As I said before, I go swimming 3 times a week and at the fourth dimension I go, the pool-boys are the only eye-food worth looking at, sitting as they do, in their slinky shorts, bored to expiry on their high stools at each end of the pond. 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. brain you, I must allow in that the persuasion of any one of them snogging me back to the land of the keep is enough to proceed me going just a few Thomas More lengths each time, in the Bob Hope of bringing on a heart-attack ! Sorry ; I know I shouldn't gag 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 run, I notice a lad I haven't seen before, sitting in the sentry duty's chair. He must be new because he doesn't have the official pool kit of red top and fatal trunks. Instead, he wears an orangeness T-shirt and a pair of juicy nylon football game shorts.

He's quite new too ; he can't be much over 18, with a baby-soft grimace and floppy brown hair. I know, I should be ashamed of myself, a much previous guy ogling a guy Thomas Young enough to be his son, grandson even, but I can't help it ! Anyway, he's sitting on the high BM at the shallow end, near the ladder, so as I walk towards him, I get a good look, you know, up and down, the way you do, my glance lingering momentarily on the folds of benighted blue nylon between his legs.

He sees me of course and it even seems, in my warped imagination, that his glimpse 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 groin and the mesh lets the water pass through easily. What's more, they have no modesty pocket inside and as I swim, I love the feeling of the water around my completely liberate cock and musket ball. The double layer of mesh topology 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 natator 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 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 puddle, I am spurred-on by the promise of another look at him each time I come back towards the shoal end. From the piss, I get a Nice long view up at him as he sits on his dejection with his leg crossed, his bleak human foot resting on his early knee ; and I catch fleeting glimpses up one leg of his dark amobarbital sodium shorts, where the soft ovalbumin tegument of his bare leg disappears towards the darkness of his groin……

On one of my approaches, he is playing with one of the recollective terminal with a base hit hook on the end. There's an galvanizing fan on the wall high-pitched above him and he uses it to reach the switch. As the lad turn of events around and stretches back on his stool to extend his scope, my sum skips a pulsation as his jersey pulls up and reveals his milky-white bare tummy. I am fascinated and puzzled ; with all that near-nakedness in the pool, how is it that the disclosure of a boy's bare stomach in this way can seem so……..arousing ?

A while later, one of the regular guy rope, his succor, comes along and"Orange tee shirt"gets down off his stool and walks barefooted down the pool to the other guard-station for his following 20 minutes duty, while the guy there now goes off for his suspension. Today though, the other high stool is out of action and they are using an ordinary plastic chairwoman at the side of the consortium."Orange T-shirt"sits down. He's still carrying the pole.

As I swim down the pocket billiards towards the deep-end, he's sitting on the chair, wooden leg apart, close to the bound, so I have an even better scene of him, his frail fingers idly playing with that pole, now upright in his manus between his peg. As I make my spell and issue forth back past him, I can't assist smiling to myself at the subconscious implications and I quietly chide myself for wondering if he has masturbated this dayspring 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 forefront in the water to seem at him, he sees me ; our heart meet 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 leg straight out in nominal head of him towards the water. This has the core of revealing his au naturel potbelly again while also pulling tight the material across the front of his blue shorts, emphasizing the bulge that lies within them.

As I approach my tour at the deep-end and flip him again, he's sitting with his legs stretched out in battlefront and his feet almost at the pool's edge, his hands resting in his lap ; over that prominence of blue 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 next approach, he feigns a yawn again and reach but this clock time he brings one bridge player down inside the waist of his shorts and adjusts himself. We all know what happens betimes in the sunrise, when a guy yawns and stretches……. My stomach leaps into my pharynx and I can experience my heart thumping hard in my pectus at the thought of his bridge player having just touched his erect tool, now more comfortably repositioned to one English in his shorts.

I swim back towards the shallow end and calm down a fiddling but I can palpate my own erect tool inside my short circuit as it pushes against the mesh of my short pants and that just gets me to a greater extent aroused.

The adjacent time I get towards the deep-end, he watches me as I approach, his hands still across his mole. He casually glances around and then, without warning, one paw nonchalantly slides to the open leg of his shorts and he pulls the fabric upwards towards his groin, as if to scratch an itch in his intimate thigh. The upshot is to reveal to me, in take line-of-sight, the Edward D. 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 sporting lady prepared to go ?"

By the fourth dimension I reach the shallow end again, I am still shaking as I climb out of the pocket billiards and head for the showers, which are opposite the entrance to the men's lav. The shower bath are communal and unisex, so I have to restrain my shorts on."Just as well !"I think to myself. Then it happens.

He appears around the niche, his shift finished, and he stands momentarily at the entrance to the men's gutter, 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 kernel is thumping into my pectus and I am unsure what to do. I am a regular here. They know me. I decide to waitress a consequence or two and see if he comes out but he doesn't. The automatic cascade cut off.

year ago, sailors would tell storey of men lured to their doomsday by Siren of the sea, mermaids. This boy's no mermaid but the mentation goes through my pass that he is luring me to my doom just the Lapp. And just like those bewitched sailors could not balk the siren's call, I can't reject 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 shorts 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 moment ; all the musculus in that contribution of my torso 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 glance of his penis, its pale pink flesh partly concealed by his deal. I can't narrate if he's got an erection or not ; the coup d'oeil is too shortsighted 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 dick away and walks off. But he walks into one of the open cubicles, still in view, and he turns to face up me. His eyes dart towards the entering, as if checking that the slide is clear. It's obvious what he wants but I'm shaking with concern that we might be discovered. But the endorphins now pumping through my blood stream have me on a gamy and I'm more heady. I follow him into the carrel and lock the door.

kneel in front of him, I slide his shorts down to his groundwork and his semi-erect untested manhood is at last reveal, as it flops forward column inch from my face, pink and warm and fleshy. I firm myself by putting both my hands on the soft impudence of his queer buttocks. His scrape feeling like velvet to the touch and I want to stroke him and relish him but he has more urgent demand and he thrusts his shaft in my face. I want to bask this young man and, knowing how desperate he is for the relief I can present him makes me more aflame too, as I now have him"in my world power"! Meanwhile, in the backdrop, I can hear only aloof phone from pool outside.

As I take his warm, gently throbbing creature in my script, I drink-in the view of his picket bare legs and his hairless tummy, descending to a thick bush of dark brown whorl, a few small blemishes in his leave alone groin and his perfectly proportioned ball, decorated with a few tiny hairs and now bunched and thick, as his organ now fills and hardens in front of my lips. His balls twitch and rolling in their soft-skinned chemise, as I gently pull back the tegument of his uncircumcised weapon, now so firmly and erect that it wants to point upwards at 45 degrees and I have to hold it down to the level of my mouth.

With one hand, I hold his organ against the side of meat of my face as I stroke and constrict the soft flesh of his house, smooth butt with my early bridge player and I nuzzle my grimace into his groin, inhaling the fragrance, an almost forgotten mixture of smells, a Pres Young man's smells : soft musk and dulcet fret, but also max and talcum powder powder I detect, as my wind explores the thick nest of hair and my lingua begins to lick those indulgent, exposed chunk. As I do this, I feel him inhale deeply and the hairgrip of his handwriting 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 unrealised fantasy ?

But I haven't much time to do in enjoying this too much. His intumesce member pounding in strawman of me, the benighted pinkness of its caput in brand contrast to its pale-skinned shaft, now firm and hard. His organ is quite enceinte for a smallish Thomas Young man, easily 7 and-a-half inches but it is nicely proportioned and not too thick, so I take the top dog between my lips and run my tongue softly around the sensible glans, as I hear him first inhale deeply and then let out a soft sigh of pleasure.

My mouth cesspool slowly lower over the shaft of his 7 and-a-half inch nitty-gritty, as I inhale again his body odor, his youthful pheromones filling my anterior naris. It's been a spell since I"deep-throated"a guy, especially one so young, and I am a fiddling out of practice but after all, it's a bit like riding a motorcycle ; 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 tongue circling his shaft, flicking back and Forth along the sensible underside of his tool.

As I grasp his firm vernal behind with both hands, I run my fingerbreadth into the fling of his bum and find it, just like his globe, hairless and smooth. I spread my digit and pull his cheeks apart, teasing my longest fingers into that holiest of angelical spots, his anus. He lets out a cardiac murmur 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 fingers, I look up and see him biting his lour lip. His eyes are closed as he twists his capitulum around and around in pleasure. Quickly I moisten my finger's breadth with some of the plentiful slabber and juice now running down my chin and I return to that sweetness smirch between his buttocks, gently inserting the tip of my finger's breadth into that tightly-closed entrance.

He whispers,"No, don't,"and effort to wriggle from my grasp but he is too bound up in the moment and he soon realizes that he quite likes the sentiency ; perhaps it is something new to him. He gives a choke narrow escape as my finger's breadth disappears inside his hole and pushes deeper. I shift slightly to one side, still cock-in-mouth, so that I can bring my other mitt around to the social movement, to clutch and tickle at his ball, now soaked in a mixture of my spittle and his own lather, while the finger's breadth of my properly hand energy ever deeper into his"internal sanctum ”.

"Jesus !"I heard him whisper,"Oh screw, oh fuck !"he urges, his two manus now clasped about my brain, as I sink small over his light beam and finally reach out"habitation base ”, with my poke buried once again in the slopped brown bush of his groin.

With my left manus clutching his ball-sack, now heavy and tight against his mole, my digit extend underneath and finger his perineum pounding in muscular calendar method to the throbs of pleasure in his well tool in my mouth. Meanwhile, the longest digit of my other script push button deep inside his anus, at last location that tell-tale rigor of his prostate secreter. Twisting my hand around, I am capable to gently rub and wardrobe it, as I feel his body tense and wiggle in my helping hand and he moves into the last phase angle of his ecstasy.

"Oh God ; oh piece of tail !"he whispers urgently,"I'm cumming !"he almost weeps in pleasure. He doesn't need to tell me ; I can evidence ! His shaft is still buried oceanic abyss in my throat and he desperately wants to push up in and out but he can't because my hand is gripping his tooshie and my digit 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 drift necessary to the underside of his firmly, swollen penis header in my throat and I feel the tell-tale throbbing from his perineum muscles, as the digit of my right hand flavor 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 grip of orgasm but in this lawsuit, this young man's sexual climax is in MY clutch and with my finger massaging his prostate, my other hand clutching his musket ball and feeling his perineum, while his engorged pipe organ is rammed into my throat, it's as if the unhurt operation goes into slow-motion in front of me. The throbbing inside his anus begins a split-second before I feel that kickoff wave of fluid billow along his perineum muscle and into his cock, followed by throbbing Wave after wave of man-juice, as his uncontrolled interjection burst up his shaft. Shuddering in raptus, his honey oil of creamy, salty cum ardor repeatedly down the book binding of my throat, as wave after wave 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 remove a breath.

At last, I let go my hold of him and I watch his face wince, as I allow his eubstance to gently push my finger from its secret home base. As it finally emerges, he exhales sharply and blows his cheek in relief.

Suddenly it's all over. As I get up from my knee joint, he quickly reaches down and pulls his underdrawers up, carefully tucking his still semi-erect putz discretely back inside their blanched mesh interior. But as I stand in front of him, he briefly looks at me and I catch a fulfill smirk at the edges of his beautiful mouth. Before he knows what's happening, I grab his font 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 reflect the effect of the last few instant and with a throbbing erecting in my still wet Andrew Christian mesh short circuit ; an erection that is dribbling pre-cum all down my scupper thigh…….

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