The Pool Boy
Erotic fiction by Michele London
It wasn’t a bad job, all things considered. As far as summer work went, getting paid to be outside all day was way better than the office internships or retail and fast food drudgery that most of his friends had gotten stuck with.
He didn’t mind the heat, or the physical labor; hell, he was getting tanned and ripped at the same time, and getting paid for it! It was enough to make him question the logic in continuing on with his Biology degree. Though he suspected his parents might have a few words to say about leaving college to become a professional pool boy.
He worked throughout the valley, cleaning filters and measuring chlorine levels and skimming leaves. There were a handful of retirees on his route, and some moms with young kids. Usually, it was the high school kids who were home, bumming around on the couch watching cable or playing video games while he worked in their backyard. The girls were always finding reasons to come outside, parading around in their bathing suits and offering him sodas. He kept his distance as nicely as he could. They were cute, but they were also jailbait, and he wasn’t stupid.
Then there was Mrs. Cooper. She lived in the big white house at the end of Branson Court, with clipped, manicured lawns and hedges and a cream-colored Mercedes parked in the driveway. Jared pulled his van up in front of the house. The curbs in the cul-de-sac empty were at this time of day, and he sat staring up at what might as well have been a mansion. Great, he thought. Their pool was probably massive.
He lugged his bag up the walkway and pressed on the buzzer with his elbow. He hardly had time to readjust his bag on his shoulder before the door swung open, and the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen was standing in front of him, a bright red bikini peeping out from beneath a white towel.
“Hello,” she said. “Thanks for coming.”
Jared swallowed the sudden lump of nerves that had congealed in his throat and managed to say something about it being no problem at all. She moved aside for him to come into the house, and he thought he caught a whiff of gardenia as he passed by her. He shifted his tool bag to hang in front of his belt.
“It’s through here,” she said, leading him to the back of the house. “I thought I’d have it all to myself today, with the kids being out at some music festival. It's out in the valley; do you know it? Anyway, I’d just put my sunscreen on and the filter clogged. Do you think you can fix it?”
“Uh huh, sure,” he said, gazing out over the pool that was exactly as huge as he’d imagined to be. Mrs. Cooper turned to him and smiled.
“Wonderful,” she said, full lips turning up in a smile. “I’ll just let you get down to business then, shall I? I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need me.”
He bit back the urge to tell her he needed her on the lounge chair, and set about doing the work he was there to do. It was usually pretty easy to ignore the fact that the client was constantly watching him. No one wanted to let service people out of their sight, as if he was going to walk off with somebody’s pool noodles or something.
But with Mrs. Cooper’s eyes on him, Jared fingers turned fumbly and wrong, and he started sweating more than he could honestly blame on the heat. He saw her leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, her red bathing suit catching the sun as she stared at him from behind silver aviators. Did he look like he was working hard, he wondered? Or did he just look like some schmuck cleaning out her pool?
Her filter had gotten clogged with a bunch of leaves and other natural debris, and it was a quick job to muck it all out and get things moving again. He’d never been sorrier in his life to pack up his tools.
“Well, ah, I guess that’s it,” he said, moving back up towards the house. “No big deal.”
“Thanks so much. I really appreciate it.”
He started following her back through the kitchen, but when they reached the marble-top island in the center of the room, she stopped, her hand on the refrigerator.
“Can I offer you a drink? You’re old enough to have a beer, aren’t you?” He wasn’t, not until next month.
“Yeah, of course. But, um, I’d better be going, I guess. Because I, I’ve got this schedule and I have to like, be at these other houses today...”
“All right then, if you insist. We’ll skip the drink.”
She strolled over and pressed up against him then, tight nipples digging into his chest, pressing her thigh against his cock. He could smell the expensive perfume on her neck, like some kind of candy and flowers, and for some reason it made him even harder. She plucked teasingly at the buttons of his work shirt.
“You don’t have to be afraid. No one is here, and my ex-husband doesn’t even have a key to this place.”
She ran her hand inside his shirt, slipping his white undershirt out of his jeans, and looping her fingers around the button at his waist. She slid her hand lower down his pelvis, pausing just above his shaft.
“Of course,” she said, her breath tickling the hairs above his ear, “if you don’t want me to touch you, I certainly won’t.”
Jared took her wrist and helped it all the way down. Her grip was firm and her palm was soft, and he steadied himself on the counter as she went to work. He closed his eyes and tried not to embarrass himself as she stroked him and squeezed his head between her skillful fingers.
She started kissing him and he followed her effort blindly, using what technique he knew to try to impress her. She gave little moans of encouragement into his mouth, and he pushed himself harder into her hand.
His fingers traveled up her stomach, gaining courage by the time he reached her breasts, taking them tentatively in his hands. He stroked her taut nipples, and when she moaned again, he grew bolder and whirled her around so that it was now her backside on the countertop.
He let his hands wander freely, taking in the curve of her waist and hip, the round of her insanely perfect ass, and back to the soft flesh of her breasts. She continued to kiss him, sucking on his tongue and raking her teeth along his lower lip.
Jared’s head swam. If felt like some kind of dream. He was sure someone was going to walk in - a neighbor, his boss - and see them going at it on her kitchen counter.
Mrs. Cooper raised her head to whisper in his ear. Jared’s knees went weak as she lowered herself down to the floor and freed his cock from his trousers. It sprang to life at the sudden release, and before he could register the shock of having his dick out in a client’s home, her mouth was on it. She took his whole length between her lips, sliding his cock into her mouth, then back up again so that her tongue could swirl around the head. Jared felt behind himself for something to grab but came up with nothing but air. She grasped his hips to keep him firmly where he was and continued to work him. It wasn’t long before he felt the tightening that he knew signaled the end.
“Mrs...Mrs. Cooper,” he said, realizing he didn’t know her first name. She stopped.
“Oh no you don’t, honey.” She tugged on the strings of her bathing suit, loosening the scrap of material and letting it fall to the floor. “Think you can hold out for a few minutes longer?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his balls aching already.
“Well, let’s see, shall we?”
She slid forward over the counter, looking back at him invitingly. Jared could see her glistening pussy, he wanted to be inside her so badly it sent a jolt through his whole body. He forgot to be afraid of her, forgot to think of her as a client, something pristine and untouchable. She was just a woman now; a woman who wanted him and was waiting for him to take her.
He sank into her more slowly than he wanted to, terrified that he would come the second he entered her. He was still for a moment, letting the first rush overtake him and then fade, gaining control of himself before going on. Still, he knew he’d never last long enough to make her come, too.
He tried. He gritted his teeth and tried to think of other things, but the sound of panting and the little moans of pleasure kept bringing him back to the present. He squeezed her hips harder and shut his eyes. When she pressed into him and slowly contracted her muscles around his shaft he couldn’t hold back any more.
His thrusts sharpened as he pounded out his orgasm, then slowed. He felt lightheaded and weak, and leaned on top of her to keep himself from falling backwards. She smiled, a small, quiet laugh breaking free.
“What?” he said.
She turned to face him and took his face between her hands. “Nothing. That was wonderful.”
She laughed again and kissed him.
“Yes. It was. Thank you.”
This time, she kissed him and laughed at the same time.
Michele London is an author, editor, and romance consultant with Scarlet Girl. She is a regular contributor to Scarlet’s Letter and the archive of articles at ScarletGirl.com. She writes dark fiction and erotic fantasy, and dips into real-life tales of sexy for the lovely ladies as a Scarlet Girl pleasure party consultant in the San Francisco Bay Area.
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