My Friends the Allens -- At the Pool

by Mark Aster



= = =

Note: this story takes place in a fantasy world where

vaccines against AIDS and pregnancy are safe and common,

and casual sex with strangers is not suicidally stupid.

The real world, sadly, is not like that: so don't try

this at home.

= = =



The highlight of the afternoon came when Robin slipped her

sweatshirt off over her head, hung her whistle on the hook

beside the lifeguard's chair, and dove, slicing into the

water with a small graceful splash. My eyes followed

her as she crossed the pool under the water and emerged

spectacularly on the other side, swinging her hair out of

her face and springing up the ladder, casually sliding one

finger under the edge of her red lifeguard's suit and pulling

the elastic out of some young wet female crevice.



Robin has the body of a goddess: long tan legs, a perfect

curve of stomach above swimmer's thighs, marvelous round

breasts, and a sharp intelligent face. And, as my

conscience had had to remind me every day since the pool

opened that summer, she was still in high school.



"Cradle robber," whispered Pat from the pool chair beside me,

"you're devouring that poor innocent thing with your eyes, you

know." Basking in the sun, big breasts barely covered, her

stomach tight and swelling, four months pregnant and utterly

radiant, Pat was a vision herself. I just grinned, and tried

to keep my eyes from drifting back to the curvy underage

lifeguard. "Shreeeee," went Robin's whistle, "No running!"

She swung back into her chair, her body dripping, the taut

globes of her ass moving beautifully.



"You're really suffering, aren't you?" Pat grinned.



"I'll survive," I answered, and leaned over and kissed her

warmly on the mouth. Her lips were soft and perfect. I

slid one hand down over her abdomen, indulging myself in the

solid promising bulge of her womb. She slapped my hand

fondly away as it began to dive lower.



The next afternoon Pat and I went to the pool again, and we

were joined by Julie, Pat's younger sister, a slim and

graceful twenty-one-year-old in a blue bikini. The girls

exchanged a few significant glances and giggles, but I was

used to that. I tried not to stare at Robin, jiggling in her

tight red suit, any more than usual.



It got near closing time, but Pat and Julie made no move to

leave. The place began to empty out, and finally when even the

last of the stragglers had left, the girls got up. I made to

follow them, but Julie smiled enigmatically and put a hand on

my arm. "You go in for a last little soak. We'll come back

and get you." OK, I'm easy. I slipped into the cool water

as Pat and Julie vanished into the women's locker room. The

only other person still inside the gates was Robin, in her suit

and her sweatshirt, rolling up the lane-lines and fishing debris

out of the water.



I admired her, her long legs moving her efficiently around the

pool, her hair up behind her head, her hands long-fingered and

tan on the skimming pole. She seemed to be ignoring me, but

I thought I caught a smiling sidelong glance now and then.

Finally, she walked slowly toward the lockers. As she slid

the sweatshirt off over her head, stretching her athletic body

luxuriously, she looked back once, right into my eyes. She

was on the edge of laughing.



A minute later, she came back out, and dove neatly into the

pool. Her slim red-sheathed form sped through the water toward

me, and she surfaced facing me. But it wasn't Robin. It was

Julie, wearing Robin's red suit, her hair tied loosely up

behind her head like Robin's, her face young and innocent and

casual, her eyes looking at me as though I were an interesting

stranger. So Julie's a model; she can act, too.



"Excuse me, sir," she said politely, stroking efficiently over

to me and hanging onto the side next to me, "the pool is closed

now."



"Oh, sorry," I replied, admiring the drops of water on the

smooth bare skin of her shoulders, "I must have dozed off."



"Oh, you can't sleep in the pool," she scolded, "that's an easy

way to drown."



"Sorry, I'll watch it in the future."



"S'okay," she said casually, letting her body and her long legs

float upwards and resting her head and shoulders on the wave

shelf next to me. "I always take a few laps after closing,

so I would've found you." We were silent for a minute; I

admired her thighs and her stomach as the water lapped at them;

she gazed off into the distance. "Isn't the sunset grand?"

she asked. The clouds were fiery, purple, razor-sharp.



I reached over and touched the strap of the red suit where it

crossed her shoulder. I slid my fingers slowly down over

the tight saturated nylon, down over the Speedo logo, and

up the slope of her neat round breast. She looked over at

me in surprise for an instant, but then closed her eyes and

let her body relax. Her breast was small and firm, cold,

the nipple erect but soft. It hardened as I stroked it.



I turned to face her, her lovely small body, long legs, all

stretched out floating in the water before me. The fabric

over her breasts and her stomach was warm and wet and it

moved as she breathed. My other hand stroked up the outside

of her leg, up her strong calf and up her thigh to her hip,

functional and smooth and female, bare at the edge of the

high-cut suit. I took a long shuddering breath as I let my

hands roam over her. Her submerged ass was tight and delicious,

and when I slid my fingers along the crack between her buttocks

she spread her legs and sighed. I took one breast in my

right hand, and my left hand slid over the red smoothness

between her legs, and I gently rubbed her mons and the

tight young skin of her inner thighs.



"Ooh," she breathed, "you're getting me all hot and bothered."

And suddenly she flipped herself out of my hands, pushed off

from the edge with her feet, and shouted to me over her

shoulder, "Beat you to the end!" I grinned and stroked off

after her.



I doubt I would have beaten the real Robin, but I'm a stronger

swimmer than Julie, and I pulled ahead of her, got to the wall

first, and turned around. Swimming hard, her face in the water,

she didn't notice me there until too late, and one slim arm

bopped me on the head, and her body crashed into me. "Oh,

sorry," she laughed, her legs against my sides and one arm

over my shoulder, "I didn't mean to --" She stopped talking,

her eyes locked on mine, the water cool and silent, surrounding

us, and I put one hand behind her head, in the wetness of her

hair, and drew her face to mine, and kissed her mouth, and our

bodies moved together. Her thighs slid over my skin below the

surface, her lips opened to me, and she pressed herself hungrily

against me, her body shuddering and a low moan filling her

throat. We kissed for a long time, and I ran my hands over

her back and her ass through the tightness of the suit, and she

rubbed her pussy against my stomach, and clung to me, and slid

her tongue into my mouth.



Our heads moved apart, just an inch, and I looked into her eyes,

the water still clinging to her eyelids like chlorine tears, and

she licked her lips and she softly said "oh!". Then she twined

her arms around my neck, closed her eyes, and kissed me again, a

stronger and less desperate kiss, a controlled kiss, a deep and

heartbreaking kiss, and she spread her muscular legs wider and

pressed herself against me, and I felt her body softening, her

vulva opening against my cock through our suits. I kissed her

cheek, the line of her jaw, the soft cold smoothness of her

neck, and she put her arms down to let me lower the straps

of her suit. Her breasts were small and buoyant and firm, and

when I kissed her nipples she laughed and bent back, her hair

and the back of her head dipping into the cool rippling water.



I slid the straps down over her elbows and off, and I rolled

the wet red material down and squeezed her breasts and kissed

her bare stomach. She bent back and floated, her arms out to

her sides, as I pulled the suit down her thighs, past the wet

triangle of water-darkened hair at her cunt, down her legs and

off past her feet. I took her feet in my hands for a moment,

and admired her naked body floating on the water before me.

Then I sank into the water, her thighs perfect and cool and wet

on my cheeks, and nuzzled my face into her matted pubic hair,

and opened her and kissed her and ran my tongue over the warm

receptive softness of her vulva. She sighed and spread her legs

further apart to admit me.



I held her ass in my hands, gently squeezing and glorying in

the taut cold skin, as my mouth played over her labia. I

took a mouthful of water, and blew it back out, in a thick

gentle stream over the hood of her clit. Her body shuddered

again, and she stroked my head with her hands. I did it again,

a thinner and harder stream, and she cried out softly, a small

moan that drifted away over the pool. I did it again, and

her thighs squeezed my head, and then she righted herself,

and pulled me to her and kissed my mouth again, her hands

caressing my body. One small soft hand played down my stomach

and slipped under my trunks, wrapping around my cold trapped

cock. "Oh, such a SWEET man," she whispered, gently stroking

me and nibbling on my ear. Her warm girl-scented breath mixed

with the cold chlorine air of the pool, and her fingers teased

me quickly erect. She smiled and sank.



Her hands moved down my body, over my nipples and my stomach,

tickling and caressing and filling me with desire. My solar

plexus tensed and I licked my lips as she slid my trunks down

and off, and ran her tongue and her lips over my penis, her

mouth a warm cavern in the cold of the pool. Then she surfaced,

very close to me, her breasts against my chest and one hand

still around my cock, and we kissed again, and I pulled her

naked body against me, and spread her buttocks apart, and

my fingers played over her pussy from behind, and she groaned

and sucked on my tongue.



Her body was healthy and strong and young, her long legs wrapped

around me, her skin rough and goose-pimpled from the cold. Her

mouth on mine was sweet and excited and demanding. With a soft

moan, she took my cock and pushed it against her vagina, and I

slipped into her, sliding my cold cock into that hot yearning

sheath, holding her head in my hands and kissing her soft lips

and running my tongue along her teeth as we began to fuck gently

in the water.



The water buoyed her up, and I held her light as a feather as

she rocked her hips, looking me silently in the eyes as her

pussy stroked and sucked at my cock. I slid one hand between

us and caressed her clit, pressing it between my fingers and

the throbbing shaft that rhythmically penetrated her. Her

eyes widened with a hot delicious joy, and she kissed me again,

and put her arms around my shoulders and breathed loving

nonsense in my ear as she began to come. I moved my other hand

down behind her, and gently pressed the rim of her anus as she

gasped and bucked and her ass tightened around me and she came,

my cock swelling and moving relentlessly inside her. Her

screams were small and delighted, and I felt the cum straining

within me.



Her lips closed over mine, and her tongue was in my mouth, and

her hips rocked even faster, and as she fucked me more quickly

and more eagerly still I came hard and wrenching inside her,

the cold water and the hot juices of her cunt bringing my cock

to an impossible aching hardness that finally burst, and I

groaned into her mouth as I filled her with semen, and our

naked bodies thrashed in the water. We pressed hungrily

against each other, sated but unwilling to let go, and we

sank entwined into the silent cool water, our mouths still

pressed together, my cock slowly slipping out of her vagina

as the water closed over our heads.



Pat and Julie and I went out to the car, and Robin waved to us

as she closed and locked the gates.



"You make a damn' good lifeguard," I said to Julie, "Thanks!"



"My pleasure," she replied, squeezing my hand, "anytime..."



"So what did you two tell Robin to get her to lend you the pool

for your lovely little plot?" I asked.



"Oh," grinned Pat, "nothing much. We just told her she

could watch."



Why do women always find it so funny when men blush?





My Friends the Allens -- At the Pool

by Mark Aster

The End





:jo