Incest stories: The Mermaid’s Courtship. Author: mypenname3000. Kolin and Willa, a fisherman and his new bride, yearn to meet a mermaid, but none have been seen in a thousand years. Below the waves, Aryal hates the commands of her father, King Triton, who forbid her swimming to the surface and finding a fisherman and fisherwife to court. The story is including of Fantasy, Anal, Blowjob, Female solo, Female/Female, Incest, Lesbian, Male/Female, Monster, Voyeurism theme.

Incest stories: The Mermaid’s Courtship 1A: Rebellious Daughter

Author: mypenname3000

Kolin – Calthin Bay, Kingdom of Thlin

The net was set, drifting in the water behind the boat. I sat on the lip of the small fishing boat I worked with my wife, Willa. The craft was a wedding gift from my father, a small sloop to begin our fishing trade. It had only one mast and two sets of oars to row.

It was perfect.

My feet dangled in the calm waters as I perched on the side. The blue depths fell away beneath me. My feet were bare, enjoying the cooler waters as the sun rose high. I wiped at my brow, my skin tanned darker red than the soft merchants who bought our salted fish and leathers.

Willa, my new bride, sat beside me. She wore a simple skirt sewn of fish-leathers, the scales flashing blue-green in the sun. The skirt was a wrap that tied at her right hip, letting her right leg move freely while still covering her modestly. Her small breasts were exposed. She had undone the lacings of her vest, exposing her dark-red nipples topping her conical tits.

There were no boats around, and I smiled at my wife’s delights.

“What are you thinking on?” she asked as she stared down into the dark waters.

“Nothing,” I answered.

“You mean mermaids,” she smiled. Willa had a great smile, still girlish with the youth she had only recently shed. It complimented her bold, beautiful nose and her high cheekbones. Her white hair spilled about her reddish face, contrasting with her skin. Her orange eyes had a sparkle. “Have you been dreaming of a nubile merwife to poke?”

My cock stirred in my fish-leather shorts. The shorts extended to my knees, leaving my legs able to bend as I moved about the small boat. “Yes.”

“They’re all gone,” sighed Willa. “They all died out or moved away. They don’t like Calthin Bay no longer.”

“They still exist in the rest of the Myrt Sea and the Nimborgoth,” I groused. “Why did they flee here? What offense did we give our sea wives?”

A hundred years ago, a fisherman and his fisherwife would have been honored to be courted by a mermaid. A family with a merwife always had the largest catches. Young couples on their wedding day would be presented with a new boat and sail out to the middle of the bay, there to spill their seed and dew upon the waters, hoping to entice a budding mermaid.

Willa and I had done it, masturbating each other on the dark waters while the full moon burned above. No comely mermaid had broached the surface. They were gone.

“Pity the waters are too deep to reach the Merpool,” I sighed, “then you could swim down there and become a merwife.”

Willa smiled. “And then who would be your fisherwife?”

“You’d be both,” I laughed. The Merpool was probably a myth. In the songs, it was claimed the original mermaids were birthed at the bottom of Calthin bay when the potent seed of Las, God of Lust, landed in the water and sank to the bottom. It was said to be beneath our keel on the sea floor, transforming any who bathed in it into a mermaid.

“They must have all died out,” sighed Willa as she peered down into the water. There were no merman, at least the stories claimed, so the mermaids had to seek their mates with the human sailors and fisherman who plied the Myrt Sea and beyond. Willa sang the Mermaid’s Lament as we waited for our net to swell.

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Ayral – Bottom of Calthin Bay, Triton’s Kingdom

I stared up at the azure heights of the sea, to the surface. My purple tail fluttered as I swam through the coral growths and swaying kelp of the seafloor. Schools of blue and silver fishes swam about as I wended and wove through the kelp to my father’s house.

In the stories of old, we used to seek for our fisherman and fisherwife above the waves. That was before King Triton appeared. The only merman to exist. We no longer needed to cavort with the surface dwellers.

At least, that was what I was told.

I was so curious. What was it like above the waves in the strange realm of air. Sometimes, I would watch the sunlight play on the rippling waves while dark shapes passed above. The fisherman and his fisherwife would trail great cloaks of bound kelp behind them and scooping up schools of fish.

“There you are, Ayral,” King Triton smiled. I was one of his many daughter-concubines.

He was a handsome merman, I guess—I really had no frame of reference. His lower half was a crimson fish that seamlessly transitioned into a muscular, male torso. Unlike mermaids, he hand no breasts but hard muscles and broad shoulders. His hair was white and he had a thick growth of hair covering his cheeks, chin, and lips. He called it a beard, another thing unique to him.

“Father,” I smiled, my purple hair flowing behind me as I swam through the opening in the coral building. Father lounged on a bed of kelp.

“My sweet Ayral,” he smiled, his hand reaching out to seize one of my large breast—the biggest in the harem—and pulled on the polished, blue coral piercing my pink nub. I moaned as he drew me closer. I brushed his reddish skin—all merfolk of the Myrt Sea had red skin, though I heard other tribes had pale, bluish, ebony, or brown skin.

Pleasure shot down to my pussy. I groaned and my pussy slit opened, my delicate petals caressed by the slight current floating through the house. My nipples always seemed connected to my pussy, and whenever Father played with them, my scales parted to expose my sex.

“I’ve been thinking about you all morning,” Father continued, pulling me to his lips.

His white beard tickled my face as I pressed in for a kiss. His lips were strong and made my heart beat, but my thoughts drifted to fisherman. They did not have fins. I tried to picture what that would look like.

Father’s fingers tugged on my nipple, the pleasure driving away my daydream. After pleasuring Father, I would have a free afternoon to frolic in the waters. I hoped to have the courage to swim above the kelp and for the surface.

I wanted to meet a fisherman, even if Father said they were the most violent creatures and would only hurt me. How could that be true? Before the miracle of Father, mermaids would wed fishermen and fisherwives.

Father’s tongue swirled through my mouth as his fingers pulled on my coral ring. My pussy clenched and throbbed. My slit parted fully, my pussy exposed to the sweet sea’s caress. Father’s other hand stroked down my belly to my purple scales. My fin twitched as he stroked me, nearing my slit.

His fingers were skilled as he brushed the petals of my pussy. I gasped into the kiss, my tail kicking hard and sending the kelp waving about us swirling. Father’s fingers caressed my folds and dipped into my hole.

“My sweet Ayral,” he gasped, breaking the kiss. “My sweetest daughter-concubine. You always know how to excite me.”

“Thank you, Father,” I smiled as he gave another tug on my nipple.

The pleasure ran right to my pussy and my hole clenched about his probing finger. My fingers curled in bliss and I moaned. My hair floated about me as I let my head drift back and enjoy the skill of Father’s fingers.

“Have you been thinking of the evil fishermen again?”

“Of course not, Father,” I moaned.

“Ayral?” A second finger entered me.

I gasped and twitched. “Definitely not.” The lie came easily to my lips even as the pleasure built inside me. “I do not want to be discipline again.”

Father had spanked me harshly. My tail was always so sore when he finished.

“I just want to be obedient and loving, Father.” And to see a fisherman. I wanted to find out if they were as handsome as the stories claimed. And were the wives as beautiful? Would they spill their seed and dew into the sea for me to devour. Would their sexual fluid excite me?

I felt something was lacking even at the height of my pleasure with Father.

“I love you, Father,” I smiled and gave him another kiss, my hands stroking through his beard. I did love Father, but it didn’t feel the same way as the songs described. I didn’t yearn for him when we were apart. He didn’t make my heart race.

Though his fingers knew how to stir my passions.

My pussy clenched down on his fingers as I floated near him. My tongue fluttered through his mouth as we kissed. His thumb caressed across my clit. My tail fin fluttered hard, breaking our kiss as I slid up his body.

“Do you want me to suck on your tits?” Father asked as he buried his face between them. His wiry beard caressed my nipples as his mouth sucked on my nub.

“Oh, Father,” I moaned as his strong lips nibbled. His fingers dug faster and faster in and out of my pussy.

My hands stroked his powerful muscles as my tail swished. The pleasure swelled through me. Moans escaped my lips. Father’s fingers were so thick. They were almost as nice as his cock. What would a fisherman’s dick be like?

I closed my eyes and imagined a fisherman, his cock thrusting from his fleshy crotch, slamming in and out my pussy’s depths as his fisherwife rubbed her pussy on my lips. I pretended to devour her salty, silky snatch as my pussy clenched on Father’s fingers.

“Yes, yes!” I groaned. “Fuck me! Make me cum!”

I needed to be careful. I couldn’t let Father know I fantasized about a fisherman. I would be in so much trouble. My tail swayed, brushing father’s scales. My fins slid up his scales, sending warm tingles shooting up to my pussy.

I was lost to my fantasy. The fisherman’s face was so handsome. He made my heart beat fast, and his fisherwife was beautiful, her hair floating around her shoulders as she rubbed her pussy on my lips. I stuck out my tongue as my pleasure swelled.

I wanted to meet humans. I wanted to see what it was like above the waves. I climbed higher on higher on my climax. I let out a wordless moan as my orgasm crashed through me. My body shuddered as I savored my fantasy.