38. Pippi #2
And I’d never known that could be a turn-on—to have a strong, self-assured male hesitate . But lust pounded through me, responding to the bashfulness in his voice.
“I’ll need you to come back in the water.” Alistair lowered his head slowly. Almost dazedly.
“Okay.” I slid off the side of his nose once the surf rose to my knees and scrabbled for the rock again.
“You’re sure?” Alistair asked.
“Positive.”
With a schloooopp , he disappeared beneath the surface.
“I’ll roll over,” he said, “you can stand on my belly. It will be s-s-s-s-s…slippery. Be c-c-careful.”
His stammering worsened when he was flustered.
And I was finding I really liked a flustered Alistair. It was adorable. Wholesome. And it made me feel protective . Over the forty-foot sea beast. What a hoot.
Under the water, something solid bumped against the bottoms of my feet. I shifted, spread my legs more evenly, and bent my knees. Alistair rose, allowing his behemoth body to float to the surface, leaving me standing on the gentle curve of his belly.
His heaving, quivering belly.
The soaked scales were a bit like wet tile— treacherously slick. And with his stomach rising and falling in such heavy beats, standing was almost impossible. My feet immediately skated sideways, grappling for purchase.
Concern flooded him when he felt me flailing.
So I parked my butt down. Once I was seated and secure, I got a proper look at the green scales blanketing his stomach.
“They’re glittery !” I rubbed my fingers over the shimmering flesh.
“Oh, Alistair, this is gorgeous.” It was the way I’d always imagined a mermaid’s tail would look: iridescent and radiant, twinkling beneath even the fog-smothered light.
“It’s a d-d-d-d-defense mek-mekh-a…mechanism. The color,” Alistair stammered breathlessly.
“It is?”
“It s-s-shines above the surface. Below, it b-b-b-blends in.”
“Ah, so you’ve got a camouflage belly.” I kneaded my hands into him. Soothing him, the way he’d soothed me. Fanning my fingers along the swell of his stomach. Digging my knuckles in.
“Can you feel it? When I do this? Am I using enough pressure?” I pressed my palms into him.
“ Yes . I can feel it.” He shuddered and his flappers sloshed through the water, pushing him a little farther above the surface, exposing more of his underside to me.
But you know what I didn’t see?
I peered around the mound of flesh.
Part of his tail was visible above the water. So was the base of his neck. The tips of his flappers bobbed above the surface.
But there was no penis in sight.
“Ermmm…” Doubt clawed into me. Had I just done something cruel? Offered to get him off when he had no equipment to get off with?
“Alistair, do you…I mean…You have one, right?”
A nervous laugh pulsated through him. “Yes. It’s behind you.”
I scooched my butt back to the dip where his torso melted into his tail.
There was nothing there.
“Below your hand,” Alistair said. “It’s a…sl-sl…slit.”
“Oh. Ummm…” There was, indeed, a thin cleft splitting his glimmering scales.
“You can s-stroke that,” he told me.
Interesting.
I rose to my knees and touched my hands to the slit. Slick heat spewed off it, and it spasmed when I pressed down, rubbing lightly.
A groan shook Alistair’s entire body.
“Does this…oh… Oh !” A gasp shook me when the cleft gave a hearty, undulating pulse and peeled itself apart, opening into a yawning gap for a pale pink cock to wriggle out of.
Very, very interesting.
And terrifying .
Because the organ immediately engorged itself to impossible heights, stretching four…five… six feet into the air. At least.
His cock was longer than my entire body .
I gaped.
His penis throbbed as it flopped over his belly.
How on earth was this going to work?
There was no way.
None.
Nada.
My insides wept with pain at the sight of that monster dick, at the thought of putting it anywhere near my sensitive areas.
Genius idea, Pippi. Real Einstein move. He’s forty feet long. What did you expect would happen?
I hadn’t thought this far ahead.
I’d just wanted to make him happy.
And when his uncertainty pumped into my stomach—because he’d sensed me hesitate and likely knew where my thoughts had gone—I blew out a breath and steeled myself.
“It’s alright,” I murmured, stroking the side of his stomach—not yet brave enough to put my hands near that behemoth organ.
He sighed. Tightly. But his worry was still jumbling around in a big tumbleweed.
I hated feeling that.
Hated that I was wavering instead of reassuring him.
Hated that he’d put himself in such a vulnerable position, giving me his trust, and I was destroying it.
So I went all in, smoothing my hand along that throbbing pink root.
But another issue presented itself.
Alistair’s cock took rock hard to a whole other level. The organ had no give in it. None. Not at the root, at least. It was as solid as a rod of steel. I’d break my fingers trying to knead it.
But when I shimmied myself up further, where the tip thinned into a loose curl, the velvety flesh became malleable.
So I focused there, massaging my fingers into the hot, quavering flesh, drinking in the throaty sigh that escaped him.
He twitched. Stiffened. And the tip of his cock moved, bending itself backward, and coiling loosely around my arm.
Oh gosh…
It was flexible ?
Alistair groaned.
White-hot arousal punched itself through me. My vision hazed as my body locked in a tight convulsion, so very similar to the one that’d gripped me when I orgasmed. And I almost came again—from Alistair . From the delight and desire and want that burned through him.
The tip of his cock tightened its hold on my arm. A grip that should’ve been painful. But it was exhilarating .
And, suddenly, my body was moving. Drunkenly. Knowing what it wanted, even if my pleasure-soaked brain was a little behind the eight ball.
I lifted my leg over the center of the undulating organ and straddled it, savoring the way its girth stretched and spread my thighs, even as my hips gave a feeble creak of protest.
He said he dreamed of being ridden, right?
Alistair’s breathing froze. “Pippi?”
“This is as close as I can get to your dream,” I said as I dragged myself up and down along the length of his cock—or, well, the length I could reach .
And Alistair’s whimpered breaths said my instincts were spot on.
“Please don’t stop.” He groaned as the tip unfurled from my arm, clutched in a hard spasm.
“I won’t.”
Up and down, I went, squeezing my arms and legs around him. Rubbing my hands into that silky, silky flesh. Drinking in the sounds he made—all the moans, and growls, and mewls.
And when he arched the tip of his cock back again, clumsily sliding it between my stretched thighs…
“Oohhh.” I bucked.
I take back every bad thing I’d ever thought about his cock.
My eyes clenched shut as we pleasured each other.
This is perfect.
Better than perfect.
It’s…
Alistair roared and gyrated—not hard enough to unseat me, but enough to send my hands grappling. His flappers beat at the water, splattering me with cold, fizzing surf.
“I’m close, Pippi,” he grunted. “ Please don’t stop.”
How could I? When his reactions, his pleasured whimpers, his squirming…It all had me thrumming with want again.
And with that thin tip wriggling between my legs…
I hissed and ground down on him until we both keened.
“Pippi!” Panic lanced Alistair’s voice. “Pippi, I?—”
Whoosh.
Another of those snapshot images slammed into my closed eyes. This one lingered for only an aggravatingly brief heartbeat.
I straddled that tall, long-limbed man. And his hot cock pulsed inside of me.
He reached up as I rode him, pulling me down, capturing my mouth in a rough, desperate kiss.
I touched his face, letting my hands feel what my eyes never seemed to be able to make out: the high, sharp cut of his cheekbones; the prominent brow; the damp ringlets of curly hair; and the lush curve of his lips.
He growled and pulled me closer, squeezing his arms around my torso, and pressing his face into my neck as he yelled through his release.
And my second orgasm exploded inside of me.
I gasped. Cried. My toes curled. My back bowed.
It almost hurt to come like this. This fully .
Alistair bellowed and his cock gave an almighty surge before it burst, literally , shooting buckets, gallons , of cum over his belly and into the sea. In a way that was dirty and unnatural and delicious and…
Everything.
This was everything.
I pressed my lips against his emptying organ.
Alistair gasped. “Oh, Pippi.”
I stroked him—gently—with shaking hands.
He hissed. Twitched. And, with a heavy “Grugh,” he sank back into the sea, leaving me alone in the water, sputtering and fighting to get my rubbery limbs working.
“I’m sorry!” He rose beneath me again—his head, this time, my feet recognized the curve of his brow—and then I was safely away from the sea’s clutches.
“Ooomf!” My bottom smacked against the stone as he deposited me, as gently as he was able to, in his shaken state, back on to the cliffs. And then his snout was all over me . Nuzzling. Blowing warm air to dry me. Nuzzling me again. Whuffling through my hair. Nuzzling some more.
He was…
Alistair dragged the side of his nostril across my cheek.
Cuddling.
He couldn’t wrap me in his arms and hold me against him. So he rubbed, warming me. Caressing and comforting my body as it crashed from its high.
I reached for him, twining my arm under his chin and pressing my forehead to his nose.
And then we held on to each other.