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FISH sucked and licked that nipple
Fish Tank {Pendragon} (MF wl preg 1st)
Fish Tank
Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden
by law to read electronically transmitted erotic
material, please go do something else.
This material is Copyright, 2002, Uther Pendragon.
All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of
downloading and keeping ONE electronic copy for your
personal reading so long as this notice is included. I
would prefer to do my own reposting, thank you.
If you have any comments or requests, please E-mail
them to me at anon584c@nyx.net.
All persons here depicted, except public figures
depicted as public figures in the background, are
figments of my imagination and any resemblance to
persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
# # # #
Fish Tank
by Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
Kimberly was waiting in a nightgown when he came out of the
master bath. Before letting her by to have her own shower, he
hugged her. "Happy anniversary, darling," he said.
"Happy anniversary, John."
He held a bottom cheek in each hand and squeezed gently while
they kissed. She often complained of secretarial spread. A
supportive husband, he applauded each attempt at reduction.
(Actually, he enjoyed watching some of the exercises.) Still, he
thought, she needn't bother; he loved the softness of her bottom.
- = -
She felt John's hands on her butt and his firmness against her
body. "Des is still here," she warned. Saturday morning or not,
fourteenth anniversary or not, they had to see their off
to day camp before they began that sort of anniversary
celebration.
"Mom, come quick," Des called as if on cue. John shrugged
into his robe.
"Second, darling," she called and reached for her own.
Des was in her room watching her fish tank. That had been the
major gift for her thirteenth birthday. They'd had their doubts,
but it was quite a success. Where they had feared that she would
only feed the betta for maybe five days, five months later she
was still providing all the care. Indeed, Des knew more about
fish care by this time than either of her parents.
She knew more about fish in general, too. But she lacked her
mother's empathy -- Kim hoped -- for this particular situation.
The male was wrapped around the new female. Suddenly two tiny
things emerged from the female. The male dived after them and
captured them in his mouth.
"Mom," said Des, "he's eating them."
"No, darling, watch!" The fish swam up to a bunch of bubbles
above him. He spat the eggs into the bubbles. That's one reason
they had chosen to let her have the second betta. Des had begun
her cycle a few months previously. Let her start learning about
the birds and the bees with fish. "You could hardly expect him
to hold his babies in his arms, could you? The fish use their
mouths to hold things." Still, when he wrapped himself around
his mate, he didn't look like he was being tender. Non-human
things didn't have the sensitivity that John had shown. More
than she'd wanted really.
They'd had a small reception after the ceremony. The
families had managed to be quite friendly, really. Her
sister, never friendly, having declined the invitation.
Some of them had kept some rice, though, until the end
of the reception; she and John were laughing and
shedding rice all the way up the stairs to their new
apartment. She combed her fingers through her hair in
the doorway. He kissed her when the door was safely
closed. It wasn't his first kiss of the evening, that
had been the end of the ceremony; and clinking of
glasses had called for many more during the reception.
Still, this one lasted even longer, and his tongue
probed instead of just visiting the tip of hers.
When he stepped back, the bed seemed to dominate the
room. They'd already tried it out, but this time
everybody knew. (Not that it had been a particularly
well-kept secret; Des had spoiled that.) She looked
away from it into his face.
"Oh, Kim," he said. He kissed her again. When they
separated, she ducked into the bathroom. Once she'd
used the facilities, she came face to face with a
decision. They were going to sleep naked, they'd
discussed that. Should she walk out undressed? She
decided against that, but did remove her pantyhose
instead of pulling them up. After a moment, she took
off her as well. She pulled her skirt back on.
How often had John seen her in a skirt? Not many times.
There was nowhere to put the underclothes. She walked
out with them in her hand.
John greeted her with another kiss. This time his hands
went to the buttons on her blouse. When he was done
with those, she broke to put it on a hanger and her
underclothes over a chair. He moved behind her to get
the bra snaps. He kissed the back of her head while
smoothing his hands over her sides and up to her
breasts.
"Not fair," she said, and started on his clothes. When
he was down to underpants, he unsnapped her skirt. He
bent over to lower it gently so she could step out of
it. Probably, he was as aware as she was that it would
be years before they'd be able to afford to replace
clothes of this quality.
"Oh Darling!" he said when her mound came into sight.
He couldn't have avoided noticing her underpants in her
hand and on the back of the chair. Still, he was
reacting nicely.
He kissed her there, kissed her again on the belly.
Then he rose to kiss her full on the lips. He turned
back the bed linens, and she climbed in.
"Do you think it shows?" she asked.
"No. Not when you're dressed. I have to look like
this, and -- anyway -- I know." He knew; their families
knew -- even her damned -- especially her
disapproving sister. Probably their friends knew. She
didn't say any of that, though. He kissed her belly,
climbed in, and kissed it again. "Sweetness," he said.
She tugged at the elastic of his underpants. He kissed
her before pushing his underpants down and
throwing them on the floor. He went back to kissing her
belly, all around the slight bulge, then lower into her
hair, and then lower again.
"Oh John!" she said. She tugged on his arms and spread
her legs. Suddenly, she wanted him inside.
"Oh yes," he said. But he stayed down there. He kissed
her right on her lower lips and licked between them.
"I want you inside," she said. She did want him inside,
and wanted his weight on top of her.
When he moved up in the bed and kissed her while
hovering over her, she reached for him. Despite her
feelings of expertise by now, they'd both were rather
new at this. She placed him in just the right place,
and he moved inward slowly and gently. "Oh, Kim," he
said. Then he moved out and back almost all the way in.
She wanted more, wanted him to fill her up. Well, he
had already filled her up, but she desired another
filling. Then he turned them mostly onto their sides.
She gripped him with her thighs. Soon his hand snuck
down between them. "Oh, Kim," he said again. And it
was Oh! It was lovely. And he drove into her and out of
her, and he caressed her at her most sensitive point
Then he kissed her softly at just the right time so that
she gasped into his mouth.
He followed a moment later, pulsing in her, filling her
again with his hot sperm.
Even at his most passionate moments, he'd been gentler than
the fish was. He'd been more protective of the baby. He'd
really been more protective than he'd needed to be. And, when
Des was being born, he'd sweated bullets. She'd never asked
whether he'd been worrying about Des or about her. Probably,
knowing her husband, about both.
He should see this, though. The fish was carrying the eggs in
his mouth. John would enjoy seeing another protective parent.
- = -
Des figured out that Pat and Mike were doing it. She wished
she hadn't called her mom. She'd thought that she'd moved Mike
into Pat's tank too soon and that he wasfighting. They were
*called* fighting fish -- all the articles warned aginst
moving the female in too soon. Still, there wasn't any way to
tear her eyes away. They were doing it. She just wanted to
watch them by herself. Wasn't her embarrassed? And then,
when it couldn't get worse, it did.
"John," her called, "you have to see this!"
- = -
He found his watching the fish, watching another
apparently. One fish squeezed the eggs out of the other and then
carried them up to the nursery. Then he -- fairly clearly it was
he -- did it again. They were starting a with three of
another species looking on. Still, they should be used to the
audience, if they could see them. Des spent hours watching them.
And the worst way to start a felt pretty good. He could
remember.
The cast party was uproariously happy. Fitting in had
been his hardest role, much harder than he'd had
onstage. Angela had offered them a ride to Kim's place.
Prof. Drake stopped him on the way out. "Wonderful
performance, John," he said. "Can't I persuade you to
change majors?"
"Professor, I'm a junior." And what role would he get
as a theater arts major the next year? They weren't
going to do "The Emperor Jones."
Angela dropped Dave and Annette off first. "Thanks,
Angela," Dave said. "Forgive me?"
"Not till after the last performance. But you were a
great Iago." He and Kim murmured agreement.
"And you were a wonderful Desdemona," Kim said as the
doors closed behind the couple.
"Thanks, Kim. But we know who was the star of the
evening."
For some reason that comment, kindly intended from a
friend, broke the facade he had maintained throughout
the party. "A triumph," he said, "of typecasting. Did
you hear Drake? I wouldn't have even been considered if
they had had a black male in theater arts."
"There's Desmond," Kim said.
"Desmond," Angela said before he could, "is not an
Othello."
"Look," Kim said, "casting is one thing. But the fact
is that your performance was a triumph tonight. You
worked hard; you did well; I was proud of you."
"I'm glad," he said, not even trying to sound glad.
"Now, kids," Angela said, "be good. This is a night for
celebration, not for argument." She laughed. "Be good.
And if you can't be good, be careful. And if you can't
be careful...."
"We'll name it after you," Kim had finished.
Not that they had been anywhere close to that. (But, back
then, they had where they stopped from their friends even
more carefully than they had what they did from their
parents.)
"Kimberly," he gasped. She kissed him, and then the car
was stopped at the door to her apartment house.
Melissa was gone; she and Kim had some sort of
arrangement. He kissed Kim for a while in the tiny
living room. Soon, they moved into her bedroom. He
unzipped her dress while kissing her deeply. She moved
away to hang up the dress and slip. He took the
opportunity to slip off his shoes, putting the socks
inside them next to the bedroom door. She took her
shoes and pantyhose off as well. He had to bend even
further to kiss her like that.
"I got two playbills this evening," she said. The play
had been a university production -- theater arts hadn't
owned it. And the University maintained a print shop.
Two playbills on one ticket wasn't been that much
cheating. "I think that I will send one to my mom."
And the playbill had included an excellent (if small)
photo of him.
"How you communicate with your is your
decision." Indeed, it was her issue. She wanted his
race not to matter, but it did -- it had for every
minute of his life. It would matter to her parents.
Well, the photo would take care of that.
Then she lay down, and that was much more comfortable.
He kissed all over her face, then her neck -- carefully
avoiding suck marks. When he kissed down her chest,
she'raised herself so he could reach her bra strap. Her
were so white, and the nipples so pink. He
arched over her, kissing them while she unbuttoned his
shirt. After he'd thrown the and tee-shirt
towards the back of a chair, they shared the longest
kiss. Tongue met tongue; skin met skin; his clothed
legs pressed between her naked ones.
After he gave her two quick kisses, she raised
her bottom while he pulled her down. The hair
down there was lighter than the hair on her head. The
sight was still delightful each time, the feel more so.
He rested on his left arm so that his mouth could move
from to while his fingers were busy
between her legs. "Oh, John," she gasped while pulling
his hand against her even more firmly. He pulled back
when she released him. Then he kissed the smooth
whiteness of her while she got her breath back.
When it was her turn -- or maybe his turn, she stripped
him and hung his trousers on the back of a chair and
tossed his shorts onto the seat. She stopped, though,
with him in her hand. The feeling was exquisite, but he
knew he wasn't going to get off with her holding still.
"Do you think," she said, "like Angela said, we
could...? Could we be careful?"
"Oh, darling," he said. He scrabbled to get the wallet
from his trousers and the condom he had kept there for
months from the wallet.
And darling she'd been, and darling she still was. He reached
out a hand to caress her bottom. Still watching the fish, she
reached back and removed his hand. She held it in hers. Well,
he'd take what he could get. He squeezed the hand, and she
squeezed back. Des, presumably oblivious to her parents, was
staring raptly into the fish tank. She should be oblivious to
her parents' squeezing hands; she was totally oblivious to their
orders. The male now swam back to the female and squeezed her
again. In sympathy, John squeezed Kim's hand. He got a squeeze
back, which was more than the fish got.
Still, Kim had always been demonstrative.
When he got the condom on, he started to kiss her
again. He intended to get her excited all over
again before attempting entry. She, however, broke them
apart to kiss him deeply. Then she lay back with her
legs spread apart. While he wondered whether that meant
what it seemed to mean, she reached over to gasp him.
"Now, John," she said "now!"
"Kimberly, darling Kimberly," he said, climbing between
her legs. She placed him at the spot and pulled. He
pressed forward, but it didn't go in. He pressed
harder.
"Do it," she said and clawed his bottom with her other
hand. Suddenly, he passed whatever block there had
been. Even through the rubber, he felt her heat. She
was incredibly *there*, all around him.
When he was fully in her, pressed against her mound, he
stopped. "Are you all right?" he asked. She didn't
look all right. Inches from his face, hers was screwed
up in a grimace.
"Go, on," she' said. And he did. The first withdrawal
produced friction sweeter than any he had ever given
himself, sweeter even than her hands had given him.
Then he pushed forward again, pushed through slippery
tightness, pushed into his love. Soon he sped up; the
tension driving him in and out at an ever faster pace.
Then he thrust into her harder than even the first
stroke. He erupted into her warmth, and shot and shot.
"Oh, darling," he said minutes later. He gathered
enough energy to kiss her and withdraw. He fell onto
his back beside her. His eyes turned to the center of
his sensation.
His cock was naked, except for his juices and a ring of
rubber around the base. "Oh, Kim!" he said.
She obviously was looking at the same place. "Next
time," she said, "I take care of the precautions."
His head was a mishmash of contradictory emotions. He'd
done it; he'd goofed; he felt wonderfully drained; he
felt awfully guilty; he loved her; she'd said "next
time"!
The fish spat out an egg towards the nest. He squeezed Kim's
hand again. The buzzer sounded; somebody was at the door. While
he went to answer it, Des dived for her shoes. Justin was
downstairs, and his was in the car.
"It's Justin," he called. "Shall I ask him up to watch your
fish?" The kids would be late; Justin's would have to
park the car, not so easy in this neighborhood. Still this was
an event.
- = -
"Daddy!" How could her dad think she'd invite a up to
watch her fish having sex. She'd long ago learned that her
parents were clueless, but *that* clueless?
"Breakfast!" said her mom. Food was her first priority.
"Skip it." They would be late.
"I'll make you a sandwich." She'd take it. It was faster
than arguing. Actually, she knew, she'd eat it. Her gave
her two meatloaf sandwiches as she got to the door. They were in
a freezer bag, and they were cut in halves. Her would cut
sandwiches if the house was on fire. Still, it would make
sharing with Jason easier.
"Thanks, mom," she said. "Can you put Mike back in her tank?
Bye, dad."
"Love you," they both called as she ran down the stairs.
- = -
John listened carefully until he heard the door at the foot of
the stairs click. Then he closed and locked the apartment door.
"And I love you, too." He kissed Kim deeply, exploring the
familiar mouth with his tongue. He pulled her against him by
that lovely bottom . Then, for good measure, he moved his hands
up her sides to her breasts.
"Got to move the fish," said Kim after pulling away. "And
then I have to shower. Des will be gone for hours, we can take
our time."
"I don't mind taking our time. I just want to kiss my wife."
He did again. Kim, despite her words, cooperated in the kiss.
This time *her* hands were on his bottom; her tongue licked
his. She broke away, though. He followed her back to Des's
room.
"Now," she said, "which one is Mike?"
"The male, probably. 'Pat' can be either gender." Of course,
telling the sexes apart isn't easy with fish. One of them darted
at the other. Kim netted the escapee with the small tool that
Des used for that purpose. In seconds, she had returned it to
its own tank. She headed for their room and the bathroom beyond
it.
He headed down the hall to the kitchen. Real French toast was
a treat. He could mix up the coating now and heat up the pan
whenever they wanted to eat.
- = -
She took her time in the shower. She put jelly on the
diaphragm and inserted it. Once again, she was thankful that
they had taken an apartment with two baths. She could store what
she wanted in this medicine cabinet without worrying about
explaining it to Des.
She put on the robe but not the nightgown. She knew what he
would want; for that matter, she wanted it too. They never made
too big a public fuss about their wedding anniversary, less than
six months before Des's corresponding birthday. Since their
celebrations were private, they celebrated what they privately
enjoyed about being married.
John was lying in bed when she got out of the bathroom. The
clothes he'd worn so briefly were piled on his dresser. "You
aren't dressed," she said. "What if I want to go out to eat as
an anniversary celebration?"
"Which celebration do you want? A diner breakfast, or dinner
in a Thai restaurant? Besides, the French toast is ready except
for the bread."
"Well, it is time for breakfast." She turned towards the
bedroom door.
"You don't intend to eat in your bathrobe, do you?"
"If you're going to be like that...." She removed the robe
without revealing herself to his gaze. Then, slowly, she moved
it around so that he got a view of her from behind. Slowly she
pranced towards the door.
He laughed. "Someday, I'm going to let you go. I'd love to
see you frying French toast with all that skin exposed."
"Well, now that you mention it, that would be dangerous. I
suppose I have to go back to bed." Slowly, she turned around.
"Woman, you are still beautiful." She had never been
beautiful. She had long ago lost the youthful prettiness which
had characterized her when they had first met.
"I wasn't beautiful when you me."
"All brides are beautiful. My bride was more beautiful than
most, and beautiful in places I haven't seen in other brides."
She climbed into bed and gave him a kiss. "I love how you
talk. I don't believe it, but I love it."
He tossed the covers down and kicked them off. They were
lying beside each other wearing nothing but their rings. He
kissed her ring finger. "Thank you for accepting me."
She kissed his mouth again, this time her tongue entered it.
His met it, and the two tasted each other. "Thank you for
proposing to me."
She came to him with her worries. His answer was
immediate. "Will you marry me?" After she'd accepted,
he continued. "If you're right, it should be as soon as
practical. If you are wrong, we'll need to plan better.
Either way, you waid 'yes.' I'll hold you to that
unless you take it back."
Now he said, "You were so clever with that fishnet." He kissed
her fingers one by one; then he kissed her left palm; then he
kissed her right palm. He continued up her wrist.
"Always thinking," she said. She kissed his forehead.
"The way you nourished Des." He kissed her right breast, then
the left. He and licked at that nipple until she felt
even the right one harden.
"Way back then, I was so proud when you strode the stage and
people were hanging on your every word." She kissed his mouth.
He petted her thighs while they prolonged that kiss.
"The first year, your schooling interrupted, Des still a baby,
you walked miles every day waiting on those tables." Well, she
had worked with other organs, too; but she appreciated his kisses
on her thighs. The licks and sucks down there sent thrills up to
her belly.
"Your tongue has always thrilled me," she said. He came up in
the bed to rest on his elbows on both sides of her arms. She
kissed his mouth and on his tongue. His erection was
pressed between their bellies. Her nipples were firm against his
chest.
"And," John said, "you gave me Desdemona." He kissed her
nether lips before his tongue licked where their baby had come
out. The game of thanks was over; now came serious business.
One hand played with her while the other roved over her
thigh and butt. He licked up, almost to her clitoris, and then
down. Despite their nakedness in the airconditioned apartment,
she wasn't cold. Indeed, all this attention was heating her up.
He rubbed the bottoms of her outer lips against one another
while his tongue was licking all around her clitoris. When his
tongue finally found the spot, he inserted two fingers into her.
She planted her feet firmly on the bed and pushed her groin up to
meet his face.
She felt him moving his fingers inside her, felt them hit
paydirt. "Yes, John," she said. His fingers and tongue, even
his hand on her breast, were kindling flames deep inside her.
"Oh darling," she said.
Then, the flames burst within her, and she was too busy to
feel anything. It went on and on, taking more and more of her,
consuming her utterly. She arched mindlessly, writhing in
ecstasy.
Suddenly, it was over. She lay there gasping while John lay
with his head on her thigh. He clasped one butt cheek with the
hand that was down there.
"Oh love," she said finally.
"I love you," he responded.
She managed to sit up in bed. At her pressure on his
shoulder, he lay down flat. "And *you*," she said, "gave me
Desdemona." She rubbed her cheek against his chest on her way to
her target. His cock bobbed, knowing what was coming. She took
the head into her mouth, letting it go with a soft kiss. Already
firm, it arched upward after that kiss.
"And, long ago," he said, "you gave me yourself." This
comment was new. So was the second kiss to her now-tender labia.
When he drew back, she turned onto her left side. He lay
behind her with his cock pressing against her. She raised up on
her elbow and reached her right hand down between her legs. She
helped him in. His entry was slow and gentle, filling her. She
was so full, so delightfully full.
He slid his arm under her to cup her left breast. He held her
right one for a moment before smoothing it down her ribs and
belly to her mound. He played with her hair there for a moment,
meanwhile moving in and out once.
When she raised her leg, he pressed his fingers against the
front of her labia. He kissed her shoulder and the back of her
neck. Then he stroked in and out slowly. Meanwhile, one hand
strummed her nipple while a finger of the other hand found her
clit.
She was close, so close. She could feel the tension build and
wondered briefly whether she felt different to him.
"I love you, Kim," he said. Which answered that question.
"Oh, Kim. Oh, Kim - ber - ly!" On his last drawn-out word, she
exploded. He sped, moving harder and faster within her
pulsating, red-hot, depths.
As she came down from her climax, she felt him pulsing within
her.
They lay quietly for some time, neither saying a word. She
could feel his breath on her back. She could feel him slowly
easing out of her. When he finally was out, she felt him drip a
trail of liquid down her thigh. Later, more liquid oozed out of
her and trailed down her left hip.
Whatever the mess, she was too content to move. She could lie
in his arms forever.
"A little while ago, I thought of Angela," John said. An odd
topic and one hell of a time to mention it.
"My sister," she said, "can roast in hell."
"She'd have to die first." Kim didn't see a problem there.
"But I mean the other one, the theater-arts major."
Now, there was a better person to think of. The other Angela
had come to visit when Des was only a few days old. "Oh, Kim,"
she'd said, "she's precious."
"You know," she continued, "I've been counting back."
All their friends had been, probably; none had mentioned
it before then. "You did, didn't you? Name her after
me?"
Kim didn't answer. Maybe she blushed. She thought to
explain why another Angela in her would have been
unthinkable. But her guest didn't look put out, quite
the contrary. "Oh Kim! May I hold her?"
At a nod, she picked Des up, being careful to brace her
neck. She cradled her and cooed.
Yes, that Angela had deserved the name.
They lay content, thinking their own thoughts, until her
stomach rumbled. John laughed. "Breakfast?" he asked.
The End
Fish Tank
Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
2002/08/03
An entirely different sort of is involved in:
<A HREF="life.htm"> "Life Sentence" </a>
This is indexed in:
<A HREF="../wl.htm"> Wedded Lust </a>
The list of all my is at:
<A HREF="../index.htm"> Index to Uther Pendragon's Website </a>
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