Polo chuckled. As he rowed in the direction of the little island, I practised my front stroke. The boat had certainly done a number on my arms, but the water soothed my muscles. My legs were still in good working order, so I kicked on, huffing and puffing, until the deep, cold water grew shallow and warm. Despite my speed and agility, my husband still beat me to the finish line. By the time I dragged myself up from the dark, wet sand, Polo was already heaving our borrowed vessel up on shore.
When he saw me crawling in from my swim like a drowned rat, he stood staring with a cheeky grin plastered to his face. ‘Ciao bella,’ he said.
‘Hardee-har-har.’
‘Mia bella donna,’ he went on. ‘Bella, bella donna.’
I smiled. I couldn’t help myself. There I was, exhausted and sopping wet, and still he called me beautiful. ‘There’s a bamboo mat at the bottom of this boat,’ he said. He brought it out and set it on the white sand. Tumbling down on top of it, he gave me a keen smile and a wink. ‘Room enough for two,’ he said, patting the mat beside his golden body.
‘What?’ I asked, playing the innocent as I rose from the water. Naked and dripping wet, I walked toward him. The dry sand was hot underfoot. ‘Do you want to make love to me here on the beach?’
He raised his dark eyebrows as I crept in beside him. Even in the summer sun, all I could feel was sensual heat from his bare chest. ‘You mean you haven’t grown tired of me?’ I teased.
Flipping my wet hair behind my shoulder, Polo planted a soft kiss against my skin. ‘I could never grow tired of you.’
His smile made me smile. ‘You wouldn’t prefer a pretty young mermaid to play with?’
Pulling me in close, he said, ‘I wouldn’t know what to do with a mermaid.’ He kissed my lips. When I let his Italian tongue infiltrate my mouth, his passion coursed through my veins. My body throbbed with his attraction for me, and mine for him.
‘You certainly know what to do with me,’ I said. ‘You barely have to glance at me from across the room and my lips are wet for you.’
‘Is that so?’ he asked, tracing his fingers down my stomach.
‘Oh yes.’
‘Are your they wet for me now?’ he asked. His mouth hovered so close to mine I could taste the peppermint on his breath.
‘Oh yes.’
‘I’m not sure I believe you,’ he teased, planting soft kisses down my neck. ‘Perhaps I ought to see for myself.’
‘Seeing is believing,’ I whispered just in time to feel his soft tongue penetrate my mouth. He kissed me like an infatuated youth. I squeezed his firm ass as he plunged his hand between my thighs. Wet. Just like I said it would be.
His fingers met my wetness with bold determination. I nearly lost my head as he stroked me. I kissed him hard, tracing my nails across his sun drenched back. His cotton slacks irked me. I wanted them gone.
As I tore at the zipper of his trousers, he pulled out of our kiss with a sexy smirk on his face. I knew that look. He was about to tease me by saying, ‘Aren’t we the naughty one?’ or ‘Anxious for something?’ But when he opened his mouth to speak, something on the shoreline caught his eye. He went mute.
‘What is it?’ I asked before propping myself up on my elbows. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was utterly impossible, and yet there she was. The deep green seaweed and water flowers caught in her long golden hair only accentuated its dripping-wet splendour. Her green eyes were huge, with big, curious pupils. Her features were dainty. Faint freckles dotted her narrow nose. The sprinkling of sand coating her arms and bare chest sparkled like body glitter. Her naked breasts were perky and splendid, but it was her tail – her tail! – that really captured my attention. Blue and green scales glinted in the surf as she flapped it about in the shallows. She was la sirena. There was no mistaking a mermaid.
I gasped at the sight of the legendary creature. ‘Mermaid!’ I said to Polo. I wanted confirmation that I wasn’t completely insane,
‘Sirena,’ he replied. He could see her too.
The mermaid’s eyes grew even wider as we held completely still. ‘Mille scuse,’ she said. Her voice shimmered like a freshwater stream. I understood her. A thousand apologies. But, more astounding still, it wasn’t until she spoke that I realised this imaginary being was really and truly in our midst. Was I more in awe of her presence or embarrassed about my nudity? I quickly crossed my legs and covered my breasts with my arm.
‘Dove venuto?’ I asked, immediately questioning my Italian. ‘Was that right, Polo?’
Sirena’s eyes grew so large they seemed ready to burst. ‘Polo?’ she asked. Her pretty pink lips quivered. She must have been thinking back on the long-ago seduction of another Polo and the distress it had caused.
‘Poor dear,’ I whispered to my husband. ‘She’s a siren. Imagine being the scorn of the island through all these centuries. It’s in her nature to seduce.’
Teardrops coursed down her tan cheeks as she spoke in quick Italian. Polo had to translate for me. ‘She’s distraught,’ he said.
‘Yes, well I can see that.’
When he waved his fingers to hush me, I realised I’d stopped covering up my nakedness. I was so concerned for the sirena, I didn’t care so much what she saw. ‘She says she’s kept her promise all these years. She felt so guilty after speaking with Dolfina, she’s sworn off men altogether. She says she might as well live in hell, she’s so lonely. She wants somebody to love, if only physically.’
Without thinking I said, ‘She can have you, then, can’t she? Prenda il mio marito, Sirena.’
‘What?’ Polo said, laughing as though I were having him on. ‘You would offer me up like a piece of meat? But you’ve always been the jealous type.’
‘True,’ I said. ‘But look at that sad creature.’
The mermaid intruded with sniffled Italian. ‘She says she can’t take me because I’m married to you, and she made a promise.’ Polo paused. A goofy grin crept across his lips. ‘She says you are a very kind woman. She says you’re an attractive woman, too. She says …’
Polo let out an ecstatic squeak. ‘What?’ I asked.
‘She wants to lick you.’
‘What?’ I squealed. My heart leapt in my chest. If my lower lips hadn’t already been salivating, they would have started at those words. ‘Lick me?’
Polo knew my fantasies as well as I knew his. ‘Let her do it,’ he encouraged.
I didn’t know quite what to say. It was all a whirlwind. The sirena waved me down to the shoreline, I assume because her tail had to stay in the water. She and Polo exchanged excited words as he hopped up from the bamboo mat. Grabbing it at the base, he pulled the mat – and me along with it – down to the wet sand. I was in complete and utter disbelief at all this. Mermaids didn’t exist. I knew that. And yet there was a gorgeous specimen spreading my thighs as my husband looked on.
She glanced up at me. When our gazes met over the terrain of my naked body, I couldn’t help but smile. She was gorgeous. A demure smirk cast itself across her lips. She looked down at the bamboo mat, and then up a touch until all her attention was concentrated between my thighs. ‘Bellissima,’ she whispered. I felt her soft breath against my wet skin. Her small breasts swayed as she leaned forward to sink her face between my thighs. She grabbed my ass cheeks with both hands. She squeezed them as she sucked my lower lips into her mouth.
I’d never felt anything like it. I was inside her mouth. It was warm there, and moist. She took me in like a welcome houseguest, making me feel needed and loved. It was love she was giving me. All the love she’d stored through her years of celibacy. And along with her love came pleasure. She was a sirena, after all. She sucked my clit, pressing my cheeks up so powerfully she lifted my bum clear off the mat. I kicked my feet in the shallow water as she plunged her head up and down between my thighs. The sucking sensation made me wild. And jealous. I wanted something to suck as w
ell.
What was a husband for, if not to read his wife’s mind in moments of high eroticism? Before I could say a word, Polo’s pants came off. His penis hovered just above my mouth. He was hard. So hard and ready, his cock dripped pre come on my shoulder as I kissed his shaft full-on with pouting puckered lips. It tasted salty. It was hot, but my mouth was hotter. I licked his shaft side to side until the creature between my thighs let my clit fall from her mouth. Sliding her hands up from my bum, she pressed my outer lips together. The sensation on my clit made me gasp. I could feel just how wet she’d made me. Diving at my closed lips, she sucked with intensity, as though she were prying a pearl from an oyster shell.
I needed to suck too. As Polo ran his shaft back and forth against my lips, I turned to catch his cockhead in my mouth. He gasped with surprise. I chuckled deep in my throat, and the vibration seemed to please him immensely. Kneeling on the mat beside me, he threw back his head and ran a strong hand through his hair. With the sun beating down on his naked chest, he looked exactly like one of those sexy pin-up hunks from magazines. I grabbed his cock at the base. Never in a million years would I have anticipated a threesome on a beach with an Italian and a mermaid.
Taking in as much of Polo’s rigid cock as I could handle, I pumped the base with a steady hand. Or, at least, steady as I could manage as the sirena drove me wild down below. When she at last caught my pearl in her mouth, I lost all capacity for control. I screamed my head off as I sucked hard on Polo’s cock. It felt so impossibly good; I ran my mound all over the mermaid’s mouth and down her chin. I couldn’t help myself. She didn’t seem to appreciate it quite so much when I pressed my wild mound against her nose. She diverted my hyperactive lips to another part of her body. Pressing her breasts between my thighs, she rubbed that soft flesh up and down the length of my wet slit. Before long, my feet were firmly planted in the sand and I was rubbing my greedy mound against her breast so hard she had to grab hold of the bamboo mat.
Polo pressed his cock deeper into my throat to give me a wakeup call. I’d been ignoring his erection and it was most upset with me. I could get Polo off in my sleep. Clits were elusive, but penises were easy. Pumping hard on his firm shaft, I sucked his cockhead just the way the sirena had done my clit. Never giving up suction, I ran my head back and forth, sucking harder all the time. I could almost see the hot come rising up his shaft like mercury through a thermometer. His legs trembled. I knew ejaculation was imminent. Polo was mine and I knew how to read him. He plunged his shaft between my lips almost all the way to the base and I sucked like his seed would save my life. When he held the back of my head, I knew what was coming. I sucked in a frenzy until my mouth filled with hot cream. I trapped his cock inside to mingle with his jizz and my silence.
The dazzling sirena sank between my thighs as my head fell back on the bamboo mat. I tried to think how to say, ‘Please, no. I can’t take anymore,’ but I didn’t need to, as it turned out. She only nuzzled my hair and kissed my lips with pure love. As I watched my sun drenched husband watching her, I sighed, completely contented. ‘Thank you,’ I said to her. ‘Grazie.’
She looked up at me. The sun bounced off her golden hair. She smiled as she backed from us. She seemed to blush when she offered Polo a knowing nod. The darling sirena struggled to meet my gaze. When she did, she covered her lips and giggled. My heart bubbled. With a wink for me, she turned swiftly roundabout in the water. In moments, she was lost in the sparkling surf. My stomach fell a touch, but I was too exhausted to move let alone chase after her. All the same, I missed her presence between my legs.
Polo lay down beside me in the summer sun. ‘Did that really happen?’ I asked, wrapping my arms around his strong core.
‘I believe it did,’ he replied. ‘You got licked by a sirena.’
‘Sirena,’ I said, simply to repeat the word. ‘Sirena.’ It seemed like an impossibility. There was no proof, nothing we could take back with us to tell friends, ‘There. You see? Mermaids exist.’ Neither Polo nor I truly believed it, and yet we shared the same memory of events taken place. It must have happened. The Burano women were right. Legends were alive in the waters around the island.
Polo and I slept together on the beach until the water told us it was time to wake up. When we arrived back at the island, the Burano lacemaker stood waiting for us. ‘I wondered how long it would take her to find you.’
I felt my face drop into my shoes. What exactly did she know? ‘We met her,’ I confessed. ‘The sirena. She came to us.’
‘And you came for her,’ the woman said with a wide smile. For a moment, I seemed to stop breathing. ‘You have met our sirena. You are a part of our heritage, and now you will buy our art.’ Turning on her heels, she led us back to the peach-coloured house where the women still sat working at their exquisite craft. ‘My daughter has only just finished a table cover. I can sell it to you for 1200 euros. A very fair price for Burano lace.’
Full Moon
by Viva Jones
On her last night, alone on the French Riviera, Emily couldn’t sleep. A full moon was shining brightly through the thin bedroom curtains, highlighting the empty half of the bed where her husband, Piers, should have been. Admittedly, Emily’s trip had been a last minute decision because the villa they owned hadn’t been rented out, but she’d been hoping he’d join her for a few days all the same. How much money did they need? They had the villa, the house in London and enough capital to support them for the rest of their lives. Yet still he chose to work on, as if deal-making was the new socialising, finance the new sex. Emily felt abandoned.
Earlier that week, when Piers had called to say that he definitely wouldn’t be coming, Emily had taken the diamond engagement ring he’d bought her in happier times and, in a fit of temper, thrown it through the drawing room window. Every day since she’d searched for it in the flowerbeds and borders, in the clumps of grass that grew between the paving stones, and in the pool itself, desperate to find it. But still, her finger was bare.
The ring, a solitaire diamond from Tiffany, had cost a fortune, and she dreaded telling Piers what had happened.
Despite the fan above her bed, it was insufferably hot. A thin film of sweat had formed on her skin, and Emily wished she could reach out and hold her husband, run her fingers along his damp, smooth skin and awaken his snoozing cock. She wanted for him to enter her in jagged, powerful thrusts, and to prove to her how much he still needed and desired her. It was on holiday that they’d always had the best sex. Yet these days, it seemed, not even the promise of that was enough.
Beside her wardrobe sat the half-packed suitcase that would accompany her back to London the following afternoon. What an empty, wasted visit this had been. When they’d first bought the villa life had been so much happier – using it had been a treat they both looked forward to. They’d hire expensive cars and drive down to Cannes for supper in one of the bistros in the old town, and then come home to late night swims and bottles of chilled champagne. Sometimes they’d make love by the pool in the moonlight; other times Piers would carry her to the bedroom, and they’d fuck each other so hard, and for so long, she thought they might scald each other’s skin with their heat.
Emily got up to look at the moon through the French windows. A full moon signified endings, she mused. Might this be the end of their marriage? The thought weighed heavily on her. She was yet to have his children – there was still so much life to be lived. Through the reflection, she studied her own naked body: her hair was still blonde, and tumbled around her shoulders in tousled waves, her stomach was flat, her breasts like firm, ripe apples and her legs supple enough still to wrap around his back.
Slipping on a silk bathrobe, she opened the windows and stepped out to look at the moon more clearly, and to soak up its power. Mystical and romantic, it made her feel both invigorated and sad. If Piers was only here now, she thought, they could open the bottle of champagne she’d bought, swim a few n
aked lengths and make love until sunrise.
Emily let her hand fall down and she parted her bathrobe to stroke the strip of pubic hair beneath. If she masturbated, she thought, she might just get to sleep. To have an orgasm under the full moon – wouldn’t that be special? But she’d been giving herself lonely orgasms all week now, and she was ready for the taste, the touch and the feel of another person.
Suddenly Emily thought she heard a splashing sound. A large part of the pool was blocked from view, but she heard it again, quite distinctly this time, followed by the sound of a woman’s laughter. Concerned, she went back inside and crossed the landing for a clearer view. And there, swimming in her pool in the moonlight, were a man and a woman. Two rucksacks were propped up by the table near the shallow end, and next to them was a pile of clothes.
Emily froze. Should she call the police? Should she approach them herself? Could they be dangerous? Her heart pounding, she continued to watch as they swam a couple of lengths, before the man playfully attacked his girlfriend underwater. He groped and tickled her until she could swim free, and then they held each other tightly and kissed. Suddenly the girl pulled herself out and stood proudly facing up to the moon. Her naked body was voluptuous, with large breasts, an hour-glass figure and a large mound of pubic hair. Just watching her, Emily felt a guilty flash of desire between her legs.
‘Isn’t this beautiful?’ she heard her say. Her accent was Australian. ‘If I had a place like this I swear I could never leave.’
The girl swept back her long dark hair and Emily could see that she was really quite beautiful, with well defined cheekbones and a full mouth. Without warning she turned and dived right back into the pool and swam towards her lover, and they kissed again joyfully.
‘What d’you think a place like this is worth?’ he asked.
Alfresco Loving Page 4