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Exotica

Fish

by Van Rijn (art) / Words by Annemarie Ryders
(06/27/12)

He is sitting at the head end. I know when he is listening. His chair begins to creak when I talk about it. The thing he likes to listen to best. I dreamed of fish, I say. I stare at the ceiling into the dim light. Tons of fish. They are unloaded on the beach. The buckets topple. Thousands of fish squirm above and beneath each other. They twitch, they thrash their tails. I am naked. His chair begins to creak. I pause for effect. Stark naked. My body is wet. I approach the mountain of fish. An unbearable tension spreads between my legs, a pushing, a pulling. I have to do something against it. Relieve the pressure. With my thighs I touch the fish. I sit down on this mountain of bodies. They are cold and slippery. Some of the fish snap at me, they suck on my skin. But they are not purposeful enough, they don't nibble where I want them. I take an especially shiny one in my hand, look at its mouth, this small ring which is going to snap, to suck. It can help me relieve that tension. I let it glide down between my breasts, don't stop at my bellybutton, go on to the crack where the pearl lives which does not come from an oyster. It sucks. I move it back and forth a little, it's supposed to reach every inch of me. Then I pull it off, dip it into me, move it back to the pearl. In turns. It sucks, it slips inside me, it smacks, it pulls all the tension, all the pressure out of me until its little body twitches in wild thrashes. Like live wire it twitches in my hand. When I let it go, it is dead. I look at the streaks on the body, I take it to my mouth, lick it clean. It tastes like fish.

When I get up from the couch, my shrink looks exhausted. His small grey eyes behind the thick lenses twitch like fish eyes.




©2012 by Van Rijn (art) / Words by Annemarie Ryders

Reader Comments


Van Rijn’s work – erotic foreplay, bondage, kink, luminescent fetish and all kinds of flesh based illustrations, which Dian Hanson recommends as “very pretty, very elegant, but fully explicit “, are the starting point and linchpin for Annemarie Ryders' tales. And Ryders puts bones to the flesh. Humor, ambiguity, surprising turns coupled with an exceptionally fresh and relaxed depiction of sexuality, she invents the lyrics to an enigmatically flowing tune, remnants of a dream – the voices from the corridor. Voices from the Corridor - a collection of erotic visions and tales


Oysters Among Us bookOysters Among Us -- erotic tales of wonder


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