An erotic short by author Marie Treanor, part of the multi-author HEATSTROKES vol 1 box set
Everyone loves her parents’ pool under the Mediterranean sun. And Emma soon discovers why. Something more than water lives there, distributing happiness while he looks for a way home. When Emma succumbs to a little physical happiness of her own, she has no idea how it will affect her own future, or that of her watery lover…
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Under the hot Mediterranean sun, the pool rippled, cool and inviting. Or at least it would have been inviting had it not been filled with wrinklies.
“Don’t they have pools of their own?” I knew I was being ungracious. Just because I’d arrived here from the UK exhausted and grumpier than a crocodile with toothache after the divorce didn’t give me the right to be rude to my parents or their guests.
“Join us,” my mother urged. “The water’s lovely.”
Clearly. The wrinklies floated past each other, identical expressions of deep contentment on their sun-tanned faces. “Maybe later.” I sat down and poured myself some lemonade. My mother slithered into the pool and my father swam over and took her hand.
They’d had their difficulties, but unlike Terry and me, they’d pigged it out and, after moving out here, found new happiness.
I wondered if there was any vodka to go in the lemonade.
“Such a beautiful pool,” one of the wrinklies — Jane, from the villa next door — observed wistfully.
“Isn’t it exactly the same as yours?”
“Oh no, no one has a pool like Martha’s… You should come in, dear.”
I would, when they all cleared off. But they only got out in the end because an irate son arrived to collect his parents. If that hadn’t galvanized them all into action, I swear they would have slept in the damned pool.
I managed to smile and wave to the departing guests. Even I couldn’t begrudge them their swim — they all had the same glow as my parents. Like post-coital satisfaction.
As my parents went to shower before dinner, I finally threw off my beach wrap and slid with a gasp into the cool, soothing water. I swam two lengths of the pool, then, with a relaxed stretch, I flipped onto my back and floated, letting the beauty engulf me.
The sea was too far away to be visible, but I smelled it. Water lapped over my arms and breasts, like a sensual massage. You could lose yourself in this isolated paradise, pretend the troubles of the world — including lying bastard ex-husbands — didn’t exist. My brain barely functioned. There was only my body, floating peacefully under the late afternoon sun. It felt light as a feather, and yet I was increasingly aware of every tiny part of it.
The water rippled along my shoulders and neck, lapped around my sides and thighs, gliding over my stomach and washing off again as I arched a little higher. I hadn’t realized before how sensual water could be.
Though the day was cooling, I still felt warm, with a strange, luscious heat that seemed to come from the inside. The water had sensitized every tiny hair, every nerve-ending in my body. I liked the way it nudged against my breasts, breaking over my nipples and tumbling away.
I spread my legs to let the warm water caress between my thighs, the poor neglected pussy that certainly had not been enough to keep my husband faithful for more than a year. But I wouldn’t go back there. I was so bored with it, I could scream. Or fall asleep…
Heat surged in my abdomen, rising higher and spreading lower with every ripple of the water around my pussy. My clitoris swelled with the water’s affections. I wanted to touch it, comfort it, but the water did it all so much more discreetly. My nipples stood out proud through my plain black swimsuit, as if reaching for another wave of water to caress them.
I closed my eyes. I didn’t need a man. If I could get this aroused from pottering in the pool, I could probably even orgasm. I wondered. The pleasure had an edge now, a sensuality that left me breathless with desire. The water was inside me, caressing, moving up and down my pussy, almost like a man’s cock.
The water lapping at my breasts might have been hands, fingers spread, cupping them, teasing my nipples as the storm built between my legs.
Oh yes, I was going to come, and it was going to be so hot…
“Fuck!” I jerked my body upright, splashed over to the side in an ungainly hurry and sit dripping and trembling on the side of the pool. Between my thighs, an agony of desire clamoured for satisfaction.
What the hell was going on? Was I so frustrated that I had to imagine… What the hell had I imagined?
I stared at the pool. I must have fallen asleep, dreaming — inspired by the foolish ecstasy on the wrinklies’ faces of as they swam. No wonder I was frustrated. After Terry, I would never trust any man enough to screw him. I was doomed to a life of celibacy and erotic dreams.
The pool did have some very odd ripples. There was no breeze — I had no idea where the water’s movement came from. But it looked so pretty, two sets of waves coming together and rising.
I blinked. The upward splash seemed to have frozen in the air — except that it moved, constantly, changing shape before my eyes into a shaft, into a neck and shoulders, with a head above.
My mouth fell open. I shook my head, blinked several times, but the creature kept growing, totally transparent like sculpted, sparkling water. It even had a fine, broad chest, long, shaggy hair, a perfect man from the waist up. Except that he was made of water.
And below the water…
Jesus. This bloody scary weirdness was happening in front of me and I was looking for his schlong?
The water man had beautiful features — long, fine nose, full, sculpted lips, broad jawline, clear, arched eyebrows etched on his handsome face.
And he was gazing at me, curiously. “You do not accept my pleasure?”
I was still dreaming, that was it… “I like to be asked.”
He smiled. “Come back in. Let me comfort your pain with love.”
“With sex,” I corrected dryly. “In my experience, sex never supplied any comfort whatsoever. Hell, it wasn’t even much fun.”
Stuff Terry. I was through even thinking about him.
“With me, it’s fun.”
“Who — what — exactly are you?”
He cocked his head to one side, considering. “To you, I am probably best described as the sea.”
Instinctively, I inhaled, smelled again the faint, salty tang I’d noticed earlier.
“And the sea likes sex?” Even dreaming, I was struggling here.
“Everything likes sex.” He lifted his arms. Clear and sparkling, they glistened in the sun, their watery muscles rippling. “Even you. Let me show you.”
“Do I have sex with strangers in dreams?” I wondered, unsure of my role here.
“If it helps, you are not a stranger to me.”
“What am I, then?”
He smiled again, enchanting me. “A betrayed and wounded creature who needs to rediscover life and love.”
Abruptly, I swung my legs out of the water. “Bollocks.” I was buggered if I’d be pitied. By a swimming pool that thought it was the sea. How was that for a delusion of grandeur?
Anyway, he wasn’t even real…
Before I’d finished the thought, he moved, like liquid poured from a jug, and reformed with his transparent hand on my arm. It felt like water — almost — only it didn’t drip. It felt like fingers, only not solid enough.
“Please, come back in the pool,” he said softly. His eyes were amazing. Reflective. I could see myself in them, as if they were mirrors. I looked stunned; he looked… sexy. Tempting as sin, unique. I couldn’t look away.
His water-sculpted mouth began to smile again.
Those not-quite water, not quite fleshly fingers began to caress my arm. I shivered.
“Why?” I demanded. His fingers worked a magic spell on my tingling skin. His eyes were dangerously seductive, his smile mysteriously beautiful with those glassy lips and sparkling, clear teeth.
“I want to fuck you,” he said. “As a prelude to love.”
“Thanks for trying,” I muttered. I meant to get up and run. Truly I did. Only my treacherous body remembered how it had felt in the pool.
“I’ll take you all the way,” he whispered, his voice like ocean waves rushing onto the shore — fierce, unstoppable, at once peaceful and exciting. My body reacted, flooding my thighs with sexual moisture.
His nose twitched, as if he smelled it. Gently, he tugged my elbow and I sank down into the water, into his not quite fleshly arms. His mouth covered mine.
It was like drinking. But more pleasurable than wine. I tasted salt and male, felt my lips and tongue caressed, as I was gathered close into the water.
I could even feel his big, rampant cock. I should have been terrified — for my sanity if nothing else — but I wasn’t. Utterly aroused, I gave myself up to the weirdness.