Pool Boy

Megan Salinas stretches in the pool water when the pool boy steps into view. This one is new. Tanned skin, ink winding down his arms, dark hair falling into his eyes. She holds his stare a second too long before sliding toward the steps. She hates to leave the warmth, but the sight of him hauling the net does nothing to cool the heat between her legs. Inside, the bath fills fast, steam licking her thighs. She peels the wet suit down, lowers herself, and the soft slap of water on bare skin tightens the ache. Her fingers glide over the smooth mound first, lazy circles that grow firmer until her breath stutters. Eyes closed, she pictures his mouth at her neck, the hard press of his body driving her back against the tile. She lifts out onto the cool ledge, spreads wider, sinks two fingers deep. Her wrist twists, pushing the memory of his cock deeper with every stroke. Her free hand skates over wet nipples, rolling each stiff peak until she has to bite her lip. Thoughts sharpen—water slick between their bodies, the slap of hips underwater, the rush of bubbles breaking on her clit—and suddenly she is right at the edge. Megan shoves both hands down and rides them until her thighs tremble and her orgasm rips through her, hips jerking, bath water spilling over the rim. She rides the last sparks with smaller, greedy thrusts until the aftershocks settle. For a moment she just breathes, then smiles at her own reflection in the wet tile. She can feel the heat still coursing through her. When the pool boy finishes, she plans to give him something messier than a patio to clean.