Let me tell you, it is godsdamn boring being a seal. Oh, all right, technically I’m not a seal, I’m a selkie. But really, once you’re in the water, there isn’t a big difference between selkies and seals.
We don’t have movies, there aren’t any milkshakes, it’s hard to use a computer when you live in and around the water. It goes without saying that we don’t have anything like Grindr or Manhunt. It’s full of fish. And seaweed. And males fighting each other for harems. And honestly, I’m not remotely interested in fighting to fuck anyone, even if I wasn’t as queer as a three dollar bill. Also, seaweed makes for shit decoration. And I hate fish.
Yeah, you heard me. I’m a selkie, and I hate fish. Give me a big greasy hamburger and waffle fries smothered in cheese any day of the week. And if you really want to make me happy, a extremely thick milkshake that you have to eat off a spoon — preferably chocolate, but I’ve developed a fondness for the banana smoothies sold from a little stand on the beach.
Even though that fondness stems from tasting the smoothie on the lips of the guy who works there in the mornings. He’d take one to go after every shift and we’d share it, trading sips, kissing and licking tastes from each others’ mouths. We didn’t bother exchanging names, only small talk. More often than not, this was a prelude to slipping into the alley for a handjob or a quick frot up against the wall. Sometimes he’d go down on me – his mouth still cold – and suck me until I came over his tongue. I always dragged him up for another taste, salty and slightly bitter now, but I thought it was perfect.
Sometimes we’d part ways without another word, but when I had money, I could always coax him into getting a hamburger or to catch a movie. Which would lead to another quickie in the bathroom of the theater before he went off to wherever it was he lived, and I went back to the sea.