A year had passed since last summer’s break-up. The son of a bitch had told her that she would never be able to find love again; that no one in their right mind would ever want her.

She had half-believed him, knowing she would never ever be the same. Some days it had been hard to even get out of the brick-walled apartment. Yet, she was not a mope and made it a point to keep it wet by going to seedy massage parlors where she would lay on her belly, tilt back her pelvis and allow pudgy fingers to entertain her by playing in her labia folds and to pinch, squeeze, and rub her clit until she almost burst.

On this particular day, she woke up hot and sweaty in the suffocating heat of a muggy morning in the city. Though uncomfortable, it didn’t faze her because she always practiced a well-tested routine as a remedy to humid days like this one.

Her plan, a simple one, which she had enacted many times before, was to catch the ferry to the Colony, the notorious nudist camp, located on an island off the Jersey coast.

On the ferry, when the sea breeze blew across her face, she always got that 'good to be alive' feeling. On the boat, she enjoyed the sly glances and the bold summer couture she came in contact with as she paced the labyrinth of decks and stately rooms.

The room she liked best was the Massage room. Bill, the masseur, served as a fluffer and a buffer for her in regards with what was yet to come.

Bill would start the massage slowly. Eventually, his hands would massage her inner thighs and edged her along until she always felt very wet and willing. Then he would stop, and the massage would be over and right on-time the ship would be ready to dock.

On this special day, when she disembarked, Sheila felt in the perfect state to enjoy and appreciate the group shower she shared with her fellow tourists. There were soapy, big dicks and huge, lathery breasts and wiggling foamy behinds. Sheila eyed Bill the most, but he didn’t come over and she was soon on her way down the sylvan trail that had the superfluous sign, 'Clothing-optional beyond this point'.

She started to hike up and down the vast sand dunes that lay close to the beach. By and by, she arrived at her goal, the infamous Sex Shack. Usually, she was met at the door by Oscar, Luther or Daryl, a trio of black men with big black cocks. They would greet her, blindfold her, lead her by the hand, put her face down on a lumpy mattress, tie her hands and feet behind her back, and take turns giving her a tremendously satisfying dick-pounding.

On this day, it was quite a different story. Austin, a tall, skinny, white guy, met her at the door. The sight of his fourteen- inch penis gave her a jolt.   

Austin seemed to know about the blindfold, the tying-up drill and how she liked a nice rhythm, slowly building into a good thumping. The massive dick was fabulous, heavenly, and divine but then Sheila smelt something that reminded her of someone. It was the sweet smell of rum.

“Wait,” she said, “stop, right now!”

Austin rolled on his elbow, “What?”

“He sent you, didn’t he?”

“Well,” he said sheepishly, “he did hire me as a gift to you in order to make up for his previous wrongdoing and mistakes.”

“Oh, like some Trojan Horse to make me into a hot wife without my consent? No way, I am out of here!”

Sheila took off, running down the beach in the twilight, next to the pounding surf and amidst the distant wailing. The sky darkened, though still filled with the hint of stars and moonlight. Lamentations and incantations grew louder and louder as she rounded the bend beneath the bluff. Looking up, Sheila spied a savage group of raging women dancing wildly around a sizable fire up on the upper bank above.

Sheila was struck specifically by the drummer who seemed to be standing amongst the flames. The woman had red hair, matted together like seaweed, and she looked directly into Sheila’s eyes, as if challenging her outright. The eyes of the woman reflected the light of the fire as she drummed continuously, guiding the dancers into ecstatic movements and rhythms while their eyes blazed in their contorted faces.

Suddenly, the drummer leaped up, her body covered only by a deep red cloak which parted in the middle to reveal an outpouring of glistening sweat dripping down her pert, pink nipples, all the way to her hirsute delta. From her vantage point, Sheila could see the red, exposed open vulva of the woman, framed by the fire and the full moon overhead.

The woman jumped from the bluff to the sandy shore below, yelling to Sheila unabashedly, “I claim you as my own.”

She approached Sheila rapidly, held her tight and gave her a mighty soul kiss. Their bodies joined tongue to tongue, breast to breast, thigh to thigh until they tribbed, wrestled and rolled towards the sea.

In the excitement, Sheila felt their mouths and tongues merge together. Their four breasts became two and their four legs melded into a huge tail with one vulva hidden in the middle of it.

They spoke out of the same mouth, first Sheila cried out, “Mercy, and, goodness.”

Then the woman shouted, “Now I will take you out to sea, to the undersea. Pax Vobiscum.”

Sheila’s voyage to the undersea was rapid and thrilling. She whipped her tail as if she was possessed. On her way to the bottom, she rode a sea swell that brought her close to another mermaid. They grabbed ahold of each other and sunk slowly during their water exhale. Sheila touched her companion’s scales and watched her shiver and shake. Then she reached into her new friend’s tail and formed a fist that easily went in and out of her squishy vagina. Her new lover’s tail started to quake and flap passionately and that created love waves that warmed the waters. With wordless screams of underwater ecstasy, they embraced and held hands and entered into the Queendom of the sea world, and were immediately met by the Queen.

The Queen had flowing blonde hair and enormous breasts and a tiny tail. She greeted them with loving enthusiasm.

“Welcome, my princesses. I am so glad to meet you. Be sure to come back for the Mermaid's Ball during the next full moon. In the meantime, make love, do some good in the grave, sad world above. I repeat, make love, not war. Save some sailors and fuck some for me as well. Pax Vobiscum.”