He looks up at me (he had been staring at my shaking hands) and smiles softly. ‘I suppose you wish for me to tell you some tired cliché about how I...won’t bite.’ he says. This time the full force of his British accent hits me, and I smile more naturally. ‘Well,’ I laugh, ‘it’s not as if you will, is it?’ He stares at me for a long moment, those dark blue eyes unfathomable. ‘Yes.’ he says finally. I blink, since it’s an unusual answer, but I doubt he means what I think he means. At least, I hope. They occupied nearly all of one wall in my room. I found the low hum of the aerators soothing. It was even more impressive when I turned on the lights. The fish knew it was time. All twenty three of them broke water, splashing in eager anticipation of dinner. ”Watch this, Crys,’ I said scattering a little burger over the surface of the closest tank through the screened top. The resident fish splashed again as it raced down the length of the tank sucking in the burger like a miniature vacuum. His fingers were doing what no man had ever done and it was wonderful. At some point he had taken his cock out and he put my hand on it....my first feel of a man and my head was spinning. I had my first orgasm that night, on his fingers and his spunk was all over my hand as I wanked him off.The weekend passed and all I could think about was him at home with his wife and I felt hurt and wondered if he was doing the same things to her. She was his wife and I felt no shame, I loved him and wanted. As if she read my mind, she withdrew her hand and shimmied out of her pants, holding her legs straight up in the air as she pulled them free. Her smooth, dark pink pussy peeked from between her thighs. She tossed the pants to the floor, rested one leg over the arm of the recliner so she was wide open to me and returned to working her pussy. She sported a thin patch of hair about her clitoris; her shaved lips were shiny slick with her own juices. Heather worked her thin fingers gingerly over her.