Check the apartment for info/clothes?!

In a **** need to make any sense of what is going on and/or find some clothing(?), you look around the bungalo quickly.

In a short moment before steps come up the steps you find, a series of trophies for some kind of swimming competitions, a LOT of floral bathrobes, and a few pictures of your rescuer with other shark women, all of whom are incredibly figures of lean muscle and lithe silhouettes, and one lone picture of her and a smale male otter guy(?).

You are wrapped in the warmest looking bathrobe as you huddle on the couch, chattering your teeth against the shock as the tower amazonian shark women comes into the house.

Wind and rain blow past fiercely before she slams the door shut behind her. She pauses a second before shaking off her parka. In the smoldering light of the fire, your breath catches.

Her powerful figure outlined in streaks of amber light as her toned body looms. The chiseled abs, the powerful thighs, her cock pointedly bobbing directly towards your face, the rain running lines down her body as the only sound is the storm and your breathing.

"Uhm. Thank you for saving me? I, uhm, am not from around here? I think? Where are we?" You manage.

You watch her shiver then sigh heavily.

"Honestly, I was out there going for a stormy swim when I saw you on the beach. I thought I was seeing things. Right now my instincts are telling me I either need to nurse you, fuck you, or run as far away as I can. Not really sure which is the best choice." She clears her throat and walks a step forward and offers a handshake.

You eye her cock swaying with her every step, and take her hand.

"My name is Shaheerah, and this is my home. Private little stretch of beach belongs to me, used to be an olympic swimmer, ya know." She beams and as she does so her still hard member waves in your face.

"Ah, nice to meet you, I guess I am very far from home. I am a human from earth, have you heard of those things?" You try gently asking after giving your own name.

Shaheerah walks over and opens a cabinet. The clink of glass follows shortly. Your looming hostess flops onto the derelict couch, her hands cradling a hefty scotch.

"Huemen? Urth? I think so, those sound like an old nursery rhyme I used to hear about magical creatures... smooth skin, smart, fertile, and fuckable." She finishes with a hungry edge creeping into her voice. Her breathing is heavy as her pole is dribbling pre constantly at this point.

She has shut her eyes as she obviously is trying to will away her hardon.