In the Tropicarium

She stood in front of the glass, dress pulled high, one hand already working between her legs. Sunlight from the overhead panels cut across her hips in stripes, and the tank behind her held a slow-moving reef shark. She glanced back, smirked, then pressed two fingers inside. Her other hand slid up under her top, cupped her breast, and squeezed. She kept her eyes on the fish while she fucked herself, slow at first, then faster, hips rocking against her palm. A small fish darted past; she moaned, louder, and came with her forehead against the glass, legs shaking, breath fogging the pane.