lips joining her hand. Her tongue swept my cleft then latched onto my clit…sucking and pulling until my ceiling opened and the sky exploded above me. Then darkness.

I awoke to the sound of crying. I had passed out on the table. The house was torn to pieces. Everything was pulled from cupboards and tossed to the floor. Furniture was overturned. “I can not find my skin!” she wailed, her breasts heaving with her angry sobbing. I arose groggily as she collapsed on the bed of feathers from the shredded pillows. They hung in the air, drifting about the room in an unnatural snow, and covering her fetal form upon the mattress. I crawled through the bed sheets and curved my body around hers as I had seen the Selkie do on the rocks. I weaved my arms and legs with hers until you could not tell where I began and she ended.

That was the last time she cried in front of me. True to what legend had told me she remained in my home, seemingly content. She did all that she thought would please me. She woke before me and put the coffee on to brew. She crawled back into bed and snuggled with me while it percolated. She laughed at my jokes and held my hand when we went on walks. She talked of all my interests and pleased my body in every imaginable way. But I could not please Parisa.

Having a love slave, constant companionship and everything I ever wanted in a woman is not as satisfying as it might seem. It became my heart’s foolish desire to grant her every wish.

That Spring, I caught her staring wistfully out the window toward the sea, as she often did. She was sure to hide it as soon as I noticed.

“Let’s take a walk.” I said, putting down my sketchbook. She grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door. She took me on a familiar path; one we had worn into the ground over the past two years. Where there was once grass, there was now dirt and sand. Rocks and shrubbery had been ruthlessly thrown to the sides of the path, leaving a bee line to Parisa’s favorite haven.

“Come on!” she called, tugging my hand like an eager child. She broke free to rejoice amongst the waves. I watched her dance as she did that first night. Arms stretched towards the sky and hips swaying. The white linen of her dress was plastered to her body from the spray. The rouge of her nipples, the shadow of her belly button, and the hair of her sex winked at me through the sheer fabric. She took my hands and drew me into the circle of her arms. We twirled and laughed until we were dizzy and falling against each other.

Our mouths met. We drank the salt of the sea from each other’s lips and our tangled hair caught on our fingers. The rough grain of the sand became our bed as we fell to the earth and gloried in being alive. I rolled her onto her back and pushed my way under her dress. The blanket of linen embraced me, leaving me to shower her flesh with my attentions. I licked and nibbled my way around her body. I suckled her toes and breasts. I lavished her pussy with my respect, letting my tongue become a tool for her pleasure. I relearned every fold, every hair. My nose nudged her clit while my tongue dove into her depths. Her noises were aquatic, like the songs of mermaids. Granules of sand mixed with her juices, lending a welcome grittiness to our love making. She writhed beneath me, tugging at my hair and calling my name. Joy washed over me at her coming. Her body was an altar for my happiness.

I was in the garden, trying to get my stubborn vegetables to grow in the rocky soil, when I found a pile of sea shells. Parisa had been gathering them on our many visits to the beach but was afraid that I would disapprove. I began collecting them myself and leaving them around the house in places that I thought she might find them. She had thousands of them. She strung the shells together and hung them from the ceiling; row after row hung over our heads so we lived under a tinkling canopy of pearly white. When the windows were open they rang together like wind chimes.

When we slept at night I listened to her breathing as it mingled with the sound of the shells and I was comforted. She had made this her home.

“Tilt your head down a bit,” I suggested. Parisa did so, and she was forced to look up through her lashes. “You are divine.” I murmured, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled and pursed her lips at me. She was the perfect subject. She could lie for hours without moving. Bright colored silks framed her, teasing us with the promise of revelation. She loved my worshipful brush.

I stood back and loaded my palette. “Do you not tire of this?” she asked as I mixed my paints.

“What?”

“Capturing me.” My eyes darted to hers and she held them.

“No. And I never will.” I turned from her and stroked the canvas with my brush.

“I am beautiful am I not? More beautiful than any woman you could find in your world?” I met her eyes again and she continued. “Am I not more intuitive?” I concentrated on shape and form, letting her ramble. “Do I not anticipate your every wish? Your every need?” She shifted so that her hip lifted slightly. She winked at me and I gritted my teeth. I hated it when she could read my thoughts. “You only hate it when you want to keep something from me.” Her voice was cold and I pretended like I didn’t know what she referred to.

She laughed as she tightened the belt around her waist. She stood, the dildo waving at me as she walked. “I could learn to like this,” she said, grabbing a fist full of my hair. “Lick it!” she commanded, pushing my face against the rubber. I dutifully ran my tongue along its length, lapping at the tip like a kitten. “More!” she ordered, and forced it between my lips. I gagged as it hit the back of my throat and she laughed again, pumping her hips against my face. I swallowed as much as I could and reached my hands around to cup her ass. I kneaded it, loving the firm roundness. Sometimes I would ask her to bend over with her back to me and play with her pussy. She was so sexy; her breasts framing her pussy as she brought herself pleasure.

Now she wanted me to bend over. “Be still,” she whispered near my ear and I trembled at her voice. She let her fingers trail along my spine, then tease the crack of my ass. She tickled my thighs and laughed as I squirmed under her electrifying touch. “You will do as I say!” she demanded. I jumped as she slapped my ass and moaned as she soothed away the redness with her lips.

Parisa brought herself flush against me and leaned over my back. “You will give me all that I desire.” She murmured adjusting her prick so that it teased my needy cunt. I could hear slight sucking sounds as she nuzzled the entrance. I moaned wanting her to ram me. I wanted her to fuck my brains out.

“As you wish,” she cooed. She drove the 10 inches into my welcoming cunt over and over, punishing my needy hole. I pushed back against her as she pressed her hands into my back. Because I was draped over the couch I could not reach my clit. The force of her thrusting kept me from moving. “Tell me what you want!” she ordered.

“Please touch my clit!” I pleaded. She kept fucking me, not satisfying me or allowing me to do so myself. I begged over and over and she would not stop slamming into my pussy. I gasped her name, and bit my lip, drawing blood. She stopped. The length of the prick filled me and my muscles clenched around it ravenously. This was more torturous than when she was screwing me. At least then I had the friction of the couch. She leaned over my back, letting me feel the hardness of her nipples and the sweat of her exertion. She took a firm grip of my hair.

“What do you want, darling?” she cajoled, kissing my neck. I moaned and tried to move my ass. She slapped it and asked me again, yanking my hair.

“Touch my clit,” I groaned. She laughed softly nibbling her way to my other ear.

“What will you give me?” she asked. She rotated her hips, causing my clit to rub against the sofa. I moaned feeling tears in my eyes.

“Anything!” I croaked, and she eased up.

“Is that a promise?” She asked softly.

“Yes! Anything…anything!” She lifted her weight from me and slipped her arm around my waist. She pumped the dildo into me slowly as her hand found my clit. In a couple of deft movements I came, my juices running in rivulets down our legs. Every part of me felt expanded, hairs on end, skin sensitive to the air. “My heart stopped.” I whispered. I was crying uncontrollably. It was too much.

“No. That was my heart,” she corrected, licking the tears from my cheeks.

In the bedroom we snuggled close and I told her all that I loved about her. Her generosity of spirit, her passion, her extravagant thought, her perfect body. And as sleep claimed me, I heard her say that she loved me too.

I awoke to find her watching me. She was wringing her hands and smiling tremulously.

“Please give me my skin.” She said, excitedly.

“What?” I asked wiping the sleep from my eyes.

“You said that I could have my skin.”

“I said no such thing!”

“Last night, you said that I could have anything.” Panic catapulted my heart as I got up from bed and went to the bathroom closing the door. “You said I could have anything!” she insisted, banging on the door. I splashed water on my face and stared at my haunted features. My eyes latched onto the overly quick flaring of my nostrils as I tried to breathe. It will be OK.

I opened the door nearly tripping over her. “No.” I said firmly.

“But…”

“NO, Parisa!” She shrunk back and seemed to wilt before me. She collapsed on the floor like a rag doll. No tears, just great dry sobs that shook her body. I gathered her up. She shook her head in protest and lay in my arms like a lifeless doll.

“Please understand, Parisa,” I whispered, rubbing circles into her back. “I can’t live without you.”

“I warned you,” she hissed, meeting my eyes with her listless ones.

After that day, she never spoke to me again. She was a shadow of the woman I had grown to love over the past four years. The shells I collected grew into an uncontrollable heap. When I brought her to the beach, she sat with her chin resting on her knees staring out over the water and watching the seals frolic amongst the waves. When we made love she laid there and thought of the sea. My broken promise had stolen her will.

There was nothing I could do, but give the skin back to her. Her happiness had become my own, and the woman that lived with me was no longer the woman I had grown to love.

I went to the garden, where all of my plants refused to flourish. I dug with my hands, not wanting to harm her fur. That’s how she found me, covered in earth, sodden with the damp air, tears falling down my face. The skin was clutched to my chest, much like the first day I saw her.

Parisa took my hand, and helped me rise. She led me into the house and through the living room, a trail of dirt and mud in our wake. She turned on the bath water and filled the tub. I stood there like a helpless child as she undressed me. She helped me into the bath and climbed in behind me, enveloping me in her body. Our smooth wet skin caressed each other. I lay my head on her shoulder while she soothed me with her touch. Her hands caressed my small breasts. Her palms journeyed in long sweet strokes bringing my nipples to hard points. She massaged my stomach in great sweeping lines. She rubbed my thighs and cunt lips, bringing a gentle hum to my body. Nonsense words filled my ears calming me, until our hearts were a steady thump. The porcelain tub became a cocoon filled with our love as we gently rocked against each other. Water splashed on the floor to our soft movements. Her fingers were an extension of her heart, moving to the time of its rhythm, bringing me home in her arms.

She put me to bed. She sat beside me like a mother would a sick child and stroked my head until I fell asleep.

How could someone who apparently loved me so, leave? And leave knowing that her departure would bring me death? But that’s what she did. While I slept with hope that she would be there when I woke, she walked out the door. I awoke to silence. Emptiness. Naked, I ran from our home, to the beach where I had first seen her and I screamed her name. I called out over and over and saw nothing but the turbulent waters. In desperation I swam to the rocks where she had lain all those years ago.

It’s where I lay now. My heart pains me so that I can hardly move. The sun has burnt my skin to a crisp redness. I will be food for the birds soon, and what they don’t eat I am sure the fish will as I am washed away into the sea. Every time I lick my cracked and bleeding lips, I taste the salt of the sea and think of Parisa.