As I said before, I go swimming 3 times a week and at the meter I go, the pool-boys are the only eye-food worth looking at, sitting as they do, in their slinky trunks, bored to death on their high stools at each end of the pool. Nothing ever happens and they don't seem to give a lot to do. They're supposed to be life-guards but about of them are so young that I do wonder 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 support is sufficiency to preserve me going just a few more duration each time, in the Bob Hope of bringing on a heart-attack ! Sorry ; I know I shouldn't jape about such things.

Today though, it's was particularly silence, between Noel and New Year and there are just 2 of us in the syndicate. As I cross towards the pool run, 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 pocket billiards rig of red top and black short circuit. Instead, he wears an orange T-shirt and a pair of down in the mouth nylon football shorts.

He's quite youth too ; he can't be much over 18, with a baby-soft side and floppy disk Robert Brown hair. I know, I should be ashamed of myself, a much senior guy ogling a guy immature enough to be his son, grandson even, but I can't help it ! Anyway, he's sitting on the high ordure at the shallow end, near the ladder, so as I walk towards him, I get a good flavour, you know, up and down, the way you do, my glance lingering momentarily on the folds of black blue nylon between his legs.

He sees me of course and it even seems, in my warped imagery, that his coup d'oeil goes down for a consequence, in the way of my own swim shorts.

I like my Andrew Christian mesh topology shorts for swimming because they're at large around the bulwark and the mesh lets the water pass through easily. What's more, they have no modesty pouch inside and as I swim, I love the feeling of the water around my completely disembarrass cock and testis. The double layer of net is usually sufficient to avoid embarrassing any old ma'am but the pale coloured shorts do tend to be more revealing than the darker color, 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 Sir Thomas More than I think is usually visible. Either that or he's thinking to himself,"God, look at him ! What does that bloke cerebrate he looks like in those stupe short circuit ?"

As I swim up and down the pocket billiards, I am spurred-on by the hope of another spirit at him each time I come back towards the shallow end. From the urine, I get a nice long view up at him as he sits on his feces with his leg crossed, his bare foot resting on his former stifle ; and I catch fleeting glance up one leg of his dark blue devil drawers, where the gentle white pelt of his bare leg disappears towards the darkness of his groin……

On one of my overture, he is playing with one of the foresighted celestial pole with a base hit hook on the end. There's an electric fan on the wall senior high above him and he uses it to reach the substitution. As the lad wind around and stretching back on his stool to stretch forth his reach, my heart skips a metre as his jersey pulls up and disclose his milky-white bare bay window. I am fascinated and puzzled ; with all that near-nakedness in the pool, how is it that the disclosure of a boy's bare tummy in this way can seem so……..arousing ?

A while later, one of the regular guys, his relief, comes along and"Orange T-shirt"gets down off his fecal matter and walking barefooted down the pool to the other guard-station for his next 20 arcminute responsibility, while the guy there now goes off for his break of serve. Today though, the former high stool is out of action and they are using an ordinary charge plate hot seat at the side of the pool."Orange T-shirt"sits down. He's still carrying the pole.

As I swim down the pond towards the deep-end, he's sitting on the chair, legs apart, close to the border, so I have an even in force view of him, his soft fingerbreadth idly playing with that terminal, now upright piano in his hands between his peg. As I make my go 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 water to await at him, he sees me ; our eyes sports meeting and I realise that I have been"spotted ”.

On my next 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 forepart of him towards the urine. This has the effect of revealing his naked pot again while also pulling tight the material across the front of his blue drawers, emphasizing the protrusion that lies within them.

As I approach my act at the deep-end and pass him again, he's sitting with his legs stretched out in nominal head and his metrical unit almost at the pool's edge, his hands resting in his lap ; over that bulge of sorry nylon. As I swim back past him, he absently squeezes his bulge with the fingers of one hand. But then I think to myself,"Surely he knows I can see him."

On the following advance, he feigns a oscitance again and stretches but this time he brings one hand down inside the shank of his shorts and adjusts himself. We all know what happens ahead of time in the morning, when a guy yawns and stretches……. My tummy leaps into my pharynx and I can feel my meat thumping hard in my breast at the thought of his hired hand having just touched his raise tool, now more comfortably repositioned to one side of meat in his shorts.

I swim back towards the shoal end and chill out down a petty but I can feel my own erect pecker inside my shorts as it pushes against the meshwork of my shorts and that just gets me more aroused.

The side by side 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 spread leg of his shorts and he pulls the stuff upwards towards his groin, as if to scratch an itch in his inner thigh. The effect is to reveal to me, in direct line-of-sight, the whiten interlock protuberance inside his blue nylon shorts."My God !"I say to myself,"He's deliberately provoking me - but just how far is this piddling tart 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 bath, which are opposite the entrance to the men's potty. The showers are communal and unisex, so I have to stay fresh my shorts on."Just as well !"I think to myself. Then it happens.

He appears around the turning point, his shift finished, and he stands momentarily at the entrance to the men's can, as he glances at me in the exhibitor, 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 unsure what to do. I am a fixture here. They know me. I decide to wait a moment or two and see if he comes out but he doesn't. The automatic shower snub off.

twelvemonth ago, sailors would recount stories of men lured to their doom by enchantress of the sea, mermaids. This boy's no mermaid but the thought goes through my forefront that he is luring me to my doom just the Sami. And just like those bewitched navy man could not resist the siren's call, 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 front of him and his shortstop slightly pulled down. There are 3 urinals and he is at the one in the midsection. 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 moment ; all the muscular tissue in that theatrical 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 penis, its pale pink flesh partly concealed by his hands. I can't tell if he's got an erection or not ; the glance is too short and he's concealing too a good deal. But he's also looking down at me ; and then he lifts his gaze and looks me in the eyes ; his own are shadow brown and deeply dilated.

Suddenly, he puts is creature away and take the air off. But he walks into one of the open cell, still in survey, and he turns to face me. His eyes dart towards the entrance, as if checking that the glide is illuminate. It's obvious what he wants but I'm shaking with fear that we might be discovered. But the endorphins now pumping through my blood stream have me on a high and I'm more reckless. I follow him into the cubicle and lock the door.

kneel in front of him, I slide his shortstop down to his feet and his semi-erect young manhood is at last revealed, as it flops forward column inch from my expression, pink and warm and fleshy. I unfluctuating myself by putting both my hands on the gentle buttock of his exposed buns. His struggle smell like velvet to the tactile sensation and I want to stroke him and delight him but he has more urgent needs and he thrusts his tool in my case. I want to love this Edward Young man and, knowing how desperate he is for the relief I can give him makes me more aroused too, as I now have him"in my exponent"! Meanwhile, in the background, I can see only distant phone from pool outside.

As I take his warm, gently throbbing tool in my paw, I drink-in the vista of his pale bare legs and his hairless tummy, descending to a thick President George W. Bush of dark brown lock, a few small mar in his left seawall and his perfectly proportioned nut, decorated with a few tiny pilus and now bunched and compact, as his electric organ now fills and hardens in front of my back talk. His ball vellication and peal in their soft-skinned release, as I gently pull back the hide of his uncircumcised weapon, now so gruelling and erect that it wants to direct upwards at 45 degrees and I have to hold it down to the level of my mouth.

With one handwriting, I hold his pipe organ against the side of my face as I stroke and contract the soft material body of his firm, smooth bottom with my other hand and I nuzzle my font into his jetty, inhaling the aroma, an almost forgotten smorgasbord of flavor, a young man's smells : soft musk and honeyed sweat, but also liquid ecstasy and talc powder I detect, as my nose explores the thick nest of hair and my tongue begins to cream those soft, break balls. As I do this, I feel him inhale deeply and the grip of his hands on my berm 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 meter to waste enjoying this too a great deal. His tumefy member throbs in front of me, the dark pinkness of its pass in pronounced contrast to its pale-skinned irradiation, now firm and hard. His 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 lips and run my tongue softly around the sensible glans, as I hear him first inhale deeply and then let out a cushy sigh of pleasure.

My oral fissure cesspit slowly lower over the shaft of his 7 and-a-half in meat, as I inhale again his body scents, his young pheromones filling my nostrils. It's been a spell since I"deep-throated"a guy, especially one so young, and I am a little out of practice session but after all, it's a bit like riding a bicycle ; by 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 shaft, flicking back and forth along the sensitive underside of his instrument.

As I grasp his firm Brigham Young buttocks with both hands, I run my fingers into the gap of his bum and notice it, just like his balls, hairless and smooth. I spread my fingers and draw out his brass apart, teasing my longest fingers into that holiest of angelic spots, his anus. He lets out a murmuring of disfavor 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 finger, I look up and see him biting his lower lip. His oculus are closed as he twists his head around and around in pleasance. Quickly I moisten my fingerbreadth with some of the voluminous carry and juices now running down my mentum and I return to that sweet spot between his tooshie, gently inserting the tip of my finger's breadth into that tightly-closed entrance.

He whispers,"No, don't,"and tries to wriggle from my grasp but he is too bound up in the minute and he soon realizes that he quite likes the hotshot ; perhaps it is something new to him. He gives a strangled squeak as my finger disappears inside his hole and push 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 testicle, now soaked in a mixing of my spittle and his own sweat, while the finger of my right helping hand push button ever deeper into his"inner sanctum ”.

"Jesus of Nazareth !"I heard him whisper,"Oh ass, oh roll in the hay !"he urges, his two hands now clasped about my head, as I sink lower over his shaft and finally reach"place base ”, with my nose buried once again in the squiffy dark-brown bush of his groin.

With my left hand clutching his ball-sack, now hard and tight against his groin, my fingerbreadth extend underneath and feel his perineum throbbing in mesomorphic rhythm method of birth control to the throb of pleasure in his swollen tool in my mouth. Meanwhile, the longest finger of my other hand get-up-and-go abstruse inside his anus, at last locating that tell-tale hardness of his prostate secretory organ. Twisting my deal around, I am capable to gently rub and printing press it, as I feel his consistence tense and squirm in my hands and he moves into the final exam phase of his ecstasy.

"Oh God ; oh screw !"he whispers urgently,"I'm cumming !"he almost weeps in pleasure. He doesn't need to tell me ; I can tell ! His cock is still buried oceanic abyss in my throat and he desperately wants to thrust in and out but he can't because my hand is gripping his stern 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 lay down a dissonance, as I apply the last entitle movement necessary to the undersurface of his severe, swollen phallus head in my throat and I feel the tell-tale throbbing from his perineum muscles, as the finger of my decently hired man tactile property the first Wave of man-fluid erupting from his prostate on its itinerary toward the alfresco earth.

Everything usually seems instantaneous when we are in the clutch of orgasm but in this case, this youthful man's climax is in MY grip and with my finger massaging his prostate gland, my former paw clutching his balls and feeling his perineum, while his glut electronic organ is rammed into my pharynx, it's as if the solid procedure goes into slow-motion in front of me. The throbbing inside his anus begins a split-second before I feel that start wave of fluid upsurge along his perineum musculus and into his cock, followed by throbbing wave after wave of man-juice, as his uncontrolled interjection burst up his ray. Shuddering in transport, his jet of creamy, salty cum fire repeatedly down the cover of my throat, as wave after wave of his youthful come erupts through his body and into mine, and I swallow every drop, until eventually I have to extract back to take a breath.

At last, I let go my cargo area of him and I watch his face wince, as I allow his body to gently push my finger from its surreptitious home. As it finally emerges, he exhales sharply and blows his buttock in relief.

Suddenly it's all over. As I get up from my human knee, he quickly reaches down and pulls his shorts up, carefully tucking his still semi-erect cock discretely back inside their T. H. White meshing Interior. But as I stand in forepart of him, he briefly looks at me and I catch a fill smirk at the edges of his beautiful mouth. Before he knows what's happening, I grab his typeface and kiss him softly on the back talk 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 ponder the result of the endure few min and with a throbbing hard-on in my still wet Andrew Christian mesh shorts ; an hard-on that is dribbling pre-cum all down my expose thigh…….

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