The Swimmer

It had been eight months since her divorce was final and Jessica felt like she was coming out of a long, labored fever dream. She had caught him the year before, red-handed, cheating on her with a colleague. She had forgiven him, gone to marriage counseling, and then it happened again. She followed him to the hotel and watched the two of them disappear for a couple of hours and then reappear, his hands all over her. She was appalled, yet somehow relieved. It was over now. This was the kick in the ass she needed. She was rid of him.

They had no children, thank God for that. After the divorce, they sold the house and split the proceeds. Jessica moved into a quiet apartment complex, got a two-bedroom in the back, and started to work out obsessively. She was relatively young, 25, and still had her looks. She had modeled as a teenager but gave it up once she took her job at the magazine after college. She was an assistant editor when she met Frank, the publisher, and two years later they were married. She knew his reputation as a player but had thought marriage would tame him. Big mistake.

After the breakup, she had tried to date a couple of guys, setups by friends, but her heart wasn't in it. Too torn up. Too emotionally unavailable. Instead, she spent her Friday and Saturday nights eating take-out in her apartment watching movies. Mainstream Hollywood, independents, foreign -- you name it, she watched it. She joked that it was her "vicarious love life." Actually, she had always been a movie buff and they filled a void in her life at a time she really needed it. If that seemed pathetic, who cares? In her new life "after Frank" she was taking care of her own needs for a change.

It was during those late nights watching movies that she started to get into masturbation. Foreign movies especially -- French, Italian, Spanish. She'd lie in bed, watching the beautiful actors in their intricate dance of sex, and touch herself. It had been so long since she'd been with a man, and there was something about the lush photography, the music, not to mention the explicit sex scenes, that just did it for her. It was so easy and well...uncomplicated.

She'd rent a bunch of films and then find the one where she related to the heroine, or where the hero got her hot, and then she'd lie in bed dressed in her lacy bra and panties, or a sheer teddy, or sometimes nothing at all. As the heroine was being seduced, and kissed, and touched, she'd lightly touch her own lips and skin. She'd play with her nipples until they were hard and then glide her fingers over her tummy to her inner thighs. She liked it when he went down on her so she could finger herself to the sounds of her moans. And when he pushed himself inside her, and the actress gasped, she would start to rub her clit and start to moan as well. And when he thrust himself into her, over and over, and she cried out she would work her pussy with two hands until she too would come.

As the weeks went on, things began to escalate. She went online and bought some toys to heighten the erotic pleasure of her movie nights. Depending on the movie, and the sex scene, she would use a different toy. For scenes of cunnilingus, she would use her jackrabbit vibe, thinking of his tongue on her, flicking her clit and bringing her to glorious orgasm. For scenes of straight ahead fucking, she liked to use a dildo, a big one, to fill her and stretch her the way her husband never did.

She went on like this for well over six weeks. And it might have gone on for six more. But something happened. He happened.

Jessica's apartment was at the back of the complex, on the second floor. She had a view of the pool area from her balcony and from the bedroom window. Since most of the residents were either busy professionals or retired, hardly anyone actually use the pool. That's why she was mildly surprised when she heard the splash one evening as she was getting home from work.

She glanced out the window and that's when she saw him the first time. Tall, long-armed, muscular—gliding through the pool with smooth, strong strokes. He was young and well built. Dark curly hair. Maybe 20, 22 tops. She watched him intently through the bedroom window, obscuring herself behind the curtain. As he boosted himself out the pool, she couldn't believe his physique. Not an ounce of fat, a tiny speedo covering a perfect butt. As he raised his arms to towel his head, she felt a flutter deep inside her and she gulped. And then, just like that, he was gone.

In the days that followed she looked for him by the pool. It seemed he had a routine. Monday, Wednesdays and Fridays he swam in the evenings. On the weekend, he swam in the morning, either Saturday or Sunday. She found herself thinking about him at work. Who was he? Was he single? What was his voice like? What would it be like to have him inside her...

She made a plan to leave early and get in position to watch him. She raced home and ran up the stairs to her apartment. She hurried to the window and saw the pool empty. He hadn't yet arrived for his workout. Or maybe he's not swimming today at all? She nervously readied herself. She slipped out off her outfit and threw it on the bed. She stood at the curtain in her bra and panties and watched for him.

She heard the door to the pool area slam and her heart leapt. It was him. Sure enough, his tall frame sauntered out from below her. His thick curly hair looked so beautiful; he was like one of the Italian or Spanish actors in one of her movies. "Hello, darling" she whispered.

He began to stretch. Her eyes devoured his every move. He swung his arms in a windmill fashion. He used one arm to stretch the other across his broad chest. As he bent over to stretch his hamstrings, she felt a tingling sensation between her legs.

Watching him move on the pool deck was hypnotizing. She didn't even notice that her hand found its way to her breast, massaging the nipple, imagining it was him who was touching her. She imagined his big hands on her, his strong arms enveloping her, his muscled body on top of her. As he slipped into the pool, her hand slipped into her panties.

His slow, languorous strokes mirrored her own. It was like a dream. She lost track of time, watching his repetitive motions, stroking, moving as if in slow motion. She fingered herself imagining him touching her, licking her, fucking her. She slid two fingers inside her, then three, then four. The cascades of pleasure grew steadily until he pulled himself out of the pool. Standing there, glistening in the afternoon light, the water streaming down his hard body, she could stand it no more. She came, completely and totally, her body shaking violently, convulsing with pleasure.

The next day, she found herself obsessing about him at work. Her secret lover. So secret, she didn't even know his name. Can this be happening? All she could think about was the next time she'd see him. She had it all planned.

Sure enough, two days later she hurried home to get ready. She had actually bought an outfit for their "date." It was a super sexy bustier, with garters and stockings. It pushed up her breasts, showing the creamy white skin and just covering her nipples. The thong underwear showed off her lovely ass. Her stiletto heels made her ass stand up and out. She felt so hot in it, it made her heart pound. I look really sexy, she thought. For him. Only for him.

Next, she pulled the marble-top side table to just beneath the bedroom window. She looked out the window and positioned it just so. Then she went to the closet and, from the top shelf, pulled down a cardboard box and placed it on the bed. From it, she pulled out a object wrapped in plastic. She unwrapped it and in her hands she was holding a large, life-like dildo. This, too, was only for him.

She had seen this particular toy on a late night cable TV show. The kind where female hosts officiously sell vibrators and suction machines and other paraphernalia via an 800 number. It was bigger than her normal dildo, about eight inches, and thick, and had a suction base. She laid it on the marble top table.

Now she was ready. She was as nervous as a teenager waiting for her date. What if he didn't show? After all this? She poured herself a glass of wine to settle her nerves. She put on some sexy French music on stereo. Just waiting for him, the anticipation of it all, was a turn on. She looked at herself in the mirror and practiced a slutty, come hither pose. "You want a work out. I'll give you a work out" she purred.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar slam of the pool area door. She darted to the window and watched intently. Sure enough, there he was. He looked even more gorgeous than before. Her hand immediately went between her legs. She was already wet, in anticipation. As he warmed up, she fingered herself hungrily. She was already incredibly turned on. Her breathing was audible and she started to talk to him in a husky, lustful voice. "Come on, baby. Show me that body. That's it. Stretch for me. Yeah, baby. Now bend over and show me that ass of your. Oh, yeah, baby." She was already close to her first orgasm by the time he finished stretching! As he slowly slipped into the pool and started his languid swimming, she climaxed and let out an animalistic moan.

A frenzy took over her. She went to the bed and grabbed the dildo. She needed it NOW. She licked the base and placed it on the edge of the end table. Her legs were shaking. She was still incredibly aroused. She turned to the window with a wild look in her eye. She stood leaning on the sill, her legs spread, and reached back to position the phallus.

He was doing the backstroke now. His long arms windmilling, one after the other, his head tilted towards her, his chest and stomach and crotch rocking back and forth. She guided the tip of the dildo to her now dripping wet pussy. She watched him rocking back and forth and slowly, very slowly, lowered herself on the tip. It was big, bigger than she'd had before, and it spread her pussy so beautifully. She was glad she had already come once because she was very wet and could handle the size. She let it push into her, centimeter by centimeter, lowering herself onto the shaft. Her hands were spread out, holding onto the sill, her legs spread wide. She imagined him entering her from behind, her breathing quickening, and she started to moan involuntarily. "Fuck me from behind, baby, fuck me from behind" she growled. Watching him rock back and forth, she started to ride the cock, rhythmically, to the tempo of his strokes. With each stroke she took it deeper, and with each inch the moans got louder. She closed her eyes and took the dildo deeply and suddenly she was coming, her mouth agape, and she let out an anguished cry. Her body bucked and shook and trembled as the waves of pleasure broke over her. It was the most intense orgasm she had ever had pleasing herself.

As her body went limp, she slowly opened her eyes. What she saw terrified her. He had stopped swimming and was standing at the end of the pool closest to her. He was facing her window and seemed to be looking at her. She immediately ducked behind the curtain. In her passion, she had completely forgotten to hide herself. What an idiot! Did I think I was watching one of my movies? After what seemed like an eternity, she slowly peaked around the curtain. He was getting out the pool and starting to dry off. Thank God. Maybe he hadn't seen me after all.

He stood in the afternoon sunlight rubbing the towel on his body. This time, though, he was standing right beneath her window, closer than he normally did. And, boy, he never looked so good. He seemed to take his time, raising his arms to dry his hair and face, and turning to reveal his rippled back and shoulders. He ran the towel down his strong arms, over his chest, and along his abs. Such gorgeous abs. He slowly dried the other side, taking his time. She was relaxing now and getting into it again. He was moving so sexily, she was starting to tingle between her legs again.

He turned and toweled his legs, his ass right in her view. She had never seen him so close before. She imagined grabbing his ass, squeezing it, biting it. He had his back to her and was stretching, flexing. She was losing it again and her hand was back in its familiar spot between her legs. He started rocking back and forth, as if swaying to a far-off rhythmic beat in his head. His left hand reached back and pulled down his Speedo while his right hand toweled the white butt cheeks beneath. She caught her breath.

He turned toward her and his eyes were closed. He seemed to have a half smile on his face as if in a dream. He was rocking, from leg to leg, slowly rubbing his body with the towel. Then she noticed it. His bulge. It was huge.

She had closely examined his "package" before of course. In great detail. She knew every curve, the gentle outline of his circumcised cock. She fantasized about what he might look like in the flesh. But now, with him standing so close, he looked...big. Really big.

Her eyes widened as she stood transfixed. The outline of his cock was pressing against the tight Speedo, as if it could hardly be contained. Was he always this large and I just couldn't see it from a distance? Maybe the cold water from the pool shrunk him and now he was warming up. Her mind raced. It was so beautiful. So big and beautiful. She could see the outline of the shaft, the curve of his balls, even the ridges of the tip. Her fingers were rubbing her clitoris again.

With his eyes closed, he toweled from his stomach to his upper thighs, rubbing slowly up and down. He reached with one hand and pulled down the front of his suit, wiping the towel over the black tuft of hair beneath. She could swear she glimpsed the thick base of his penis.

Just then, he opened his eyes and smiled. Right at her. Oh my God. He had been playing her. Putting on a show. Performing for her. She felt a rush of blood to her face. She didn't know what to do. It was too late to hide. He'd seen her. So she just smiled back. A slightly frightened, embarrassed smile. And then he walked out of her view and was gone.

She stood, frozen, unsure what to do. He had caught her watching him and that was beyond embarrassing, but he had smiled at her and that wasn't. She didn't quite know what to think. He somehow made her shame disappear.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Her heart leapt. Could it be? She went to the front door of her apartment and peered through the peep hole. There he was. She didn't know what to do so she simply opened the door.

"Hi" he said with a deep, soft voice. His eyes seemed to consume her, running over her face and body. She felt naked, and she almost was. He gave her a disarming smile. "Can I come in?"

She couldn't find the words, or the voice, to respond. "Ssssure" she stuttered. He slowly brushed past her. She couldn't believe what was happening. It was like the most surreal dream.

He entered her living room, and looked around. He was taller than she'd realized, and bigger. His face was gentler, though, with sensitive, intelligent eyes. The towel was wrapped around his waist. His chest was pumped from his workout and he looked amazing. She stood watching him. Finally, he turned to her.

"You've been watching me. While I swim. Haven't you." It wasn't a question really. More of an observation. Without judgment.

"Yes." She answered.

"I saw you at the window. In fact, I've seen at the window a few times."

She felt her face flush with embarrassment.

"It's OK" he replied, sensing her discomfort. "In fact, I liked it."

She swallowed and didn't reply.

"Actually, it turned me on." He touched a porcelain angel on the mantle. "Did it turn you on?"

"Yes" she whispered.

"I thought so" he replied with a mischievous smile.

"Would you like to see more?"

She looked up at him. He raised his eyebrows, inquisitively. "Would you?".

She looked at her feet again. "Uh-huh."

He stepped to the middle of the room, reached his hand to the knot in his towel, and slowly unraveled it. He let the towel slowly slip from his fingers. There he was, all six foot whatever, of him -- standing in her living room in his Speedo. His cock pressed against the suit. My God, he's getting hard, she thought.

His fingers slowly glided to the edges of his suit. His eyes were trained on hers. Her eyes were staring at his body, his chest, and his bulge. He started to move slightly, to the music coming from the bedroom. He playfully pulled down one side of his suit then the other, like a stripper. He turned around slowly and she could see his ass, so perfect, so tight. His other hand slowly pulled down the other side of this suit revealing both butt cheeks. Her heart pounded.

He turned back to face her. His butt was exposed but his suit still covered his cock. Barely. He leaned back slightly, his hips thrust towards her, and slowly pulled the front of his suit down. She could see the base of his cock. It was wide, wider than she'd imagined, and presaged good things to come. He slowly lowered the nylon fabric, inch by inch. It kept coming and coming, longer and longer, she couldn't believe it. She had stopped breathing and her eyes were transfixed by the unveiling of his glorious cock. Finally, he got to the tip and it sprang outward, semi-hard and thick, pointing straight at her. She gasped.

Jessica didn't have a lot of experience with well-hung men. Her husband was not well-endowed but she was attracted to him for other reasons. He was handsome and he could provide for her. She had had a boyfriend in high school, a football player, who was quite large and she often thought of him. Often, she would fantasize about him when she made love to her husband. Now, she found herself staring at a cock the likes of which she had not seen.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked with a low, sexy voice.

"Oh, yes" she answered breathily.

"You know, when I saw you watching me, it made me hard." Then, he laughed. "I thought I was going to rip a hole in my suit."

The joke relaxed her and she looked into his eyes.

"Sounds uncomfortable," she said wryly.

"It was" he smiled. "It feels better now."

He cocked his head and looked at her.

"Tell me something. When you were watching me...

from the window...were by any chance you getting yourself off?"

She glanced down for a moment and then looked him in the face, smiling.

"Guilty as charged."

He smiled again.

"Show me?"

"What?"

"I figure you had a chance to watch me, I should have a chance to watch you."

She paused for a moment and then thought what the hell.

"Give me one sec" she said and then made a beeline into the bedroom. On the side table, the dildo still stood at attention. She grabbed it, it detached from the table with a pop, and threw it in her closet. She took a quick glance around and then went to the doorway.

She gave him the same come hither look she had practiced before.

He joined her in bedroom looked, glancing out the window at the pool. "So this is the scene of the crime, eh?"

He jumped onto the bed with an athletic spring. His cock flapped against his stomach.

"My turn to watch." She moved to the end of the bed facing him.

The thought of performing for a man was exciting to her. She had often been turned on while modeling. She liked to display herself to the photographer in the privacy of a studio, responding to his instructions, letting herself go. She got started at sixteen when a photographer approached her in the mall and told her she had what it took to be a model. She ended up going to his studio for a series of sessions without her parents' knowledge. He told her she had the perfect body for modeling--full, round breasts, long legs, and narrow hips. Fashion shots led to swimsuit shots which led to lingerie shots. After building up trust, and giving her some wine to relax, she ended up posing nude for him. She liked how he made her feel beautiful, sexy, desirable. When the shoot was over, they ended up making love in the studio. The affair was shortlived, but ever since the thought of performing for a man, and arousing him just through her appearance alone, was a real turn on for her.