The Erotica of the Sea

My name is Erika Smith and I am from Hawaii and although I’m not a native to the island I’ve found myself blending into my surroundings with ease. No, I was raised in a rural town in Colorado and yet I yearned for the seas. Though my physical body was trapped on land my heart swam under the waters and breathed in salt. I found myself enraptured, as a child, with all sea life. Part of me wished I could become such a creature-to glide beneath the tides and to drift without care into the open depths of adventure. To indulge in my whims as a being of the waters. I wanted nothing more.

Thus Hawaii seemed like the most reasonable choice. The tropical paradise housed a cornucopia of islands to choose from and as soon as I was able, I packed my bags. I never felt close to my home state and I think my parents knew that, as sad as they were to see me go they respected my decision to travel all the way to the island of Molokai. They continue to write me or call me on occasion and I reciprocate.

My parents are practically the closest bond I have to an actual person. My small house along the coast is a ways from any densely populated area, if you can even call Molokai densely populated at all. A trip to the grocers or shops is an entire outing for me thus I tend to keep to myself rather than make the trip. I spend most of my free time painting or taking walks along the shores. The smell of the salt and the wind in my hair calms me. The sea foam curling about my bare feet. The open waters shimmering before me. It’s all quite an experience-almost romantic or fantastical. There’s something inherently erotic about the sea itself-or that’s how I feel. Others may find my fascination strange-bordering on downright creepy-but there is some hold to my claim. The sea in itself is some poetic, romantic, wonderful thing that has been loved for centuries, written about in great works of literature. A thing of awe and ire. A thing of both delicacy and ferocity. A gentle thing with hidden depths of cruelty-or passion depending who you ask. It swells and dips like the female libido. Pulsing and dragging its sea foam coated hands over the curvaceous body of the sandy shore. The darkened blues ripple like muscle as it moves and the gentle mummers and hushes lull me into a state of calm. I feel at ease. The sound of crashing waves and the feel of salted wind against my tingling skin is a feeling of pure ecstasy.

This deep fascination-this love-of the sea drew me to pace the beaches late at night under the unblinking eye of the moon. My eyes watched the line where the stars met the glinting sea and blurred into obscurity. I stood in nothing but simple cloth pajamas; a greyed top reaching just scarcely below my chest and a pair of shorts that would make any parent blush. My feet were buried in the sands, the grit between my manicured toes, rooted deeply as I studied the horizon with all its deep blues. I sighed along with the whistling ocean breeze, my eyes fluttering closed as a chill caressed my cheek with such grace and kindness I felt my body relax at the touch. This was my relationship with the sea; an unspoken bond that only perfect strangers had. The kind that chance lovers shared in the silences of the night. I felt at peace standing alone before the vastness of the ocean depths. I felt free from the constraints of the society that I belonged to. I felt truly loved.

Yet my heart filled with sadness that I could not reciprocate the love I felt. I was unable to share with the sea how it made me feel. I longed to caress the ocean floors with my hands, to embrace the sea as it does with me. But how could one passionately love an entity so vast? How could my meager affections compare? How would I ever be able to show my reverence to my love in any way? The trouble was finding a suitable surrogate for the sea-something that encapsulates the power yet keeps the gentle hands I find in the sluggish tugs of the tides.

And tonight I had found him.

I had a deep love and fascination for all things from the sea-including what I once believed to be mythical. The mermaids and the mermen that could be beneath the ocean waves-glorious and elegant half-humans and half-aquatic creature. Belonging to the seas and yet able to fall effortlessly into the world above if even for a brief moment before the eyes fall upon the distinct differences between humans and fish.

He lay amongst the rocks, sprawled dramatically amongst the budding sea foam, a glistening body of silver under the moon, stark naked and unashamed in his state. The body was toned, the curvature of each twist and divert and carvings of muscle was highlighted by the shadows, draped over a darkened rock and twisted towards the sea. His arms, which were so well built and carved from marble, hung limply over the rock he rested on, swaying in the wind. I was enraptured by him, my eyes traced his form ending at the head. His face was remarkable. Beautiful. A rounded shaped head with its pointed snout facing the sea. The moonlight sparked across his sleek face and revealed teasing hints of an olive green flecked with dark brown freckles and a distinct red smear alongside his gills which pulsed. And his eyes. His deep golden eyes pierced my heart like the arrow of Cupid. I’d never seen a more handsome salmon.

I approached him in a trance, not realizing my actions until I stood only a foot from him and blushed in the presence of his stark nakedness. My dainty hands covered just below my eyes and I bent my head towards him in apology as I began to back away.

“I’m sorry!” I blurted out. “I’m so sorry if I disturbed you, have a good day.” Yet before I turned around to leave I felt a pull on my soul to stand. He wanted me to stay and even though I did not know his name or anything about him, I knew he was the sea. He was the sea incarnate. My desire to express my love for the sea lay in front of my shameless and amongst the sea-kissed rocks.

We embarrassed passionately in a deep kiss, my lips felt engulfed by the cold that was the open gullet of the fish, my tongue explored all it could but he was too vast. I felt small and meek in his strong, human arms. His hands roamed my body, wet with sea water, and traced over my hipbones with a touch light as a feather. Cold fingers slipped beneath my pajama shirt and my hands found his shoulder blades-careful of the small razor like fins that ran along his flank. We moved into the sand, I quickly discarded my top, hearing it slap in the sand a distance away. The ocean wind was harsh and goosebumps bubbled under my skin. My nipples, dark like wine, stood erect against the cold.

My mind wandered as clammy fish lips grazed my neck and jawline leaving small puckered touches in its wake. The smooth head of a salmon pressed against my cheek and I pressed back, longing for the touch. I tightened my nails into his skin, his skin the color of ocean foam, and breathed harshly into his gills. I was hot, warmblooded and ready for him. My hand slowly moved from his very human shoulder to the border between human flesh and fish scales and then to his sleek, salmon head. I traced a finger around the fluttering gills, red inside and pulsing wildly, revering in the way they fluttered in increasing speed as I touched. I traced the dainty slits with care until I could not resist my primal urges-my finger slid into the gills, the outline visible under the thin membrane of skin. I felt the fish man twitch under me. The sleek and wet entrance was warm unlike his scales. I slipped my finger in and out with a gentle pace with a carefulness about it, growing more excited as I felt the fish man grow and press against my bare leg. His hands roamed my back as I continued to finger the gill slits until eventually he pulled away with a few ripples of his fins alongside his head. I look down between his legs and marvel at him. He’s big and pale and reddened with fragile fins running alongside the shaft. I gasp and quickly slide off my shorts and lace panties, now wet, and discard them hastily. The fish man looks me deep with his golden eyes, the dark irises fixated upon me. I press against his body smelling of sea salt and kelp, my dainty breasts, small and vaguely pointed, smush against his hardened pecs. I whisper into his fins and tighten my hold about his neck. I am aching for this. I feel the tip of his member press against the beginning of my secret garden, ready to deflower me. He pushes gently into me and I groan quietly into his soft flesh underneath his chin. He smells of the ocean. Of salt. I feel the fins alongside his dick inside me, scraping along my walls. It wasn’t long before he began to thrust. Slow and deliberate at first, gentle and kind like the ocean before morning. Then he picked up the pace, holding me close in a passionate embrace as I hug my legs around him, like a fierce storm ravaging a seafaring ship. I moan and whimper, head lolling to the side and my dark brown hair cascading down my back and into the sand. He holds me close. His golden fish like eyes focused upon my arching form. Sweat and sea water bead off him as he moves, it was beautiful like teardrops. The fins rubbed harshly in my but I loved it-I whined and moaned with each brush against me. With each stroke he brought me closer to orgasm. Closer to ecstasy. I felt it building like a great tidal wave, crashing through my body in a heat akin to that August night. My hair stuck to my forehead and shoulders. I breathed harshly with a shudder as the tide subsided.

The fish man shortly followed, he stopped with himself buried at the hilt. I felt his warmth flood into my like waves crashing upon a breath. He twitched and swelled before drawing from me. He stood from me as I lay breathing in the bed of sand watching him walk toward the horizon dotted with stars. He turned once, looking back with a perm entangle agape mouth and golden eyes that stared yards behind me. This was his goodbye. I smiled and a tear rolled from my cheek and I managed a weakly wave.

“Goodbye.” I told the sea.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/en3q5i/the_erotica_of_the_sea