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Copyright © PennameWombat August 2020
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This is my entry for Literotica’s “Summer Lovin’ 2020” contest. It’s a simple story of a boy, a girl, a swimming pool, misbehaving chlorine tanks and the hazy and hot days of August. I hope you enjoy it.
Tags: Blow job, Car sex, Cum swallowing, Cunnilingus, Female virgin, First meeting, Male virgin, Outdoor sex, Pool, Romantic
I’d just pulled the water sample from the pool as the head lifeguard Athena’s voice rang out above me and to my left.
It was the first week of August and it was hot. It wasn’t unseasonably hot, if you measured seasons by what you’d experience on the surface of the sun. Since the city park that surrounded the public pool wasn’t on the surface of the sun, it was hot.
As a result the afternoon all-ages open swim time had been so packed for the last couple of weeks that people either floated or waded in the pool, there was no room to actually swim. Although ‘splashing’ was technically against the rules Athena and her crew offered a loose rein on it unless it got too boisterous.
But running on the wet concrete decks?
Nothing lax about that.
I let the chemicals mix to tell me the pH and chlorine levels as my eyes wandered over the crowd. It was as usual heavy on teenagers and young adults but there were plenty of older people but not surprisingly no senior citizens. They had a dedicated hour in the late morning and tended to avoid the boisterous afternoon crowds. Likewise, children and mothers were in the second, small pool around the side of the building, my first test pull had been from there. As I shook the test kit my eye paused on the far corner of the big pool, off to my left, a group of six, no seven girls, all seemingly late teenagers or so.
Four sat on the deck in a tight group, three others stood in waist-deep water, the ‘3’ painted on the deck and embossed into the tiles that lined the walls confirmed that. My gaze had almost left them when it froze. Locked.
She was on the edge of the seated quartet nearest me. She had a one-piece suit cut high around each hip and those hips were shapely. The suit flattered without offering untoward exposure of breasts that clearly matched her hips.
She had curves. Perfect curves.
My usual light olive skin wasn’t bothered by sun and by now it was well-tanned but her skin was just a shade darker and had to be mostly natural since I couldn’t discern any tan lines at the edges of her suit, a tell I’d picked up quickly being at this pool six days a week since the first week of June. The brown shade of her hair was a touch darker than mine and it was pulled into a loose ponytail that I guessed fell to about the middle of her back as it swung when she turned her head and those eyes that held me were dark but definitely not dull. Her friends ranged from a dyed blonde whose tan was a tad more visible through a couple of others with the same hair and skin as she had. Two of her friends were in one-piece suits and the others in bikinis of various kinds.
Her friends had either not noticed me or I was of no interest.
I racked my brain. Had I seen her before? Yes. At least once, with at least some of these others. Yes. We’d caught eyes once before. Oh. Yeah. In the moments just before one of the compressed gas chlorine feeder tanks had blown a seal and we’d had to evacuate the pool. Well, everyone except me. I’d dealt with that and replaced the tank but by then she and her friends and many others had left.
I hoped my expression matched hers with eyes focused but mouth in a soft smile. But I think my jaw gaped open and I probably drooled as I squatted there.
‘This is why you took this job,’ my brain tried to assert confidence, ‘hot women in wet bathing suits.’
And then reality kicked my brain’s ass. A couple of teenage girls half-ran out of the women’s changing room behind me.
“Some kid threw up in there!!!” In stereo. Loud enough that despite the loud conversations and splashes and laughter heads in and all around the pool turned to look.
I glanced up at Athena, who served not just as the head lifeguard but also our manager, and her broad smile was all I needed to remind me of whose task it was to deal with this new issue. I glanced back across the pool but all of their gazes were over me toward the complaining girls but those dark eyes did flash at mine and her smile broadened for a matched instant.
I finally remembered the test kit. Unsurprisingly the chlorine was at the minimum. With the heat and the full house it was a battle to keep the rickety old pool’s canlı bahis pumps and chlorine feeders up, which is why I tested it every thirty minutes. The gas feeder valves were full out, which meant dumping powered chlorine through the filter pool in the shack. Which I had to do carefully or the sensitive sorts would notice. And complain. I sighed and stood up and flashed the test kit in her direction.
“I’ll get Connie from the front desk to clear out the changing room, while she’s doing that I need to up the chlorine then I can clean the spew,” I said to Athena although it wasn’t really needed. And from the stream of women and girls abandoning the changing room Connie’s task might be a formality. But my statement was confirming a commander’s order that didn’t need to be stated and she nodded but her smile was kind. She was bit over a decade older and had been doing this long enough that I had no idea why she was stationed at a leaking public pool in a run-down municipal park in a neighborhood that wasn’t so much on the way down as it had never been up. But we got along and so long as the pool was looked after she left me to it.
With a last split-second glance back across the pool I thought I’d caught the cute, dark girl’s own head with a rapid swivel back to neutral. I wondered if they’d still be around once I’d finished cleaning up vomit.
An Unexpected Visitor
“Hello? Anyone home?”
I cocked my head and stood still with my mop and heard a second “hello.” The voice had the slightest accented inflection, one I was quite used to both with schoolmates since kindergarten and with my current job. I leaned the mop against a wooden partition wall and walked out of the women’s changing room and stopped near the two-step ladder to the diving board where I could see the gate. Sundown wasn’t for another hour but a row of tall firs left us in shadow. On the other side of the chain link gate was a cute young woman standing next to a 10-speed road bike.
It took me a moment before recognition dawned. She and her friends had been gone by the time I’d finally made it back to the pool deck after my initial clean-up call had been followed by a series of minor requests that couldn’t be ignore.
“Hey, Jeremías, you are here!”
I blinked but that broke the spell and walked quickly to the gate. Her hair was still, or again, in the ponytail but instead of the suit she had very short and tight jean shorts and a yellow-orange short-sleeve button down shirt that was entirely unbuttoned and offered what looked like two strips of cloth to tie it just below those wonderful breasts. I could see the swell of each one in the expanse of lovely dark flesh. She had white sneakers.
Her smile was wide and her teeth white and straight.
“It’s just Jeremy,” I said, “but I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Lucia. Lucia Baca. Gonna let me in? I need to use your bathroom.”
We weren’t supposed to let ‘civilians’ in after hours but she was alone and there was no one else close by, a couple of cars at the far corner of the park and scattered couples or groups on the expanses of grass in the late light. The access road entered from Ninth West and continued for three hundred yards before it turned left at the International Gardens and continued for a third of that before it turned left to return to the city street.
“You could use the public one up at that corner,” her head turned fractionally and her expression began to harden before I stepped quickly to the gate and already had the key out to unlock the chain, “but there’s no way I’d let you do that.”
Her face softened again.
“Besides,” I stepped aside and held the gate open so she could roll her bike through, “you have the same name as my maternal grandmother, and she’d never forgive me for not helping out a lady.”
She sniffed but that obviously surprised her. She stopped and I quickly restrung the chain and locked the gate. Then stepped past her.
“I’m about finished mopping the women’s changing room, leave the bike here and go ahead. I’ll wait.”
“There’s a door,” she said with a crooked smile and set the bike on its kickstand, “go and finish your work. Any more vomit?”
“One time event,” I said then paused as she walked to the door and the sight of her ass in those shorts silenced me, “uh… well, only one time today. Tomorrow, who knows.”
She went to the far stall with a laugh and pushed the door closed. The women’s changing room had a row of stalls at the end wall nearest the pool, three were toilets and three more were showers. The rest of the room was filled with small, wooden-walled cubicles, a set along each side wall and two rows back to back along the center of the space. Each cubicle had a little bench and hooks to allow changing in and out of bathing suits.
I took the second right and went to the far end and retrieved my mop. A moment later I heard the flush and soon after Lucia stood in the hall a few feet from me. She had a thin watch around her left wrist.
“Feel bahis siteleri better?”
“De nada, senorita.”
She put an eyebrow up. “Hablas espanol, Jeremías?”
“No… e… no es suficiente.”
Lucia laughed as I put the mop into the bucket and took a step closer. She didn’t move but instead closed the gap to stand next to me.
“So you’re just telling me I better not talk to my friends behind your back because you might understand.”
“So long as you’re saying how cute I am, say whatever you want in whichever language.”
“Well,” I felt her fingers against the outside of my thigh for a moment, “we did talk about these legs…”
I wasn’t sure how much was flirting and how much was the different Latin conception of personal space. My maternal Italian side had a fair amount of it and classmates had for years trained me. Besides, if she could tolerate the smells of my sweat and the cleaning solution, who was I to complain. I touched her in the bare gap just above the top of her shorts just on her back.
She didn’t move away. She pushed her thigh against mine. She was sweaty too, loose strands of hair stuck to her neck.
“Hey, finished here. Just need to do the men’s and I’ll be done.”
She read me and brushed her hand against my arm before she turned and led the way out. I used the mop to roll the bucket and I enjoyed again watching her butt. Those shorts were pushed well into the cleft between her cheeks. A beguiling sight.
“I need to dump this and get fresh, c’mon in,” I picked the bucket up and went into the ‘shack.’ It was actually the central section of the building where we kept the maintenance gear and supplies. I pushed the bucket to an industrial drain in the corner and she stopped and looked around.
“Are those the filters?” She pointed to the opposite corner, a twelve-foot square section with no floor and metal guardrails.
“Yeah, come and see,” I led us to the guardrail and we stood side by side. She leaned over and was about three or not more than four inches shorter than me and her shirt offered me an expansive view of her left breast, all round flesh with only the areola and nipple still covered. Below us the pumps pulled pool water through a dozen yard-square filter screens.
“I’m usually finished with mopping by this time, but all of the sunscreen and stuff makes a mess, took me longer to clean up the filters after ya’ll left.”
“Don’t blame me,” she elbowed me in the ribs and I’m certain caught my eyes on her chest but she didn’t adjust her shirt, “you think I need to bother with sunscreen?”
“Guess we’re even there,” I said, “anyway, work to do.”
She laughed behind me as I turned and quickly walked to bend over to empty the dirty bucket then used the tap to refill slightly, swished and dumped it again.
“Your legs ARE pretty good, chavo,” she said as I stood to get the cleanser and squeezed a share into the bucket and turned on the tap.
“Yours aren’t bad either, chava, must be the bike riding,” I twisted my head and smiled then turned off the tap, she laughed lightly and shook her head, “so what’s your story tonight?”
“Unlike some of us, not working tonight,” she said as she followed me out the door and we turned left, “felt like a bike ride. Then, well, I was close by, and…”
She followed me into the men’s changing room and she stopped and went silent, slightly wide-eyed before she looked around. I beat my grin into a softer smile as I pushed the bucket to the center of the open space.
“You boys change in here?” Her tone was not neutral.
I stood next to one of the long, wooden benches, there were two more further along the large and square open space. Hooks lined the walls. In one corner were two toilet stalls without doors and an open space with three shower heads.
“What… the… hell…,” she said. She’d turned and faced a four foot wide rectangular metal basin that extended a foot from its mounting wall and was about the same depth. The bottom of it slanted from each end to a central drain and the front edge met her at mid-thighs.
“It’s a urinal,” I left the mop and bucket and approached her.
“You… guys… pee in THERE? Just, like,” she went silent for a moment and waved her left arm around to indicate the open space, “in front of each other? No mames!”
“We’re guys, rude, crude and with no redeeming social value.”
“Except your legs,” she snorted. Then she looked at me, then the urinal, then back at me.
“Show me,” her English had taken on a huskiness that wasn’t her slight accent.
Her tongue flashed against her lips. She looked at me then back at the urinal.
“I want to… see.”
My mouth froze in what I knew was a stare with my mouth slightly open as I tried to read her face. Her dark eyes glittered in the widely spaced industrial lighting, I only had half of the bulbs turned on since I didn’t need it to be noon-bright to mop. In fact, it was a distinct advantage. bahis şirketleri Although ‘clean,’ the facility was well in need of paint and many other upgrades but this end of town was always last in line for city money. Then I noticed her chest, a slow, deep rhythmic movement that told me I was going to do it.
“Okay, well, we’ll see what I can manage,” I turned to face away from her and stood at the urinal and grabbed my zipper. I had the same cut-off jean shorts and grungy ‘Yessongs’ tee-shirt and old sneakers that I’d worn all day, a swimsuit not conducive to my range of duties. I pushed my zipper down and fished my cock out, it had been in a high state of excitement but it had retreated halfway with her request. And it wasn’t like this was that much of a stretch, her stated reason for her arrival had tweaked my own need that I’d tamped down. But now that I was here…
Suddenly I felt a body tight behind me, her chest pushed hard into my shoulder blades and her sweaty legs pressed against mine. The red handkerchief in my right rear pocket meant slightly higher pressure on that side.
But it was her hands that caused my body to stiffen in reflex.
“Let me hold it,” her voice was even huskier and she angled her torso to the left so she could see around me and her arms were tight around my waist and her fingers pushed mine away from my flesh, “c’mon, let rip.”
I held my breath for three heartbeats before I relaxed through sheer force of will and I put my arms over hers and reached behind to hold her hips and pull her tight. I held another breath then let it out slowly. And I let loose a stream of yellow liquid.
She jumped at that and let out a tiny ‘yelp’ but she managed to keep the stream end below the rim of the receptacle. Barely. After a moment she got control and waved it around.
“Trying to write your name?” I asked.
“L, U, C, hey, I need more!” A concentrated push gave her the ‘I.’
“Sorry, no ‘A.’ C’mon, you need to shake it,” she huffed but did so.
Then she did a bit more than shake it.
Her fingers interlaced a bit to surround my prick before she pulled it. I pulled her hips more tightly and slid my hands further onto each ass cheek as my shaft reacted to the attention.
Her touch wasn’t assured, it was firm but hesitant, her skin smooth but her grip was rough. She ran fingers tentatively against the exposed head as the shaft hardened. As much as stroking it she seemed to explore and ran her fingers against the circular head and the gap at the bottom and didn’t seem to mind the drips of liquid that might’ve been pre-cum but was probably urine. Fingers followed veins until she pulled back to touch my pubic hair and flesh with her thumbs and forefingers.
“Bad boy” she slurred, “no underwear!”
“I… like the air flow,” her laugh was short, husky. I pushed my legs against hers, they didn’t move and my hands moved low and central on her round ass. Her breath was short and choppy, But so was mine. After a lost amount of time I pulled one hand and pressed against her left forearm and she released my cock with that hand. I released her ass with my other hand and rotated my body to the right while her right hand kept hold of my now fully-erect prick.
Her left hand returned to my cock as it was pushed upward and squeezed between our bodies. My right hand went back to her ass and my left around her shoulders. I leaned slightly and she tilted her head back.
Our first kiss was too hard and sloppy. I moved my hand to place it under her chin and held her then touched my mouth more softly to hers. After a moment we found the pressure and I encouraged her lips open then pushed my tongue forward to touch her lips. She had no lipstick, nor other makeup, so it was just our mutual slightly salty taste of sweat, both from our respective endeavors and from the current moment. The day’s heat had dropped but hadn’t disappeared as the sun lowered and the changing rooms lacked air conditioning or any other ventilation beyond the open door. During the day the front doors would be open and with the windows to the locker section some air flow would keep them from becoming saunas. But the front doors were closed now.
She didn’t stroke my cock but pressed it against the bare flesh of her stomach above her waistband, flesh that was firm and flat without being solidly muscular. Her tongue welcomed mine.
I arched my back to keep my crotch and mouth tight but backed my chest away. My hand left her chin and tentatively explored the swell of her right tit. She shivered but didn’t move, didn’t pull back nor push me away. My fingertips rotated around her nipple and I felt it react. I left it and traced along the cloth until I found flesh then pushed down until I found the knot.
I’d noticed it was a simple bow. I pulled on one strand and it disentangled. She blew breath into my mouth but didn’t object as I flattened my fingers and worked my way upwards over the fleshy swell of her tit until I could scissor her nipple between my ring and middle fingers. I slowly squeezed and pulled at it while I massaged the firm flesh surrounding it.
After a few minutes, or hours, she pressed hard against my cock and pulled her mouth back. I opened my eyes as hers did likewise.
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