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At The Pool

Note: this story takes place in a fantasy world where
vaccines against AIDS and pregnancy are safe and common,
and casual sex with strangers is not suicidally stupid.
The real world, sadly, is not like that: so don't try
this at home.
= = =

The highlight of the afternoon came when Robin slipped her
sweatshirt off over her head, hung her whistle on the hook
beside the lifeguard's chair, and dove, slicing into the
water with a small graceful splash. My eyes followed
her as she crossed the pool under the water and emerged
spectacularly on the other side, swinging her hair out of
her face and springing up the ladder, casually sliding one
finger under the edge of her red lifeguard's suit and pulling
the elastic out of some young wet female crevice.

Robin has the body of a goddess: long tan legs, a perfect
curve of stomach above swimmer's thighs, marvelous round
breasts, and a sharp intelligent face. And, as my
conscience had had to remind me every day since the pool
opened that summer, she was still in high school.

"Cradle robber," whispered Pat from the pool chair beside me,
"you're devouring that poor innocent thing with your eyes, you
know." Basking in the sun, big breasts barely covered, her
stomach tight and swelling, four months pregnant and utterly
radiant, Pat was a vision herself. I just grinned, and tried
to keep my eyes from drifting back to the curvy und*rage
lifeguard. "Shreeeee," went Robin's whistle, "No running!"
She swung back into her chair, her body dripping, the taut
globes of her ass moving beautifully.

"You're really suffering, aren't you?" Pat grinned.

"I'll survive," I answered, and leaned over and kissed her
warmly on the mouth. Her lips were soft and perfect. I
slid one hand down over her abdomen, indulging myself in the
solid promising bulge of her womb. She slapped my hand
fondly away as it began to dive lower.

The next afternoon Pat and I went to the pool again, and we
were joined by Julie, Pat's younger sister, a slim and
graceful twenty-one-year-old in a blue bikini. The girls
exchanged a few significant glances and giggles, but I was
used to that. I tried not to stare at Robin, jiggling in her
tight red suit, any more than usual.

It got near closing time, but Pat and Julie made no move to
leave. The place began to empty out, and finally when even the
last of the stragglers had left, the girls got up. I made to
follow them, but Julie smiled enigmatically and put a hand on
my arm. "You go in for a last little soak. We'll come back
and get you." OK, I'm easy. I slipped into the cool water
as Pat and Julie vanished into the women's locker room. The
only other person still inside the gates was Robin, in her suit
and her sweatshirt, rolling up the lane-lines and fishing debris
out of the water.

I admired her, her long legs moving her efficiently around the
pool, her hair up behind her head, her hands long-fingered and
tan on the skimming pole. She seemed to be ignoring me, but
I thought I caught a smiling sidelong glance now and then.
Finally, she walked slowly toward the lockers. As she slid
the sweatshirt off over her head, stretching her athletic body
luxuriously, she looked back once, right into my eyes. She
was on the edge of laughing.

A minute later, she came back out, and dove neatly into the
pool. Her slim red-sheathed form sped through the water toward
me, and she surfaced facing me. But it wasn't Robin. It was
Julie, wearing Robin's red suit, her hair tied loosely up
behind her head like Robin's, her face young and innocent and
casual, her eyes looking at me as though I were an interesting
stranger. So Julie's a model; she can act, too.

"Excuse me, sir," she said politely, stroking efficiently over
to me and hanging onto the side next to me, "the pool is closed
now."

"Oh, sorry," I replied, admiring the drops of water on the
smooth bare skin of her shoulders, "I must have dozed off."

"Oh, you can't sleep in the pool," she scolded, "that's an easy
way to drown."

"Sorry, I'll watch it in the future."

"S'okay," she said casually, letting her body and her long legs
float upwards and resting her head and shoulders on the wave
shelf next to me. "I always take a few laps after closing,
so I would've found you." We were silent for a minute; I
admired her thighs and her stomach as the water lapped at them;
she gazed off into the distance. "Isn't the sunset grand?"
she asked. The clouds were fiery, purple, razor-sharp.

I reached over and touched the strap of the red suit where it
crossed her shoulder. I slid my fingers slowly down over
the tight saturated nylon, down over the Speedo logo, and
up the slope of her neat round breast. She looked over at
me in surprise for an instant, but then closed her eyes and
let her body relax. Her breast was small and firm, cold,
the nipple erect but soft. It hardened as I stroked it.

I turned to face her, her lovely small body, long legs, all
stretched out floating in the water before me. The fabric
over her breasts and her stomach was warm and wet and it
moved as she breathed. My other hand stroked up the outside
of her leg, up her strong calf and up her thigh to her hip,
functional and smooth and female, bare at the edge of the
high-cut suit. I took a long shuddering breath as I let my
hands roam over her. Her submerged ass was tight and delicious,
and when I slid my fingers along the crack between her buttocks
she spread her legs and sighed. I took one breast in my
right hand, and my left hand slid over the red smoothness
between her legs, and I gently rubbed her mons and the
tight young skin of her inner thighs.

"Ooh," she breathed, "you're getting me all hot and bothered."
And suddenly she flipped herself out of my hands, pushed off
from the edge with her feet, and shouted to me over her
shoulder, "Beat you to the end!" I grinned and stroked off
after her.

I doubt I would have beaten the real Robin, but I'm a stronger
swimmer than Julie, and I pulled ahead of her, got to the wall
first, and turned around. Swimming hard, her face in the water,
she didn't notice me there until too late, and one slim arm
bopped me on the head, and her body crashed into me. "Oh,
sorry," she laughed, her legs against my sides and one arm
over my shoulder, "I didn't mean to --" She stopped talking,
her eyes locked on mine, the water cool and silent, surrounding
us, and I put one hand behind her head, in the wetness of her
hair, and drew her face to mine, and kissed her mouth, and our
bodies moved together. Her thighs slid over my skin below the
surface, her lips opened to me, and she pressed herself hungrily
against me, her body shuddering and a low moan filling her
throat. We kissed for a long time, and I ran my hands over
her back and her ass through the tightness of the suit, and she
rubbed her pussy against my stomach, and clung to me, and slid
her tongue into my mouth.

Our heads moved apart, just an inch, and I looked into her eyes,
the water still clinging to her eyelids like chlorine tears, and
she licked her lips and she softly said "oh!". Then she twined
her arms around my neck, closed her eyes, and kissed me again, a
stronger and less desperate kiss, a controlled kiss, a deep and
heartbreaking kiss, and she spread her muscular legs wider and
pressed herself against me, and I felt her body softening, her
vulva opening against my cock through our suits. I kissed her
cheek, the line of her jaw, the soft cold smoothness of her
neck, and she put her arms down to let me lower the straps
of her suit. Her breasts were small and buoyant and firm, and
when I kissed her nipples she laughed and bent back, her hair
and the back of her head dipping into the cool rippling water.

I slid the straps down over her elbows and off, and I rolled
the wet red material down and squeezed her breasts and kissed
her bare stomach. She bent back and floated, her arms out to
her sides, as I pulled the suit down her thighs, past the wet
triangle of water-darkened hair at her cunt, down her legs and
off past her feet. I took her feet in my hands for a moment,
and admired her naked body floating on the water before me.
Then I sank into the water, her thighs perfect and cool and wet
on my cheeks, and nuzzled my face into her matted pubic hair,
and opened her and kissed her and ran my tongue over the warm
receptive softness of her vulva. She sighed and spread her legs
further apart to admit me.

I held her ass in my hands, gently squeezing and glorying in
the taut cold skin, as my mouth played over her labia. I
took a mouthful of water, and blew it back out, in a thick
gentle stream over the hood of her clit. Her body shuddered
again, and she stroked my head with her hands. I did it again,
a thinner and harder stream, and she cried out softly, a small
moan that drifted away over the pool. I did it again, and
her thighs squeezed my head, and then she righted herself,
and pulled me to her and kissed my mouth again, her hands
caressing my body. One small soft hand played down my stomach
and slipped under my trunks, wrapping around my cold trapped
cock. "Oh, such a SWEET man," she whispered, gently stroking
me and nibbling on my ear. Her warm girl-scented breath mixed
with the cold chlorine air of the pool, and her fingers teased
me quickly erect. She smiled and sank.

Her hands moved down my body, over my nipples and my stomach,
tickling and caressing and filling me with desire. My solar
plexus tensed and I licked my lips as she slid my trunks down
and off, and ran her tongue and her lips over my penis, her
mouth a warm cavern in the cold of the pool. Then she surfaced,
very close to me, her breasts against my chest and one hand
still around my cock, and we kissed again, and I pulled her
naked body against me, and spread her buttocks apart, and
my fingers played over her pussy from behind, and she groaned
and sucked on my tongue.

Her body was healthy and strong and young, her long legs wrapped
around me, her skin rough and goose-pimpled from the cold. Her
mouth on mine was sweet and excited and demanding. With a soft
moan, she took my cock and pushed it against her vagina, and I
slipped into her, sliding my cold cock into that hot yearning
sheath, holding her head in my hands and kissing her soft lips
and running my tongue along her teeth as we began to fuck gently
in the water.

The water buoyed her up, and I held her light as a feather as
she rocked her hips, looking me silently in the eyes as her
pussy stroked and sucked at my cock. I slid one hand between
us and caressed her clit, pressing it between my fingers and
the throbbing shaft that rhythmically penetrated her. Her
eyes widened with a hot delicious joy, and she kissed me again,
and put her arms around my shoulders and breathed loving
nonsense in my ear as she began to come. I moved my other hand
down behind her, and gently pressed the rim of her anus as she
gasped and bucked and her ass tightened around me and she came,
my cock swelling and moving relentlessly inside her. Her
screams were small and delighted, and I felt the cum straining
within me.

Her lips closed over mine, and her tongue was in my mouth, and
her hips rocked even faster, and as she fucked me more quickly
and more eagerly still I came hard and wrenching inside her,
the cold water and the hot juices of her cunt bringing my cock
to an impossible aching hardness that finally burst, and I
groaned into her mouth as I filled her with semen, and our
naked bodies thrashed in the water. We pressed hungrily
against each other, sated but unwilling to let go, and we
sank entwined into the silent cool water, our mouths still
pressed together, my cock slowly slipping out of her vagina
as the water closed over our heads.

Pat and Julie and I went out to the car, and Robin waved to us
as she closed and locked the gates.

"You make a damn' good lifeguard," I said to Julie, "Thanks!"

"My pleasure," she replied, squeezing my hand, "anytime..."

"So what did you two tell Robin to get her to lend you the pool
for your lovely little plot?" I asked.

"Oh," grinned Pat, "nothing much. We just told her she
could watch."

Why do women always find it so funny when men blush?



End of Story