You spend the next several days lounging around the kelp-beds that sit beyond the mer-village, getting to know Clia better, connecting with her, and making love to her. Other merfolk from the village come and go; as it was on the first day of the cycle, participating females greatly outnumber the males, the mermaids all at varying levels of eagerness to take what pleasure they can from the mating time while it lasts.
Nobody else asks you to fertilize any eggs the way Thea and Lyla did, although on occasion another couple of mermaids will swim by the spot that you and Clia have chosen for your nest and offer to join the two of you in a bout of casual love-play. Clia is usually receptive, and on more that one occasion you find yourself being double- or triple-teamed, the lone merman wrapped up within an orgiastic knot of fins, scales, breasts, lovely feminine faces, and long tresses of gold, red, brown, or green.
You encounter Thea and Lyla a few more times during the week as well, though Thea elects not to join in with you and Lyla whenever Clia does. Lyla is always eager enough: you get the sense that she likes you more than she lets on. You're not quite sure what to make of that, because Clia certainly doesn't seem jealous or in any way concerned.
You've made a few interesting discoveries as the lazy days have drifted by. Clia only ever seems to want to make love or nap; she never goes off to find food. Apparently, the pre-mating feeding-frenzy is definitely a requisite for mermaids. For your part, you discover that your semi-cold-blooded, half-fish metabolism is slow enough that you only need to head out to hunt for food once every day or so, and whenever you bring a few extra fish back to your nest, Clia gulps them down gratefully.
You've also noticed some curious things about the way merfolk sex works during the mating cycle. Before it began, you hadn't seen much evidence that it really affected males in any way, and during the first couple of days, you even speculated that maybe the trigger for your own ability to climax came entirely from the pheromones present in mermaid ejaculate. It was certainly the case that even after Clia and the other mermaids had laid their eggs on that first day, any further orgasms they achieved were still accompanied by that colorful and aromatic fluid-discharge that gave your senses an aphrodisiacal rush. But you also noticed that your own orgasms seemed to grow in pleasure and intensity until the very night of the full moon, during which time they were comparable to those you remember from when you were human. On that evening, the third after the cycle began, you and Clia practically couldn't keep your hands and tails off of each other all night long, it was so good; and achieving orgasm for both of you was far easier than it had been on the first day.
But then, as the moon began to wane, so too did your pleasure in climax and your ability to reach it, and along with both of those, your very sex drive itself. The mermaids, meanwhile, didn't experience this rising-and-falling peak. Instead, with each passing day, they had an ever-easier time reaching orgasm, but each subsequent climax was a little less intense, to the point where, by the sixth day of the cycle, you were totally content and fulfilled, your lust fully and finally slaked at last; and Clia was in a near-constant state of low-key, buzzing pleasure, a kind of mini not-quite-orgasm that could be induced just by making out with her.
So when the final day of the mating cycle arrives, you awaken that morning to find that Clia is languid and half-drunk on the hormones, and you are downright amazed at how sated and happy your are. You are actually ready to leave this nest and go back to the village, to really begin your new life as a merman and perhaps make something of yourself. At least, you want to be a provider for the family that you're now quite certain you want to have with Clia. (To say nothing of the children that Thea and Lyla may have.) Clia, though, clings to you all morning and whispers things into your ear—sweet nothings, downright dirty suggestions of sex-acts she'd still like to perform on your body, and all manner of loving pillow-talk in between. She begs you to remain in the nest with her, just this one last day.
Only, today, you find that driving your lover to climax has become a task of surpassing difficulty, and you experience just as much frustration when Clia tries to finish you. By mid-day, you're both quite certain that further attempts to drive one another over the edge are doomed to impossibility, and the old, frustrating limitations of your fish-anatomies assert themselves again—but not quite with a vengeance. You're bittersweet about the end of the cycle: sad to see your honeymoon end as any vacation must, but elated that you got to experience it with Clia, and for the sexy, tender, loving memories that the two of you will always share.
Plus, it's only three weeks until the next cycle begins, and with the way you feel right now, you're pretty sure that you can hold out just fine. So, you decide with finality and confidence, being a merman is certainly different and not what you were used to, but it is not by any means such a terrible thing after all. You could certainly live the rest of your life like this without complaint: a lover like Clia will make it all worth it.