Message-ID: <30755asstr$992167805@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <news@pita.alt.net> X-Original-Path: usenet From: "Frank McCoy" <mccoyf@millcomm.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <9ftvpg$jgs$0@pita.alt.net> Reply-To: mccoyf@millcomm.com x-assm-no-berne-warning: yes Subject: {ASSM} :*NEW* "The Selkie" (MF, rom, slow, preg) (Hopper-Swap Challenge) X-Original-Subject: :*NEW*: THESELKI.TXT "The Selkie" (MF, rom, slow, preg) (Hopper-Swap Challenge) Date: Sun, 10 Jun 2001 06:10:05 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/30755> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw pl The Selkie An Erotic Story Ernesto woke from his nap tired and still sleepy. He lifted his head from the blanket and checked first that his boat was still safely resting in the sand. The tide had come in and gone out again; leaving the small sailboat stranded rather high and dry, but quite safe. He sighed; knowing he would regret being stranded here on this rather nice island for the next eleven hours until the tide came close enough again. But laziness beat out industry. Digging the boat down and hauling it several yards to the rippling water just didn't seem worth the effort. He'd do it that night, moor the boat in deeper water this time, and leave the next morning. In the meantime, it seemed like a good time for beachcombing, since fishing from the shore had little appeal. Around the other side of the island, after fighting through rather tough brush, Ernesto found a small cove, which almost made him curse that he hadn't found it earlier. If so, it would have been a much nicer place to leave the boat, without worry of being stranded by the tides. Well ... Next time, perhaps. In the meantime, he was annoyed at what he saw. On the beach around the cove were scattered numerous black rocks, sticks, and chunks; spoiling the pristine white beauty of the sand. If he was going to return, he might as well clean up whatever mess it was these last tourists had left. He could do a better job while it was fresh, he figured. Slipping easily out of his pants, Ernesto tied a knot in each leg, to make a rough sack; then began gathering each black piece up. None of the chunks was larger than two inches long; and blackened with age. Perhaps it wasn't tourists. Each piece was surprisingly light too; more like bone than rocks. Perhaps they were bone. It now was fairly apparent they had been distributed on the beach around the small cove by water, and not by somebody's careless hand. By the time he was finished, Ernesto was sweating. So, skinning out of his one remaining garment, he slipped into the water to cool off before heading back to the boat and the small meal he had left under the seat. It was in this slightly uncomfortable rainment, that the young man found himself suddenly facing a young woman, as he climbed out of the water. "Uh ... Excuse me," he faltered. "I didn't know there was anybody else around here." Ernesto was not a man who knew intimately the beauty of women; being still a virgin at 29 years old. However, the naked woman in front of him would easily equal the best of those he had met in the small village he sold his extra catches at. The woman seemed neither embarrassed at her own nudity, nor put off by having an equally naked man stare at her. "I'm looking for something that got left here?" she explained. "Could you help me?" While not a lady's man, Ernesto tried to be gallant. "If Milady would tell me what she was looking for, perhaps I might be of some assistance," he prompted. 1 Looking the naked youth up and down, the vision of loveliness broke into a sudden smile. "And perhaps *I* might be of some assistance to you as well," she almost giggled; looking pointedly at Ernesto's rising erection. "Uh ...," he stammered. "That's not necessary." Ernesto found his whole body turning red in front of the beautiful senorita. "Oh, but I insist," she replied; giving her body a wriggle and almost writhing in a seductive manner that a priest would find hard to resist. Ernesto was a fisherman, not a priest or saint. "I'm looking for some black ... uh ... stones," she explained. "They should have washed up on the beach, right about here." "Uh ...." Ernesto struggled to explain how he had gathered up ALL of the missing pieces the young woman was obviously looking for; and offered to give her the entire pile ... pants and all. Surprisingly, the young woman refused! "We had a deal, I think," she reminded him. "Uh ... Deal?" Ernesto's mind went blank, as the first time in his almost thirty years of life a beautiful woman came on to him like he was the handsomest and richest man in the province. Ernesto knew better though. Not handsome, not rich, nor even particularly smart. All the women his age had either moved off to the city, or had taken husbands from the few remaining men; leaving the poor fisherman to know what little he did of sex from his own callused right hand. Ah well. Better that, than a shrew of a wife like some men had. The next half hour was almost a blur to him, as Ernesto found out that "congress" with a woman beat out his wildest imaginations of how good it could be. Slick wet heat surrounded his swollen penis, as the young lady milked and squirmed on top of him in a manner he hadn't even dreamed of. Then, she took Ernesto's unresisting body, and showed him how to reciprocate, and do things to make HER feel good ... Ways that should have seemed nasty or perverted; but that somehow felt RIGHT to return the favor she had given him. It was only AFTER they were finished; Ernesto having somehow managed to deposit three healthy loads of virile seed inside the incredible young woman's body, that he remembered what men are supposed to remember when having sex. Something to do with bambinos ... babies. Oh shit. Looking at he leaking split between the woman's legs, Ernesto wanted almost to cry. No, not for what he had done; but for not CARING enough to even think of precautions. What way was this to treat a young woman who had been so nice to him? Could he send her back to parents and family, without her virginity, and possibly his child in her womb? That he had no condoms, not even back at home or in the boat, didn't excuse his actions. "Shh, It's OK," reassured the object of his new worries, once he made them clear. "It's not my time of month." 2 "Huh?" Ernesto looked into the vertical slits of the woman's eyes, as for the first time he realized she wasn't completely human. (Well, what kind of woman did he EXPECT to be wandering around naked, alone, on a deserted island?) Somehow catching his understanding, she answered, "While I'm not *completely* human; in this particular manner I am. And all my life I've observed other animals, from otters and whales, to dogs on the beach. Each comes into heat at a certain time; and can only conceive then. Right now is far from my time. So there is no worry for us." Ernesto vaguely remembered something about this from jokes with other men. Jokes about "Catholic Girls" and "Rhythm Methods." Ernesto also remembers the point of one of those jokes about the "technical term for those who rely on rhythm, is Mother." The woman smothers his fears with fresh sexual energy; pointing out that if there was any chance to catch, she already had. So they couple madly one last time, as the sun sinks slowly closer to the horizon. Then, still dripping from their sexual exertions, the woman bends over cautiously and picks ONE tiny fragment from the pants/bag he had left on the beach. Ernesto turns to follow her; but with scarcely a ripple she slips into the water and is gone. "I'll see you next month, for the next installment," he hears from several yards out to see; then nothing. It takes three times as long to get back to the boat in the fading twilight as it took to get there ... especially as Ernesto is taking incredible care not to lose any tiniest fragment of the blackened stones/bones he had earlier picked up so casually off the beach. He had MEANT to return the entire amount. It seemed almost like paying for sex to give the incredible (woman?) a tiny fragment of the several hundred pieces in the pants, for a bout of sex that a courtesan charging thousands would be hard put to match. Only ... it was more like SHE was using the "payment" as a method to ensure his return. And who was Ernesto to argue with a woman like that? Exactly one month later, four weeks, as it had been February, Ernesto found himself somehow back at the island; this time his boat parked in the beautiful cove, while he waited on the beach. Day flowed into afternoon; which finally gave place to night. Birds were the only company he had. Well, Ernesto had expected that. Sighing, Ernesto was picking up the last of his supplies and packing them into the boat, when SHE appeared without scarcely a ripple in the water beside him. "Are you leaving so soon, My love?" she asked; eyes wide with disappointment. "I came at the exact time I promised," she reminded him; pointing at the quartering moon. Ernesto gave sudden praise to whatever gods watched over fools like him! Month to HER, was "month" in the original meaning of the word, or "moon". If he had come back one month later, 31 days, like a "normal" month, the young woman would have been long gone, and wondered if he cared so little about her that he wouldn't return. To his surprise, he burst out crying. 3 "Shh," she comforted him. "I would have waited. I have no choice," she told him. She didn't explain more; as she had more important things to do. Things like removing his remaining clothes, and reminding him of just WHY he had found his previous sojourn on the island pleasant enough to make it worth his while to return the fair distance to such a lonely spot. Feeling his body sink into her liquid heat, he is reminded once again of the duties he had so-neglected the previous time. But once again, the young woman (or selkie, as she turns out to be) refuses to put something so impersonal between their bodies as the rubber bags he has THIS time remembered to bring. "Besides, it's not my time of month," she reminds him again; pointing out that it was one reason for keeping the trysts down to only once a month. Again, after coupling madly and vigorously several times, Ernesto TRIES to press the entire contents of the sealed bowl upon the young woman before she departs. "Do you value my coming so little then, that you would give me no reason for returning?" she asks; selecting a small stone, seeming at random from the bowl he now carefully hoards each tiny piece in. Ernesto is barely able to blush and stammer an apology, before she gives him one last achingly-sweet and delicious kiss ... and is gone with barely a ripple in the water. The next month, watching the moon this time and 29 days later, Ernesto has barely dropped anchor before his selkie has joined him on the boat and they are coupling in frantic need of no sex for almost a month. And so it continues; until slightly over a year has passed; with each month a tiny stone slipping like a counter from the bowl of life and into the selkie's hand. When asked how *she* manages to make it an entire month without male company, she replies mysteriously that selkies don't see time in the same manner that humans do. And that is all she ever explains. On the thirteenth month, 15 days to a year after the first time, the selkie doesn't appear; though Ernesto waits for almost a week until his food and water have long run out. The next month, Ernesto is there again ... only three days early ... but his lover once again does not show. By the third month, Ernesto had built a small cabin or lean- to on the edge of the beach near the cove. His father being dead since about a year before he met the girl, it is no loss to the young man to leave the small house where he had been raised as a motherless child that was picked-on by schoolmates. Still, his father HAD obviously loved him and whoever his mother was a great deal; seeing to it that the boy had survived and even prospered as a fisherman like he was. Three months passed, and then six. Ernesto forgot to watch the cove on particular days ... it wasn't necessary. He lived there now; and if the girl never came back, then he still had little reason to move from the small island. He brought in food and extra fresh water every week or two, and exchanged fish for his small needs at his old village. Nobody even remarked on the fact that his old home was now empty. 4 Pulling into the cove one evening, boat now full of fish, he was almost shocked out of his reverie by an almost crying voice saying, "I was afraid you had decided I wouldn't come back. I'm SO sorry, but I never meant for this to happen!" Ernesto's shock and delight at the woman's return, is suddenly interrupted by her passing him a warm and squiggly bundle. "It's already twilight," she weeps. "I have to go." Before he can respond, she pleads, "You WILL be here next month?" His reassurances are met by a faint splash, somewhere out in the gathering darkness. It's then that Ernesto becomes fully aware of the squirming bundle in his arms ... a baby. Not just any baby; but a squirming and HUNGRY little boy, who soon lets his father know that he wants Mommy, he wants Mommy's breasts to drink from, and he is NOT going to take excuses for an answer. Babies, while not able to speak, CAN get your attention. Confused (and yet somehow delighted) Ernesto somehow manages to quiet the squalling youngster by cuddling and sips of water ... which he knows will not suffice for long. So, the next morning finds Ernesto packing ... and painfully TRYING to ignore the yells of his new son, so he can get the child what it needs. It's a desperate man that the police find at their desks that afternoon. At first, they suspect the wildman has kidnapped some tourist's baby. But after feeding, diapering, and getting help for the poor child, they eventually come to the conclusion that the baby is just what Ernesto claims him to be ... a child left by her mother in his care ... because it's his also. The looks, while not handsome, match all too well that of the poor fisherman. So, while it takes several weeks for the wheels to grind, in less than a month Ernesto finds himself the recognized father of the young boy ... and paying a young wet-nurse to look after the child. His earlier stingy life now pays off, as otherwise he would be hard-put to care for the baby. Twenty-eight days later, both Ernesto and the baby take off for a "vacation day" or two. And ... THIS time, the young woman is there, the moment the tide is fully low. A smile like a young star shines from her face, the moment she sees Ernesto with the baby. Surprisingly, the baby seems to barely recognize his mother at all. After this first time, the young child is left home on visits to the island. "I'm sorry," she apologizes, the moment they both stop kissing and nuzzling. "I never meant for this to happen." "It's my fault too," He tries to reassure her. "I should have known." Ernesto explains to the selkie what he, in just the last month, has learned about women and babies: That the time between periods, instead of being SAFE, is the period when she's most likely to conceive ... Unlike animals who "come into heat" and get messy. He SHOULD have known ... They taught that in school. But like so many things about mainland schools, if not involved in making a living from fishing, then he had pretty much ignored it. 5 Their lovemaking THIS time, is slow and loving, instead of frantic and hurried. "You know," he warns her, "We COULD be making the same mistake right now." "I know," she shudders in reply around him; her body crying and milking his prick almost desperately for his seed. "I know." It's six years later that the selkie doesn't reappear for the second time. However, Ernesto no longer has worries that she will not return ... the bowl is still over two-thirds full. This time Ernesto is waiting early in the day, all prepared with diapers, formula, a warming tray, and other such items, when the selkie appears without more than a ripple beside his feet dangling in the water. "Meet our daughter," she announces; pointing proudly to a squirming, splashing, wriggling, and boisterous girl-child that appears suddenly, wetting the two of them. The child appears more like a friendly otter than a baby; seeming far more at home on the water ... as if feet were meant to swim with, rather than walk on. And it obviously needs no diapers, bottles, or other such human paraphernalia. With an almost obscene wriggle, it blows a kiss at the two lovers, then vanishes into the water. "She'll be back when it's time to go," promises the selkie. "In the meantime ...." In the meantime, the two lovers have some SERIOUS making up of lost time to do. Each time he slides inside her, the girl's insides seem tighter and sexier than before ... as if she was growing younger and prettier as he grew older. A sad thing I guess that happens when immortal and mortal meet; but inevitable. Luckily, (or not so lucky?) that scene is not repeated in the years to come. Ernesto's son Juan grows up into an outstanding fisherman ... if not a Don-Juan among the girls, like his father had hoped the name might inspire him too. Each visit there by the cove is harder to make for the older fisherman ... but he never explains to his son where he goes each month ... and the boy never asks. Somehow it's understood that Ernesto has a lover ... perhaps even the boy's mother ... and that it's just not the place for a boy to be observing, when two adults make love. The months trickle down into years. The pieces left in the bowl grow smaller, until there's finally only one blackened bone left. Ernesto packs up one last time, tells his son Juan not to expect him back, and leaves the big boat behind; taking a small rickety dinghy for this last trip. It takes him over a day to row. But Ernesto had planned on this; leaving two days early. He sleeps fitfully at night in the small boat; thankful that the weather is calm for now. There's a big storm brewing, and he supposes that his neighbors will assume he will get caught in it. But that will be when he's past caring. When he arrives in the morning, SHE is waiting for him. By now the tides have shifted several times around the clock over the years; making her arrival times sometimes start even at midnight. But always she leaves at sunset; even if only arriving an hour earlier. Three times they had almost twenty-four hours together, when she arrived at or almost at sunset itself. The rules are understood; but never explained. 6 This last time, they have a whole day in the hot sun. It would seem that an old man would most likely be unable to perform; but like always she manages to get more than one erection from him ... and like always she seems to greatly enjoy each thin squirt of seed offered up into her tightly squeezing young body. As she picks up her final "payment", her eyes are curiously intense. Not filled with tears; but expectation. "Will you come with me this time?" she asks. "Of course," he responds. "You know that. I would have gone with you the first time." "But you would have died then," she answers back. "You cannot breathe water." "I knew." "So did I." The two lovers work together to push the frail dinghy out into the gathering waves, and watch it slowly swing to in the rising wind and move farther out to sea. It's work for the old man ... and almost as much work for his adolescent companion, who now looks barely old enough to even think about sex; with barely budding breasts and an almost smooth vagina instead of the heavy bush you expect on a woman old enough to have two children. "You know," she said, as they slowly walked deeper together into the waves on the beach, "Those black things on the beach ... were your bones." "I knew." Silence follows, as the two walk deeper into the water until a wave washes over both of them. Then there's no sign that anybody has ever visited the island. ---------------- The old selkie sighs, and looks at the crumbled and blackened fragments of bones that are all that remain of the one she loved for so many years. Weeping, she takes them to the cove of an island she has fond memories of, and releases them to the mercies of the rising tide. 7 First of all, these are all STORIES, not advice on how to have sex, or with whom. They are all FANTASIES not reality. The original poster of this story, Frank McCoy, (Not necessarily the author; as some stories in "The Erotic Story" series posted by him, are NOT written by him ... though most are.) can be reached by responding to this post in the newsgroups, by posting a message to either of the newsgroups alt.fan.frank.mccoy, or alt.sex.stories.d. or by email to: "Frank McCoy" <mccoyf@millcomm.com> All stories posted by Frank with the Sub-Title, "An Erotic Story" (including this one) are in the Public Domain; and free for any use by anybody. Retaining the title and sub- title, if the story remains unchanged, is requested; but not required. Stories posted by him, that are *NOT* so sub- titled, have copyrights retained by the original authors. Excessive restrictive use by pay-sites as "private" and for- fee stories of the "An Erotic Story" series, will be met by exercising the author's own rights under Public Domain, and posting copies to newsgroups, along with pointers to other free and competing websites. Use of the stories by pay-sites to use as samples however, is actively encouraged as a way to disseminate them freely even further. Please don't flood the groups with multiple copies of the same story week after week. For more stories posted by Frank (some copyrighted, but most not) try: http://www.young-stuff.com/frank/ Or: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Frank_McCoy/index.htm These are both WEB pages; in spite of the FTP label on the asstr site ... though it CAN be accessed by FTP as well. Just point your web-browser at either and get the same data. Or, try Incestgrrl's site. http://www.come.to/incestgrrl (It's not quite as up-to-date; because Frank doesn't maintain her site like the two mirrors.) However, it's free ... and there's lots of other stories there besides his. Check out ASSTR also http://www.asstr-mirror.org Frank also recommends three pay-sites that have helped him on occasion by hosting his stories, or in other manners: Young-Stuff http://www.young-stuff.com Daddy's Girls http://www.daddysgirls.org Mr. Double http://www.mrdouble.com 8 -- +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+