As I said before, I go swimming 3 times a week and at the prison term I go, the pool-boys are the solely eye-food worth looking at, sitting as they do, in their slinky shorts, bored to death on their senior high potty 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 well-nigh of them are so young that I do wonder what they would do if anything grave occurred. nous you, I must let in that the thought of any one of them snogging me back to the nation of the support is enough to keep me going just a few more duration each fourth dimension, in the Leslie Townes 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 Xmas and New Year and there are just 2 of us in the pond. As I cross towards the pool ladder, I notice a lad I haven't seen before, sitting in the precaution's chairwoman. He must be new because he doesn't have the prescribed syndicate turnout of red top and black short. Instead, he wears an orange tee shirt and a pair of blue nylon football game shorts.

He's quite offspring too ; he can't be much over 18, with a baby-soft face and diskette brown hair. I know, I should be ashamed of myself, a much older guy ogling a guy youth enough to be his son, grandson even, but I can't aid it ! Anyway, he's sitting on the high stool at the shallow end, near the ladder, so as I walk towards him, I get a well looking at, you know, up and down, the way you do, my glance lingering momentarily on the folds of glowering sorry nylon between his legs.

He sees me of course and it even seems, in my distort imagination, that his glance goes down for a consequence, in the direction of my own swimming shorts.

I like my Andrew Christian mesh topology shorts for swimming because they're loose around the groin 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 piss around my completely free cock and balls. The three-fold layer of network is usually sufficient to avoid embarrassing any old ladies but the pale coloured short do tend to be more uncover than the darker colours, especially when wet.

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

As I swim up and down the syndicate, 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 gracious long view up at him as he sits on his fecal matter with his leg crossed, his marginal foot resting on his former human knee ; and I catch fleeting glimpses up one leg of his dark blue sky shorts, where the lenient E. B. White skin of his bare leg disappears towards the shadow of his groin……

On one of my approaching, he is playing with one of the recollective poles with a safety hook on the end. There's an electric fan on the wall high above him and he uses it to reach the switch. As the lad crook around and stretch back on his throne to extend his reach, my heart skips a beat as his tee shirt pulls up and let out 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 seem so……..arousing ?

A spell later, one of the regular Guy, his relief, comes along and"Orange T-shirt"gets down off his stool and walkway barefooted down the pool to the other guard-station for his next 20 second duty, while the guy there now goes off for his break. Today though, the other high stool is out of legal action and they are using an ordinary plastic death chair at the face of the pool."orange T-shirt"sits down. He's still carrying the pole.

As I swim down the kitty towards the deep-end, he's sitting on the chair, stage apart, close to the edge, so I have an even better horizon of him, his touchy digit idly playing with that perch, now upright in his hands between his legs. As I make my go and number back past him, I can't help smiling to myself at the subconscious deduction and I quietly chide myself for wondering if he has masturbated this dawn 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 piss to reckon at him, he sees me ; our eyes meet and I realise that I have been"spotted ”.

On my following feeler towards the deep-end, he's watching me at first but then he casts his regard away more vacantly and yawning widely, stretching his arm in the air and his ramification straight out in battlefront of him towards the water. This has the effect of revealing his raw tummy again while also pulling tight the material across the front of his blue boxershorts, emphasizing the protrusion that lies within them.

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

On the next approach, he feigns a oscitancy again and stretches but this time he brings one hand down inside the shank of his underdrawers and adjusts himself. We all know what happens early on in the morning, when a guy oscitancy and stretches……. My stomach leaps into my throat and I can find my heart thumping hard in my thorax at the thought of his helping hand having just touched his vertical dick, now more comfortably repositioned to one side in his shorts.

I swim back towards the shallow end and calm down a slight but I can feel my own erect peter inside my shorts as it pushes against the mesh topology of my drawers and that just gets me More aroused.

The next 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 open leg of his shorts and he pulls the material upwards towards his groin, as if to fret an itch in his internal second joint. The effect is to reveal to me, in target line-of-sight, the white mesh bulge inside his blue nylon shorts."My God !"I say to myself,"He's deliberately provoking me - but just how far is this little cyprian prepared to go ?"

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

He appears around the recess, his switch finished, and he stands momentarily at the entrance to the men's gutter, 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 core is thumping into my thorax and I am shy what to do. I am a regular here. They know me. I decide to wait a mo or two and see if he comes out but he doesn't. The automatic shower cut off.

Year ago, sailors would differentiate narrative of men lured to their day of reckoning by temptress of the sea, mermaids. This boy's no mermaid but the intellection goes through my school principal that he is luring me to my doomsday just the same. And just like those bewitched sailors could not jib the siren'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 hands in front line 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 rooster. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't pee at this moment ; all the muscles in that part of my dead 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 pinko flesh partly concealed by his men. I can't tell if he's got an erecting or not ; the glance is too short and he's concealing too very much. But he's also looking down at me ; and then he lifts his gaze and looks me in the optic ; his own are dark John Brown and deeply dilated.

Suddenly, he puts is creature away and walk off. But he walks into one of the open cubicles, still in prospect, and he turns to face me. His optic dart towards the entryway, 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 more reckless. I follow him into the stall and lock the door.

kneeling in front of him, I slide his shorts down to his feet and his semi-erect untested manhood is at live break, as it flops forward in from my nerve, pink and warm and fleshy. I steady myself by putting both my paw on the cushy cheek of his exposed buttocks. His skin smell like velvet to the soupcon and I want to stroke him and enjoy him but he has more urgent pauperism and he thrusts his cock in my face. I want to relish this young man and, knowing how desperate he is for the moderation I can hold him makes me more aroused too, as I now have him"in my power"! Meanwhile, in the screen background, I can find out only distant sounds from pool outside.

As I take his warm, gently throbbing puppet in my hand, I drink-in the view of his picket bare leg and his hairless breadbasket, descending to a thick Vannevar Bush of dark John Brown curl, a few small blemishes in his left over groin and his perfectly proportioned testicle, decorated with a few lilliputian haircloth and now bunched and constrict, as his organ now fills and hardens in front of my mouth. His balls twitch and roll in their soft-skinned sack, as I gently pull back the skin of his uncircumcised weapon, now so intemperate and erect that it wants to point upwards at 45 degrees and I have to reserve it down to the spirit level of my mouth.

With one hand, I hold his organ against the side of my face as I stroke and squeeze the flabby human body of his firm, smooth buttocks with my other hand and I nuzzle my face into his seawall, inhaling the smell, an almost forgotten mixture of olfactory property, a young man's smells : gentle musk and sweet fret, but also liquid ecstasy and talcum gunpowder I detect, as my olfactory organ explores the thick nest of tomentum and my knife begins to lick those soft, exposed balls. As I do this, I feel him inhale deeply and the bag of his hands on my shoulder tightens. He's enjoying it. I briefly wonder who survive did this to him - or if indeed, perhaps this is an as-yet unfulfilled phantasy ?

But I haven't much meter to emaciate enjoying this too a great deal. His swollen penis throbbing in front of me, the dark pinkness of its head in marked direct contrast to its pale-skinned diaphysis, now firm and hard. His organ is quite tumid for a smallish young man, easily 7 and-a-half inch but it is nicely proportioned and not too dense, so I take the head between my lips and run my glossa softly around the sensitive glans, as I hear him first inhale deeply and then let out a soft sigh of pleasure.

My backtalk sump slowly depress over the light beam of his 7 and-a-half in nub, as I inhale again his soundbox scents, his young pheromones filling my anterior naris. It's been a while 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 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 pharynx, as I suck and slurp willingly, my tongue circling his tool, flicking back and forth along the sensitive bottom of his tool.

As I grasp his firm vernal buttocks with both hired man, I run my fingers into the crack of his bum and find it, just like his formal, hairless and smooth. I spread my finger and pull his cheeks apart, teasing my foresightful fingers into that holiest of sweet spots, his anus. He lets out a murmur 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 finger's breadth, I look up and see him biting his lower lip. His eyes are closed as he twists his forefront around and around in pleasure. Quickly I moisten my fingers with some of the plentiful dribble and succus now running down my Kuki-Chin and I return to that dessert spot between his buttocks, gently inserting the tip of my digit into that tightly-closed entrance.

He whispers,"No, don't,"and try to wriggle from my hold 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 squeak as my finger's breadth disappears inside his hole and pushing deeper. I shift slightly to one side, still cock-in-mouth, so that I can wreak my other bridge player around to the front line, to cling to and vellicate at his testicles, now soaked in a mixture of my saliva and his own fret, while the finger of my right paw thrust ever deeper into his"inner sanctum ”.

"Jesus !"I heard him whisper,"Oh ass, oh shag !"he urges, his two hands now clasped about my fountainhead, as I sink lowly over his shaft and finally reach"domicile base ”, with my scent buried once again in the compressed brown bush of his groin.

With my left hired hand clutching his ball-sack, now unvoiced and tight against his groin, my fingers extend underneath and find his perineum pounding in hefty rhythm method to the throbbing of pleasance in his swell up tool in my back talk. Meanwhile, the longest digit of my former hand push button deeply inside his anus, at last locating that tell-tale rigour of his prostate secreter. Twisting my bridge player around, I am able-bodied 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 fuck !"he whispers urgently,"I'm cumming !"he almost weeps in joy. He doesn't need to tell me ; I can tell ! His rooster is still buried deep in my throat and he desperately wants to force in and out but he can't because my hand is gripping his buttocks and my fingerbreadth 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 last gentle movement necessity to the underside of his operose, swollen penis head in my throat and I feel the tell-tale pounding from his perineum muscles, as the finger of my justly script feel the first Wave of man-fluid erupting from his prostate on its path toward the external world.

Everything usually seems instant when we are in the traction of climax but in this case, this young man's orgasm is in MY travelling bag and with my finger's breadth massaging his prostate, my other hand clutching his egg and feeling his perineum, while his overindulge organ is rammed into my throat, it's as if the whole process goes into slow-motion in strawman of me. The throbbing inside his anus begins a split-second before I feel that first off wafture of fluid spate along his perineum muscularity and into his cock, followed by throbbing wafture after wave of man-juice, as his uncontrolled ejaculations burst up his spear. Shuddering in ecstasy, his jets of creamy, salty cum fervidness repeatedly down the back of my throat, as wave after moving ridge of his vernal semen erupts through his body and into mine, and I swallow every drop cloth, until eventually I have to root for back to rent a breath.

At last, I let go my hold of him and I watch his grimace wince, as I allow his body to gently push my fingerbreadth from its secret domicile. As it finally emerges, he exhales sharply and blows his cheeks in relief.

Suddenly it's all over. As I get up from my stifle, he quickly reaches down and rip his shorts up, carefully tucking his still semi-erect cock discretely back inside their white mesh Interior Department. But as I stand in front end of him, he briefly looks at me and I catch a fulfil 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 grin 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 consequences of the live few minute of arc and with a throbbing erection in my still wet Saint Andrew Christian mesh shorts ; an erection that is dribbling pre-cum all down my peril thigh…….

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