Summer Swims

In the waning days of summer, Sveta and I have found a bit of time to go to some pools to get some water time.  She really loves the water, wishes we could go to the beach, but we can't afford it so a poor substitute is a swimming pool.  And I used to be a fish in my youth.  I was never a competition swimmer, but I passed all kinds of Red Cross certifications and probably could have been a life guard had I been a bit older and also less likely to die of skin cancer.

I've lost most of my skill, but I still love being underwater and feeling weightless.  Sveta doesn't like to go under water, and I think she's missing the best part, but she enjoys it nonetheless.  I don't have the breath control I once had (stop snickering in the back row, that has nothing to do with it) but I can still manage a respectable distance underwater.  I've just lost some speed and stamina, to say nothing of not liking to get water in my ears or burning my eyes with chlorine.

But nothing sexy has come of our swimming trips.  Still, they've made me remember a story I don't think I've told yet, so I will.

I was old enough to attract attention, if perhaps too young for that attention to be entirely appropriate.  Among boys of my own age group, sure, that was fine, but I would sometimes see older men looking at me too, frolicking around in my bikini (I love bikinis), maybe not as good a swimmer as I had been as a child, but still perfectly at home in the water.  A teen, not hard on the eye, and fully bloomed into sexuality, so it was natural that some gazes lingered.  I'm not really excusing dirty old men, but I didn't mind and they were discreet in their ogling.  I think my father would have been upset that his daughter was being eyebanged by fathers at the pool, but I was old enough to go on my own and I wasn't doing anything other than letting them look.

I remember I had my eye on a life guard.  That was rare air; they were aloof and intimidating and probably in college (gasp, so old) but damn was he cute.  I don't always go for the tanned hunk of man meat, and looking back with older eyes he wasn't exactly Baywatch, but he looked tasty.  But like I said, rare air, and I may be brazen with my sexuality but I'm still quite shy, so I eyebanged him a little from a distance and let others do the same to me, and it all seemed frivolous and a bit pointless but fun.

But I was with friends (well, "friends," they were girls and guys my age and they tolerated my presence and didn't treat me like shit) and eventually one of them must have caught me looking and said, "You've got the hots for Hottie Life Guard!" like it was some big secret I couldn't stand anyone to know.

"He's kind of cute," I said, the way that teens admit a crush, bashful and full of insignificance.  No big deal.  I was just looking.

"Yeah he is.  You should talk to him."

No, that I wasn't interested in doing.  Come on, I was here to swim, take in the sights.  But she wouldn't let up, brought another girl into it, and pretty soon it was all I was getting from them.  My inclination was to ignore and hope it would go away, but it didn't, and finally I said, "Okay, fine, I will."  Which shut them up.  I think they were as in awe of him as I was.

So I went up to the life guard stand and said, "Hey, want me to get you a drink?"  I couldn't think of anything else.  I mean, I could, but I knew that it wasn't a perfect world and, "Hey, you're cute, want to fuck my brains out?" would not play well.

He probably heard the line from all the girls.  "No thanks, I'm good."  He wasn't even looking at me.  I know now (and pretty much knew then) that he wasn't allowed to take his eyes off the pool, but it still seemed dismissive.

Shit.  "Let me know if you do."  Brilliant gambit, Lexi.  I swear, this was decades ago and I'm still kicking myself for it as I remember it.

"Okay."  He grinned.  "Okay, fine, I'll take a Coke.  Just don't make a big deal out of it.  I don't want to get in trouble."  And he glanced at me, just a glance, like he was verifying me.

Can of Coke in hand, I sidled up to the chair again.  I'm pretty sure I said something very stupid when I gave it to him, but that memory has been blessedly cleansed.  I do remember he asked me my name so he could thank me properly.  Which I used to get his name, which was, if I recall, something like Brett.  Brett will work.  Never took his eyes off the pool except to steal a few glances at me.  Knowing me, I think he was pleased by what he saw, but then he probably saw a million other girls wearing bikinis, so it wasn't exactly novel.

"I'll see you," I said, by way of something else to say.

"I go on break at 3.  I'll pay you back then."

Shit.  Well, my gift was being spurned.  His money was in his pants or something.  Ah well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.  I dove back into the pool.  Tried to ignore the other girls' questions.  Did I get his number?  What did he say?  I had struck out.  I mean, these girls weren't exactly privvy to how much I had struck out; to them, I was a failure at chatting with a cute guy way out of my league, whereas I was actually a failure at getting a cute guy way out of my league to round some bases with me.  These girls may not have been virgins, but they weren't looking for action.  If any of them had been in my shoes, they would have taken the whole thing less seriously.  But really, how seriously could I take it?

At 3, Brett went on break and I figured that was the last I'd see of him, but he just went to a shady spot and sat down, then looked over at me and smiled.  Okay.  Maybe he wanted me to collect my blood money for the Coke.  By that point, my trivial failure to launch had been forgotten and I think the girls were more interested in some fairly-innocent horseplay with the guys with us.  I'm sure the allure of skin to skin contact while roughhousing was all they needed to forget me, and if I didn't join in, more for them.  I'm pretty sure there were some couples there, but it was a free-for-all of accidental boob brushes and giggling, so minor alliances were forgotten in the fracas.

I went over to Brett and, when he didn't seem to mind, sat down next to him, not so close as to presume, but not across from him.

"So I bet you offer Coke to all the life guards," he said, grinning.  That was his opening line.  I remember that.  But while I don't remember much of the rest of the conversation, I do remember that his eyes, no longer obsessively watching swimmers, were enjoying me.  And enjoying that I wasn't getting shy.  I let him look.

The upshot was that I slid a little closer and he put his hand on my leg and things became a lot more chummy.  To the point that, when I said he could pay me back for the Coke any way he liked, he said, "Okay, I know a place."

I got the feeling that I wasn't the first conquest Brett had made at the pool.  He led me to a room filled with pool supplies and told me no one ever came in unless they were doing what we were doing.  He was coy about whether he'd ever done this before, but he said life guards sometimes hooked up and if he locked the door, anyone else would know what was happening.  I don't know that he knew what he was getting.  Probably expected a nice grope, maybe some oral.

My breasts have never been big enough to really pull off the "pull down the top of the cup and the breast spills out" thing, so he pushed it up instead.  He liked them, even if they weren't enormous.  But when I said, rather heatedly, "You want to fuck me?" his eyes got a little wider.

"You want to?"

"God yes."

That was fine with him, if perhaps unexpected.  I pulled his trunks down, his cock rising a little but not yet fully hard, and then I got on my knees and sucked it to life.  He wasn't inexperienced, so probably he had used this room before.  He held my hair but didn't force anything, and he didn't need to, because by that point I was an expert cocksucker.

"How long do you have?" I asked when I came up for air.

"A while.  Why?"

"Are you ready?"

"Hell yes."

We were about the same height, so no towering Adonis he, though life guards always seem more imposing than they really are.  He didn't have to struggle to position himself, and I bent a little at the waist and supported myself on a pile of life jackets, and he just pulled my bottoms to one side, admired my pussy for a moment, and then rubbed the head of his cock over my pubis a few times before sliding into me.

He wasn't gentle.  I was a little less ready than I should have been, and he loved how tight it made me, but I got into it after a few moments and let him really take the wheel.  And then almost as soon as I was getting into it, he was pulling out.  "Shit, you were amazing," he said.  "I can't hold off.  Do you swallow?"

Had I been older and more sure of myself I would have told him to get back in there and make me cum, but I just nodded and knelt and let him spew a weak load onto my tongue and lips, then swallowed and smiled.  My pussy was vibrating, wanting more, and I was a little weak at the knees from being railed while standing up, knees locked.

"Thanks," he said.  Thanks.  Services rendered.  Kind of a dick.  I figured that was it.

"Do you have more time?"  I could help asking.

"Yeah, plenty.  You want more?"

"Always."

"Damn girl.  What do you want?"

"I want more of your cock.  Want me to suck it again?"

"No, not right away.  I can finger you if you want, until I can get hard again."

So I consented to being pawed.  Not good.  He wouldn't have known where to find the clitoris if I'd drawn a map, and he basically just pushed his finger in and moved it around.  But he sucked my nipples nicely, and we kissed some, and if I wasn't getting closer to cumming at least his finger was there and keeping me excited.  He made no move to offer mutual oral, and I didn't demand it because I was young and stupid and also if he was this bad with his finger, I bet he'd never gone down on a woman before.

Eventually he said, "Okay, you can suck me now," like I had been dying for it (okay, so I was dying to suck him so he'd get hard and I'd get it inside me again).  The floor was clear enough for him to lie back against a life jacket, and I put his trunks under his ass and sucked him hard again.  He was enjoying himself immensely.  I won't attempt false humility: I was probably the best head he'd ever gotten.

Once he was hard again, I straddled him and sank down on his shaft, which wasn't a giant but was good enough.  Decent length, decent girth, and it felt very nice inside me.  And I rocked, his hands on my breasts and then down my sides to my hips, hooking his fingers under the back of my bikini bottoms and gripping my ass.  I remember that.  I liked that, it felt exciting.  I've always liked fucking in underwear.

Grinding down on him, getting an eyeful of his tanned gorgeousness, was enough to make me cum after a bit, and he loved feeling me cum on him.  But then he said, "I need to go a bit quicker.  Can we switch positions?"  So I wound up on all fours, my knees and palms hurting a little because of the concrete floor, and he fucked away behind me.

"You don't have to pull out.  I'm on the pill and I love cum inside me."  I couldn't see his face, but I think he must have thought he'd won the jackpot.

"Okay, coming up," he said, or grunted, and fucked harder, his hands gripping the back seam of my bottoms, pulling it up a little.  It pressed the front against my clit and was winding me up again, but I didn't make it before he gasped, "Fuck, I'm going to cum in your pussy!"

The orgasm wasn't even as intense as the first one.  I basically felt his cock tense and relax a few times.  Didn't feel the cream inside.  He pulled back and I moved my hand up, even though my knees were screaming at this point, and rubbed my clit, hard, until I got off too.  He was wide-eyed at that, when I rolled over and adjusted myself, pulling my top back down and my bottoms back over my pussy.  "Damn girl, you're insane," he said, or something similar.

Three was out of the question.  I knew before I asked, so I didn't.  He wasn't in a rush, offered to finger me some more if I wanted, but I politely declined.  "My friends will be wondering where I am," I said, with a degree of truth.

"Well, that was great."  And he pulled on his trunks and left in the opposite direction of the pool.  To a life guard locker room, maybe.  I didn't really care.  I went back to the pool, and my "friends" hadn't really even noticed I was gone.  I learned later that a boy and girl had sneaked off on their own and gotten to third base or something, and that was all anyone was talking about.  My life guard crush was forgotten, and no one even mentioned it.  And Brett came back to his station, looking like nothing had happened, and took up watch on the pool again.  He looked at me a few times and smiled, but we didn't speak.

Of course, I went home and fucked someone's brains out that evening because it had been exciting but hardly a great lay.  And if I ever saw Brett again at the pool, we never fucked again.  I wasn't particularly sorry.  Decent story, but at the time, somewhat underwhelming.