Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
She shakes her head slowly, still staring. Maybe I should be flattered. “The ocean is so cold. I-Isn’t there supposed to be shrinkage?”
“I promise you, it has shrunk a great deal.”
Darla jolts. “You mean, it’s usually b-bigger than that?”
“Quite.”
“Oh lord.” She physically shakes herself, before scanning up and down the beach, clearly looking for my pants that don’t really exist. “Should I go ask someone if you can borrow some clothes?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want you to leave.” Apparently, it is the wrong thing to say. She is the one who is shrinking now, closing her thighs with a snap. Tensing. Preparing to jump to her feet and bolt. Intuition urges me to speak quickly. To show Darla she can trust me, despite my sudden appearance and nudity. “It’s nice to talk to someone. I don’t talk to many beings.”
A blonde eyebrow pops. “Beings?”
“People,” I amend. “I keep to myself.”
All true. And part of the reason I felt such a connection to her this afternoon.
I release a relieved breath when I seem to have captured her attention. “Why do you keep to yourself, Moby?”
“People are annoying, that’s why. Always complaining and chewing too loud. Their laughter is fake. They are always putting some kind of expectation on me to be funny or interesting, and I don’t care if they think I’m either of those things.”
Of course, I’m talking about my fellow whales, but she doesn’t know that.
In fact, I appear to be making sense to her, thank God.
With Darla, the truth is the correct path.
Add it to the list of things I like about her, along with her voice, body, her personality.
“I suppose we could talk for a while, but maybe we should go stand in waist-deep water, so I’m not distracted by…it?” Her gaze falls once again to my cock, and she blushes, pressing her fingers to the seam of her mouth. “Or…them.”
“Who is them?”
“You know…”
“My testicles?” I tug my hard dick to one side and observe the round sacs from above, the ocean water making them shiny in the light of the moon. “They are much better on the inside, no?”
“Oh, uh. Sure?”
“Trust me.” Letting my shaft drop with a bounce, I reach down for her hand. “Come. We can talk in the water, so my cock and balls don’t make you tongue tied.”
“Thanks?” Darla mutters, allowing me to pull her up out of the sand. And then she does something that I find strange and amusing. She hurriedly swipes at her bottom.
“What are you doing, little human?”
“Just getting the sand off my butt,” she says, as if my question is mental.
“But we are about to go into the ocean.”
“It’s reflex.”
I have the sudden and undeniable need to see her bottom caked in sand, so I let her walk ahead of me toward the serene ocean…and my momentum grinds to a halt. She is just out of reaching distance when she strips off her sweatshirt, leaving it on the shore. All she wears now is a black bikini, and at first, I don’t know where to look. The strands of her strawberry blonde hair where they tickle the dimples at the base of her spine? The delicate slopes of her shoulders. Her hips. All her parts are spectacular.
But it’s her sandy little ass cheeks that cause me to spurt come into the sand.
One long rope of milky white pumps out of me, my gaze devouring those supple buns during her strut into the water. That naughty little jiggle of her flesh. The secretive crevice that separates one juicy cheek from the other. I almost drop into a crawl behind her, just so I can see her butt up close, it is so mouthwatering.
Is that where my cock goes?
Is this why I’m so drawn to her backside?
I have to bite my wrist to muffle a groan at the thought of rubbing my dick and balls around between those buns and watching them spread, watching my milk fill that crack and form a white river, my little human squirming and gasping beneath me.
“What should we talk about?” Darla asks, gliding into the water. Not splashing or complaining about the cold. Just…a graceful glide.
“I would like to know more about your leg injury,” I say, following her into the ocean, lamenting the loss of her ass when the water swallows up the sight of it.
Darla turns to face me, her expression guarded. “You noticed my injured leg?”
“I’ve noticed all of you,” I say, moving close to her out of necessity, bridging the gap between us until her head is tilted all the way back, the tiny thing. My intention is to keep her close, in case her fragile body gets caught in an undertow or a shark gets too close. I’m surprised when she seems a bit…mesmerized by my nearness.
“Have we met?” she whispers.