Nymph Cove

Continuing Spearfishing in the series The Mermaid Olympics

It's true that skinny dipping feels better than wearing a swimsuit. You might think the drag from a bit of cloth would make no difference, but it's also that any suit constrains how you can move, and naked just feels better. Maybe breasts that are free to move in the water slow you down a tiny bit, depending on their size and shape, but it's worth it. Then there is the naughtiness thing. Karen and I got a thrill out of the risk factor, and giving the guys a thrill.

By chancing a dip before Allen's uncle arrived to check us in to the bungalow, we knew he might catch us nude before we'd even said "Hi" to him, and that risk was part of the fun. We lost the gamble immediately because we heard his 4-wheeler as we were bending over to pull our bikini bottom down our legs, and when we straightened up he had come out of the bushes to where he had a clear view for the couple seconds before we dove into the water. We didn't head to the beach immediately. Maybe Allen could do something to let us slip ashore and back into our bikinis inconspicuously, but Allen didn't cooperate on that part. He beached the dinghy with our suits right in the middle of the beach and right in front of the building.

The swimming felt good, and we postponed the inevitable nude walk by heading out in the cove first. When it was time to go in, we decided we could either enjoy being seen or feel cheap and accomplish nothing by trying to hide. There weren't any other options besides staying out until it got dark. Allan and Ron were on the veranda. We were both swimming a relaxed breaststroke. We headed for the beach and stood up when it got shallow. We had to walk directly towards the two guys watching us. We did that without any posing or trying to hide anything and took time to tend our hair before putting the bikinis back on. Then we headed up to the veranda to be introduced. Actually, it was a sort of cool way to meet a guy. Ron didn't make any lewd remarks, but I did notice a telltale bulge in his pants.

We didn't see Ron again until the next afternoon, when he took Karen and me out spearfishing. Allen had volunteered to cover for him at the renovations so that he could guide us, which was very sweet of Allen. Karen and I had plenty of history as exhibitionist teases, and it wasn't long before we could see Ron's cock rising, even with the bikinis on. He was showing us the two spear guns and other equipment, and I embarrassed both Ron and Karen by quipping that Ron didn't need a gun because he had his own personal spear. Karen got back at me but didn't help Ron's condition any by pointing out that the fish were less at risk from Ron's spear than we were.

Ron was probably anticipating whether or not our suits would come off before we jumped in and considering whether his should come off too if they did. We kept the suspense up until the last possible moment, then stripped and hit the water naked. Karen came back up, floating on her back, and watched as Ron hesitated a moment, then pulled his suit off too and jumped in to join us.

The reef was fascinating, and fish plentiful. I was caught up in that, and if Ron preferred to watch me or Karen rather than corals and fishes, that was up to him. Karen and I had the spears, and Ron had the bag for our fish, so each time we speared one, we had to swim together and transfer the wriggling fish from spear to bag, which always meant some bumping together of body parts. It couldn't be avoided, and we didn't try too hard. We weren't going to let a fish escape, even if it meant brushing a breast against him from time to time.

The fish were delicious, barbecued for supper. The sky darkened, and the moon came out. I whispered into Karen's ear, "Two cocks are better than one," and we split, Allen and I to the boat for the night and Karen and Ron ashore.

We got into the dinghy with me in the stern facing Allen at the oars. It was an inflatable boat, but made of tough material and very stable. By then the moon had risen enough that there was plenty of light to see without a flashlight, and the water gave a blue phosphorescent glow with each stroke of the oars.

I watched him as we rowed in silence, enjoying the warm scented air and the moonlight. As we neared the boat, I asked, "Can we row out a little farther? It's such a beautiful night, and would you take your shirt off? How about all your clothes? I want to see your muscles." He stood up and stripped for me. Then he sat back down and took the oars. His rowing cycle went something like this. Lean forward until his eyes were pointed down the front of my dress. Then he set the oars in the water and straightened back with his muscles rippling down from his broad shoulders to his abdomen and thighs, bending the oars and driving us forward. Push with his legs, straightening his entire body and raising his loins off the seat, and then finally flex his powerful kayaker arms for the last portion of the stroke.

The wave action was increasing as we left the protection of the cove. Allen stopped rowing a bit, and we watched the phosphorescence on the waves, gently rocked by the waves. "You look like a princess," he said, "except for the bare feet. All you need is a tiara."

"You look like a living Greek statue," I said, "and I want to fuck you." It was true; the moonlight gave his skin the sheen of marble, and also the second part. I stood up and moved forward, my legs straddling his. That tight-fitting dress held my thighs together, so I hiked the hem to my waist. "Just sit still," I told him. "Let's feel the ocean waves together." I lowered myself onto his cock, and as I started it into my pussy, I felt it quickly stiffen and swell and continue to lengthen inside me. We sat there for some time, occasionally moving enough for a kiss or a little pussy shake, but mostly absorbing the power of the waves rocking us together in the most intimate way possible under the perfect serenity of a moonlit tropical night.

"Now row," I said. He picked up the oars again and began to row, first carefully, then vigorously, as I mastered the art of riding his bucking loins. The fact that he had to concentrate on the oars and I had to concentrate on not falling off made sex an entirely different and exciting sport. Neither of us exactly controlled our churning. Rather, it felt like a gift from the sea.

When we got back to the boat, I lifted myself off him. Neither of us had pushed for an orgasm. That requires focusing inwards, and both of us had been focused on how lucky we were to be in such a beautiful place with such a beautiful lover in such an intimate connection. I had Allen unzip that lovely, delicate dress and pulled it off before climbing up the ladder. We hadn't forgotten the orgasm part, just postponed it until we were lying together in our beds on deck and could fall asleep spooned together afterwards.

Sound carries well over water, and we heard it when the onshore lovers rekindled, before it was even fully light yet. Giving them a decent interval, we headed ashore to start breakfast. After a few minutes, Karen came out of the bedroom naked and looking pleased and freshly fucked. She walked right past us, absorbed in her own happy thoughts, then thought better of her rudeness and came back, put her arms around Allen, and planted a big kiss on his lips. "Thank you," she said. "I like him." Then she was off to the water for a morning wash-up sitting in the shallows.

After breakfast Ron was back to thinking about his chore list and itching to head back to work. "Wait a sec," Allen said. "Karen, Annie, do you feel about this the way I do? We have a fabulous opportunity here if Ron will have us. I'd like nothing better than to jump into the remodeling work with him and those other plans we talked about yesterday. We can get a lot done before the end of the summer and come out here for vacations after the school year starts and for the Mermaid Olympics."

"Yes." I said. "Let's do it."

Karen nodded. "Put us to work, Ron, if you'll have us."

"Olympus," I said. "Rename this place 'Olympus,' and the cafe can be 'Cafe Ambrosia.'" It's where Greek gods hang out eating ambrosia, drinking nectar, and carrying on with sexy nymphs. We should keep the actual Mermaid Olympics hush-hush, to everyone but competitors and their guests. We'll pretend we know nothing about it, except recruiting potential competitors, but word will leak out. Let's say a couple of chicks have their heads together and you hear "Mermaid Olympics," but they clam up and refuse to tell you more. Maybe you hear it's on an island somewhere. What's your first guess? Maybe you'll see if you can book a couple of nights at Olympus to investigate? Any dufus will make the connection.

Ron looked thoughtful. "Yes," he said at last, "I'm in, and this here is 'Nymph Cove,' where the loveliest nymphs shall be free to cavort and play."