Evelyn and The Mermaid

  • Posted on October 31, 2020 at 3:17 pm

by Shy Mom

Note from JetBoy: In the midst of writing her much-loved story “Sheltering,” Shy Mom turned out this delightful short-short and passed it along to me. Needless to say, I immediately claimed it for Juicy Secrets. Read on and see why.


Evelyn and the Mermaid


A lot has been written about mermaids, mostly by men, mostly wrong.

For one, we do not sing to lure them. That is a fantasy, set down by male writers from Homer to Hans Christian Anderson.

We are alluring, though. Our waves of sea-green hair arouse a wildness in the soul. Our pale breasts appear impossibly soft. Our shapely tails stir imaginings of unnatural acts.

It’s no wonder sailors smash their ships onto rocks in their rush to reach us. They’d do that even if we didn’t sing.

But we do not sing for them. Fuck them.

We sing for our girl-lovers, our virgins. Our songs reach them in dreams. They are the only ones we will allow to come to us.



I hear her in my sleep. She sings. No one has sung so sweetly to me.

Of course, I know who she is, what she is. I’ve read about her kind.

I should be scared. I’m not. In fact, she excites me.

Ligeia. I go to her in my dream.



Weeks ago, I sensed her arrival in this place called England, an island not far from our wine-dark sea.

She came from the New World, an unfamiliar land, but her head is filled with the lore of our realm. She reads, absorbs, knows far more than most at the age of ten. Her imagination seems limitless.

She excites me. Evelyn. I call her.



She is breathtaking, this mermaid.

Seated on heaped rocks, surrounded by seafoam, her otherworldly beauty resembles nothing of the temptresses of men’s imaginations, those sirens of seduction and deceit. Her womanliness seems as wild and deep as the sea.

She beckons, and the waves roil, crashing about me, under me. But in my dream, I walk on water.

I cross the gulf between us.



She closes the distance. Her naked frame is slight, so much that the stormy sea should swallow her, but her steps are fearless.

I reach out, and she grasps my hands. She steps onto my rocks, unscathed.

Still a virgin, thank the gods.

She’s lovely. Not like my mersisters, whose preternatural beauty grows tiresome after a millennium. She is exquisitely mortal.

Ribbons of black hair fly about. Almond eyes flash with excitement. Fragile lips rush to meet mine.



I kiss her.

Awake, I would not have dared. I would have thought and rethought without leaping to act. But in my dreams, there is no why. There just is.

And the only thing that is… is my desire for this irresistible creature.



I drink her desire, and fill her with mine. She writhes like the sea around us as my tongue plunges into the depths of her being.



I have never had sex, but know what this is.

She is boring into me, impossibly deep, invading, loving.

The pleasure churns like waves.

I love her back.



I suck her tongue into the whirlpool of my lust. Rather than flinch, she dives in heedlessly. She surrenders all of herself, her loneliness and longing.

So entirely exposed, I could make her mine, a mersister forever.



She enfolds me in one arm, pulls me into her bosom, buries me in softness and warmth. With her free hand, she clasps my sex.



I tease her tiny pleasure bud. She quivers and mewls. I press the hot entrance to her fissure. It is leaking. I lubricate the flesh with her own wetness.

My intentions are unmistakable, but the choice is hers.



I shift my weight onto her finger, and she impales me.

A jolt of pain, a shock of pleasure, and then another, and another, as she fills and fucks me.



I make love the human way with my hand, as our mouths make love the mermaid way.

The child fucks me back, unabashedly. She has never known love, but instinctively senses how and where to touch. I have never known such passion.

I drop my other hand to her bottom, fingers probing for her starfish.



Oh, God, will it hurt?

No matter. I spread my cheeks apart, offer my last orifice to this Ligeia, this dream.



I invade her, all of her, fuck this divine child as only mermaids can, churn up a tsunami of pleasure.

Her wild abandon overtakes me.

We crest together.



I drown in a sea of bliss. I lose myself.

I am hers. I am her, and she is me.



I know her, like I know myself. She is unutterably beautiful.

I love her, but know that she cannot stay. I let her go.



I wake.

I can’t go back, she warned. I am not hers. I will find other lovers soon enough.

I weep into my pillow, wracked with sorrow. The strains of a fading song haunt me.

I will never hear it again.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

The End


9 Comments on Evelyn and The Mermaid

  1. Euphrosyne, Thalia & Aglaia says:

    So Beautiful!

    so lovely and so poetic-like, a nice change of pace

    reminds me of several mermaid themes:

    the song from Sinead Lohan “I am no mermaid” 1998

    the Russina film- “Rusalka” [Mermaid] 2007

    and a few poems from:
    Alfred Lord Tennyson
    Alexander Pushkin and this one from Yeats:

    A man young and old; III The Mermaid
    a mermaid found a swimming lad
    picked him for her own
    pressed her body to his body
    laughed; and plunging down
    forgot in cruel happiness
    even lovers drown

  2. Anna says:

    Shy Mom, After Sheltering you have managed to stir my juices once more with a beautiful piece of writing. PLEASE, PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE, keep writing as I just love your work.

  3. Erocritique says:

    That was inspired. The concept was so charmingly original and erotic. The bittersweet ending of one door opening to a young girls sexual future, and another door from her sexual awakening forever being closed really left my feelings conflicted………..and I loved it.


  4. Keiko says:

    Shy mom, this is poetry, not just a sex story… the cadence, the words you use… pure erotic poetry, worthy of praise! Thank you you for allowing us into your world! Xxx

  5. kim says:

    Yes, Shy Mom, just what the others have said. Very enjoyable and different.

    Kim & Sue

  6. Shy Mom says:

    Thank you all for your warm words. I did not know how this vignette would be received. I am glad it delighted.

    I hope you all have a mermaid who sings to you, or an Evelyn to sing to.

    Shy Mom

  7. kinkychic says:

    Shy Mom, you are a poet. Albeit a very naughty one.
    A story so beautifully woven, enchanting.
    I am in awe of your way with words.


  8. Shy Mom says:

    Thank you, Maria. Your words mean a lot.

  9. David says:

    Wow, very different but very erotic Shy Mom. Short, sweet, loving and very hot. I loved it, and look forward to reading more of your stories.
    Hopefully you will write more.

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