A Swim into Ecstasy

Looking back on them now, Jeff tenses up at the memory of the first days -- when fear of illness and death made him suspicious of everyone. He had hated elevators, movie theaters, and even stores because that many people in that space made him lose his natural desire to socialize. Someone speaking to him in the Express Line made him start. Buying a snack required planning and equipment.

Within weeks, the fear was replaced by the tension between the desire for safety and the rebellion against the oppressive atmosphere. Was being healthy worth not seeing beautiful faces, hearing lovely voices, touching those we care about? At that point, walking through a store not only meant a minefield of other people, but also checking for items no one ever thought about before. Was there toilet paper? Paper towels? Let alone wipes and hand sanitizer.

As the months dragged on, Jeff became bolder in defying the glares of others when he "forgot" his mask. Of course, he was just as angry when others forgot theirs! He was so tired of the vaccine race and of the political race. He especially tired of denying himself -- he was thirty and now he was facing a full year without.

Without a woman.

He was angry. His friends who married in the years before 2020 were able to shelter in place with someone they cared about. Someone who cared about them. Someone who wanted to hold them and be held. Jeff's only relationships were electronic. Cold comfort when stuck in a house for work, rest, and play. Sometimes -- not often -- the rage overtook him. His loneliness and frustration became overwhelming. He needed to DO something to get it out. Pleasuring himself to a 10-minute video wouldn't be enough. He needed the warmth and texture of skin, the scent of perfume, the joy of a smile.

During one of those desperate moments, he was suddenly surprised. It was late on a weeknight, though it didn't really matter -- when you can't go out weekends and weekdays are pretty much the same. He tore off his shorts and t-shirt, went out the patio door and jumped in the heated pool in the back yard. He was thinking that at least a swim could tire him out and maybe touching himself in the water would be a change in the routine. He swam under water to the deep end and surfaced under the diving board. He enjoyed the sensation of the chilly night air on his face contrasting with the warmth of the pool water. He reached up to hold the diving board, suspending himself in the water. He tried to drive all thought from his head.

Then he realized he wasn't alone. With no lights on outside, he could barely make out a shadow on the steps on the side of the pool. Something was there, but he couldn't tell what. The shadow wasn't moving. Now neither was he.

Now that he had time to think about it, there was little mystery here. There was only one other person living in the house. Either the shadow was her or an intruder. He doubted an intruder would be soaking in the pool on a chilly night in the dark. The other possibility stirred him in ways he hadn't expected. Here he was, so desperate for the touch of a woman that he was essentially choosing the cold shower option. And there she was -- a beautiful, unattached woman so close and quiet in the water. The thought had never occurred to him before because it wasn't supposed to. He wasn't supposed to think of her that way. But now he couldn't think of anything else.

He remembered that in his frustration he had dove in without clothes. So the only thing between him and her was whatever she was wearing. Inevitably that thought made him curious. What was she wearing? His mind raced through the possibilities -- bounding from one modest option to the racier ones -- bathing suit, bikini, underwear, ...or the same choice he had made. The current in the water as that thought occurred to him only made him harder.

She didn't move. The shadow remained still, but just defined enough for him to know she was there. She had to have been there when he jumped in. She knew he was in the water too. She may have realized what he was wearing. He felt that current again.

The wafting of the water below his waist convinced him. Now was the time to try to end this frustration or embarrass himself trying. He let go of the board -- his last connection with propriety -- and slipped beneath the surface. He swam beneath the surface again to the step where she sat. He could see her legs as he approached and lifted himself onto the step next to her. She was beautiful. Despite his move to join her, she hadn't stirred. The only movement was the surface of the water rising and falling across her chest in his wake. Mystery prevailed. He couldn't tell what she was wearing. Then in the night, he saw her teeth. Her smile.

"Hello there," she said. I didn't expect company on my little late-night swim.

He grinned back. "I hadn't heard there were mermaids in these waters."

She laughed.

He sat back against the side of the pool. Now that he had made this leap, how should he break the ice? How would he change this relationship forever? What could he say that would let her know his new feelings? How could he show her he wanted her love in a different way? Turned out, he didn't have to. No words would be right No words would be enough. No explanation could be anything but awkward and wrong.

Instead, her touch changed his world. Sitting with him at the side of the pool and unseen in the dark and beneath the surface of the water, her hand gently went to his knee and moved up. He was still hard when her hand reached him. She gave him a squeeze. That was all he needed. His arms went around her and pulled her close. He kissed her firmly and without a break they were covering each other with touches and kisses.

He grasped her from behind and lifted her into his lap backwards. She sat in his lap and his hands reached around to her breasts. She was in a swimsuit and he loved it. His fingers traced the seams where her skin met the material and he traced circles on her breasts. She was grinding into his lap and leaning back into his embrace. Her soft moans thrilled him.

Then she hopped off into the pool, turned, and swam into his legs. She braced herself against him and lifted the straps of her suit over her shoulders and pulled it down below the surface of the water. Now he could see the glory of her chest. The lovely chest that had once fed him. With a little hop she rested her breasts on his lap, encasing his penis in them.

As he grew harder, she bumped against his lap, encouraging his reaction. He bent to kiss her forehead and then her lips. She reached down to hold him and began pumping him with her eyes gazing up into his. He was so excited, and it had been so long since a woman had touched him in that way, that soon grabbed the step and grunted as he sprayed her face.

She giggled at that. She had expected a little more struggle!

He hopped off the step and lift her onto it -- but not before he hooked his thumbs into her suit and pulled it to the bottom of the pool. With her sitting on the step, he floated between her thighs. He covered her with little kisses above and below the surface. He held his breath and began to lick her -- enjoying the texture of her skin and the slippery surface in between. Each time he surfaced for breath, he went back down with new energy and passion. Her breathing became quicker and he felt her fingers in his hair as he kissed her there. Before long the passion and naughtiness got to her too and her legs shook against his cheeks. He surfaced again to her smile and they held each other. For quite a while they floated together in the pool. Feet occasionally bouncing off the bottom. Their hands wandered, exploring the familiar strangeness, the forbidden consent.

Eventually they were chilly and almost too relaxed. Not wanting this first moment to end, they endured pruning and goosebumps to a remarkable degree. After drying, they collapsed on the sofa in silence, enjoying not having to comment on the event.