Morning after w/Mera

The first thing the Queen of Atlantis felt was the warm, solid weight of a male’s arm draped across her waist. The second was the crisp, salt-tinged morning air cooling her bare skin.

The married woman’s eyes fluttered open to the soft, grey light of dawn filtering through the lighthouse’s panoramic windows. She was curled on her side on a makeshift bed, her back nestled perfectly against…

Someone that was not Arthur. Not her husband.

It was the young pizza delivery man. His deep, even breathing ruffled the strands of her hair. For a long, luxurious moment, Mera just lay there, feeling. Not thinking. Not planning. Not being a queen. Just being. The pure, unadulterated sensation of a superhuman body utterly spent and completely at peace. It…didn’t seem possible. Not with being queen. Not with their schedule. Arthur insisted they had to save stamina for royal work or superheroing. They could never, ever let loose. Mera especially could not.

A faint, delicious ache pulsed between her thighs. ‘One hundred ninety-three times.’ The number was absurd. With Arthur, it was a delicate, almost clinical process, a duty that occasionally culminated in a quiet, distant shudder. Last night…last night, a Mariana Trench had opened up inside her. A seismic shift in her very understanding of what her body was capable of.

‘I seriously can’t believe I orgasmed one ninety-three times…my whole marriage with Arthur, I mean, our total would have been thirty-something. We were so busy and he was never…’

Her ass felt the twitch of a cock. She flushed.

‘Like this.’

Arthur didn’t have the kind of pipe that she could feel when it was completely flaccid. Atlanteans already had smaller penises than humans and were biologically tiny when flaccid because of swimming. Something, something, evolution. So all her life, Mera only saw tiny flaccid penises. In textbooks, in glimpses, whatever.

This human, however…

Mera carefully extricated herself from his hold. She stood, stretching her arms high above her head, her spine letting out a satisfying series of soft pops. Her long red hair cascaded down her naked back, and she felt a surge of primal, feminine power. She glanced over her shoulder at the sleeping man. He was magnificent in his stillness, one arm thrown over his head, his face relaxed and younger in sleep. And there, between his legs, was the source of her ruinous bliss. Even soft and at rest, his cock was a formidable thing, lying thick and heavy against his thigh.

“Far bigger than Arthur’s could ever be…”

Was it a human thing? She didn’t know. She didn’t want to know.

A smile, genuine and unguarded, touched her lips. She wasn’t waiting for anything. There was no knock nor a grunt from her husband to get the day started.

Mera felt… happy. It was a simple, profound feeling she couldn't remember ever experiencing upon waking. There were no scrolls to review, no dignitaries to appease, no kingdom to rule. There was only the sleepy silence of the lighthouse and the naked, incredible man lying on the floor.

She padded over to the forgotten pizza box. Next to it was a smaller bag. See, when she had recovering in between creampies, the pizza guy went out. “I wonder what he brought back…ah.” She peeked inside and laughed, a soft, melodic sound. A bag of chips, seven miniature bottles of orange juice from a gas station, and gum. A feast for commoners. It was perfect.

She brought the food over near the window and sat, folding her legs beneath her. The movement made her full breasts sway, and she caught sight of herself in the glass of the window—a reflection of a wild woman, a queen turned nymph, sitting naked, and about to eat cold pizza for breakfast.

This humanness thrilled her.

The rustling of the paper bags woke him. The pizza guy stirred and woke up, stretching his limbs like a great cat. His eyes found her, and that easy, familiar smile spread across his face. “Oh. Morning, Your Highness.”

At this point, there was no confusion about what happened. No remark about how this might have been a dream. It was his reality.

“Good morning,” Mera greeted, her voice still husky with sleep. She watched him as he sat up, the muscles in his abdomen and shoulders flexing. His morning erection was already beginning to stir, thickening and rising from its nest, but he made no move toward her. He just sat there, gloriously nude, and reached for a container of pizza.

He sat on the bed, Mera sat near the window. They ate in comfortable silence, the only sounds were the cry of gulls outside and their chewing. He devoured his slice in three huge bites and she found herself mimicking him, eating with her hands, not a care for etiquette. The grease shone on her fingers and she licked it off, catching him watching the movement of her tongue. A flush of heat, entirely separate from the morning sun, warmed her skin.

“You are staring,” Mera said, a playful challenge in her tone.

“Apologies,” the pizza guy replied, his eyes roaming freely over her body. “Is it a crime in Atlanta?”

“To leer at the king’s wife? Nonsense. We pick attractive attire for a reason.”

“So you want your commoners to try to have sex with you?”

The crude, honest compliment shouldn’t have pleased her so much, but it did. It made her feel seen not as a monarch, but as a woman. A desired woman. “Maybe.”

It was then that a tinny, buzzing sound cut through the quiet. The pizza guy frowned, digging through the pile of his clothes until he found his phone. He looked at the screen and sighed. “Oh gosh, that’s the shop. I’m super late.”

The spell was broken. The real world, with its schedules and responsibilities, intruded upon their perfect, naked bubble. He began to pull on his pants.

A sudden, fierce possessiveness shot through Mera. This was it. The end. She wouldn’t let it be a clumsy, clothed goodbye. She rose to her feet, a queen once more, but a queen claiming her final tribute.

“Wait,” Mera commanded, her voice soft but absolute.

The pizza guy paused, his jeans halfway up his hips, and looked at her. She walked over to him, her nude body a study in confidence and grace. Her eyes dipped down, taking a long, final look at his cock, now softened again but no less impressive, hanging thick and long between his legs.

She reached out, not for his cock, but for what hung beneath it. She cupped his heavy balls gently in her hand. These fat nuts had nutted in her more times than her husband. She massaged them with a tender, possessive touch, her thumb stroking.

The pizza guy let out a soft, sharp gasp.

She met his eyes, her gaze intense and unwavering. “Your cock hangs low. Lower than any man I know.” She gave his sac one final, gentle squeeze, a silent thank you to the source of her pleasure. “I will never forget about you, or the feel of you inside me.”

Then Mera rose up on her toes, pulled his face down to hers, and kissed him. It was not a kiss of passion, but of sealing a memory. A perfect, bittersweet stamp on the most incredible night of her life.

When she pulled away, she saw the dazed look in his eyes. With a graceful wave of her hand, she summoned moisture from the palms of her hand. Two gentle whips of water coiled around his discarded shirt and shoes, lifting them and deftly dressing him, pulling the shirt over his head and guiding his feet into his sneakers with a quiet shhhhp and a slip.

“O-oh wow. Uh…” He looked down at himself, fully dressed by magical water, and let out a breathless laugh. “Thanks. That was…”

He gave her one last, long look, a smile playing on his lips that was equal parts awe and disbelief. “No need to thank me,” said Mera. “You made my night.”

“R-right. Oh, and, uh, by the way, I went and got you some clothes. You know, for your spy stuff.”

The pizza guy pointed and Mera followed his gaze. Indeed, he had bought her clothes. She sort-of blinked. “Huh. Was I really out for that long?”

“I, err…I guess there was a lot of…cum,” he trailed off, turning red. “A-anyway, good luck, Your Highness! I hope you save your husband.”

“I as well.”

Permission granted in the form of a smile, he turned and walked out of the lighthouse, the door clicking shut behind him. Mera stood perfectly still, listening to the crunch of his footsteps on the gravel outside fade away, followed by the cough of an engine starting and the sound of a car pulling away.

She glanced at the clothes again. As much as she wanted to fetch them…

Thud!

She dropped to her knees. This whole time, her legs had been desperately trying not to shake.

“G-good gods…!” Mera whimpered. “That human and his cock…I-I can barely feel my legs…!”

This was going to take some time to recover from…