Fish Store

For better or worse, I married a "fish guy." No, not the kind of guy who goes out drinking in a little boat lamely trying to catch some totally stupid critter who doesn't have the sense to drown in water. Or the kind of macho Neanderthal who sits in a shanty on top of a frozen lake drinking and freezing and waiting for some equally demented frozen finned beast to bite his pathetic hook. Those guys at least have the sense to fuck their women when they come home. I hope. But I wouldn't know that.

I'm talking about the kind of guy who likes big tanks of water in the house and little critters swimming around in them. That's my guy. I love him. But sometimes he's frustrating.

Like the other day, we both get home from work. I pour some drinks. I'm thinking a little pre-dinner play might be nice. Take the edge off, you know. I change from my drab work clothes into a cute little blouse and skirt. The blouse has a tendency to gape open, showing the sides of my large and deliberately un-bra-ed breasts. The skirt is white and flouncy, and in a wind or if I sit carelessly on the couch, tends to show a lot of leg.

I sat carelessly on the couch, showing a lot of leg. Trying to get a little attention. Hell, if he'd look half hard he'd see I wasn't wearing panties. Seriously guys, if you had a woman in a short flouncy skirt with no panties sitting in front of you, wouldn't you at least notice? Apparently not if you're a fish guy. He's studying his fish catalogs on the coffee table. Soon he gets the brilliant idea -- "Let's run by the fish store and see if they've got any new tropicals in, and then we could go out for Chinese afterwards." His idea of a hot date. But I agree. Hell, he's the only date I've got tonight, and I do try to be the perfect wife.

The drive to the fish store takes awhile. The drink went to my head, and I start fantasizing about what a loving husband could do to a hot wife on the way to a fish store. He's not really perceptive about these things, so I decide to help out a bit. I reach over and hold his hand as he drives, the right hand that is in his lap. I can feel there is no hard-on in that lap, but maybe I can change that. I drag his hand over to my knee. He's a bit surprised, that brings him out of his reverie.

He's a bit more surprised when I drag his hand down my thigh, all the way to my unclad pussy. I can see that got his attention. The light bush of pussy hair tells him he's in goal zone, even if he didn't know he was in the game. Using my hand to guide his fingers, I gently have him start massaging my public mound. When I feel the wetness build, I separate his middle finger and use it to spread my pussy lips. I use his finger to slide up and down by wet slit, and to flick the clit at the top. He's letting me do this, but only half-heartedly. He wants his damn tropicals.

I reach over and feel his lap. There is a half hard-on going on there, more than nothing, but not what a woman would call paying attention to the subject matter at hand. I try, but as we pull into the parking lot, he says, "Quit screwing around honey, let's check out these fish and then we'll have dinner." So the parking lot seduction didn't work out so well. We went into the store.

Now I remember this store. Actually, I remember the son of the old man who used to run this store. One problem with living in a small rural town is that no one ever actually disappears or leaves, they just show up again later.

The problem was is that I didn't remember him well. He was the friend of a boyfriend of mine in senior year of high school. There was one evening at a party, and I and my boyfriend had been drinking a fair amount. I danced a lot with my boyfriend, and he was being very frisky, caressing my butt as we danced, then he had a hand up my blouse feeling my its, then his hand was between my legs and inside my panties as we danced. I remember his touch was magnificent, and that I came when he touched my clit.

I vaguely remember dancing with a number of his friends after that, and each one of them touched my nipples under my blouse and fingered my wet pussy. I don't really have a clear memory of who the guys were, but now that I was in the fish store, I was remembering that the son of the fish store owner was perhaps one of those boys.

My husband quickly went to the tropical display. A woman came from behind the counter and went over to see what he was interested in. Soon they were engaged in an animated discussion about fish, and equally as soon, I was bored and drifted away.

Towards the back of the store I found some hokey fish art pieces, the kind of thing you'd hang on your wall if you had zero taste and a love of fish. But they amused me for the moment, and O spent some time looking at the various objects. That's when I felt him behind me. I was surprised and turned around quickly.

"Hello, Sasha," he said, "I haven't seen you in quite awhile. How are you?"

It was definitely him. Her old boyfriend's friend. I couldn't remember his name, but I did recognize his face, and was a bit impressed that he had grown up into a fit and handsome man.

"Hi, yeah, I'm still around. Never figured out how to get out of here. What are you doing here?"

"Well, when my dad got ill, I took over the shop. Me and my wife, she's the one helping out the guy up front. Is that your husband?"

"Yeah, he is." I must have sounded a bit defeated in my tone, because he said, "That's okay Sasha, I understand, things happen, life goes on, but you never forget when you were real, do you?"

I laughed. He may be a bit philosophical for my tastes, but he did find an inner chord with me.

"You seem to be interested in the art pieces, can I show you some of my own creations in the back room?"

"Sure, I'd love to see them." Actually, no, I really couldn't give a flying fuck about his art pieces, because they no doubt had to do with fish. But, on the other hand, my hot date for the evening was engaged in tropicals, and I was a bit bored.

He led me into the back room, and to a wall of fish art. Look, I'm not going to tell you it was great art, or that it wasn't. It was fish, and I'm no fucking art critic. But the fish art isn't what got my attention. What I noticed is that as soon as we moved into the back room, I felt his hand on the back of my waist, and then immediately dropping down to my butt.

"Ah..... I think your hand isn't supposed to be there," I said. "Neither my husband nor your wife in the other room would appreciate that much."

"But Sasha," he said, as his hand slipped further down, past the skirt line, and then up under the skirt on the back of my bare thigh. "You're in heat."

"What?" I said, "What the fuck are you saying, who do you think you are?"

"I know you," he said simply. "I know what you smell like when you're in heat, and believe me, you're in heat now. I know it wasn't me that got you going, but I've been next to you before, I've had my hand in your pussy, and I know what you're like when you're hot."

I turned around, with a half a mind to slap him, but the other half of my mind was in control at the moment. I've gotten used to that half of my mind and generally I decide to just go with it.

As I turned around he stepped into me, leaning down and kissing and then biting my neck. Jeez, this guy knew the magic button. That always got me going. And made me relax. I wasn't surprised when one of his hands slipped up and started massaging my breast. And the other hand raised the front of my skirt and touched my bare pussy.

"See Sasha," he said, "your pussy is bare and wet and you're in heat and we'd better finish this now."

His hands reached behind my ass and he picked me up. God, he was strong. And put my ass on a counter.

He already had my legs spread and my skirt open, so I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when I suddenly felt a hard cock separate my pussy lips and push into my vagina. I know he'd probably fingered my pussy "back in the day," but I'd never seen, much less felt, his cock. And I didn't see if coming now. I just felt how big it was, how my pussy was expanding out to accommodate its length and girth, and then clamping down to feel it. Damn, that thing was big. When he bottomed out on my cervix I knew I had to just relax. And I did.

The sweet thrusting began, my pussy responded by coating that cock with juices and trying to milk the come out of him. He did come in my pussy, but only after I had convulsed and squirted a half dozen times.

I still didn't know his name, but held him tightly after we both came. We were almost sad when he finally pulled his cock out and got some towels to clean up the mess we'd made.

"You know you were the hottest girl in high school, don't you?" he said.

"I guess so," I said, "thanks for reminding me. Sometimes I forget."

Twenty minutes later my husband had purchased the tropical fish he had his heart set on. The fish store guy's wife was pretty enough, but she would up with the wrong partner and finished the day unsatisfied. Her husband had a contented smile on his face that would last another ten years of quiet desperation.

I went home with a smile on my face. The fish store guy helped me have some lovely orgasms, sure, but more importantly, he reminded me of a strong and ancient part of me, the sexual being I've always been.