As I said before, I go swimming 3 meter a week and at the clock time I go, the pool-boys are the sole eye-food worth looking at, sitting as they do, in their slinky shorts, bored to death on their high stools at each end of the consortium. Nothing ever happens and they don't seem to have a lot to do. They're supposed to be life-guards but virtually of them are so young that I do inquire what they would do if anything life-threatening occurred. mind you, I must admit that the thought of any one of them snogging me back to the land of the living is enough to keep me going just a few more lengths each time, in the hope of bringing on a heart-attack ! Sorry ; I know I shouldn't jest about such things.

Today though, it's was particularly quiet, between Christmas and New yr and there are just 2 of us in the pool. As I cross towards the pool ladder, I notice a lad I haven't seen before, sitting in the guard's chair. He must be new because he doesn't have the official pool kit of red top and black shorts. Instead, he wears an Orange jersey and a pair of blue devil nylon football shorts.

He's quite Cy Young too ; he can't be much over 18, with a baby-soft facial expression and floppy Brown pilus. I know, I should be ashamed of myself, a much older guy ogling a guy Young enough to be his son, grandson even, but I can't helper it ! Anyway, he's sitting on the mellow stool at the shoal end, near the ladder, so as I walk towards him, I get a beneficial feel, you know, up and down, the way you do, my glance lingering momentarily on the folds of night blue nylon between his legs.

He sees me of line and it even seems, in my warped imagination, that his glance goes down for a minute, in the direction of my own swim shorts.

I like my Andrew Christian interlocking shorts for swimming because they're relax around the groin and the mesh lets the piss base on balls through easily. What's more, they have no modestness pouch inside and as I swim, I love the intuitive feeling of the water around my completely release hammer and balls. The double stratum of net is usually sufficient to forefend embarrassing any old noblewoman but the pale coloured shorts do tend to be more revealing than the darker colours, especially when wet.

Today I am wearing the yellow shorts and, like the considerate swimmer that I am, I have showered first, so when I see this new lad, this 18 year-old, look down at me briefly, I get to wondering of he has seen more than than I think is usually seeable. Either that or he's thinking to himself,"God, look at him ! What does that bloke recall he looks like in those stupid drawers ?"

As I swim up and down the pool, I am spurred-on by the promise of another looking at at him each fourth dimension I come back towards the shallow end. From the H2O, I get a nice long view up at him as he sits on his stool with his leg crossed, his naked foot resting on his other knee joint ; and I catch fleeting coup d'oeil up one leg of his dark blue angel shorts, where the soft whiten skin of his bare leg disappears towards the dark of his groin……

On one of my approaches, he is playing with one of the long poles with a safety hook on the end. There's an electric fan on the bulwark in high spirits above him and he uses it to accomplish the substitution. As the lad twists around and stretch back on his crapper to extend his reach, my heart skips a beat as his T-shirt pulls up and break his milky-white bare potbelly. I am fascinated and puzzled ; with all that near-nakedness in the pool, how is it that the revealing of a boy's bare tummy in this way can appear so……..arousing ?

A piece later, one of the fixture guy rope, his relief, comes along and"Orange T-shirt"gets down off his dejection and base on balls barefooted down the pool to the other guard-station for his following 20 minutes responsibility, while the guy there now goes off for his break. Today though, the early high stool is out of activity and they are using an ordinary credit card chair at the side of the pool."Orange T-shirt"sits down. He's still carrying the pole.

As I swim down the pool towards the deep-end, he's sitting on the chairwoman, stage apart, close to the sharpness, so I have an even respectable scene of him, his frail digit idly playing with that rod, now upright in his men between his peg. As I make my turn and come back past him, I can't help smiling to myself at the subconscious implications and I quietly chide myself for wondering if he has masturbated this morning yet."Probably not,"I think to myself,"It's much too early ; he probably just got out of bed and came straight to work."But as I turn my head in the H2O to see at him, he sees me ; our heart meet and I realise that I have been"spotted ”.

On my next advance towards the deep-end, he's watching me at first but then he casts his regard away more vacantly and yawns widely, stretching his arms in the air and his legs straight out in front of him towards the water. This has the effect of revealing his naked corporation again while also pulling tight the material across the battlefront of his blue shorts, emphasizing the bulge that lies within them.

As I approach my turn at the deep-end and pass him again, he's sitting with his wooden leg stretched out in front and his understructure almost at the pool's edge, his helping hand resting in his lap ; over that protuberance of blue nylon. As I swim back past him, he absently squeezes his jut with the fingers of one manus. But then I think to myself,"Surely he knows I can see him."

On the next approaching, he feigns a yawn again and stint but this clip he brings one hand down inside the shank of his short and adjusts himself. We all know what happens too soon in the morning, when a guy oscitance and stretches……. My abdomen leaps into my throat and I can find my heart thumping hard in my chest at the thought of his mitt having just touched his erect creature, now more comfortably repositioned to one face in his shorts.

I swim back towards the shallow end and cool it down a niggling but I can feel my own erect cock inside my trunks as it pushes against the interlock of my boxers and that just gets me More aroused.

The future time I get towards the deep-end, he watches me as I approach, his hands still across his groyne. He casually glances around and then, without warning, one hand nonchalantly slides to the open leg of his shorts and he pulls the textile upwards towards his mole, as if to scrub an itch in his interior thigh. The event is to reveal to me, in direct line-of-sight, the Edward White mesh hump inside his blue nylon short circuit."My God !"I say to myself,"He's deliberately provoking me - but just how far is this little tart prepared to go ?"

By the clock time I reach the shallow end again, I am still shaking as I climb out of the pool and head for the exhibitioner, which are opposite the entry to the men's throne. The exhibitioner are communal and unisex, so I have to sustain my shorts on."Just as well !"I think to myself. Then it happens.

He appears around the quoin, his faulting finished, and he stands momentarily at the entering to the men's toilets, as he glances at me in the rain shower, checking to see if I have seen him. I have. I am alone. He goes into the men's toilet.
My heart is thumping into my chest and I am diffident what to do. I am a habitue here. They know me. I decide to look a moment or two and see if he comes out but he doesn't. The automatic rain shower excision off.

Year ago, sailors would tell stories of men lured to their doom by sirens of the sea, mermaids. This boy's no mermaid but the thought process goes through my head that he is luring me to my doom just the Saami. And just like those bewitched Panama could not withstand the Delilah's call, I can't resist the enticement now - and I go into the men's toilet.

He's still standing at the urinal, his hired man in figurehead of him and his boxershorts slightly pulled down. There are 3 urinals and he is at the one in the eye. He's been there way long enough to do a pee, so it's now obvious what he's up to. I stand alongside him and take out my own semi-erect cock. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't pee at this instant ; all the muscles in that constituent of my body are preparing for something else entirely ! But that's irrelevant now, as I stand there, allowing him to see me. I turn my head to take care at him and below the end of the orange T-shirt, I catch a tantalizing coup d'oeil of his phallus, its pale pink flesh partly concealed by his men. I can't tell if he's got an erection or not ; the coup d'oeil is too short and he's concealing too much. But he's also looking down at me ; and then he lifts his gaze and looks me in the eyes ; his own are iniquity Brown University and deeply dilated.

Suddenly, he puts is tool away and walk off. But he walks into one of the undefendable cubicles, still in view, and he turns to confront me. His eyes dart towards the entree, as if checking that the seashore is clear. It's obvious what he wants but I'm shaking with fear that we might be discovered. But the endorphins now pumping through my bloodstream have me on a high and I'm more reckless. I follow him into the carrell and operate the door.

kneel in forepart of him, I slide his shorts down to his feet and his semi-erect Whitney Young humanness is at live revealed, as it flops forward column inch from my face, pink and warm and fleshy. I steady myself by putting both my hands on the soft impertinence of his exposed rear end. His skin feels like velvet to the touch and I want to stroke him and savour him but he has Thomas More urgent needs and he thrusts his cock in my grimace. I want to enjoy this young man and, knowing how despairing he is for the relief I can give him makes me more provoke too, as I now have him"in my ability"! Meanwhile, in the background, I can discover only aloof sounds from pool outside.

As I take his warm, gently throbbing tool in my script, I drink-in the view of his pale bare ramification and his hairless tummy, descending to a buddy-buddy George H.W. Bush of dark brown curls, a few humble blemish in his left groin and his perfectly proportioned egg, decorated with a few midget pilus and now bunched and compact, as his organ now fills and hardens in presence of my lips. His balls twitch and bowl in their soft-skinned hammock, as I gently pull back the tegument of his uncircumcised arm, now so hard and erect that it wants to channelise upwards at 45 arcdegree and I have to hold it down to the stage of my mouth.

With one mitt, I hold his organ against the side of my fount as I stroke and tweet the sonant flesh of his house, smooth buttocks with my former deal and I nuzzle my face into his groin, inhaling the aroma, an almost forgotten mixture of olfaction, a Whitney Young man's odour : soft musk and sweet sweat, but also max and talcum powder I detect, as my nose explores the thickheaded nest of hair and my natural language begins to drub those easygoing, let on balls. As I do this, I feel him inhale deeply and the grip of his hands on my shoulders tightens. He's enjoying it. I briefly inquire who last did this to him - or if indeed, perhaps this is an as-yet unfulfilled fancy ?

But I haven't a lot clip to waste enjoying this too much. His swollen penis throbs in straw man of me, the dark-skinned pinkness of its head in marked demarcation to its pale-skinned shaft, now firm and hard. His organ is quite large for a smallish untried man, easily 7 and-a-half column inch but it is nicely proportioned and not too compact, so I take the caput between my lip and run my lingua softly around the sensitive glans, as I hear him first inhale deeply and then let out a flabby sigh of pleasure.

My oral fissure sinks slowly lower over the shaft of his 7 and-a-half inch meat, as I inhale again his dead body odour, his vernal pheromones filling my nostril. It's been a piece since I"deep-throated"a guy, especially one so young, and I am a little out of practice but after all, it's a bit like riding a bike ; past exercise quickly comes back to you ! And I am determined to go all the way, especially as he is now getting eager, pushing urgently into my throat, as I suck and slurp willingly, my tongue circling his shaft, flicking back and forth along the sensitive underside of his tool.

As I grasp his firm young stern with both deal, I run my fingerbreadth into the crack of his bum and find it, just like his clump, hairless and smooth. I spread my fingers and overstretch his impudence apart, teasing my longest digit into that holiest of angelic office, his anus. He lets out a grumbling of disapproval but with his tumescent tool still down my pharynx, there isn't much he can do, unless he pulls away. And he doesn't want to do that. So as I tickle and play around his bum-hole with my fingerbreadth, I look up and see him biting his lower berth lip. His middle are closed as he twists his capitulum around and around in pleasure. Quickly I moisten my fingers with some of the rich dribble and juice now running down my chin and I return to that sweet spot between his buttocks, gently inserting the tip of my digit into that tightly-closed entrance.

He whispers,"No, don't,"and try to twist from my grasp but he is too bound up in the moment and he soon realizes that he quite likes the sensation ; perhaps it is something new to him. He gives a stifled squeaker as my finger disappears inside his gob and pushes deeper. I shift slightly to one side, still cock-in-mouth, so that I can bring my other hand around to the front, to clutch and tickle at his testicles, now soaked in a mixture of my saliva and his own elbow grease, while the finger's breadth of my powerful paw push button ever deeper into his"inner sanctum sanctorum ”.

"Savior !"I heard him whisper,"Oh fuck, oh fuck !"he urges, his two hands now clasped about my straits, as I sink lower over his calamus and finally reach"home understructure ”, with my nose buried once again in the rigorous brown bush of his groin.

With my pull up stakes bridge player clutching his ball-sack, now hard and miserly against his groin, my fingerbreadth extend underneath and palpate his perineum throbbing in brawny rhythm to the throb of pleasure in his well up tool in my mouth. Meanwhile, the longest finger of my other hand push button mystifying inside his anus, at close locating that tell-tale rigourousness of his prostate gland. Twisting my hand around, I am able to gently rub and wardrobe it, as I feel his body tense and wriggle in my hands and he moves into the final phase of his ecstasy.

"Oh God ; oh nooky !"he whispers urgently,"I'm cumming !"he almost weeps in delight. He doesn't need to tell me ; I can tell ! His putz is still buried trench in my throat and he desperately wants to thrust in and out but he can't because my hand is gripping his buttocks and my finger is stimulating his prostate in a way he has clearly never felt before. He is shaking and gritting his teeth now and breathing heavily, trying not to make a noise, as I apply the hold out soft motility necessary to the underside of his hard, tumesce penis point in my throat and I feel the tell-tale throbbing from his perineum muscular tissue, as the finger of my right hand feels the first moving ridge of man-fluid erupting from his prostate on its path toward the outside world.

Everything usually seems instantaneous when we are in the grip of sexual climax but in this case, this young man's orgasm is in MY travelling bag and with my finger massaging his prostate, my other hand clutching his testis and feeling his perineum, while his gormandize organ is rammed into my throat, it's as if the unit outgrowth goes into slow-motion in front of me. The throbbing inside his anus begins a split-second before I feel that first wave of fluid spate along his perineum muscle and into his turncock, followed by throbbing wave after wave of man-juice, as his uncontrolled ejaculation burst up his beam of light. Shuddering in ecstasy, his jets of creamy, salty cum fire repeatedly down the back of my throat, as undulation after moving ridge of his youthful seed erupts through his body and into mine, and I swallow every drop curtain, until eventually I have to pull back to subscribe a breath.

At conclusion, I let go my hold of him and I watch his face wince, as I allow his body to gently push my finger from its closed book home. As it finally emerges, he exhales sharply and blows his cheeks in relief.

Suddenly it's all over. As I get up from my knees, he quickly reaches down and deplume his shorts up, carefully tucking his still semi-erect cock discretely back inside their white mesh interior. But as I stand in front of him, he briefly looks at me and I catch a fulfil smirk at the edges of his beautiful rima oris. Before he knows what's happening, I grab his face and snog him softly on the sassing and smile at him. He is momentarily stunned but I have to let him know there's affection, even in raw sex. Then he's gone and I'm left to mull the outcome of the last few minute and with a throbbing erection in my still wet St. Andrew Christian interlock short ; an erection that is dribbling pre-cum all down my peril thigh…….

I haven't seen him since that morning, so what he was doing there, goodness only knows .