My Fishing Buddy (Chapt. 4)
My Fishing Buddy (Chapt. 4)
June 12, 2025:
The sales lady brought in a slinky silver-gray cocktail dress and held it up for my wife to see.
"Oh my. I'm not sure I could wear that out in public. I mean ... it's very classy, but I'm not sure I have the body to pull it off," my wife demurred.
"Oh, I think it will look perfect on you," the sales lady replied.
"Ok, last one, honey. I promise," my wife said excitedly as she grabbed the dress and made off into the dressing room.
I couldn't believe how excited my wife was to be going on a date with Mark.
"Are y'all shopping for a special occasion? A wedding or something?" the saleslady asked.
"No, no, just..." I started but was cut off by my wife from the dressing room.
"Yes, a special occasion -- a date night," my wife yelled from inside.
"Oh, that's nice. You're wife is very excited about date night, I can tell," the lady offered up.
Before I could respond, my wife popped out of the dressing room and twirled in front of the mirror.
I suddenly withdrew into my own head, struggling with the idea of my fishing buddy, Mark, not being able to keep his hands off my wife when she would wear this dress for him on their date.
My wife saw my dejection and asked the saleslady for a moment alone. She came and sat next to me and held my hand.
"Are you ok, sweetie? Did the lady's comment make you jealous?" she took my arm in hers and leaned her head on my shoulder and whispered to me.
"Yeah, a little bit. It's just ... you're so excited to be going on a date with Mark. You're shopping for sexy dresses, strappy heels..." as the words were leaving my mouth, I looked down and was surprised to see her wearing gray stockings that matched the too-sexy, silver-gray minidress she had on. The gray stockings triggered a strong reaction from my libido, but to make things worse -- much worse -- I could see the lace at the top of her thigh-high stockings.
"What the ... where did these stockings come from?!"
"Oh, I picked them out earlier and I just wanted to see if they matched the dresses I was trying on. Do you like them? I remember you telling me how gray stockings turn you on."
"Oh, I doubt it. I think you're just trying to flatter me."
"Honey, what are you trying to accomplish with all this? I mean, you look stunning and so sexy. How could Mark not ... are you trying to make sure Mark jumps you? Are you going to have sex with Mark on your date?!" I asked her directly after fumbling for words.
"Um, maybe this isn't the best place to talk about this," was her reply.
"Not the best place? So, the answer is yes, you want to fuck Mark already. You want him to fuck you on your first date. Am I right?" I grilled my wife in a firm, but hushed tone.
"Shhh. Honey, I know this is difficult for you. Let's talk about it when we get home, ok?"
"I think we just talked about it and I think I got my answer already." I said curtly.
"But I didn't give you an answer, you're just assuming things. But I understand how difficult this is for you. And I want to make it fun for you," she said as she slid one hand across the fly of my pants.
"How are you going to make this fun for me?" I asked, honestly puzzled.
"Oh no ... you're penis is rock hard right now. Why does your penis get hard when you're imagining Mark fucking me on our first date?"
"I don't know!" I growled. "But right now I want to punch it in the head. Are you going to check my cock every time you tell me something about Mark?"
"Oh honey, don't be angry. Just enjoy the moment. Do you like my dress? And these stockings?" she took my hand and pulled me toward the dressing room. I followed like a lost lamb. "Come with me. I'll let you touch them."
In the dressing room she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately. "You do love me, don't you?" she asked. "It's kinda nice to see you get worked up about Mark -- it proves to me that you love me. I love you the same way. But don't even think about dating another woman. I wouldn't be able to handle it."
"Do you want to touch my stockings? I know you love the way they feel."
I reached down and touched her legs. I felt the sheer stockings and the lace at the top. Her slinky silver cocktail dress had a slit that really made me worried. My hand crept up toward the slit in the dress and my wife's slit.
She was soaking wet. I slid a finger between her pussy lips, found her clit and began rubbing.
"Mmmmm," she cooed, "I love when you touch me. But not right now." She pulled my hand away. "Right now, I want to see your penis. I want to see it rock hard."
She opened my fly and pulled my penis out. She was right, it was rock hard -- so hard it was beginning to curve upward.
"Oh no, that looks painful. Does it hurt?" she asked with some degree of genuine concern?
"A little bit, but it's fine."
"Oh wow. Why is it so rock hard? You seemed angry about the clothes I was trying on. But your cock got SO hard."
"I know, I don't understand it either."
"What was it that was going through your head while you were sitting there sulking?" she asked, trying to get to the bottom of the conundrum. "Were you thinking about me wearing this dress and these stockings on my date with Mark?"
"Yes," I said sheepishly.
"Ok ... tell me what exactly you were thinking about, I want to learn exactly what makes your penis so hard and I want to make it all better," she said with obvious mock tenderness. I didn't yet know what she was up to, but I could tell she had some other aim than to assuage my feelings. The way she was stroking my cock led me to think she had another objective. "Tell me all about the worries you have about my date with Mark."
"Well," I began, "For starters, you're buying a slinky minidress with a slit that ... well, it barely qualifies as clothing."
"Oh, I understand. And you think that if I'm sitting too close to Mark, he could have easy access to sensitive areas of my body. Is that it?" she said as she continued to stroke my penis. Somehow her touch felt better than I had ever felt it before.
"Yeah. And these stockings!" I complained.
"Yes? Yes, tell me what you think about the stockings. Do you like them?" she drew her face up to my ear and whispered this question as she lifted her leg up onto a dressing bench so that her nylon-covered thigh rubbed against my cock.
"They're just too sexy. Mark's gonna want to fuck you straight away," I complained.
"Oh no. Do you really think Mark is going to want to fuck me? On our first date?" she continued stroking me against her stockings.
"Of course he will," I said, "He's a guy. What guy could resist this outfit?" I asked rhetorically as a moan escaped my mouth. My hips began bucking slightly from her stroking my cock.
"Oh, sweetie, you're penis is getting pre-cum on these stockings and I haven't paid for them yet. But it's SO cute. I've never seen your penis this hard." She continued to rub my cock on the sexy stockings. "You're not going to squirt on these stockings, are you? What will I tell the saleslady?"
"Please tell me you're not going to fuck Mark."
"I don't understand why you're so certain he's going to want sex from me. Tell me more about that. Do you think he's going to lose control and jump on me?"
"He might. He's a flesh and blood guy, isn't he?"
"When do you think this attack will happen. I need to be prepared. Do you think he'll try and mount me in the parking lot? In the car? Before dinner? After dinner? At his place? When will the attack come?" she began interrogating me like an intelligence officer. All the while keeping up the stroking of my cock.
"Oh please, we have to stop. You're going to make me squirt."
"We'll stop when you give me what I want. Tell me how you imagine Mark fucking me. Will he try to mount me from behind? And what will I do? Will I be soaking wet like I am now? He may slide right into me like butter. What if he's really hung? Will it hurt? Tell me everything you're thinking."
Her rubbing my cock against her stockings was taking its toll -- I was well on my way to squirting semen all over her leg. My hips began bucking with more force and I could feel an orgasm starting to build in my balls. "Oh please, we have to stop or I'm going to make a mess."
"What is it that's turning you on so much? Is it thinking about Mark hiking my cocktail dress up and mounting me from behind like a stud horse mounting a mare? Are you imagining him sliding right up inside me because I'm super wet? Is that what's got you so turned on? The thought of him mounting me from behind in a parking garage someplace, in my gray stockings? Him lifting me and my strappy heels off the ground with each thrust?"
That did it. She was right. Those were the thoughts that were making my cock so hard and hearing them from her mouth sent me over the top. I groaned loudly and sprayed cum all over her leg.
"Oh honey!" she said with feigned annoyance, "Look what you've done now. Your penis squirted semen all over these stockings and I haven't even paid for them yet! What will I tell the saleslady. Oh, you are just too naughty."
She bent down and gave my penis a little lick before tucking it away and zipping my fly back up.
As we walked out of the dressing room, we bumped right into the saleslady who was leaning against the wall. It was obvious that she had been listening to our entire interlude.
My wife seemed utterly unsurprised and unabashed as she walked past the lady, saying, "Oh, you're back. Great. Let's ring this up."
At the cashier's station my wife enumerated the purchases saying, "It's OK if I just leave these things on, no?" she said, lifting her leg so the cashier could see my mess on the stockings. "My hubby had a little bit of an accident on these stockings."
Without skipping a beat, the cashier responded, "Oh, that's quite alright. Completely understandable given the situation. I'm sure it will happen a few more times as your special date night approaches."
Blood rushed to my face and I could feel the tips of my ears burning red hot with humiliation.
"Oh I hope so," my wife said, patting my cheek. "He's my sweety pie."
"And may I just say, that dress is an excellent choice -- it looks stunning on you. I'm sure Mark will be spellbound when you wear it for him," the nice lady said as she handed me back my debit card which clearly did not have "Mark" written anywhere on it.
"Oh, thank you. You're too sweet," my wife said, smiling genuinely.
As the nice saleslady walked with us out of her department she added, "If I may speak candidly, I hope you will both count on me whenever you need to shop for your future dates with Mark. I'm happy to help both of you get the most out of your experience." She stroked my back as she said so, as if to stress a genuine understanding of our situation.
"And Mr. David, sir," she continued, "I suspect you'll be looking for some lingerie soon to match the stockings you like so much. I hope you'll come to me so I can help you pick out items to surprise your wife. This way you don't have to feel strange or uncomfortable browsing the lingerie section."
"Oh, that's very thoughtful, isn't it honey?" asked my wife. "Maybe this nice lady will try things on for you. Wouldn't that be fun?" she added with a smirk.
"Oh my, is that allowed?" the saleslady replied. They both giggled and clasped hands as if they were best friends.
"Just be careful," my wife cautioned the sexy older lady, "You saw what he did to my stockings." they both giggled again.
"Oh, I don't think that'll happen with me. I just don't think I have that kind of pull with your husband," they both roared with laughter at the saleslady's clever joke.
"Oh, you are a delight," my wife told the lady, "I will definitely be sending my hubby to you when there is any shopping to be done. Heck maybe even if there's no shopping to be done. Maybe you can look after him when I have a date."
"Oh, yes please!" the older woman said, enthusiastically, "I would really enjoy that."
A pang of humiliation went though my entire body. The saleslady was older but very alluring. It was so humiliating for her to know about the mess I made on the stockings and even more humiliating for her to know that my wife would soon be dating my good friend. My wife noticed the change in my complexion.
"Oh, now we've embarrassed him," said my wife.
The saleslady once again stroked my back, adding, "Aww, he's a good boy."
"Good boy?!" I thought to myself. "I feel like a dog that did a clever trick."
"He is a good boy, isn't he?" my wife concurred with emphasis.
After that extended goodbye finished we walked into the mall carrying our shopping bags. People couldn't take there eyes off my wife, especially the older men. I couldn't really blame them -- she really did look stunning. I did, however, notice that a few keen observers seemed to notice the residual mess on her stockings. It wasn't overly obvious there was cum on her leg, but as it dried, it became more noticeable.
As we stood in line at Starbucks, I noticed a couple college-aged girls obviously chattering to each other about what my wife had on her stockings. I leaned in and whispered to my wife, "Honey, I think you forgot the mess on your stockings. I think people are noticing it."
"Oh, I didn't forget you squirted your mess all over my stockings. I hope everyone notices," was her response.
"But ... it's a little embarrassing for me."
"I can't imagine why. I'm so proud of you. I'd like to go tell those girls what a good boy you are. I'd love to tell them how turned on you got thinking about me dating your friend and how you squirted all over my leg."
"But ..."
"Be honest, hasn't tonight been very exciting and fun for you? It has for me."
I hadn't really given it enough thought before, but she was right, it had been very exciting and fun. And the saleslady seemed like someone who could be very helpful in the future. I began to realize this could be fun for me. But only as long as I had a lot of sincere affection from my wife as a counterbalance to the jealousy and humiliation of knowing she's dating my friend.
"Maybe this could be fun. We'll see," was my reply.
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