date a selkie, but don’t hide her cloak. let her go home and visit her family now and then, knowing that she’ll come back and hang her seal cloak in the closet like she always does. trust is important.
date a selkie, but don’t hide her cloak. let her go home and visit her family now and then, knowing that she’ll come back and hang her seal cloak in the closet like she always does. trust is important.
The first time she lets the redhead take her home, she’s diligent about hiding her cloak. She folds it carefully against tears and rips and abrasions, and hides it in a sea cave whose entrance is concealed by the tide.
She does the same, the second and third and fourth times, careful, wary, mindful of her mother’s lessons. Remembers the way her mother’s hands had chafed on her soft cheeks, rough with cooking and cleaning for her fisherman husband, the way her mother’s peat-dark eyes had been tense and harsh with the lesson.
“Mind me, Niahm. Never let them find your cloak.”
The way her mother’s mouth had curved, a sickle of dissatisfaction and relief and envy, as she had escaped into the waves.
So she minds her mother’s lesson, and she takes care with her cloak.
Would that she had taken as much care with her heart.
The fifth time, she wears the cloak to the girl’s door, clutched about her throat, dripping along the darkened lanes.
She enters the home, welcomed with soft kisses and gentle touches and kindling passion. She drapes the cloak, artful in her carelessness, across an old wooden chair, the one that creaks and tilts slightly if you don’t sit just right.
When she wakes, in the wee hours of the morning, even before her lover, the cloak still rests, supple and dappled by the sea, on the back of the chair.
She frowns into the softening dawn, dons the cloak, and returns to the sea.
And again, the sixth time. And the seventh.
The eighth time, she finally breaks, prickling and hurt with longing, gripping a handful of russet hair in her hand, firm with emphasis.
“Surely you know what I am,” she says to her lover, the cool froth of sea foam and the call of gulls curling around her voice.
“Of course,” her lover responds, soft and tender in the dawnlight, throat arched willingly, pale as the inner whorls of a shell. “You taste of the sea,” the girl whispers, reverently.
She shakes her lover’s head gently, fingers tangled still in russet locks. “Why?” she demands. “Why won’t you keep me?”
A long silence that waits and fills, like a tidepool, stretches between them. Cool as a current. Deep as the Channel.
Her lover’s eyes are dark and tender. “Must I trap you to keep you, my heart? Is that the shape of love that you desire?”
She sinks into the thought, struck and stymied, remembering her mother’s harsh hands, her cold eyes. Her hand eases into russet waves, caresses where her grip had punished. Her lips press cool and damp as the sea against the arching curve of her lover’s shoulder. “What shape of love will you give to me?”
The answer is easy, quick, certain. “Myself. Only myself, whenever you should wish it. Your cloak by the door, your body in my bed, and the freedom to go, whenever you must. As long as you wish.”
It’s not an answer a fisherman could ever give, nor would think to.
The ninth time, she hangs her cloak by the door, draped in careful dappled folds next to a drying oilskin jacket.
i say this every time it crosses my dash but i’m so freaking happy someone liked my submission and Wrote Stuff and it’s so good!!! i love these girls so so so so much
This post is like the only Worthy Thing i have ever done on this website and you made that possible, you rock <3
being an adult is just… calling people that’s literally it… just calling people you don’t want to call about problems you don’t want to have to be solving.. it’s disgusting
This is why I insist on all my business being done by email.
I was getting my little girl from classes today, waiting outside in the car. I whiled away some time watching a gorgeous young lady, lounging on the wall with her back to me. I couldn’t help but stare; summer skirt, one strap off her shoulder, smooth skin, hair piled up on her head exposing the slope of her neck. She kept jiggling her foot and her skirt would slide down her thighs… if I was at a different angle I would be able to see what color her panties were… or if she was wearing any. A glint caught my eye from her ankle and I noticed the delicate gold chain with the heart lock, just like my baby girl had asked for on her birthday. I was happy to get it for her… she said it meant more than I knew. Then it dawned on me… this beautiful little thing was my pumpkin, my little one waiting for me to pick her up. I was surprised how hard my cock was.
I beeped the horn and she turned to see me. She smiled… “Hey Daddy!!”. When she gathered her legs uderneath her to stand I couldn’t help but notice that she was wearing a scandalously tiny pair of black panties… I’d touched them in the hamper once, the pair with bows. She came running over and bounced into the car seat, her skirt flouncing as she leaned over for a hug and kiss. " Thanks for getting me today, Daddy. I need to get home and pack for our road trip.“ She’d placed her little hand on my thigh when she kissed me and I hoped that she didn’t feel how hard my cock was. Her hand wandered, brushing my length and she gave me a curious smile before leaning back into her seat.
"Hiking, sugar. A full week at the cabin, on the trails, Daddy making breakfast every morning. No work and no school… we haven’t done this since you were little.” She sighed and smiled. As we drove off I noticed that her skirt had ridden to her waist as she tucked her feet under her bum. She brushed her hair behind her ear and gave me that smile again. “Daddy? I have a secret”
“What’s that hun?” I asked. “I like a boy… well… a man… and I think he likes me, too” she replied.
Yep. The dreaded daddy/daughter talk about boys… I faced her to tell her it was okay, she just needed to be careful… but she had scooted back with her back against the car door, her legs slightly spread… yeah… the pair with the bows.
“Do I need to find a spot to pull over, baby girl? To…talk?” She nodded and her hand slipped to her panties, touching the silk at her mound. I was starting to see where this was going as was excited and nervous at the same time. Me? My baby girl wanted me? I parked the car in a vacant cul de sac and faced my girl, she was already crawling across the seat, hands on me, kissing and hugging. I kissed my baby girl hard, tongues needy and insistent. Her hand found my cock, stroking me through my slacks before deftly tugging the zipper down, freeing my cock to her grasping hand.
“Mmm, Daddy” she moaned in my ear, she bit me before her head dropped to my lap and I gasped as my little girl took me into her mouth. So soft, hot and wet. Her lips and tongue massaged the head as she stroked my shaft… she took my length, gurgling on my cock in her throat. “I’ll cum, kitten. Be careful”.
She sat up and smiled, leaned across me and reclined my seat. She straddled me, my baby girls pussy rubbing on my cock. “Daddy?” she asked.
“Yes, pumpkin?” She raised her hips, tugging her panties to the side, lining my cock up at her entrance.
“This will be the best camping trip ever!” she squeaked as she sat on my cock. I was buried in her pussy. Our fucking was hard and fast… my baby girl needed this and had worked herself to a frenzy trying to find the best time to give herself to Daddy. The only sounds were our moans and little whimpers and the soft slapping of our bodies colliding. The wet suck of her pussy was taking it’s toll… “Daddy’s cumming baby girl”. I tried to move her but she dug in, grinding her pussy on me, mewling her pleasure…. I came, roaring my claim, flooding my little girls pussy with my cum… “Cuuumming Daddeeee!!!” Her pussy spasmed and squeezed milking the last jets of cum from my cock.
As we layed there panting I looked to the ankle chain… the delicate gold with the heart lock. She had given me the key when she had said it meant more than I knew. I think she was saying she’s mine.
An MDaddy357 original