Closing Early

With little flourish, I reached up from my sitting position on the towel, and pulled down your regulation-blue swim trunks, making sure to hold the elastic waistband out away from your body, so as not to catch it on your rather impressive erection. Then, I grabbed your hand and pulled you down onto the towel with me. "Lie down," I ordered, grinning, echoing your previous command. You did so, smiling in a placid, close-lipped way that reminded me of the Mona Lisa—a facial expression I have yet to master—never breaking eye contact. I first skimmed my fingers lightly over your chest, stroking the sparse, dark hairs that peppered it. You interrupted me by leaning up to give me a brief, hot kiss that made the follicles on my head tingle. "Stop that, you're making me lose my concentration," I protested, giving you a playful slap. I trailed my fingers along the inside of your thigh, stopping just shy of your scrotum. I felt your body shiver in anticipation, and I leaned over and exhaled warm air onto your throbbing erection—still not touching you yet. Then, I pursed my lips and blew cold air over the same spot. Fire and ice. This time, you moaned.

When I saw your hands creeping forward from their place, palms-down, on the towel, I knew you were dying to touch yourself. To show me what you wanted. I placed my hands over yours, and moved them away firmly. I didn't stop at your sides, though. I moved them up even higher, until they were over your head, lacing my fingers through yours and pinning them to the towel. You made a sound that was half-protest, half-arousal, and I winked at you and said, "I want you to keep your hands above your head exactly like this. Don't move them, or I'll stop." You nodded gamely, obviously desperate for me to continue, and I caught a glimpse of the gold flecks in your eyes as I bent my head forward again. You gasped as I took you in my mouth, probing your tip with my tongue, sliding it around to the spot on the underside I knew would be especially sensitive. You tasted like chlorine, and nylon, and something warm and musky, which I identified as your own scent. I felt a familiar rush of heat to my groin, and felt myself getting wet again, even so soon after my incredible orgasm, as I sucked you—giving head has always been an unbelievable turn-on for me.

Slowly, I moved my hand down your shaft, taking time to fondle and play with your balls, scratching lightly with my fingernails, and gauging your reaction to the sensation. You stiffened, and I drew my hand back, afraid I was hurting you.

"No, don't stop," you encouraged. "That was a good flinch."

I raised an eyebrow. "I was under the impression that a flinch is usually a bad thing."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "I would shrug, but I'm under direct orders to keep my hands above my head."

I grinned wickedly. "That you are."

I continued to pleasure you with my mouth, feeling you twitch under me when I drew my tongue slowly up from the bottom of your shaft, to the tip. I moved my lips up until the tip of your penis was the only part of you in my mouth. Then I slowly increased the suction, not touching you with my tongue, until my lips formed a kind of vacuum-seal over your most sensitive part. You moaned, and I could tell I was tormenting you the same way you had tormented me earlier. Your fingers flexed slightly, threatening movement, and I responded by letting you slide out of my mouth and holding your hands down with my own, leaving you hanging on the suspense of a paused blow job.

"Please let me up," you panted. I smiled coyly, then moved up and straddled you, pulling you up with me and rubbing myself against your hardness. You took the opportunity of no longer being pinned to the floor to lean down and bite my nipple lightly through my suit, and I lost control for just a second and loosened my grip. Before I knew what was happening, your now-unpinned hands, still laced through mine, were suddenly maneuvering me onto my back, pulling my suit down, and soon you were straddling me.

"I want to watch you suck me," you said. "I'm so close to coming all over you, and I want to watch your face as you get me off."

Well...I couldn't not oblige that request! I reached up and pulled you forward, until your legs were planted on either side of my chest. Then, I opened my mouth and lifted my head, gently flicking my tongue across the underside of your penis. You looked down at me, that maddening Mona Lisa smile on your face again. But only for a moment. I closed my lips over you, never taking my eyes off yours, and slid down along your shaft as far as I could go from that angle. For several moments of this, we seemed to be engaged in some sort of staring contest, a battle of sexual wills. However, it was quickly obvious that I had a distinct advantage, as your eyes glazed over and your breath suddenly tore from your throat in a labored, almost silent groan. I knew you were almost there, and I helped you along by tensing and releasing my lips on you, moving a little further up your shaft, and increasing my speed until my lips pulsed like a frenetic vibrator on its highest setting. I placed one hand on the base of your penis, squeezing you at a slightly slower rhythm than my lips. I put my other hand underneath you, and massaged your scrotum, pinching the delicate, wrinkled skin and squeezing your balls. You threw your head back and exhaled, trembling.

"Take me out of your mouth. I want to come on you." Your voice was barely recognizable as that of the controlled, bemused lifeguard who had mesmerized me a mere hour earlier.

Suddenly, your body tensed, and I felt your orgasm overtake you. Your dark features twisted sweetly in an expression of complete surrender, and I felt the first streams of semen splash onto my skin, as your hands fell roughly to my shoulders, my breasts, my hips. For several seconds, the only sound was that of your heavy breathing echoing off the tiles.

Your legs went limp on either side of me, and you rolled onto the towel gracefully. I dipped my finger into the semen on my chest, still warm from your body heat, and swirled it over my breasts. Through the greenish light and chlorinated haze that rose from the surface of the pool, the substance looked almost opalescent against my skin. You smiled at me, a full unambiguous smile, as I reached for the edge of the towel to wipe myself off, and said, "Looks like I got you all wet. Awfully sorry about that."

I smiled back, and sat up, slipping the straps of my suit back onto my shoulders.

"It's ok. I was wet already." I winked at you and stood up, slipping a little on the damp tiles as I struggled to regain my footing. "It's late. You should finish closing up. And maybe put on some clothes."

You shrugged and scooted over to the edge of the pool, sitting down, and propelling yourself into the water.

The last glimpse I had of you before exiting the room was of you resting your elbows on the edge of the pool, dark hair slicked against your head, brown eyes trained on me. "I hope to see you back here soon," you said. "You have very good technique." Your eyes crinkled in the corners when you said this, and I flushed.

"As do you. And I'll be back." I turned and padded by the lifeguard chair once again, on my way to the door, glancing up briefly to see the pages of your long-abandoned book peeking over the edge. Next time I was here, I would find out the title.