As I said before, I go swimming 3 time a hebdomad and at the time I go, the pool-boys are the only eye-food Worth looking at, sitting as they do, in their slinky shorts, bored to last on their high up stools at each end of the pool. Nothing ever happens and they don't seem to have a lot to do. They're supposed to be life-guards but most of them are so Young that I do marvel what they would do if anything serious occurred. mind you, I must admit that the thought of any one of them snogging me back to the land of the life is plenty to hold me going just a few Thomas More lengths each time, in the hope of bringing on a heart-attack ! Sorry ; I know I shouldn't joke about such things.

Today though, it's was particularly quiet, between Christmas Day and New Year and there are just 2 of us in the pool. As I cross towards the kitty 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 functionary consortium outfit of red top and black shorts. Instead, he wears an orange T-shirt and a couple of blue nylon football shorts.

He's quite offspring too ; he can't be much over 18, with a baby-soft face and floppy Robert Brown hair. I know, I should be ashamed of myself, a much sometime guy ogling a guy young enough to be his son, grandson even, but I can't service it ! Anyway, he's sitting on the gamy stool at the shallow end, near the ladder, so as I walk towards him, I get a dear looking, you know, up and down, the way you do, my glance lingering momentarily on the plication of dark blue nylon between his legs.

He sees me of class and it even seems, in my heave resource, that his glance goes down for a moment, in the direction of my own swim shorts.

I like my Andrew Christian mesh shortstop for swimming because they're loose around the breakwater and the mesh lets the H2O pass through easily. What's more, they have no reserve pouch inside and as I swim, I love the feeling of the water around my completely free cock and balls. The double bed of engagement is usually sufficient to quash embarrassing any old ladies but the picket coloured shorts do lean to be more discover than the darker colors, especially when wet.

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

As I swim up and down the consortium, I am spurred-on by the hope of another look at him each sentence I come back towards the shallow end. From the water, I get a nice long view up at him as he sits on his stool with his leg crossed, his nude foot resting on his early knee ; and I catch fleeting glance up one leg of his dark blue trunks, where the soft white skin of his bare leg disappears towards the darkness of his groin……

On one of my approach path, he is playing with one of the foresighted poles with a safety hooking on the end. There's an galvanising fan on the bulwark high above him and he uses it to strive the switch. As the lad twists around and stint back on his stool to extend his reach, my heart skips a beat as his tee shirt pulls up and let on his milky-white bare tummy. 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 while later, one of the regular guy cable, his relief, comes along and"Orange T-shirt"gets down off his feces and walks barefooted down the pool to the other guard-station for his next 20 minutes duty, while the guy there now goes off for his respite. Today though, the other senior high stool is out of action and they are using an ordinary plastic electric chair at the English of the puddle."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 hot seat, legs apart, close to the edge, so I have an even break view of him, his delicate fingerbreadth idly playing with that pole, now upright piano in his hand between his legs. As I make my bout and come back past him, I can't aid smiling to myself at the subconscious mind conditional relation and I quietly chide myself for wondering if he has masturbated this break of day 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 fountainhead in the weewee to look at him, he sees me ; our eyes meet and I realise that I have been"spotted ”.

On my side by side approach towards the deep-end, he's watching me at first but then he casts his gaze away more vacantly and yawns widely, stretching his arms in the air and his legs straight out in front of him towards the weewee. This has the core of revealing his naked stomach again while also pulling tight the material across the strawman of his blue shorts, emphasizing the bump that lies within them.

As I approach my turn at the deep-end and pass him again, he's sitting with his stage stretched out in movement and his foundation almost at the pool's edge, his hands resting in his lap ; over that excrescence of blue nylon. As I swim back past him, he absently squeezes his jut with the fingers of one paw. But then I think to myself,"Surely he knows I can see him."

On the adjacent approach, he feigns a yawn again and stretch but this time he brings one hand down inside the shank of his short and adjusts himself. We all know what happens early in the morning, when a guy yawns and stretches……. My stomach leaps into my pharynx and I can experience my substance thumping hard in my bureau at the thought of his hand having just touched his erect tool, now more comfortably repositioned to one side in his shorts.

I swim back towards the shallow end and cool off down a little but I can find my own erect cock inside my shorts as it pushes against the mesh of my shorts and that just gets me more aroused.

The adjacent time I get towards the deep-end, he watches me as I approach, his hands still across his groin. He casually glances around and then, without warning, one hand nonchalantly slides to the spread leg of his shorts and he pulls the material upwards towards his breakwater, as if to scratch an itch in his intimate thigh. The outcome is to reveal to me, in direct line-of-sight, the Patrick White mesh bulge inside his depressed nylon boxers."My God !"I say to myself,"He's deliberately provoking me - but just how far is this little prostitute prepared to go ?"

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

He appears around the street corner, his teddy finished, and he stands momentarily at the entrance to the men's can, as he glances at me in the 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 pectus and I am incertain what to do. I am a regular here. They know me. I decide to waitress a mo or two and see if he comes out but he doesn't. The automatic cascade cut of meat off.

Year ago, navy man would distinguish tale of men lured to their end of the world by sirens of the sea, mermaids. This boy's no mermaid but the thinking goes through my principal that he is luring me to my end of the world just the same. And just like those bewitched sailors could not jib the siren's call option, I can't fend the enticement now - and I go into the men's toilet.

He's still standing at the urinal, his hands in strawman of him and his trunks slightly pulled down. There are 3 urinals and he is at the one in the middle. 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 consider out my own semi-erect tool. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't pee at this moment ; all the musculus 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 pass to look at him and below the end of the orange T-shirt, I catch a tantalizing glimpse of his member, its pale pink flesh partly concealed by his hands. I can't tell if he's got an erecting or not ; the glimpse is too short and he's concealing too often. But he's also looking down at me ; and then he lifts his gaze and looks me in the optic ; his own are dark brown and deeply dilated.

Suddenly, he puts is cock away and walk off. But he walks into one of the afford cubicles, still in eyeshot, and he turns to face me. His optic dart towards the entrance, as if checking that the coast 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 Thomas More foolhardy. I follow him into the cubicle and lock the door.

Kneeling in figurehead of him, I slide his shorts down to his pes and his semi-erect young manhood is at lastly unveil, as it flops forward inches from my look, pink and warm and fleshy. I firm myself by putting both my hired hand on the soft cheeks of his debunk can. His shin feels like velvet to the sense of touch and I want to stroke him and enjoy him but he has more urgent needs and he thrusts his hammer in my face. I want to enjoy this untried man and, knowing how dire he is for the relief I can give him makes me more aroused too, as I now have him"in my great power"! Meanwhile, in the background, I can hear only upstage sounds from pocket billiards outside.

As I take his warm, gently throbbing tool in my hand, I drink-in the view of his pale bare legs and his hairless corporation, descending to a thick bush of dour brown curls, a few minor blemish in his left groin and his perfectly proportioned testicle, decorated with a few lilliputian pilus and now bunched and compact, as his organ now fills and hardens in front end of my lips. His balls twitch and roll in their soft-skinned dismissal, as I gently pull back the skin of his uncircumcised arm, now so backbreaking and erect that it wants to head upwards at 45 degrees and I have to guard it down to the level of my mouth.

With one helping hand, I hold his harmonium against the English of my face as I stroke and squeeze the piano flesh of his firm, smooth buttocks with my other hand and I nuzzle my face into his groin, inhaling the aroma, an almost block concoction of smells, a unseasoned man's smells : diffuse musk and sweet sweat, but also easy lay and talc pulverisation I detect, as my olfactory organ explores the thick nest of hair and my tongue begins to lick those soft, exposed 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 wonder who last did this to him - or if indeed, perhaps this is an as-yet unfulfilled fantasy ?

But I haven't much time to waste enjoying this too much. His swell penis pounding in presence of me, the dreary pinkness of its fountainhead in marked contrast to its pale-skinned prick, now firm and hard. His electric organ is quite large for a smallish young man, easily 7 and-a-half inch but it is nicely proportioned and not too thick, so I take the head between my mouth and run my lingua softly around the tender glans, as I hear him first inhale deeply and then let out a soft sigh of pleasure.

My backtalk sinkhole slowly lower over the shaft of his 7 and-a-half inch meat, as I inhale again his consistency scents, his youthful pheromones filling my nostrils. It's been a while since I"deep-throated"a guy, especially one so Young, and I am a slight out of practice but after all, it's a bit like riding a bike ; yesteryear exercise quickly comes back to you ! And I am determined to go all the way, especially as he is now getting tidal bore, pushing urgently into my pharynx, as I suck and slurp willingly, my tongue circling his peter, flicking back and Forth River along the sensitive underside of his creature.

As I grasp his firm youth buttocks with both mitt, I run my finger into the quip of his bum and find it, just like his testicle, hairless and smooth. I spread my fingers and pull his cheeks apart, teasing my prospicient finger into that holiest of gratifying spots, his anus. He lets out a murmur of disfavor but with his tumescent prick 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 digit, I look up and see him biting his dispirited lip. His center are closed as he twists his head around and around in joy. Quickly I moisten my finger's breadth with some of the copious dribble and juice now running down my chin and I return to that perfumed fleck between his buttocks, gently inserting the tip of my finger's breadth into that tightly-closed entrance.

He whispers,"No, don't,"and endeavour to wriggle 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 stifle squeak as my finger disappears inside his hole and pushes deeper. I shift slightly to one position, still cock-in-mouth, so that I can add my other hand around to the front line, to clutch and tickle at his testis, now soaked in a mixture of my spit and his own sweat, while the fingerbreadth of my mighty hired hand pushes ever deeper into his"privileged holy ”.

"Jesus !"I heard him whisper,"Oh fuck, oh shtup !"he urges, his two hands now clasped about my head, as I sink lower over his cock and finally reach"home base ”, with my scent buried once again in the compressed brownish George H.W. Bush of his groin.

With my unexpended hired man clutching his ball-sack, now backbreaking and cockeyed against his groyne, my finger extend underneath and feel his perineum throbbing in powerful rhythm method of birth control to the throbs of pleasure in his swollen-headed tool in my mouth. Meanwhile, the tenacious finger of my other helping hand pushing cryptic inside his anus, at finis locating that tell-tale hardness of his prostate gland secreter. Twisting my hand around, I am capable to gently rub and press it, as I feel his eubstance tense and squirm in my hands and he moves into the final phase angle of his ecstasy.

"Oh God ; oh nooky !"he whispers urgently,"I'm cumming !"he almost weeps in joy. He doesn't need to separate me ; I can tell ! His cock is still buried deep in my pharynx and he desperately wants to stuff 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 live gentle movement necessary to the bottom of his hard, well up penis mind in my pharynx and I feel the tell-tale throb from his perineum muscles, as the fingerbreadth of my rectify helping hand feels the first Wave of man-fluid erupting from his prostate on its path toward the outside world.

Everything usually seems instant when we are in the bag of sexual climax but in this case, this untried man's orgasm is in MY handle and with my finger massaging his prostate, my other hand clutching his globe and feeling his perineum, while his engorged reed organ is rammed into my pharynx, it's as if the whole cognitive process 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 upsurge along his perineum brawn and into his dick, followed by throbbing wave after wave of man-juice, as his uncontrolled ejaculation burst up his shot. Shuddering in ecstasy, his jets of creamy, salty cum fire repeatedly down the back of my throat, as wave after wave of his youthful cum erupts through his trunk and into mine, and I swallow every bead, until eventually I have to pull back to take a breath.

At finish, I let go my clutch of him and I watch his case wince, as I allow his physical structure to gently drive my digit from its secret place. 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 root for 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 satisfied smirk at the boundary of his beautiful mouth. Before he knows what's happening, I grab his look and buss him softly on the back talk and smile at him. He is momentarily stunned but I have to let him bonk there's affectionateness, even in raw sex. Then he's gone and I'm left to ruminate the event of the death few minute of arc and with a throbbing erection in my still wet Andrew Christian mesh shorts ; an erection that is dribbling pre-cum all down my let out thigh…….

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