The Girl from Ipanema

Afternoon Delight. After a hard day of working at my next book, my merman and I headed to the beach with the merdog for fun and sun. Inland there was a blistering hot sun, but on the beach there was a breeze and the calmest sea.

We swam along the coast as the merdog chased us–his idea of swimming is to float in the water or roll around on his back. I headed onshore to chase him and scratch his belly, while my merman continued for another quarter mile. As he climbed out of the sea, muscled and toned from his swim, I swayed down the beach toward him.
The best thing about halter top swimsuits is they detach easily, so even though there were people on the beach I had enjoyed my swim without a top on and now as I walked away from the few people on the beach, I slung my halter top behind me and let my breasts be bare to the breeze. It felt like Brazil and as I walked toward him I sang “The Girl from Ipanema.”

He grabbed me and kissed me–his skin still cold from the sea and mine warm from the sun. Sexy.


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