"Ahoy, there!" you hear someone call.
You turn your head and see a fishing boat crossing the pond towards you. Your libido is slowed significantly by the sudden presence of other people. You're hit with the realization that you're on the verge of letting a giant fish get you off.
You start trying to grab that big fish face and, firmly but gently, almost even lovingly, push it away. She looks right at you and waves a fin back and forth in the water as if to say "Nah-ah-ah." Then she forcefully returns her lips to your flesh.
"Are you okay, buddy?" the man on the rapidly approaching fishing boat calls out.
You can barely form words as the fish's passionate kisses across your abdomen threaten to short-circuit your brain.
You focus on splashing the pond water in your face and rubbing it over your body, trying desperately to wash away the sparkly, glossy, sticky residue the fish has coated your body in before the boat gets close enough for the people on board to see it. How could you possibly explain those impossibly large lip-shaped marks that covered you everywhere to them?
Meanwhile, you're starting to get a pretty good look at the boat. Crudely painted on the side is pin-up style artwork of an absurdly well-endowed mermaid, with thick, florescent pink lips puckered-up as she blows a kiss. The man who had called out to you definitely seems the outdoorsy, sportsman type. He was burly and bearded, wearing khaki cargo pants, a sleeveless vest, and a baseball cap.
But you barely notice him as you get a look at his companions. He's surrounded by a bevy of beauties, all of whom look like they just stepped right out of the swimsuit issue, and all of whom are dressed in the tiniest swimsuits imaginable.
Between the sight of the bikini babes and the sensation of the luscious, lustful lips on your skin, it's a minor miracle you haven't already creamed in your pants.
Speaking of pants, the fish has her hand-like fins down the sides of yours. The fins aren't dexterous enough to unbuckle your belt, so she's trying to tug your pants down, underwear, belt, and all. A minute ago, you probably would have helped her remove this cumbersome obstacle between the two of you. Enthusiastically, even. Now, you're too busy panicking about how you're about to be caught in an extremely compromising situation.
"What are you doing way out here in the water?" Cintia asks from the boat.
She's a pretty, skinny ginger in a neon green string bikini. Her fiery hair's up in a messy bun, and she's rubbing suntan oil on her adorably freckle-covered skin.
"I was . . . uhhh . . . fu-fu-fishing!" you stutter.
The fish pulls your pants down to your knees. She coos approvingly at what's between your legs, but teases you by ignoring the main attraction for now and rubbing her big mouth against your thigh instead.
"You shouldn't go swimming in the pond water," says Kate, the blonde. She's about the same height as Cintia, but far more voluptuous. "You have no idea what's in there."
It's you who couldn't possibly know what's in this water right now, you think, squirming as the fish's lips on your leg make your entire body tingle. I think I might have a pretty good idea.
"You can come up here with us," says Bobby, the sportsman. "The girls and I can make plenty of room for you."
The fish opens her mouth and engulfs you, line and both sinkers all at once. She's doing things to you only her mouth is uniquely capable of. And she's got the skill to go with the equipment. Her tongue licks all over your bait and tackle as she enthusiastically sucks on them. A loud moan escapes your lips.
"Are you sure you're okay?" asks Olivia, a tanned brunette with shoulder-length hair and smoldering brown eyes.
"Yes! Yes! Oh, God, yes!" you shout, nodding frantically.
You bite your lower lip and close your eyes to try to keep the pleasure from showing in your face as your fish triumphs in her catch of the day. You'd wanted seafood today and were hoping you'd end up with a fish in your mouth. You could have never guessed the exact opposite would be true.
"Hold on!" another one of the girls yells. "We're coming for you!"
Other girls on the boat, from various races and creeds, nod in adamant agreement as the boat continues getting closer and closer, and it becomes more and more difficult to keep your expression from giving away what's happening to you just below the surface of the water.
You're once again on the verge of climax, about two sucks away from feeding a huge load of fish food directly into that pleading, desiring mouth.
"Oh! Oh! Oooooh! Ohhhh!" you find yourself moaning.
You thrash wildly in the water as ecstasy overtakes you. You know you should shoo away either the fish or the fishing boat, but right now you feel powerless to do either.
You can't help but scream "Yes! Yes! Yes!" as that skilled mouth continues to do things to your total package you would have never thought possible.
Now the boat is right there and the girls look even more concerned as they reach down for you. Their arms manage to finally spook the fish, who swims away from you. Still, you try to wave the arms away. You're still throbbing hard beneath the water, and the aftershock may be enough to make you climax without anyone even touching you down there.
The girls grab your arms and begin to hoist you up before you even have the chance to try pulling your pants back up. Now you're eye-to-eye with the mermaid painting. In a few seconds, you'll be fully exposed to them, naked, hard, throbbing, and probably going to bust. Exposed to their judgment.
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