As I said before, I go swimming 3 prison term a workweek 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 Death on their high gear stools at each end of the pool. Nothing ever happens and they don't seem to give birth a lot to do. They're supposed to be life-guards but most of them are so Loretta Young that I do wonder what they would do if anything severe occurred. nous you, I must admit that the idea of any one of them snogging me back to the land of the living is enough to keep me going just a few more than lengths each clock 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 silence, between Christmastide and New twelvemonth and there are just 2 of us in the pool. As I cross towards the pocket billiards 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 prescribed pool turnout of red top and melanize shorts. Instead, he wears an orange T-shirt and a pair of blue nylon football game shorts.

He's quite young too ; he can't be much over 18, with a baby-soft facial expression and floppy disk brown pilus. I know, I should be ashamed of myself, a much onetime guy ogling a guy young enough to be his son, grandson even, but I can't avail it ! Anyway, he's sitting on the high stool at the shallow end, near the run, so as I walk towards him, I get a good tone, you know, up and down, the way you do, my glance lingering momentarily on the folds of colored blue nylon between his legs.

He sees me of course and it even seems, in my warp imagination, that his glance goes down for a moment, in the management 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 water pass through easily. What's more, they have no modestness bulge inside and as I swim, I love the feeling of the water around my completely free pecker and formal. The threefold layer of mesh is usually sufficient to avoid embarrassing any old lady but the pale coloured shorts do tend to be more telltale than the darker colours, especially when wet.

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

As I swim up and down the pool, I am spurred-on by the promise of another look at him each time I come back towards the shallow end. From the water, I get a prissy long view up at him as he sits on his pot with his leg crossed, his bare invertebrate foot resting on his other knee joint ; and I catch fleeting coup d'oeil up one leg of his iniquity blueing shorts, where the soft white skin of his bare leg disappears towards the darkness of his groin……

On one of my approaches, he is playing with one of the long pole with a safety hook on the end. There's an electric fan on the rampart high above him and he uses it to reach the transposition. As the lad twists around and stretches back on his ordure to extend his reach, my center skips a heartbeat as his T-shirt pulls up and expose 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 bay window in this way can look so……..arousing ?

A while later, one of the regular guys, his relief, comes along and"Orange T-shirt"gets down off his stool and manner of walking barefooted down the pool to the other guard-station for his next 20 minutes duty, while the guy there now goes off for his break. Today though, the former high commode is out of natural action and they are using an average credit card chair at the side of the consortium."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 chair, leg apart, close to the edge, so I have an even better view of him, his delicate fingerbreadth idly playing with that pole, now just in his hands between his pegleg. As I make my turn and come back past him, I can't help smiling to myself at the subconscious implication 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 point in the water to see at him, he sees me ; our eyes sports meeting and I realise that I have been"spotted ”.

On my following approach towards the deep-end, he's watching me at first but then he casts his gaze away more vacantly and yawning widely, stretching his implements of war in the air and his leg straight out in front of him towards the water. This has the effect of revealing his raw tum again while also pulling tight the textile across the front of his blue air shorts, emphasizing the bulge that lies within them.

As I approach my good turn at the deep-end and passport him again, he's sitting with his legs stretched out in front and his pes almost at the kitty's edge, his hands resting in his lap ; over that bump of gloomy nylon. As I swim back past him, he absently squeezes his bulge with the finger of one hand. But then I think to myself,"Surely he knows I can see him."

On the side by side glide slope, he feigns a yawn again and stretches but this time he brings one hand down inside the waist of his underdrawers and adjusts himself. We all know what happens ahead of time in the morning, when a guy yawns and stretches……. My tum leaps into my throat and I can feel my heart thumping hard in my chest at the intellection of his hired man having just touched his raise tool, now more comfortably repositioned to one side in his shorts.

I swim back towards the shallow end and calm down a little but I can feel my own erect cock inside my boxers as it pushes against the network of my short pants and that just gets me more aroused.

The side by side clock 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 hired hand nonchalantly slides to the open leg of his underdrawers and he pulls the material upwards towards his groin, as if to scrape an itch in his privileged second joint. The impression is to reveal to me, in direct line-of-sight, the albumen interlock protuberance inside his blue nylon drawers."My God !"I say to myself,"He's deliberately provoking me - but just how far is this little whore prepared to go ?"

By the clock time I reach the shallow end again, I am still shaking as I climb out of the pocket billiards and head teacher for the exhibitor, which are opposite the entrance to the men's bathroom. The exhibitor are communal and unisex, so I have to observe my shorts on."Just as well !"I think to myself. Then it happens.

He appears around the recession, his sack finished, and he stands momentarily at the entrance to the men's toilets, 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 centre is thumping into my chest and I am unsure what to do. I am a regular here. They know me. I decide to wait a moment or two and see if he comes out but he doesn't. The reflexive shower cuts 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 goes through my head that he is luring me to my doom just the Lapplander. And just like those bewitched bluejacket could not resist the siren's shout, I can't resist the temptation now - and I go into the men's toilet.

He's still standing at the urinal, his hands in nominal head of him and his shorts 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 take out my own semi-erect cock. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't pee at this mo ; all the muscles in that role 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 look at him and below the end of the orange T-shirt, I catch a tantalizing glimpse of his member, its wan pink flesh partly concealed by his hands. I can't tell if he's got an erecting 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 dark brown and deeply dilated.

Suddenly, he puts is tool away and take the air off. But he walks into one of the open carrel, still in vista, and he turns to face me. His eyes dart towards the entrance, as if checking that the seashore is crystallize. 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 heedless. I follow him into the booth and lock the door.

Kneeling in strawman of him, I slide his underdrawers down to his substructure and his semi-erect young manhood is at finish break, as it flops forward inches from my face, pinko and warm and fleshy. I brace myself by putting both my hands on the cushy cheeks of his queer buttocks. His skin smell like velvet to the touch and I want to stroke him and enjoy him but he has more urgent indigence and he thrusts his shaft in my side. I want to enjoy this young man and, knowing how desperate he is for the substitute I can pay him makes me more ablaze too, as I now have him"in my great power"! Meanwhile, in the background, I can hear only distant sounds from pond outside.

As I take his warm, gently throbbing cock in my helping hand, I drink-in the thought of his pale bare legs and his hairless tum, descending to a thick George W. Bush of dark brown curls, a few small blemishes in his provide inguen and his perfectly proportioned testicles, decorated with a few bantam fuzz and now bunched and compact, as his organ now fills and hardens in social movement of my lips. His testicle twitch and roll in their soft-skinned carrier bag, as I gently pull back the hide of his uncircumcised weapon, now so toilsome and erect that it wants to guide upwards at 45 level and I have to hold it down to the story of my mouth.

With one script, I hold his organ against the side of my face as I stroke and embrace the soft figure of his house, smooth buttocks with my other manus and I nuzzle my expression into his groin, inhaling the aroma, an almost block mixture of odor, a young man's flavour : delicate musk and sweet sweat, but also soap and talcum pulverization I detect, as my nose explores the thickly nest of haircloth and my tongue begins to solve those soft, scupper testicle. As I do this, I feel him inspire deeply and the grip of his hands on my articulatio humeri tightens. He's enjoying it. I briefly question who live on did this to him - or if indeed, perhaps this is an as-yet unfulfilled fantasy ?

But I haven't often meter to waste enjoying this too very much. His swollen penis throbs in presence of me, the shadow pinkness of its point in cross off dividing line to its pale-skinned ray, now firm and hard. His pipe organ is quite large for a smallish young man, easily 7 and-a-half in but it is nicely proportioned and not too slurred, so I take the head between my lip and run my tongue softly around the raw glans, as I hear him first inhale deeply and then let out a soft sigh of pleasure.

My mouth sinks slowly lower over the calamus of his 7 and-a-half inch meat, as I inhale again his dead body scents, his vernal pheromones filling my nostril. It's been a while since I"deep-throated"a guy, especially one so unseasoned, and I am a little out of practice but after all, it's a bit like riding a bike ; past practice 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 knife circling his ray of light, flicking back and forth along the sensitive underside of his tool.

As I grasp his firm youth cheek with both hands, I run my fingers into the fissure of his bum and bump it, just like his clump, hairless and smooth. I spread my fingers and pull his impudence apart, teasing my farsighted fingers into that holiest of honeyed post, his anus. He lets out a grumbling of disapproval but with his tumescent tool still down my throat, 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 fingers, I look up and see him biting his lower lip. His heart are closed as he twists his head teacher around and around in pleasure. Quickly I moisten my fingers with some of the plenteous drop and succus now running down my Kuki-Chin and I return to that sugared spot between his stern, gently inserting the tip of my finger into that tightly-closed entrance.

He whispers,"No, don't,"and try to wriggle from my range but he is too bound up in the import and he soon realizes that he quite likes the aesthesis ; perhaps it is something new to him. He gives a suffocate close call as my finger disappears inside his hole and button deeper. I shift slightly to one side of meat, still cock-in-mouth, so that I can bring my other hand around to the figurehead, to get hold of and tickle at his testicles, now soaked in a smorgasbord of my spittle and his own sudor, while the finger's breadth of my ripe helping hand pushes ever deeper into his"inner sanctum ”.

"Jesus !"I heard him voicelessness,"Oh fuck, oh fuck !"he urges, his two hands now clasped about my head, as I sink lower over his pecker and finally reach"home base ”, with my horn in buried once again in the tight John Brown pubic hair of his groin.

With my provide helping hand clutching his ball-sack, now hard and tight against his groin, my fingers extend underneath and feel his perineum throbbing in powerful calendar method to the throbs of pleasure in his swollen putz in my mouth. Meanwhile, the farseeing finger of my other script pushes abstruse inside his anus, at last emplacement that tell-tale severeness of his prostate secretor. Twisting my hired hand around, I am capable to gently rub and press it, as I feel his body tense and squirm in my hands and he moves into the last stage of his ecstasy.

"Oh God ; oh fuck !"he whispers urgently,"I'm cumming !"he almost weeps in pleasure. He doesn't need to secern me ; I can severalise ! His cock is still buried deep in my throat and he desperately wants to stuff in and out but he can't because my hand is gripping his arse and my finger is stimulating his prostate in a way he has clearly never felt before. He is shaking and gritting his dentition now and breathing heavily, trying not to make a racket, as I apply the last gentle movement requisite to the bottom of his heavy, egotistic phallus head in my throat and I feel the tell-tale throb from his perineum muscles, as the finger's breadth of my decent paw smell the initiative wave of man-fluid erupting from his prostate on its course toward the outside world.

Everything usually seems instant when we are in the grip of orgasm but in this case, this young man's orgasm is in MY grip and with my finger massaging his prostate, my early hand clutching his balls and feeling his perineum, while his engorged organ is rammed into my throat, it's as if the all process goes into slow-motion in straw man of me. The throbbing inside his anus begins a split-second before I feel that first Wave of fluid spate along his perineum muscularity and into his turncock, followed by throbbing wave after moving ridge of man-juice, as his uncontrolled ejaculation burst up his shaft. Shuddering in cristal, his honey oil of creamy, salty cum fire repeatedly down the back of my throat, as wafture after undulation of his vernal semen erupts through his body and into mine, and I swallow every drop, until eventually I have to pull back to take a breath.

At finis, I let go my hold of him and I watch his font flinch, as I allow his body to gently tug my finger from its secret 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 articulatio genus, he quickly reaches down and rive his shorts up, carefully tucking his still semi-erect peter discretely back inside their white interlock interior. But as I stand in front of him, he briefly looks at me and I catch a satisfied smirk at the edges of his beautiful mouth. Before he knows what's happening, I grab his face and kiss him softly on the lips and smile at him. He is momentarily stunned but I have to let him bonk there's warmheartedness, even in raw sex. Then he's gone and I'm left to ponder the aftermath of the last few minutes and with a throbbing erection in my still wet Andrew Christian mesh short pants ; an erecting that is dribbling pre-cum all down my exposed thigh…….

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