Message-ID: <47004asstr$1078276205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
X-Mail-Format-Warning: No previous line for continuation:  Wed Aug 14 16:30:23 2002Return-Path: <virgosun@internode.on.net>
X-Original-Message-ID: <007201c40040$830275e0$6501a8c0@penguin>
From: "virgosun" <virgosun@internode.on.net>
X-Priority: 3
X-MSMail-Priority: Normal
X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.00.2615.200
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 2 Mar 2004 21:24:14 +1100
Subject: {ASSM} Tales of the Lorelei 05/10 {virgosun} (msolo mf 1st cons rom voy pett oral)
Lines: 518
Date: Tue,  2 Mar 2004 20:10:05 -0500
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/Year2004/47004>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: hoisingr, dennyw


<1st attachment, "05lorelei.txt" begin>

Lorelei part 5

The lowermost drawer had no label. I tried it 
experimentally. At first it didn't budge, so I thought 
it locked; but then as I stood up and closed the upper 
drawer, the lower one slid out as if of its own accord. 
Freed up by the shifting of weight. There were a few 
folders up the back, pushed there by the object inside.

I gasped. With a dread fascination, as though in a 
dream, transported in time, I put my hand down and 
brought the thing out, and gazed with childish horror at 
its empty orbits and sharp fangs. It was a cat's skull, 
nailed to a short handle, adorned with feathers, ribbons 
and rusty bells.

"Oh my God!" I wanted to giggle, my heart thundering in 
remembered panic. "Do you still use this, Kieran?" I 
giggled to myself. Next time he accused me of being a 
voyeur, I could shake this ridiculous thing at him. The 
angry girl in me wanted to throw it in the creek. I 
settled for leaving it on top of the filing cabinet, in 
arm's reach. I closed the bottom drawer and checked 
another cabinet altogether, discovering a new group of 
sketches. These were torsos, male and female, twisting 
and rippling. There were a lot of breasts - I was later 
to learn that getting hand-sketched breasts to look 
right is actually an art in itself that required plenty 
of practice. No wonder Kieran enjoyed his work.

Breasts, hands, ears, noses...all those tricky parts. 
And then there was another folder, headed "Genitals". 
Both kinds were here, although the female certainly 
outnumbered the male. These were closeups in perfect 
anatomical detail. I skipped past the labia sketches, 
but lingered over the few male sketches, of both flaccid 
and erect examples. Who needed porn? These were, simply 
put, beautiful.

"Ah hah! Caught you looking!" Kieran was grinning as he 
shouldered through the door, a mug in each hand. I gave 
a guilty start in spite of myself, then grabbed the cat-
stick.

"Yeah, well, mind your manners or I'll tell the world 
about this!"

He scowled a moment, taken aback, then shut his eyes and 
gave a slow laugh. Did he redden just a little? "Oh, 
man, where did you find that?"

"Laying around. What kind of cat lover are you? This is 
so gross."

"It's magic," he said seriously. "When I was eight I 
found the skull in a roadside ditch. I'd never thought 
much about death before then. It scared the hell out of 
me. I didn't realise it was a cat, I thought it was some 
kind of alien thing. I was feeling a bit scared and 
hassled at the time," he shrugged, "so I brought it home 
and turned it into a charm for scaring fear away."

"Did it work?" I asked dubiously. I didn't know about 
the fear thing, but it had worked fine on young girls in 
kayaks.

"It helped," he said easily, setting my mug down. He 
grinned at the drawer I had left open. "Find anything 
interesting in there? You don't have to worry about me, 
I'm not ragging you about your cave. The human body's a 
thing of beauty, and you obviously have an appreciation 
for that. Which feels all naughty, but is perfectly 
natural. You want something from there, I'll sketch it 
up properly for you, no worries." He made an expansive 
gesture as he returned to his computer. "All teenagers 
are sexual creatures, with this strange kind of innocent 
overlay. But still sexual. You don't know if you were 
being sinner or saint playing serpent to Sean and 
Cathy's Adam and Eve, eh?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Curiosity's all it was. I was the same during my 
awakening years. I did it, and I seen it all here." He 
batted a hand at the screen. "Now it's just another part 
of life. But I see kids like those two in there, and 
Renton, who comes over here and surfs for naughty stuff 
- that's a secret, mind - and you with your cave, it's 
all new and exciting for you. But it's also serious 
shit, you can get hurt or burned or whatever."

I thought of Lyn, and agreed.

"Which makes it all the more dangerous and exciting. But 
natural. That was the point I got shot down for trying 
to make. Well," and he scratched his head, "tact ain't my 
strong suit."

"You mean your infamous senior high art project?" I 
smiled. "Where is it?"

"Preserved in all its glory for posterity. You want to 
see it? Cost you fifty a look," he grinned. "Nah, all 
depends why you want to see it. Want to look at sexy 
pictures, check folder Karma Sutra there, third drawer 
in that cupboard there, rather than high school art. The 
gear for the school project was really very tame, and 
none of it got past rough sketch stage. Enclosed with it 
are the comments from the educational staff." His lips 
peeled back bitterly. "Fun reading. Look for the skull 
and crossbones file. My closing sketches were crude 
cartoons of the principal and Art Mistress in 
compromising positions; pathetic really." His eyes were 
on the screen.

Maybe that had been the one at the back of the lowermost 
drawer. I picked up the cat's head stick and opened the 
file, replacing it and drawing out the nameless files 
that were behind it.

These pictures were particularly beautiful, and all 
stuck to a single theme. The subject was a lean, elegant 
woman, variously posed on rocks or sand, or swimming in 
the sea. She was not a mermaid, but had a long whippy 
tail, and scaled skin. Colour developments of the 
sketches showed her as dark and metallic, wearing 
nothing but fine silver bracelets and charms. She did 
not belong to any mythology or fantasy I could easily 
recognise.

"Who's this?" I asked, taking the file toward him. He 
looked up, then sat back from his screen and saved his 
work.

"Her? Uh, well, she's special. She's...the Lorelei, I 
call her."

"As in the Point? I thought it was named after a boat."

"Yeah, but what was the boat named after? A lorelei's 
like a siren, you know, a beautiful but daemonic woman 
that lures young sailors to their deaths on the rocks." 
He fixed me with a dark, steady stare that dared me to 
argue. "There's no way that point was named for a boat. 
She's real, and she lives in the seas just off those 
rocks, down in the kelp. Sometimes she comes to the 
surface. I used to think, when I was a bit younger, she 
fed on the sexual energy of young men. But now I think 
it's innocence she feeds on."

I laughed and shook my head. "Ah c'mon, there's no such 
thing!"

"Do you think Sean and Cathy are the only ones who've 
lost their cherries out there? Uh uh. Even you lost your 
innocence at that cave." Although he smiled, his words 
were sober with knowing.

"Yeah, but if there was a wicked mermaid sitting out 
there, Lorelei Point would be as famous as Loch Ness." I 
flicked through the pictures again. "How do you even 
know what she looks like?"

"I know she's real, because I've seen her," he said 
softly. His brows gathered in a sharp expression, 
expecting my disbelief.

"You've seen her. How drunk were you that day, or was it 
something else you'd had?"

"Of course, Little Miss Sanctimonious, lah-de-bloody-
dah! I was neither high, pissed nor stoned. I came back 
to town and got myself that way after I saw her." He 
reached for the folder and I handed it to him, and he 
leafed through its contents gently, his expression 
softening. Something wistful was revealed there, that I 
had never seen in Kieran tough-guy before. "I never 
could quite get the iridescence right," he said softly. 
"Never did her full justice. You want to hear about 
her?"

Of course I did. Who doesn't enjoy a good mystery story? 
"First, you gotta swear secrecy on this. Okay, people 
think I'm a bit unhinged, but this'd blow me out of the 
water and I've got a nice little business going here." 
He went to the drawer again, and took out the cat's 
skull. "Swear on this you'll not breathe a word of what 
I'm gonna tell you."

"All right." I didn't much like the shadows in the eyes 
of that damn skull. I chose some relatively inane words 
that seemed to suit the solemnity in his face. "If I 
fail to keep your trust, my kayak will split and sink 
for no apparent reason with me aboard. Which wouldn't 
kill me, but it'd be a hell of an inconvenience."

"I would have suggested the penalty be you'd have to go 
out with Mitch again," he grinned, and my jaw hit the 
floor.

"So much for secrets! Renton told you, did he?"

"My source shall remain nameless, for all that he's a 
long red streak of information. I could have spared you 
the distress and told you from the start, Mitch's a 
wanker with a few weird ideas."

"No doubt you let him surf his porn here too!"

"I did for a while, until he turned out to be a bit of a 
tool. He don't hang around here anymore."

"Bloody hell," I muttered. "All right, just get on with 
the damn story, will you!"

***

Kieran didn't think much of school, the teachers or his 
peers. He was happiest away from it, spending many a day 
exploring. He had found a great place to get away from 
all his troubles out at Lorelei Point, but only went 
there during school hours, which is why I'd never seen 
him from my pirate fortress window. He went there to get 
away from all his hassles, to do some serious rock 
fishing, and of course, to pleasure himself in privacy. 
Five years before Sean, he spilled his sperm in the sea, 
and wondered if the fish ever fed on it.

On first arriving there he would lay face-down on the 
sunwarmed rock and relax, letting his stress and hassles 
drift away. For a while he would close his eyes and 
focus on his other senses - the roar of the sea in his 
ears, its salty tang in his nostrils and on his lips. He 
would feel how his body lay along the rock, yielding 
flesh upon solid stone, but for one part of him that 
would grow hotter and stiffer until it seemed the 
stone's equal. Safe in his isolation, there was no limit 
to what he would do, in his imagination. He told himself 
he wanted to be alone, when in truth he despaired of any 
woman wanting him - he wanted badly to be grown-up, to 
be a man, and the years would not pass quickly enough. 
He tried hard to act the man, to be the man, but the boy 
was still afraid enough to need his cat-skull charm, and 
to believe in magic.

The day came when he was not alone at the Point.

He arrived at his regular place on the rockshelf, by the 
little beachlet, and put down his rucksack and fishing 
gear. Finding a place on the stone that faced the sea, 
he got down on all fours, ready to lay on the rocks. The 
swell rushed in to perhaps knee-depth, and as it came he 
saw something dark move with it along the sand.

A shark? He stood up to better see - but then the water 
billowed and burst as the Lorelei erupted from the sea, 
going from swim to stand in one fluid motion.

Staring slack-jawed as he realised how alien she was, 
his knees slowly buckled. At first he thought she was a 
spearfisher wearing a full-body black wetsuit. But there 
was no mask or breathing gear, and sunlight flashed from 
scale. He had seen fishscale beneath the sea, 
silverlight and iridescence. She was jet black and steel 
blue as a raven, and a long, whippy cord trailed behind 
her, snapping about like the tail of a tetchy cat, 
cutting the water. She looked down at him archly from 
enormous, slanted eyes the colour of stormclouds, that 
had no whites and vertical slits for pupils.

All he could think was that he had left his catskull at 
home.

Her head tilted as she looked him up and down with a 
gaze as cold and impassive as the open ocean. She was 
naked but for a few strings and garlands of pearl and 
polished coral, and his gaze lingered upon breasts that 
were small and conical. Long, pointed nipples dark as 
black coral emerged from her sleek scales. Aside from a 
narrow black mane that sprouted from the crown of her 
head and ran right down her spine to the root of her 
tail, there wasn't a hair on her, and his gaze went down 
to the bare V of her pubis. He gulped when he noticed 
that secret, sacred notch where her labia began, and in 
spite of his shock, his penis throbbed and began to 
grow.

She gave a long, slow blink. A small smile curved her 
lips, and he tried to identify that expression. Was 
it...knowing? Then she turned away and walked gracefully 
for the water's edge, sunlight playing upon her swaying 
hips. Her tail emerged from the root of her spine 
naturally, between lean rounded buttocks that he yearned 
to touch. Strange she was, yes, but also beautiful 
beyond his wildest dreaming.

As he managed to regain control of his legs, his intent 
being to follow her, she turned again to face him, and 
knelt at the highest reach of the seawater, with her 
knees wide apart. She rested her hands on her knees and 
drew a deep breath, arching her back and closing her 
eyes as the swell washed in. Foam rushed up her thighs 
and splattered her belly, and her lips parted in 
ecstasy. Then she ran her hands slowly down her torso, 
over her breasts and down, along a seamless stomach and 
beneath, to that place where her labia were parted. 
Within that slit, her flesh was rose and scarlet, a 
stunning blossom against the glistening dark of her 
skin.

The effect on him was electric, his half-risen cock 
snapping to attention and straining against denim. Her 
eyelids half-opened and she gave him a hooded glance, 
her smile widening. The tip of her tongue appeared 
briefly between her lips, moist and pink, an echo of 
what was below. She drew her hands up her thighs, an 
unmistakable gesture of invitation.

Like a sleepwalker, he moved jerkily toward her, 
shamble-footed; down from the rocks and splashing into 
ankle-deep water, wading against another foaming rush. 
When he stood almost between her knees he knelt, the 
cool caress of seawater that soaked his pants doing 
nothing to soothe the fiery lump at his groin. For a 
moment he gazed at her face and shoulders, the texture 
and sheen of her scales. Up close, she was even more 
lovely, and there was kindness in her strange eyes. 
Slowly, hesitantly, he raised a hand, and brought it to 
rest upon her shoulder. He had expected she would 
disappear. Instead, her skin was warm, smooth and satin-
slick along the lie of her scales; rough as sharkskin 
the other way. Gulping, still unsure he could trust his 
senses, he drew his hand across her collarbone, then 
down between her breasts.

She leaned forward a little and raised her arms, cupping 
his face in strong, slender hands. Her eyes moved across 
his features, and with one thumb she traced his jawline 
and immature whiskers. A brief, quirky grin lit her 
face, as though she found his boyishness endearing. Then 
she pressed her lips to his, kissing him with supreme 
authority.

He'd never been kissed so fully and passionately before. 
Her lips captured his and showed them how to move, how 
to dance. She tasted of sweet, fresh springwater, and 
when he leaned into her, showing that he could give as 
good as he was getting, she slipped her tongue in to 
join that dance. He ran his hands down the elegant 
length of her spine, arms pulling her body against his, 
feeling the tiny hard buds of her nipples against his 
chest through his teeshirt. Their tongues swirled and 
rolled together like dolphins playing, her leading, him 
following; with each kiss she urged him to match her, 
flicking and whirling the tip of her tongue light and 
fast.

When she was satisfied with his response, she took her 
mouth from his. With fingers knotted in his thick, 
shaggy hair, she pulled his head down as she arched her 
neck back. For the first time in his life, he was 
presented with naked breasts that were for him to touch 
and caress, to kiss and suck. They made wonderful, 
rounded shapes that cupped neatly within each hand, 
nipples drilling holes in his palms.

Breasts! He brought his mouth to one, sucking the nipple 
and flicking it with his tongue. Her fingers curled 
against his skull as she gave a soft moan of pleasure, 
the first sound either of them had made. His pulsing 
groin was tensing and clenching, and as he moved lips 
and hands from the wonder of one breast to the other 
there was no containing his orgasm.

When the hot hammer-shocks passed he found himself 
pressed between her breasts, gasping for breath, his 
groin a strange swirl of cool seawater and hot, soft 
cum. She held his shoulders and hugged him gently, 
holding him through the explosion, stroking his hair 
with one hand. His wits slowly returned. With the 
urgency gone, he could take the time to enjoy all of 
her, while she was here to be enjoyed. Soon he was 
kissing her breasts again.

There was a positively wicked gleam in her eyes as she 
leaned back, way back, so flexible she could lower her 
body to the sand while her knees remained wide apart. He 
followed her breasts down, but she guided his head 
firmly lower, down her body. He paused to kiss her lower 
belly, but knew what she wanted from him next.

Aroused already, her inner folds were swollen and 
scarlet, her clitoris a red pea. He did not hesitate, 
bringing his lips to her labia and opening them out, 
kissing them as surely as he had kissed her mouth. His 
tongue flicked into a deep, hot well with the ocean's 
flavour and hints of a sweeter musk. Like a diver in red 
coral, he found crevices to explore, and delicate 
structures to flick his tongue along and around. 

And with every small motion of his tongue, she moaned 
with pleasure. He licked her slit from end to end, 
lingering and whirling around her clitoris and trying to 
catch it and cup it. His tongue ached from exertion but 
he kept at it, for she started raising her pelvis off 
the sand and tugging his face in harder, her gasps and 
moans increasing in volume and need. His penis was 
stirring again, and he plunged his tongue in as deeply 
as it would reach, waggling the tip. As he withdrew he 
licked her clit again, and she gave a great gasp and her 
whole body spasmed, gouging the sand. He thought she 
might crush him between her thighs, so he sat back, 
taking in the view of this amazing sea siren sprawled 
before him, helpless with the pleasure he had given her.

Her eyes opened when she realised he had stopped, and 
the glare she gave him was one of pure hunger, a 
sharklike ferocity. Her tail, which lay along the sand 
between his knees, twitched as she pushed herself 
upright and he glanced down, suddenly afraid of what it 
might do to his most sensitive region. The tail curled, 
snaked, then its tip whipped up with blinding speed as 
if to confirm his worst fear.

But she didn't use it to smack him in the cods. The very 
tip of it glinted like blue steel, and whisked close by 
his chest before coming to rest in the sand. It had a 
barbed tip with a keen edge, and had slit his shirt 
neatly up the middle. She shuffled forward on her knees 
to rub her hands up and down the skin of his chest and 
stomach.

"Uh, how about I get this?" he said, hastily undoing his 
wet, sticky pants. Although she helped him peel them 
down his thighs, her attention was on his rigging. His 
cock was not yet fully upright, but was pleasingly 
enlarged. She ran her hands up and down one of his 
thighs, feeling and caressing the musculature. Just the 
hot look of her, the lust with which she eyed him was 
arousing enough. Then she bent down, and he felt the 
warm wetness of her tongue beneath the head of his 
penis, catching it up and drawing it between her lips 
and into her mouth.

The world seemed to spin about him, and he locked his 
teeth over a deep, low groan of pleasure. With that 
strong, soft tongue slipping up and down most of his 
length, he was swiftly hard again, and although he ached 
to rock back and forth, the natural instinct to thrust, 
he held himself still lest he disrupt her rhythm. Her 
fingers kneaded his taut-muscled rump, or gently caught 
his scrotum, and he wondered then was it his milk she 
sought, his sperm for sustenance? His balls were 
charging, and it would not be long before he fed her.

She knew well enough what she was doing to read that in 
the way his body tensed, and she drew away, leaving him 
wondering and somehow disappointed. But only for a 
moment, for she lay down on her back again, knees still 
wide but this time up in the air. As if her open vagina 
wasn't invitation enough, she raised her arms toward 
him.

In wonder he leaned over her, bringing his throbbing 
self to touch that most delightful of places. He had 
never navigated here before, and at first although he 
leaned, his cock wanted to slide up and off rather than 
into anything. Their hands touched as each of them 
reached for his shaft, he to steady its wanderings, she 
to guide it home. He let her lead, and pressed against 
resistance...briefly.

Submerged into a hot, silken wonderland of sensation. 
Thrust in and out as though borne on the swell, the full 
force of the ocean's power, up, almost out, down and in, 
goaded by her soft cries that mixed with his gasps. Not 
even the tiny, sharp stings where flecks of sand abraded 
his skin could take him from this ultimate pleasure. Her 
tail had coiled around his left leg, trapping him; her 
legs twined with his, hands tugging his rump and urging 
more from him, more.

And then the world vanished in a white-hot gush, his 
whole being consumed in rhythmic bursts of agonising 
pleasure. He thought he would faint...

Salty white foam trickled up his face where he lay, face 
down in the sand. The tide had turned, the waters 
rising. The wash splashed into his nostrils so that he 
snorted seawater, gagged and coughed, and struggled to 
his knees.

He was alone.

Utterly disoriented, he picked himself up. Rationality 
argued he had fallen asleep face-down on the beach. But 
hadn't he been on the rocks? Of course she had been 
there. His jeans and jocks were down around his ankles, 
his shirt shredded.

He dipped in the sea enough to rinse the worst of the 
sand off and pulled up his pants, and tore the shirt off 
over his head. Laying by his unused fishing gear was a 
large silver dory he coudn't remember catching, a 
magnificent fish that would make splendid eating. 
Gathering up his things, he stumbled back toward town, 
craving whisky or a joint, preferably both.
<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+