The Dragons' Mermaid

Chapter 1

The sand was warm under her naked feet and the high cliffs shielded the beach from the constant wind. Sunlight sparkled on the gently rolling ripples. Seagulls screeching in the distance and the lulling noise of the waves were the only sounds.

Andrea pulled the scarf from her head and ran her fingers through her long blond hair. A few strands danced over her eyes as she stared out at the endless sea. The mooring of her groom's fishing boat was empty. Later this afternoon, onshore winds would carry Rick's cockleshell boat back to his lovely, love-hungry bride. Their secret marriage was almost a year old now, yet routine hadn't settled in. Couldn't settle in, but Andrea didn't want to think about that just now.

She slipped her dress' straps off her shoulders and let her arms hang down. Bereft of support and with nothing on her lithe body protruding far enough for the coarse linen to get caught on, it tickled down her skin and crumpled around her feet. Andrea stepped out of the small circle of bleached cloth and towards the gray boulders that littered the bright sand at the water's edge.

The clear water was not warm by any stretch, but still warmer than she had expected it to be. She waded in until it just barely licked against her crotch's blond curls. The light, repeating touch sent shivers up her spine. Andrea cupped her nervous s*x in her palm and kneaded her slim labia to quell her growing arousal. Lowering herself into the blue, she began swimming with long strokes, and the whirling currents forming between her legs soothed the sensuous tickling as the cool water sucked the heat from her hungry flesh.

Several dozen yards out the waters were too deep to stand, and the ocean floor turned from bright sand into darker cobbles, overgrown with seaweed. The temperature dropped further. Barb didn't care much. "Fishblood" wasn't the nicest of nicknames, but the young woman had to admit it wasn't all that undeserved. Her habit of going for a half-hour swim in mid-January was unusual, even for a lass from a long line of weather-hardened fishermen and pearl diving women. Now, in late May, she felt like she could keep on swimming forever.

Something rough yet slimy touched her leg. Andrea jerked away and pulled up her thighs. Salty cold hit her face and blinded her for a moment. Coughing and sputtering, she turned on the spot and caught sight of a dark shadow moving under her.

The water stung in her eyes as she submerged her face and forced her eyelids open. In her blurred vision, she saw a pulsating, sparkling bundle struggling beneath her legs, rolling back and forth over the ocean floor with the waves' currents. She took a deep breath and dove the couple of feet. Her fingers touched a delicate mesh of strands. Andrea grabbed it and pulled it after her towards the beach.

It was a tangled net, filled with the biggest, most impressive catch of fish Andrea had ever seen. Now that it no longer floated in the water, Andrea's strength wasn't enough to lift it. Trapped by the tightly woven fibers, the fish inside were but a gasping, writhing mass of scales sparkling in silver and gold. She dragged it back into the water and tied the unexpected gift to one of the poles of the small pier before she laid herself down to dry on the warm, bleached wood.

Rick's going to be so proud, she grinned. Besides, that's a net much better than his patched old one with the holes and the rotted threads. But where did it come from?

Andrea propped herself up on her elbows. Her eyes searched the horizon. No sail, no ship, just that distant line separating water from sky. She rolled over from her back to her belly, let her hand hang down to the licking waves and traced the intricate weaving of the thin but strong fibers. Seeing them finished, the knots made perfect sense, but neither she nor any of the weavers from the small town nearby would've put them where they were.

Must've come loose from some passing ship. That's no workmanship from around our coast, Andrea mused. Ah, finders keepers, losers weepers.

~

The boat rocked as Rick turned about and cast his net out to where he knew the school of fish to be. He could see them sparkling just under the surface, and his aim was impeccable. And yet, like the ten times he had tried before, the net he drew back in was empty. He cursed. This was going to be another one of those days.

The splash and wooden thud behind him made him spin around. Trying to escape back into the water, a plump fish the size of his arm slapped about on the planks.

"Oh no you won't," snarled Rick and dumped the whole net on his accidental catch. "If only so I don't come home empty-handed!"

Andrea caught the rope that Rick threw at her and tied it down to their small dock. Her husband's face told her all she needed to know.

"Another bad day?" she asked anyway.

He nodded.

"Well, almost," Rick added with a smile and pulled up his net with his catch. "We might not have something to sell today, but at least we'll have something to eat."

"Oh, you'll be surprised," laughed Andrea and led him down to the waterline. "Care to lend me a hand? I've found something to make you happy."

"Andrea," he intoned with mock seriousness and took in the sight of her slender body. "Shameless girl, you can't do that, not out in the open in the middle of a sunny day!"

"What? Oh you big klutz, it's not all about your marvelous manhood! I'll get to that later," she smirked back. "I've done a bit of fishing by myself without even trying, and I got very lucky."

"Oh yes, you're my good-luck charm," he groaned through gritted teeth as he struggled to get the bundle of net and fish out of the water. "Let's sort them apart and put them into the baskets until the trader comes by."

Andrea waded out into the surf, grabbed the ropes of the line of willow baskets floating just beneath the surface and pulled them in.

"Haven't seen this kind around here before," Rick mused. "They're a lively bunch."

He bowed down and grabbed a gold-scaled, foot-long fish with both hands. Moments later, he spat and snorted and wiped saltwater from his face. "Lively all right. You're first in line for dinner now!"

"That's why I didn't put my clothes back on," laughed Andrea, her skin dripping and droplets running down her lithe, toned figure as the frenzied mass of fins sprayed water all around.

"Oh, really? It wasn't to cheer up your husband?" he snickered back as she circled him to pick up the next box. Rick jerked as Andrea's hand sneaked up from behind, ran up the inside of his left leg and took a determined, cupped hold of his privates.

"You really need any more cheering up?" she breathed, leaning her willowy shape on him.

"I can always do with some more cheering up, love," he whispered back. "And soaked all the way through like I am now, I'll need to get naked and lay out all my clothes to dry."

"How ... convenient," Andrea rasped back.

She let go and straightened. "Let's get the catch sorted first. Don't want your dangle to get chewed on by anyone but me, and those fishes, they've got sharp teeth," laughed the young woman. "Well, might not be such a bad idea to have your enormous rod pruned a bit, given that it's almost our anniversary yet we haven't managed to put it all the way into me, eh?"

"Ouch! You've got a nasty mind, wife!" grimaced Rick.

Andrea slid her fried dinner from the cast-iron pan onto her wooden plate. Hissing and blowing on her fingertips every now and then, she scraped the golden scales from the fish.

"They come off easy enough. And the flesh feels nice and firm. More like fowl than fish."

"No." Rick reached out and held her wrist just as she was about to put the white meat into her mouth.

"Mwa?"

"It might be poison. Better just take little bite and wait."

"It's no snake, Rick," smiled Andrea.

"Doesn't make much of a difference. Remember poor Cal? And he only stepped on a thornback."

"All right, all right." She sighed and held the lump up to her husband's mouth. "Let me guess. You're going to say tasting it is your responsibility, too?"

"Thafs exfak — hot hot hot! Ouch! — emmfaf — yeech!" He spat the tiny bite right back out and made his worst face. "Eeyuck! It's disgusting! Thank goodness we haven't sold it to anyone! What vile taste is this?"

"Huh? It smelled so good in the pan! Let me —" She tore another minuscule bite from the bones. "I mean, look at it! None of those ugly tiny fish bones. It's made to be eaten, can't you see?" Andrea chewed slowly. "And what are you complaining about? Tastes great! Much better than the blue snappers! Gonna be my new favorite."

"Still, no," Rick insisted. His wife sighed and gave in.

"I could ride you right here and now," she offered before she closed his mouth with her lips again once they finished their dinner. Her next sound was a moan through her nose as his fingers grabbed her firm buttocks and lifted her higher. Trapped between their bodies, Rick's warm, swelling rod pushed against her curls-covered mons veneris. She secured herself on his hips, drawing up her thighs and clamping him in their vise. "Heavens, I'm all wet inside and out. Today's the day! I can feel it, today I'll take you to the hilt!"

Rick carried her over to the cliff's face. Over the course of the centuries the winter's high tides had washed out a chain of caves, some huge as houses, some just a few hand's widths high. The ceiling of the one they called "the womb" reached to Andrea's hip, went into the rock a dozen feet deep and spread just wide enough for a couple to lay side by side.

"Slowly, dear," she moaned as he inched down and his twitching rod slid over her lower belly. The engorged head wandered over her bud. She slanted her hips forward. The warm peach-sized cone lodged itself between her slim outer lips.

"Still too tight," Andrea wailed as his first thrust ran painfully against her narrow gap. "Oh Rick, I — nnngh! — I'm just too tight! But I don't want to wait any more!" She grabbed his fat manhood with both hands and pushed. Groaning and spreading her legs wide, Andrea worked the stiff pole over her pink gap.

It squeezed into her, opening her further. She gained half an inch, then another, but the delight turned into stinging pain before she even managed to cram the glans into her, and she let go, tears of anger welling in her eyes.

Rick rolled his weight off her slender frame. She turned her back on him and slammed her fist into the sand.

"Not again," she growled through gritted teeth. "Why am I so tiny down there? I'm useless as your wife, Rick! I'm just a disfigured freak! And here I've got the most glorious man in all the town, but I can't — I'm — mmh! — ahh!"

Rick carried his wife back home. She could not sleep at night and tossed and turned the entire night.