Coffee Shop Mermaid
It was Saturday. Bibi suggested we go to the city. I offered to drive, but Bibi wouldn't have it. "Champ, it's nearly an hour away, and you're still recovering."
This, I thought, was nonsense. I had left the hospital months ago. Bibi just wanted to be the first to drive the new Bentley. Sometimes she could be selfish.
We acted like tourists. We strolled around the quads of an elite universiy and took a tour of the original city, which was mostly underground. Bibi wanted lunch on the water, which seemed silly to me because our house edges up to the sound. She suggested Pike Place Market. After lunch, we saw the fishmongers yelling orders and throwing large fresh fish at one another.
"Why do they do it that way?" Bibi asked. "I went fishing once as a kid in the 4-H club. Fish are slippery. They could drop one."
"Why would that matter?
"The meat could get bruised, and the fish might get dirty."
"I'm sure it's not like dropping an apple or a banana, and as long as you cook the fish, you'd kill off all the germs."
"What if you want sushi?"
"They're whole fish. They still have the skins on them. You'd just peel off the skin."
"I've had rolls at a sushi place with the skin still on them."
"Me too, but it was the cooked stuff."
Bibi mulled this over for while and the nodded in agreement. What Bibi didn't understand, though, was that the yelling and the throwing of the fish was simply showmanship, a way to pick the interest of the visiting tourist. This trick worked quiet well on Bibi. She ended up paying a premium for a salmon that was way too big for just one meal. Bibi hated leftovers, and our cook would have to find a clever way to stop the soon to be severed head from stinking up our house.
Bibi was right, of course. I was still recovering. The salmon felt much heavier than it looked, and I felt pretty tired. Bibi suggested coffee at the original Starbucks to perk me up for the trip home.
Unlike it's overly numerous spin offs and franchises, the original Starbucks had a more local feel to it. The decor and furniture was different, and the lighting was dimmer. It seemed less corporate, which, to me, was a welcome change. Also, the mermaid decal on the window had no problems showing off her tits to the fishmongers nearby. Nothing was covered up with scales. You could see her areolas and nipples, everything really. Of course, Bibi's tits were nicer because they were real (and much larger). My wife, however, wasn't the type to flash the men who just sold her a big smelly fish.
We lounged around the coffee shop until the caffeine kicked in, and I got my second wind. I bullied Bibi into letting me drive home. I told her that I was fine and that a good wife would have more trust in her husband's abilities. Bibi was right though. By the time we got home I was thoroughly wiped.
It was hot in town, and our armpits stank. Bibi told me to shower and left to order the cook how to prepare the salmon. After I dried off, I lay in bed naked, on top of the covers, too tired to move. Bibi came up to bathe. The sound of the shower lulled me to sleep.
I dreamed that the Starbucks decal had come to life. She was young, blond, and perky and said my cock fit quite well between her titties. They were small but her nipples were long and puffy, which made me quite happy. She said my cock looked as tasty as a café breve, but the only way to know for certain was to put it in her mouth and take it down her throat. The buzzing noise from an electric razor woke me up. I had a raging boner.
Bibi stood awkwardly by the vanity, one foot on the floor and the other up by the sink. A tangle of dark course hairs littered the tile by her feet. Both feet back on the floor, she stood up straight and twisted, inspecting her crotch in the mirror from each side. Satisfied, she smiled and placed the razor back by the sink.
Her dark pussy hairs were short now; not too short to prickle painfully and not too long to obscure the curves and folds beneath.
"Look, Honey, I trimmed my bush. Do you like it?"
I still had my boner, which was the type of response she desired.
"You wanna try it out?" She asked, smiling.
"Sure." I replied.
"Scoot over!" She ordered.
I took my proper place at the end of the bed. Bibi had an aesthetically pleasing pussy. Her mons has a subtle, gradual curve and her inner lips wouldn't protrude unless she spread her legs really far apart. I pressed ever so lightly with my tongue into the small hairless hollow just inside her left thigh. Bibi moaned. I worked my tongue towards the middle, reaching the hedge line. Moving up slowly, the short-cropped ends of her hairs felt pokey against my soft tongue, but not unpleasantly so. The way down felt slick and smooth.
I moved even further toward the middle, taking in the taste of the slicker hairless pink bits. Bibi took a deep breath and held it. Moving up, I traced the edges of her inner lips until they met at the tiniest but most sensitive of pleasure buttons. It was barely a nubbin, and nearly invisible to the naked eye. I couldn't press it directly; this would create some sort of sensory overload my wife found unpleasant. Rather, Bibi had trained me to focus on the tissues nearby. Making circles with my tongue, pressing hard when she sighed and lightly when she moaned.
Bibi arched her back and pinched each of her short thick nipples between a thumb and forefinger. Bibi rarely vocalizes when she cums. She bucks around a bit, smiles and then says, "thank you."
Bibi pulled up on my shoulders, a signal for me to move up. Grabbing the head of my cock she eased me in. Her pussy hole was warm and slick and offered up no resistance.
"Let's try something different this time." She said. She swung her hips to the side and brought her knees in together. "I read about this in Cosmo. It will make you seem thicker."
I felt a bit of a squeeze, which was pleasing, but Bibi made me stop after a few thrusts as she found the position twisted her spine awkwardly. She rolled over onto hands and knees, which she had never done before. "They said this way also works. Here, make sure your legs are outside of mine." She reached back around and guided me back into her slick pink slit. When I was balls deep she squeezed her legs together.
"Oh yes, that's nice," she said, "you really fill me up that way."
I pushed Bibi back and forth while I thrust and withdrew. The rocking motion caused her large tits to swing slowly. Bibi ordered me to thrust faster, harder, and deeper. As we picked up the pace, her tits swung wildly, swinging outwards to the sides on the way down an inward on the upward recovery. At the top her, her two tits collided, making a rather gratifying slapping noise.
Bibi shuttered, lowered her tits to the bed, and buried her face in a pillow. She spread her legs a bit, reached back and started rubbing her pussy along the bottom of my agitated penis. And that's when I saw it: the most unholy of all holes; the stink pit; the poop chute; the backdoor. By titled her pelvis and rotating her ass cheeks, Bibi had revealed to me, for the first time, her best guarded secret: her tiny pink, tight, virgin asshole. Bibi was so prim and proper, that it was hard to believe she even had one. It was magnificent, a small tight ring traversed by radial bumps like the spokes of a bicycle. wheel How I wanted to touch it, lick it, violate it with my angry phallus! I back out slightly to get a better look, but my timing was poor. As Bibi came she rested forward onto her face and shoulders, and I slid out. And that's when her asshole seemed to wink at me, opening slightly and then clamping shut with force. Beckoning me, luring me, teasing me as if to say, "I know your wife would say no, but I wouldn't mind giving it a try." I painted Bibi's large muscular ass and trimmed pussy lips with hot thick sticky ropes of cum.
"Damn it Champ!" She said, when our breathing returned to normal. "I just showered."
The next morning I had salmon cakes eggs benedict. I didn't know that was even a thing, but the two foods went together really well. Our cook didn't even bother giving left over fish to Bibi. She had toast and fresh fruit with her eggs scrambled. Our cook brought out a pot of hot fresh coffee and returned to the kitchen to wash the dishes.
"What are you going to do this week?" Bibi asked.
"I have some job interviews lined up."
Bibi looked at me crossly.
"Why the stern look. Me looking for work is a good thing, isn't it? It shows I am getting better and making progress."
"Your employer told me they would take you back as soon as you're ready. Why bother to look for work elsewhere?"
"I'm tired of my old job. I want to do something different."
"Like what?"
"Coding COBOL."
