Rediscovering Our Hipwaders

A little background is probably in order because right after my wife, Eileen, and I got married we had an opportunity to spend a week at a remote fishing camp in northern Ontario. While I had enjoy fishing since childhood I also understood that the word "remote" meant no heat, no electricity, no water, and no indoor plumbing. My wife, on the other hand, had never been exposed to these things. Nevertheless, I had offered her no explanations and when I mentioned going fishing and told her that we would have to get her a pair of hipwaders, she had no objections. A couple of days later when I got out a couple of my outdoor outfitter catalogs and we found some boots in women's sizes her main focus was what color they came in. I told her that it would be green, brown, black, or camo and when after seeing the price she mentioned that she would rather spend the money on a nice pair of heels. After some cajoling Eileen finally agreed that black would be the most versatile and put the conversation out of her mind not evening trying them on once they arrived.

Now we need to fast forward more than 30 years. And before reading any further I should also say that nobody in this story is under the age of 18 nor is there any manner of abusive behavior demonstrated or discussed. So enjoy.

Here is my story and I'm sticking to it.

I have an office at home that over the years I managed to have turned into my own private space that my wife calls my man cave, but that is not actually accurate. A man cave normally has a big screen TV, a full bar, and most often even a beer tap. Instead, mine has a massive ornate antique desk with a newer credenza and a computer table that while functional hardly coordinates with the desk. One wall is covered with a built-in bookcase: the other wall, a comfortable leather sofa. It is definitely designed for work rather than play, but I would be disingenuous if I did not admit that I really enjoy spending as much time there as I dare.

Several months ago, it was my birthday and my wife, Eileen stopped by to bring me a most-welcome steaming fresh cup of coffee. After putting it down on my desk she leaned over to give me a birthday kiss, tongue and all I might add.

"Thanks, Hon, I needed that," I said.

"The coffee, the kiss, or the tongue?" she replied with one of her characteristic giggles.

"All of those, but especially the tongue!" I replied teasingly. Eileen and I have always had one of those relationships where if we aren't teasing one another someone is unhappy about something.

She looked at the wall over the credenza noting that my framed undergraduate degree, two master's degrees, and professional engineer's license were proudly on display along with the certificate of induction into my undergraduate fraternity and the engineering honor society.

Let me just interject something most important at this point. This encounter was so far so good because normally Eileen cannot restrain herself from wanting to either reorganize or otherwise radically make every attempt to redecorate my workspace. This little habit just drives me crazy because I just happen to like it as it is plus to me everything is laid out in a very logical manner, and I can find whatever I'm looking for.

"Do you like these forest green walls?" she asked as I took a sip of the hot coffee and looking around the room.

"I do. It gives my office a nice cozy feeling," I replied suspecting that this conversation might not end too well, as was the case with several of the previous ones.

"It is just that they are so dark. To my mind this room Is anything but the bright and cheery style that it should be."

"That is the reason that I have the two lamps plus the three can lights in the ceiling that, I might add, are also on dimmers for a reason," I responded knowing that she and I have had this discussion several times before, the most recent being in the past week. Eileen apparently has some decorating ideas in mind and often won't let go until I capitulate.

Eileen began perusing the bookshelf and I already knew what she was thinking. Sure enough, out came the famous line, "Do you really need to use all these books? Some are so ancient that their pages are yellowing. Now what's this book, Modern Soil Testing and Analysis Techniques? What an academic-sounding title. Who are they trying to kid? Is this a manual for how to go digging in the dirt?"

"Yup, that's exactly what it is. I might add that both of these are real page turners, too," I said jokingly albeit with a straight face.

Nevertheless, she read some other titles aloud. "Environmentally Responsible Dredging and Port Construction. That has to be another page turner, too. Why does that sound like a volume that you used when we were both studying at the University of Cork decades ago?"

"Because it was. You don't remember?"

"I do and with many fond memories I might add. Those were really fun times."

"They were and as I recall it rained nearly every day and you had a lot of opportunity to bond with your wellies, too."

Eileen giggled. "Yeah, I remember a lot more than the rainy weather though. You were quite the attraction then when it came to you wearing your wellies."

"It was a climate where everyone had to have at least one pair and as I recall you had to have had two or three yourself."

Then changing the subject Eileen said, "OK, so what kind of relics do you keep in your office closet that I might want to consider donating to the upcoming church sale? I just hope it isn't more books."

"Go ahead and take a look," I said trying to refocus my attention on the project that had occupied my time all morning. As I did so, Eileen went to the closet, opened the door, and looked at the assorted mess that I managed to stash in there to keep as much as possible out of her view as best as I could.

"All I see are rolls of blueprints. Didn't you tell me one time that engineers don't even bother with those anymore? I thought everything was now kept on computer."

"For the most part plans like those are, but these just happen to be from one of my all-time biggest projects and was the basis for the firm deciding to make me a partner, which you have to admit was pretty important for my career."

"So, what else is in here?" asked Eileen more or less ignoring my last comment and then digging further back into the darkest corners of the closet."

"Careful, there might be mice back there," I teased.

"Eeek!" she let out a scream that was melodramatic and intended just to tease me back. It wasn't hard for me to tell that it was false. "If there are any mice in here, you're going to have to deal with them."

"I will, but I assure you that there aren't any."

"Wait, what do we have here? A pair of black hipwaders," she noted and then added, "Huh? Now wait just a minute because these are not yours. They're mine. Why do you have them in your closet?"

"Have you missed them? Maybe you want to wear them shopping someday instead of your pink wellies."

"No, I don't miss them that much." Then rummaging further, she said, "And here are your hipwaders, too. I remember that fishing trip that we went on many years ago. Where was that to?"

"Northern Ontario."

Eileen pulled out my pair of green camo hipwaders and held them up for me to see. "When was the last time you wore these? My guess is that it might be several years!" Those types of questions are often followed with some more suggestions that the item needed to get donated to charity or worse, thrown away, which also has to be the basis for any number of arguments that she and I have had over the years.

"Gee, I don't know. It's probably been a while, but maybe I should ask when was the last time you wore yours?"

At that Eileen started to giggle uncontrollably. "I don't recall the last time, but I do fondly remember that first time. We had both been out fishing in the morning and didn't catch a thing, not even a little nibble. After lunch you decided to head back out and I stayed behind thinking it might be a good opportunity to go blueberry picking and afterward take a well-deserved nap. Later in the afternoon you returned, took off your boots, found a cold beer, sat down, and kicked back to relax."

"I guess I don't really recall that part, but it does make sense. Besides I certainly know that fishing and beer always seem to go together."

"That's not all. You don't remember me then coming out onto the porch dressed in these waders and a matching black bra but nothing else."

At that I had to break down laughing. "Well, you were color coordinated, weren't you. Not only that but black bra really went well with your boobs, too! I seem to recall your cleavage calling out to me for some attention."

"That is not the part that I was hoping you'd remember."

"Oh, yeah, and after you made me put my waders back on, we had some good sex on that narrow bench afterwards and while still embraced we fell off onto the floor. I sure wish someone had the movie rights to that scene."

Now was Eileen's time to laugh. "That was not just an embrace. We had just had intercourse and your organ was still inside of me."

"Oh, yeah. Talk about memorable," I added with a laugh. "Glad that we didn't hurt and/or injure any important private parts."

"Well, I don't want you storing these in your closet anymore. Besides I'm sorry that I interrupted your project this morning, so I'll just leave you to your work," she said taking her waders with her. I was so focused that I didn't give it a second thought as I resumed my review of the latest project documents.

Things were quiet for about the next hour or so until that moment when Eileen decided to return. With the arrangement of my office when I'm on the computer my back is towards the door, but nevertheless I could sense that Eileen had returned but still I was focused on my work and did not look up.

"I got you a nice cold beer. I know that the alcohol seems to relax you and does wonders to improve your disposition as well as your sense of humor.," she said now setting down the glass stein of amber liquid next to the mug of coffee that she had brought to me earlier. I turned to pick up the glass and take a sip when I saw what Eileen had gone and done. There she was standing there wearing just those black hipwaders and a matching sexy black demi-cup bra, but nothing else.

"What the....," I began, but the bizarre vision before me gave me beer nose and I spilled some all down the front of my golf shirt and onto my shorts.

"I just thought that I'd dress like I did that afternoon to remind you of some of the really good times that we have had."

"Well, I really like what I see, and you are as cute now as you were back then even after having two babies in between. Right now, I have got to get out of these beer-soaked clothes, however," I replied getting up from my desk and stripping down to my briefs.

Eileen looked at me and burst out laughing uncontrollably as I stood there half naked. "You could also put your waders on. You know, just for old time's sake," she said.

I looked at her standing there with her smooth shaved pussy and that great pair of boobs nicely supported by that sexy bra, and yes, her wonderful cleavage was still there for me to observe. So really, what was a guy to do? I wasted no time in peeling off my briefs, went to the closet, retrieved my waders and pulled them on. However, just seeing my sexy wife standing there with her inviting and now glistening pussy made my manhood stand at attention creating an unmistakable picture.

"That's what I was hoping for!" she exclaimed sitting down on the edge of my desk her butt planted smack in the middle of the project documents that I had been working on. Then drawing her legs up as best she could, considering the limitations imposed by the rubber boots the view was as inviting as ever. Still, she did an admirable job of exposing her cute pink pussy to me. "I'm ready when you are!"

"Do you think that we might wind up on the floor just like we did the last time that we tried doing this?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should just try it and find out," she suggested.

At that I took my stiff organ in hand, and approached my wife. "Just like old times don't you think?" I asked.

"Works for me. Just don't keep me waiting!" Eileen replied spreading the lips of her obviously wet and ready vagina.

Not needing a second invitation I thrust my manhood into her and found that she was very nicely slippery. It had been several days since we had last made love and it is a feeling that I don't think I'll ever get tired of. Don't get me wrong because with the two of us wearing the hipwaders it certainly added a dimension of kinkiness that also made for it being a whole lot of fun.

As difficult as it might seem while wearing hipwaders, Eileen was still able to wrap her legs around me as we were both about to cum. She held me tight, and I was able to remain in deep as I deposited a very respectable quantity of semen. By now she was moaning loudly with pleasure. You might say that is where the fun began because when I went to pull out of her, she didn't want to let go.

"I think that these waders are good for having some great sex, but even greater laughs, but unfortunately we can't tell very many people about it," I observed.

"Why not, it just proves what they have probably thought for some time. Namely that we are outwardly just a nice mild-mannered couple, but really secretly quite kinky.

"So, we will be donating two pairs of waders to the church's clothing drive? They're in nice condition and they probably could make a few dollars at the sale."

"Not only your life!" she exclaimed holding a Kleenex over her now dripping pussy and shuffling off to the powder room.

In the meantime, I shed my waders and put them back in the closet. When Eileen returned, she was naked from the waist down and was carrying her waders over one arm. It was then that I felt compelled to ask, "So how am I supposed to answer when you ask me what I intend to do with those fucking waders?"

"Simple. Just put them on. I will put mine on if you do."

"OK, two pairs of waders can go back into the closet ready for some future use."

"Let's not wait so long next time. OK?" she whispered giving me a passionate kiss. "And, yes, they are fucking waders, aren't they?"