Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By BlueJean

The Bookshop was named The Catalyst. It was painted black. The books in the window looked old and dusty.

A big freestanding sign outside read: Here Are Books. We Reunite Books With Their Owners. Thank You Please.

I had no idea what that meant, but found myself sufficiently intrigued to venture inside.

I pushed open the door. A shrill, jingly bell gave me away like an intruder alarm. The interior was dimly lit and musty – the air of old tomes, well worn and well read. An avid bookworm, I found the smell somehow comforting. When your mother sometimes forgets you exist, you make your own entertainment. So I sought solace in books.

An old woman behind a counter looked up at me in surprise. “What?” she asked.

“Pardon?” I replied.

“What do you want?”

Didn’t think she’d be making the shortlist for Shopkeeper Of The Year Award.

“Um… is this a bookshop?” I mean, there were lots of books, but I thought it best to double check.

“Yes,” the lady confirmed, but somehow her face was saying, No.

“So… am I allowed to look at the books?” I ventured.

“You don’t look at books, you read books.”

I couldn’t fault her logic. “Can I read the books, then?”

The bookseller was silent for a spell. I almost took that as a cue to retreat, when she replied, “I suppose so.”

“I might buy one,” I offered, trying to justify my intrusion.

“The books don’t care if you buy them or not,” she declared, and I thought that an odd thing to say.

“Do you know Rita and Derek?” I asked, flipping through the pages of an old hardback.

“No.”

“I’m their niece.”

“I don’t know them.”

“I’m staying with them for a while.”

“I don’t know who they are.”

“I’m Hailey.”

“Geetu.”

“That’s a nice name. Is it Indian?”

“Nepalese. I’m from Nepal.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“You’re sorry I’m from Nepal?”

“No, I didn’t mean— Do you have any fantasy books?”

“Probably.”

“‘Kay.” A battered tome found its way between my fingers. “Witchcraft For Beginners by Agnes Munt. Is that fantasy?”

“No. That one’s not for you. Someone already bought that book a while ago, when the shop was in a different place.”

I regarded the old bookseller suspiciously. Was she making fun of me? “Did they bring it back?”

The lady shook her head. “They still have it. It belongs to them.”

“‘Kay.” I thought it best not to ask too many questions.

I found another book called The Selkie.

I’d like to tell you that it was a large foreboding grimoire; that it was bound in thick cracked leather and secured with clasps of rusting metal. In truth, it was a thin, dog-eared paperback, pages yellowed with age, brown rings upon the cover betraying its secondary purpose as a drinks coaster. Beneath the ringed stains was a crudely drawn picture of a part-woman, part-sea creature sitting on a rock, her upper half bare, her lower half that of what I assumed was a fish.

“Is a Selkie the same as a mermaid?” I asked Geetu the bookseller.

“Who knows?” she replied with an unconcerned air.

Never judge a book by its cover, they say. But I did. I took it up to the counter. “I’ll take this one.”

The woman gave me a big satisfied smile. “Yes. That one is yours.”

“How much is it?”

“It is yours. You don’t pay for something that already belongs to you.”

“It’s free?” I said, confused.

She nodded at me.

“Oh. Thank you.”

***

Long ago, when humans were not yet human, the Tuatha Dé Danann came to Earth and took many forms – Dryad, Banshee, Merrow, and Dearg Due, to name but a few.

The Selkie were another.

Selkie lived in the ocean as seals, but venturing onto shore they shed their skin and assumed human form…

I was stretched out on my bed reading my new book when Aunt Rita called out to me from somewhere in the house. “Yeah?” I hollered back.

“Come here a moment.”

I folded a corner of a page down to mark my place, and then got up to descend the spiral staircase. “Where are you?”

“In the bathroom.”

The door was ajar, and my aunt lay in the bath shrouded by a thin layer of steam. Not expecting to see her like that, I ducked back in a fluster. “Oops, sorry!”

“Don’t be silly, you can come in,” Aunt Rita insisted.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Get in here.”

I shuffled into the bathroom as she craned her head back to peer at me in amusement. “You’re so shy.”

“I’m not really,” I told her.

She chuckled at my awkwardness. “Come sit on the edge of the tub.”

I perched on the bath, trying my best not to stare at my aunt’s breasts.

“Madeline and me want to go down the pub tonight, so can I ask you a big favour?”

“Sure,” I replied, carefully inspecting the taps. Looked like quality taps. Very solid.

“Madeline has a little girl. She usually gets a babysitter, but it was too short notice this time. Would you like to earn a bit of pocket money and babysit Isla?”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t mind,” I said, scrutinising the ceiling: A big stain right above the bath. Could use a fresh coat of paint.

“She’s only six, but she’s no trouble at all.”

True, she had seemed very well behaved when her mother and my aunt were doing unspeakable things to her. The images from the video suddenly filled my mind, bright and loud and clear. An adrenaline burst of adolescent lust rippled through me. I fixed my gaze on the wash basin. A classic Victorian-style sink. They didn’t make ’em like that anymore.

“I’ll get Madeline to drop her round later, then. We won’t be too late— Hailey, are you trying not to look at my tits?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. “What?! Uh… no.”

Aunt Rita had a dirty cackle for me. “Just have a good look at them, for God’s sake! Get it out of your system.” She sat up, and her breasts emerged from the water like the eyes of some mythical sea creature rising from the depths. She regarded me with a little smirk, unconcerned with her own nakedness.

I could feel my cheeks glowing, but found myself unable to look away. Her tits were firm and full, the dark nipples awakening some long dormant desire to suckle.

She took them in her hands and squeezed them together. “Happy now?” she asked me, but before I could muster a response she was holding out a bar of soap.

“What?” I said, unsure what she was driving at.

Her voice took on a posh warble, making me laugh. “Wash me, servant girl!”

“I’m not your servant girl!”

“Well, I say you are! Hop to it!”

I rolled my eyes and took the bar of soap. “Where shall I wash you?”

“Everywhere, servant girl.”

It suddenly dawned on me that I was about to touch my aunt’s naked body, and the gravity of that revelation brought trepidation and excitement in equal measure. I tentatively lathered her shoulders and arms,her skin soft against my fingers.

She leaned forward. “Now my back.”

I let my hands travel downwards to her torso. She had a sea serpent tattoo down the length of her spine. I snaked my fingers down its slippery body.

“Ooh, you’re good. I’m glad I hired you,” she cooed.

“Thank you… madam,” I told her, playing along.

“Now wash my tits.”

A little flutter thrummed through my belly. She was telling me to touch her breasts. She had told Isla that too. I was rendered motionless with the bar of soap in my hand, unsure if she was joking or not.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t keep me waiting, servant girl! I don’t want to have to smack your bottom!”

I pushed the soap against her tits, then hastily massaged them, trying not to give my excitement away, thinking this was merely an innocent game as far as my aunt was concerned. At eleven, I wasn’t yet adept at reading body language, or the subtle signals humans send to one another.

“Slowly, girl. Take your time,” Aunt Rita instructed me. “The lady of the house insists on squeaky clean titties.”

So I immersed myself in the washing of my aunt’s breasts, soapy hands eager and urgent, arousal and curiosity burning away my initial feeling of awkwardness at this strange and unexpected liaison. Her nipples were stiff against my fingers; the swell of her breasts full and heavy in the palms of my hands.

Without warning she rose to her feet, the bath water cascading down her petite, pale frame. My eyes were instantly drawn to her dark bush and the secrets it half concealed. She gave me a wry smile, then turned around. “My bum…” she said simply.

I lathered my hands again, then brushed my fingers across my aunt’s firm arse, delighting in the feel of her flesh. She glanced back at me, moving her feet further apart to allow me a teasing glimpse of her labia. I drank in the sight of her as I dared to apply more pressure, unsure what it was we were doing, unable to fully make sense of the situation, but basking in the intimacy of it.

Aunt Rita slowly turned to face me. She peered down between her legs, and my eyes followed hers.

I wanted her to let me touch it. I wanted to soap my fingers and push them through her fleshy folds. I very much wanted that.

But my aunt drew a line. “Off you go now, servant girl,” she said and shooed me away.

I padded back to my room in a daze, then stretched out on the bed to slip a hand inside my knickers. But it wasn’t enough. I needed an outlet for my burgeoning arousal. Well, fate had me destined to babysit a sexually aware six-year-old girl later that very evening. I wasn’t ignorant to the unique opportunity that presented itself.

***

Oftentimes, the Selkie would come ashore at night, shedding her seal skin and singing sweet songs, then returning once again to the ocean before the townsfolk awoke from their dreamy slumbers.

But sleep does not come easily to some.

One misty morning, a lighthouse keeper heard the Selkie’s song and followed the sound down to the shore…

Madeline and little Isla turned up a while later. I let them in and they trailed me into the lounge. The gorgeous doctor had swapped her white coat and stethoscope for a black cocktail dress and pearl necklace.

“Aunt Rita’s upstairs getting ready,” I told her. “She won’t be long.”

“Isla, this is Hailey,” Madeline said to her daughter. “She’s Rita’s niece, and she’s going to look after you for a couple of hours.”

“Hi, Isla,” I greeted the little girl.

She bounced up to me with a big gap-toothed smile. “My tooth fell out,” she told me proudly.

“Oh, that’s a shame. But you’ll grow another one, won’t you?”

Isla nodded enthusiastically. “Mm-hmm. Mummy says some more will fall out too. But if I put them under my pillow, the tooth fairy comes and leaves me some money.”

“Wow, that’s so cool.”

“Yeah. I can buy sweets with it.”

“If you buy sweets, your teeth will go rotten and then they’ll all fall out,” Madeline told her, tucking her daughter’s dark hair back behind her ears.

“I’ll… I’ll just… I’ll put them all under my pillow and get lots of money and then keep growing new ones,” Isla declared.

Madeline gave a soft chuckle. “It doesn’t work like that, sweetie. You get one more set of teeth after your baby ones fall out and they have to last you the rest of your life.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now go and see what’s taking that naughty Rita so long.”

Naughty Rita…

Naughty Rita with her tongue up little Isla’s arsehole…

Naughty Rita rubbing her cunt against little Isla’s face…

Naughty naughty naughty Ri—

“Hailey?”

Madeline planted a hand on my knee, pulling me out of my reverie with a start. “Oh, sorry.”

I could hear Isla bounding up the stairs, and realised I was alone with her beautiful mother.

“Someone’s a daydreamer…” the doctor cooed.

I smiled shyly, keenly aware that her hand was still resting on my knee.

“Don’t tell your aunt I said this, but you have the cutest little mouth,” she purred. “I find myself wondering what it would be like to kiss it.”

I could smell her perfume, heady and exotic. “Thanks,” I murmured with a weak smile, then added dumbly, “Yours is nice, too.”

Her hand moved slowly up my leggings inch by inch. “Rita’s lucky to have such an adorable niece come stay with her.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. Nothing in my life up to this point had prepared me for the flirtatious attentions of a beautiful older woman.

She breathed in my ear. “You can come and visit me any time you like. Would you like that?”

I wasn’t sure how it was possible to feel so intimidated and yet incredibly turned on all at the same time. “Uh… Yeah. I might.”

Madeline’s hand paused at my inner thigh and her fingers brushed against me. “Pretty Hailey…” she whispered, and I caught her gaze. Something deep in her eyes seemed to churn and percolate, mesmerising me. I couldn’t look away.

“Oi! Stop molesting my niece, you dirty bitch!”

Aunt Rita came into the lounge with Isla riding on her back, and I thought we might be in trouble, until I noticed that familiar twinkle of humour in her eyes.

Madeline gave a tut. “She’s so uncouth, isn’t she, Hailey? I can’t imagine what possessed me to make friends with such a common tart.”

“Oh, shush!” my aunt scoffed as she set Isla down. “You’re as bad as me after a few drinks.”

Madeline patted me on the knee, then stood up. “Be good for Hailey, Isla,” she told her little girl and bent to kiss her on the cheek.

And then they were gone.

***

The lighthouse keeper hid behind a rock and spied on the Selkie in her human form, and in his heart he longed for her beauty; her companionship. When the Selkie slipped her sealskin on and returned to the briny waters, he mourned her absence and vowed to make her his wife…

Little Isla sat on the couch playing with a doll she’d brought with her. She wore a pair of pink leggings and a t-shirt with an elephant on the front. They would be coming off soon. Seduction was a new game to me, but who better to practise on than a little girl?

“Hailey, I’m six. How old are you?” Isla asked me as we sat on the couch watching TV.

“I’m eleven.”

“Is Rita your niece?”

“No, no. Rita’s my aunt. I’m her niece,” I explained.

“Mummy’s a doctor.”

“Yeah, I know. I bet it’s really cool to have a doctor for a mum.”

“It’s okay.”

“Do you want to sit on my knee while we watch TV?” I suggested, not altogether innocently.

Isla nodded and clambered into my lap. Looking back at me, she asked, “Where’s your mummy and daddy, Hailey?”

“My dad left me when I was little, and my mum’s gone on honeymoon with her new husband.”

“What’s a honeymoon?”

“It’s… like a holiday after you get married.”

“I don’t have a daddy,” Isla told me.

“Everyone has a daddy.”

“Not me. Mummy says I was just born one day because she wanted a baby.”

I laughed and ruffled her hair. “That’s silly.”

“It’s not,” Isla insisted, ruffling my hair back. Her bum wriggled around in my lap, and I couldn’t resist discreetly pushing my pelvis up against her.

“Do you ever sit like this with your mum?” I asked her, trying to steer the conversation towards something a little naughtier.

She nodded at me.

“What else do you do with Mummy?”

“Huh?”

“Do you… play doctors and nurses with her?”

Isla shook her head.

“Do you… sleep with Mummy in her bed?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you… cuddle each other in bed?”

The six-year-old grinned at me and shook her head again.

“You don’t have cuddles in bed?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a secret,” she whispered to me, a finger held to her lips. “Shhh…”

“I won’t tell, I promise,” I assured her.

Isla went back to watching TV, but I wasn’t letting this go. Instead, I probed a little more. “I’ll tell you one of my secrets if you tell me yours, okay?”

She shrugged at me.

“Okay, here’s one of my secrets: The other day I found some rude toys in Aunt Rita’s drawer!”

Her eyes lit up at that. “Toys?”

“Not kids’ toys. Like adult toys that ladies use on their kitties!”

Isla seemed disappointed that my aunt’s drawers weren’t actually full of dolls, dinosaurs and teddy bears. “Oh. Mummy’s got some of those.”

“Has she?”

“Yeah.”

“And I found some rude videos, too! Of people having sex!” I thought it best not to mention the homemade video I had watched. Some actors don’t like to talk about their own work.

“Mummy has those, too. I’ve watched loads.”

That didn’t surprise me. “So… now it’s your turn to tell me your secret. What do you and Mummy do in bed?”

Isla looked around to make sure we were alone, which we obviously were. “Do you promise not to tell?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

She cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered into my ear, “We do lots of rude things together. Not just in bed, either. We do them everywhere!”

I gasped. “What kind of rude things?”

It all spilled out of her in an excited ramble. “Mummy kisses my secret bits and I kiss her secret bits and we touch each other all over and sometimes she makes me put my whole hand in her front bottom and one time she even made me do a big wee all over her!”

I was beginning to think the video was merely the tip of the iceberg. Now to move in for the kill…

“Wow! That sounds like so much fun! Maybe… maybe you could show me how to do some of those things?”

Isla seemed to give that some serious consideration. “Okay. But you mustn’t tell anyone, or the police will come and lock us up.”

“I definitely won’t tell anyone.”

Isla bounced off my lap and stuck her hands on her hips. “All right, then. First, you lie down on the floor.”

I did as the little girl instructed and stretched out on my back. “Like this?”

“Yeah. Now, this is what Mummy does to me sometimes.” Isla pulled her leggings and panties off, then stood over me, lowering herself into a squat over my face and spreading her delicate labia open. “You have to kiss it and lick it, okay?”

Her pussy was a puffy pale truffle, its blush interior hot and coppery against my tongue. The nearest I had ever come to tasting a vagina was sucking my own fingers clean after one of my masturbatory sessions, but this – a taste straight from the source – was a new experience.

“Do you like it, Hailey?” Isla asked me.

I can’t say for sure that I liked it. I certainly didn’t dislike it, but I think it was the sheer naughtiness that made it appealing – the forbidden nature of licking a younger girl’s pussy. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

Isla stood up suddenly, leaving me with my tongue hanging out.

“Hey, I wasn’t done,” I protested as she zoomed around the room in just her t-shirt.

The six-year-old climbed onto Aunt Rita’s leather couch and looked back at me with a grin. “Hailey, look!” She swung her leg over the arm of the sofa, then proceeded to grind herself on it, her pussy lips leaving a wet trail as they slid back and forth.

“I was having fun licking you. Is it okay if I do it some more?” I asked the little girl, eager to taste her again.

Isla giggled as she rode the armrest. “Hailey, take your clothes off and do what I’m doing on the other side of the sofa.”

“Uh… okay.” I pushed my leggings and knickers down my legs. I was about to mount the other armrest when I had a better idea. “Isla?”

“Hmm?”

“I could rub my pussy on your bum… you know, while you hump the sofa. Shall we do that?”

“Okay, then.”

I stood behind Isla and tried to push my cunt against her arse, but she was sitting too far forward. “Scoot back a bit,” I told her and put my hands round her waist, pulling her back towards the edge of the armrest. “That’s better.” Still holding onto her, I ground myself against her pert little bottom as she rubbed herself against the couch.

“It’s all warm on my bum!” Isla squealed.

“It feels really nice,” I said, thrusting against her. “Does Mummy do this to you?”

“Yep. She makes my bum really wet.”

“What else does she do to you?” I wanted to know all the perverted things Dr. Madeline and her daughter had been getting up to. I wanted to hear the words from the little girl’s mouth while I dry-fucked her.

“She rubs her boobies over my kitty and bumhole and then she makes me lick them,” the child told me.

“That’s… that’s really dirty. What else?”

“Um… she makes me put my whole hand in her front bottom, and she says, ‘Isla, push your hand in and out!’ and so I do and when I pull it out it’s got Mummy’s stuff all over it. Sometimes she says to me, ‘If you lick it all off like a good girl, I’ll buy you an ice-cream’.”

I could barely comprehend such a lewd image, but the rawness of it presented to me a potent erotic canvas with which to work. Curling my lip into a snarl, I scrubbed my throbbing cunt more forcefully  against Isla’s arse. “Wha–what else?”

“Mummy tells me to stand there and spread my bum open and then she licks my bumhole.”

Sinking down to the floor, I prised the little girl’s arse cheeks apart with both hands. “Like this?” I said, then lashed my tongue over her wrinkly little anus. I didn’t know if she was clean down there. Honestly, I didn’t much care.

“Yup!” Isla confirmed and ceased her grinding, allowing me my fill of her arsehole. She peered back at me with a big grin.

As the sour, earthy taste of the little girl’s pucker hit my taste buds, I found myself both repelled and attracted by this new act. On the cusp of adulthood, my first forays into the sexual world would never be this powerful; this potent ever again. Climaxes stung exquisitely, my ripening body unaccustomed to such sensations. Images of flesh and carnal filth bloomed brightly and indelibly in my mind, and heady, musky new aromas seeped into my consciousness, hypnotising me.

I found my feet, pressed myself against Isla and finished what I’d started, frantically grinding myself up and down the child’s bum, consumed by an animal lust I had no experience in controlling. I slapped her on the arse and heard myself yell, “You’re a dirty girl, Isla!”

“Ow!” Isla cried in outrage, screwing her face up. “You’re not allowed to do that, Hailey! I’ll tell my mum!”

I was about to apologise, but my impending climax would not be delayed nor denied. “Ohhh! That’s… that’s… oh!” It shuddered through my body with an intensity I’d seldom experienced, my eyes rolling wildly as I held myself tightly against Isla’s wet bum.

“Did you do a come?” the little girl enquired, evidently harbouring no serious grudge against me for whacking her on the arse.

“Yeah…” I panted, slumping against her.

“Do you want to have a little sleep now?”

“Uh, no, not really. Do you?”

“No. But Mummy sometimes likes to have a little sleep after we do big girl stuff.”

I had no intention of going to sleep. Aunt Rita and Madeline would probably be back in the next hour, and I didn’t know if I would get an opportunity like this again. “I’ll let you finger me if I can finger you, okay?” I ventured.

“Finger…?”

Slumping back down into the couch, I clumsily pulled my t-shirt off. “Yeah, when you put a finger inside a girl’s pussy and push it in and out. Did your mum ever do that to you?”

Isla tumbled off the armrest and landed next to me with a giggle. Trying to keep the attention of a six-year-old was no easy task, I realised. “Can we, Isla?”

“Yah, okay,” Isla agreed. She sat up and thrust a hand between my legs, penetrating me with a chubby finger. “You don’t have any hairs down there, just like me!”

“I have a few,” I told her, then found the entrance to the little girl’s vagina, slowly easing my way in. To my surprise, I found she no longer had her hymen. I’d broken mine with a little help from a hairbrush a year earlier, but I suspected Isla’s mother might have had something to do with the absence of her daughter’s.

“Can we watch some cartoons?” Isla said to me as she pistoned in and out of my cunt.

I pushed my finger deeper inside, and found her immature vagina tight, moist and exquisite. “I don’t think they show cartoons at this time of night.”

Withdrawing her digit from me, Isla sniffed it unashamedly.

“Does it smell?” I asked her.

“A bit. But Mummy’s is more strong,” she explained, then added, “I’ll lick your puss-puss if you want. Then we can watch TV till Mummy and Rita come home.”

So, having planned the rest of our evening, I sat back on the couch and spread my legs while my new playmate knelt on the floor and licked me out, her tiny tongue flicking over my labia and clitoris with an adeptness that wasn’t surprising, given that I’d already seen her plying her talents on Madeline and my aunt.

I came a second time that evening, and thought we were done. But little Isla had a final surprise for me.

“I need a wee,” I said.

“Me too,” Isla told me. “Let’s do one together!”

We made our way to the bathroom where I sat down on the loo and pissed, while Isla stood pigeon-toed in front of me and watched.

“Hailey?” the little girl piped.

“Yeah?” I replied, my piss slowing to a trickle.

“Watch this.”

Before I knew what was happening, Isla had thrust her hips out and a torrent of piss spouted from her, splashing against my chest and stomach.

“Oh, my God! Isla, no!”

“Don’t move, Hailey! I’m gonna aim through your legs,” the dirty little imp informed me.

“It – it’s not nice to wee on people without asking first, okay?” I told her, then realised how ridiculous that sounded.

Isla giggled gleefully, clearly pleased with herself. She shuffled closer and closer towards me as her piss slowed, and by the time the last few drops had dripped down between my legs into the toilet below, she was standing over me with a big gap-toothed grin.

I couldn’t help but smile back. “You’re really naughty,” I told her and kissed her on the belly button.

***

When next the Selkie came ashore to sing her song, the lighthouse keeper was waiting. He crept across the sand and stole her sealskin, hiding it in a secret place.

The Selkie, in her despair, wailed and wept and mourned her lost skin, knowing that without it she would never be able to return to the ocean. The lighthouse keeper gave her comfort and offered sanctuary within his lighthouse, and soon the two of them fell in love and married.

But the Selkie was never truly happy upon land. She pined for the azure sea, and for her own kind, and though she truly did love the lighthouse keeper, each night she would return to the shore and sing a song of lamentation for the ocean, her true home…

When Aunt Rita and Madeline returned from the pub, Isla and I were tucked up on the couch with a duvet over us. The six-year-old was fast asleep, her head against my chest.

“Well, it looks like two little pixies have been making friends,” a drowsy eyed Madeline cooed as she sat on the arm of the couch, stroking her daughter’s hair. Her nostrils flared and she seemed to catch something in the air. Looking me in the eye, she smiled knowingly. “And perhaps more than friends…”

I took a discreet little sniff, but couldn’t detect any vestige of our erotic play session. Regardless, Madeline didn’t seem to give it any more thought. She picked a sleepy-eyed Isla up, thanked me for babysitting, then left for home. I wrapped the quilt around my body and retired to my room.

I was idly fingering myself to sleep when Aunt Rita called my name from the bottom of the spiral staircase. I quickly pulled my hand out of my pyjamas. “Yes?”

“Can I come up?”

“Sure.”

She sauntered into my room and stood over me as I lay in bed, the dim light of my bedside lamp casting her seductive shadow across my room. Slowly, ever so slowly, she pulled her nightgown open.

I let out a barely audible gasp.

“Isla forgot her doll,” my aunt told me, glancing down at the plastic toy sticking out of her cunt, its legs half buried, as if it were in the process of being devoured by some carnivorous monstrosity.

“Oh,” I said, dumbstruck, then added, “I…I can take it round to her tomorrow.”

Aunt Rita grasped the doll and began fucking herself with it, liquid sounds accompanying each thrust. “You’re such a good girl,” she murmured. “Thank you for babysitting tonight.”

“Y–you’re welcome,” I stuttered.

“Your uncle’s back tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay.”

My nose picked up the scent of her arousal as she went back and forth with the doll, and without thinking much about it I pushed back the bedspread and slipped a hand back beneath my pyjama bottoms to masturbate along with my aunt.

“I wonder if she would have turned out like you,” Aunt Rita mused as she fucked herself.

“Who?” I near-whispered.

“The One Who… Got Away.” My aunt bucked her hips and let out a guttural cry. “Fuck, yes!” She pulled the sodden toy from her cunt and my eyes followed a trickle of pussy juice as it oozed slowly down her inner thigh.

She kissed me on the forehead. “When your uncle sets out to sea again, I want to spend more time with you. Get to know you better. Okay?”

“Okay,” I replied, still idly toying with myself.

My aunt placed the doll on my pillow, swept my hair away from my eyes and then disappeared down the stairs.

I turned my head towards the glistening toy and told it, “That was different.”

***

To this day I can’t really say whether I dreamed it or not – the song that waxed and waned on the ocean breeze. Certainly it began in my dreams, though when my eyes fluttered open, still it lingered, faint on the wind.

I climbed from my bed, crept downstairs, and ever so quietly closed the front door of the cottage behind me. I pattered down cobbled streets, that sweet voice drawing me ever closer. Down to the harbour, stark and silent in the small hours of the morning. Past The Mal De Mer on the corner, its last patron long ushered out the doors. To the beach, where the wraith-like singer stood and serenaded the ocean.

Madeline – gown of sheer satin draped across her form like a sea mist, dark hair flowing down her back like briny kelp. Her voice carried a strange cadence across the waters, its rhythm rising and falling as the waves – a sweet coda that hinted at some darker, more primal truth down in the dark depths, deep beneath the surface.

She turned to me and smiled and I felt her glamour upon me. “Pretty Hailey…”

My eyes snapped open to find myself back in my bed, but the sand between my toes told me it had been no mere dream.

Each night she would return to the shore and sing a song of lamentation for the ocean, her true home…

My fertile imagination led me to but one conclusion:

Madeline… Madeline was a selkie…

On to Chapter Three!