A Fantastic Summer Ch. 02

Chapter 2 Caught

When Dylan arrived at Mrs. Napolitano's house the next day, he was surprised to see that someone was already in the pool. As he drew closer a woman pulled herself out of the water and he realized that it was the girl who'd answered the door the day before. Like Mrs. Napolitano, the girl was topless. Dylan stopped dead, trying not to stare. She was as slender and willowy as Mrs. Napolitano was curvy. Her small, high breasts barely jiggled when she walked. She smiled at Dylan when she saw him standing there, water beading up on her dusky skin, the cool morning air making her tiny brown nipples harden into bullets. Dylan had never thought his summer job for a pool maintenance company would result in his seeing so many naked breasts.

"Morning," she called.

"Um, morning," Dylan said.

She walked up to him drying her long, dark hair with a towel and stuck out her hand. "Marietta," she said.

Dylan took her slender, wet hand in his, "Dylan."

"I like to get in a swim before work when I can," she said. "The pool is so much nicer now that you've cleaned it."

As with Mrs. Napolitano the day before, Dylan struggled to keep his eyes away from Marietta's chest. Despite his attempt to avoid it, her closeness and her nakedness were causing his manhood to stir.

"You work in the house?" Dylan asked.

"Yes, cooking, cleaning, whatever else Mia needs me to do."

"And Mr. Napolitano?" Dylan asked.

"Oh, he's hardly ever here. He's always on business trips," Marietta said. "He's much older than Mia."

Dylan's gaze accidentally slipped to her perky breasts. He looked up, met her eyes, and blushed.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Marietta asked.

"I... um. I'm just not used to..."

"Boobs?" Marietta asked.

"Yeah," Dylan said, relieved that she'd supplied the word.

She laughed, a soft musical sound. "Well working here you'll get used to seeing them."

Dylan doubted that, but he nodded.

"Got an eye full of Mia yesterday, didn't you?" Marietta asked bending to towel off her slender legs.

Dylan felt his face getting hot. Had she seen his erection? The stain on the front of his shorts? He nodded again, afraid to say anything.

"Being from Italy, she has different cultural norms. It's a little hard to get used to at first. It took me a while to be comfortable swimming without a top, but now I love it,"

"It's fine," Dylan said. "I just can't help looking. It makes me feel like a perv." He hadn't meant to be so direct, but there was something about the girl's openness that loosened his tongue.

"I don't mind if you look," Marietta said. She removed her towel and tossed her wet hair out of the way, exposing her chest.

"You don't?" Dylan asked, staring at her perky little mounds.

"No, look all you want. Do you like them?"

"You're... er... They're beautiful," Dylan stammered. His cock was starting to push against the leg of his shorts. He prayed this beautiful girl wouldn't notice.

Marietta laughed again. "You're sweet." She stepped close and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Up close she smelled of chlorine and coconut. "I have to get to work. See you soon."

Dylan stood for a moment watching her pert little ass as she walked toward the pool house. He was afraid to move because his stiff member was straining awkwardly against the leg of his shorts. When Marietta had disappeared into the pool house, he quickly adjusted himself and got to work. He checked the PH., but that was fine. Next he got out the skimmer. He was just finishing with the pool when Mrs. Napolitano came out. She was wearing the same gown as the day before and he could clearly see outline of her nipples through the cloth.

"Boun giorno, Deelan," she said.

"Good morning," Dylan said. "The pool's all done, so you can go ahead and swim this morning."

"Grazie," Mrs. Napolitano responded. "Can you clean a the pool house next, please?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Dylan said.

Dylan took his time finishing so that he could have the pleasure of watching Mrs. Napolitano walk out to the pool. He wasn't disappointed, she emerged from the pool house topless as she had the day before, her fabulous breast jiggling slightly with each step. She smiled at Dylan as he finished up and rushed to the pool house so that she wouldn't see the now perennial swelling in his shorts. In the pool house he started with the main room. He swept and mopped the area around the hot tub and made sure the cushions on the benches that surrounded it were straight and secure. He was able to watch Mrs. Napolitano through the windows as he worked. She swam several sets of leisurely laps and then turn onto her back. From the pool house it almost looked like those luscious breasts were keeping her afloat.

Dylan was just finishing up the main room when she pulled herself from the water. She turned and he could see that her skimpy bottoms had slid down, exposing her dark bush. Dylan's member swelled in his shorts. He watched as she casually adjusted the patch of cloth and then proceeded to the row of loungers. Dylan couldn't take is eyes off the wiggle of her shapely hips.

He remembered how she'd felt under his hands the day before, the soft flesh of her side breasts, the smell of the lotion, and the way her anus peeked out around the strap of her thong. He pressed his hand to his rigid pole, now standing up straight in his shorts. It felt so good, but pressure was not enough. He thought about how he'd shot his cum into his boxers, the horror of that moment and the subsequent embarrassment, but also the pleasure, and the sense of release. He stared at Mrs. Napolitano through the window and ran his hand along the length of his cock through the material of his shorts, it felt exquisite. In fact, it felt too good. He looked at Mrs. Napolitano one more time and then reluctantly turned away.

He tried to concentrate his attention on cleaning. He began in the rest rooms and then did the shower rooms. There was one for men and one for women. They weren't too dirty, but it took him some time. The work didn't help as it was mindless, and his thoughts kept wandering to Mrs. Napolitano's hourglass figure. He imagined what she would feel like in his arms, the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest and sliding his rigid pole between her soft thighs.

By the time he'd finished the restrooms, Dylan's cock was stiff and throbbing, and he was afraid that he might have a repeat of yesterdays accident. He moved on to the changing rooms, stopping to watch Mrs. Napolitano for a moment. She was reading a book, one hand absently fiddling with her bathing suit bottoms. Dylan stared hard. Was she masturbating? He couldn't tell, but the thought didn't do anything to help his distressed manhood.

Dylan swept out the first two changing rooms and moved on to the third. He'd managed to keep his mind off Mrs. Napolitano and sex and his cock had settled down to a state of semi-permanent half arousal. When he opened the door to the third changing room, he saw Mrs. Napolitano's robe hanging on a hook, but it was a skimpy pair of lacy panties that she'd left in a pile on the floor that really got his attention. They stood out, white against the dark floor tiles.

For a moment he thought about closing the door and moving on to the next room, but those panties were like a magnate. He'd discovered his stepsister's dirty panties in the hamper a couple of years ago. He wasn't really attracted to her, but the stiff, discharge covered gussets of her panties had an irresistible allure. Sometimes, when it was his turn to do the laundry, he would hold one pair to his nose while he jacked-off into another pair. Then, guiltily, he would stuff everything into the washer as fast as he could.

Dylan looked around him, but the pool house was quiet and empty. Quickly, he stepped into the changing room and picked up the panties off the floor. They were so lacy that they hardly had any weight to them. He held them up in front to his face for a moment, imaging Mrs. Napolitano's hips stretching them wide, and her little mound covered with dark curls hiding behind the lacy material. His cock swelled, throbbed, and stiffened, tenting out his shorts.

Carefully he turned them inside out and he brought them to his nose. He could smell the perfume of her soap, eucalyptus maybe, mixed with the enticing musky scent of her pussy. He was rock hard. He peered at the gusset, it looked darker than the rest of the material. Tentatively, he touched it with his finger. It was wet. Not just damp, but wet and sticky. He brought his finger to his nose and inhaled her scent.

His cock felt like it was made of iron. It was so hard it ached. He reached into his shorts and began to gently massage himself. It felt so good, but he didn't want to cum in his pants again. He wondered if he could sneak into the toilet before Mrs. Napolitano returned. A slight noise behind him made him turn. Mrs. Napolitano was standing in the doorway of the changing room not six feet from him. Dylan jumped at the sight of her and dropped the panties. He tried to cover his massive erection with his hands. He could feel the blood rush to his face.

"Pick them up," Mrs. Napolitano said. Her voice was cold and flat.

"I'm sorry... I... Um," Dylan stammered.

"Pick them up," she repeated.

Dylan bent and retrieved the panties from where he'd dropped them and held them out toward her.

"Please, I really need this job," he said.

Mrs. Napolitano made no move to take the panties from him. "Smell them," she commanded.

"Um," Dylan started.

"Do as I say," Mrs. Napolitano said.

Dylan lifted the panties to his nose and sniffed. The wonderful scent of her assailed his senses

"You like a my smell?" Mrs. Napolitano asked.

Dylan nodded.

"Show me," she said, looking at the tent in his shorts.

Dylan stood still.

"Now," she said.

Self-consciously, he pulled down his shorts and boxers to reveal his swollen, pulsing member. The tip glistened with precum.

Mrs. Napolitano made an odd noise in her throat. Then to his amazement she slipped her hand into her bathing suit bottoms. When she pulled her hand out, he could see that her fingers were slick with her juices. She took three steps toward him and held her fingers up to his nose. He found that he was shaking slightly from her nearness. He inhaled deeply.

"Open your mouth," she said.

Dylan did as she asked, and she stuck her finger into his mouth. It tasted clean and fresh, with a slight musky aftertaste.

"I taste a good?" she asked.

"Yes," Dylan managed.

Mrs. Napolitano smiled at him. It was a cat that ate the mouse kind of smile. Then to his surprise she reached down and cupped his balls. He gasped. Again, she slid her hand into her bathing suit bottoms, gathering moister on her fingers. Then she reached out and rubbed her slick wetness over the length of his straining pole. Dylan looked down past her breasts and her flat stomach. Her hand looked small wrapped around his now glistening cock. Gently she began to stroke him, up and down, her hand making a slightly wet, sticky sound. Dylan groaned. He'd never felt anything so good.

Mrs. Napolitano stepped closer, pressing her breasts into his chest. The sensation of her body pressed to his was amazing. With his free hand he reached around her and cupped her firm ass, pulling her closer. His other hand still held her panties, which he pressed to his nose. She moaned into his neck. Then she leaned back and looked up at him. For a moment he thought she wanted him to kiss her.

"look at me," she commanded.

She slipped her hand into her bottoms and brought more of her juices to his distended member. She started stroking him again, more deliberately this time; up and down. Dylan's hips began to buck trying to meet the rhythm of her hand. He was breathing hard and he felt flushed and hot. Mrs. Napolitano ran her fingernails along his scrotum he felt his knees go weak.

"Oh. Oh God," he said and closed his eyes.

"Look at me," Mrs. Napolitano commanded.

He opened his eyes. He could smell her breath, sweet and sour. He stared into her dark eyes. He could feel his balls tightening. He gasped with each stroke of her hand. He knew he was about to erupt.

"Oh God," he said again and started to pull away from her not wanting to spray her with his cum.

She tightened her hand on his testicles, preventing him from moving.

He could feel the exquisitely, pleasant tingling pressure at the tip of his cock. He tried to hold back. "I'm going to cum," he said, panting desperately.

Mrs. Napolitano smiled and began to move her hand faster.

Dylan stiffened and cried out. He could feel his cock swelling in her hand. The pressure in his cock was overwhelming. A little cum escaped and trickled over her finger. Then his pole pulsed, and the first geyser of his seed shot from him. It sprayed onto Mrs. Napolitano's breasts and stomach. Dylan's knees buckled and he leaned into her. It was as if all of the blood had drained out of his head and into his cock.

"Look at me," she said again.

He stared into her eyes as the second wave hit him and he pumped another load of cum out over her hand, and her flat belly. He found that he was making little grunting noises with each pulse of his tool.

"Mmmm," she said holding him like a baby, her eyes softening.

Dylan gasped as his member spasmed in her hand. He could feel the pulses slowing down and his cum dripping over his balls and down his legs. He felt l a little dizzy and he clung to his Mrs. Napolitano for a minute afterwards, basking in the feel of her warm, petite body against his.

After a moment Mrs. Napolitano pushed him away and looked down at her front. "Che carico!"

"What does that mean?" Dylan asked.

"It mean 'what a load'," Mrs. Napolitano responded. She scooped up some of his cum off her stomach and sucked it off her finger. "Mmmmm."

Dylan stared at her. He couldn't believe what had just happened.

"Come, let us get cleaned up," Mrs. Napolitano said and took him by the hand.