WaterWorks

I was at WaterWorks, one of those amusement parks that has the slides and wave pools and all that stuff, you know the kind I'm talking about? Anyway, even though my house was a few miles away, WaterWorks was the place I called home, at least between Memorial Day and Labor Day, the time it was open. Sure, I liked swimming, it kept me in shape, but the real reason I went there was for the girls. Girls in string bikinis, girls in clinging wet shirts, girls whose breasts bobbed up and down as they splashed in the water, girls, girls, girls....

...but I digress. The point I'm trying to make is that I'm not "gay," I think such labels are restrictive and kind of pointless. I like girls, like 'em a lot, so why should I label myself as gay just because every so often I got a little mahogany from looking at a guy's ass? Am I right? 'Course I'm right. I guess if you absolutely had to label me, my label would be omnisexual. I'm pretty much not opposed as long as it's legal, isn't hurting anyone, and means a good time. My name's John, I'm eighteen, about 150 pounds, about five-foot eleven. I've got light brown hair and green eyes.

Anyway, at the start of September we started to have some really gray weather... and one Sunday it started to rain a little. Sundays are typically dead at WaterWorks, rainy Sundays doubly so, and on this particular Sunday the temperature was hovering around 74 degrees. I hung around there long enough to know how the lifeguards would handle things: they'd lock off the pools and the slides, tell everyone to stay out of the water, but technically the park was still open. They liked to pad their paychecks by running an empty park, while they hung out in their office waiting for the rain to clear up, making money doing nothing. By one o'clock that afternoon, the park was pretty much empty.

I got the hint that they weren't going to let anybody in the water for the rest of the day, and everyone had pretty much left, so I decided to leave as well. Pretty soon I was walking on the slick tile of the locker room, a twenty-by-twenty foot room with all the walls covered with coin-op lockers. I unclipped my locker key from my swim trunks, and slid it into the lock.

Just as I unlocked the locker, I heard thunder rumble outside, and knew they'd have to close the park now. This made me feel better about leaving- they would have chased me out soon anyway. I stacked my clothes on the flat wooden bench behind me, and made sure I had everything- the exit to the locker room was one-way: I could get out the door into the parking lot, but the only way back in would be to buy another ticket at the front entrance.

I kicked off my sandals and sat down, starting to change, and the locker room door swung open. A guy walked in, and the first thing I noticed about him was that he had the warm-colored red trunks that meant he was a lifeguard. He closed the locker room door behind him and turned the latch- obviously they were closing up the park for the day.

He turned and seemed surprised to see me there. He was a new employee- I was at WaterWorks every day and had never seen him before. His white t-shirt was at least two sizes too small for him, and covered with the light drizzle from outside. He had a tangled curly mop of blonde hair on top of his head, and blue eyes. He was in great shape, about six feet tall and pretty thin.

"Park's closed," he said.

"Yeah, I know, I was just changing to leave. You're new here."

"How'd ya guess?" he asked, and grinned a little lopsidedly.

"They always give the new guys the uniforms that don't fit. Are you leaving too?"

"Yeah, so?"

"I dunno, don't you have to like, clean up the place or something before they let you punch out?"

"It's my first day, and I can't stick around... the rest of 'em won't leave for at least forty-five minutes."

"Oh..."

He walked over next to me, and the closer he got the better-looking he seemed... I felt something waking up below decks as I wondered why he was coming so nearby. Turned out his locker was the one right next to mine. He pulled off his t-shirt, and while it was covering his face I took the opportunity to take a good look at his smooth, tanned chest.

"So how you like working here so far?" I asked, as I slid out of my trunks.

"Eh, it's all right..." he said, and pulled off his trunks as well. We were both standing there naked, and as we talked I tried not to be too obvious about checking out his dick- he kept it completely shaved, and with his balls and shaft so smooth, it made him look a lot younger.

He noticed I was looking.

"Looking for something?" he asked, but I noticed he sounded more amused than irritated.

"Eh... never mind, it's weird," I said, and turned away, bending down to pick up my sandals.

"Come on, what is it?" he said, and it sounded like he really wanted to know. As I stood up straight again I noticed him lifting his head, like he'd been looking downward.

Was he checking out my ass when I bent down? I thought to myself...

"Okay, but you gotta promise not to like, kick my ass or something," I said.

"Promise," he said.

"Okay, I couldn't help but notice that you're shaved... down there... and I gotta say it takes a lot of balls to put a razor near there, no pun intended. I mean, don't you worry about cutting something down there?"

His dick seemed to notice it was the topic of conversation, and was starting to lengthen. He was a usual length, about seven inches, which still toppled my six-and-a-half easily. He wasn't getting hard, just stirring slightly... but the way he was smiling seemed to suggest something.

"Eh, all it takes is practice," he said, "besides, there are benefits that are worth the risks."

"What kind of benefits?" my dick was starting to levitate away from my body a little.

"Well, there's nothing to get in the way, no hair gets pulled when you're trying to put on a condom, and no hair means more sensation. Plus, your partner'll like it better too. Here... let's compare."

"Huh? How?"

He put a hand on the side of his dick and pointed it towards me. "Touch mine, and touch yours, at the same time. See which one feels better."

"I don't know..."

"Aw, come on!" he said, "You don't have to touch it for long, just to compare."

I looked him in the eye, and reaching my hand out, lightly grabbed his dick. At the same time I grabbed mine with my right hand. He was right- his was a lot smoother, softer... I slid my hand the length of his shaft as he grew hard, felt around the base, and then I felt the soft smoothness of his sack. It felt way better than mine.

We had to stand close to do this, close enough that I could feel his warm breath coming out of his mouth and onto my neck.

I looked him in the eye again, and asked, "Do you like that?"

He nodded.

"So do I," I said.

He smiled knowingly, and put a hand on the side of my face, drew me in close, and kissed me. I parted my lips willingly and let his tongue slide in and out of my mouth, as his smooth dick poked me in the hip. He slid a hand up my thigh, cupping my balls while one of his fingers started to rub at my asshole. I moaned a little, and he rubbed harder.

I bent and traced kisses down his neck, licked his nipples, and then traced my tongue between the lines of his six-pack. His dick poked me in the chin, and I started to tilt my head downward, because at that moment putting his cock in my mouth seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

"Not yet," he said, and turned around, showing me his ass instead. His asshole was smooth too. How did he do that? I'd ask later.

I pushed apart his ass cheeks and kissed it like I'd kiss a girl's mouth, treating his anus like a pair of lips, sending my tongue darting in and out, and he moaned. I nibbled at the pink flesh, and licked at it, wondering why this felt so terrific.

"Stop, or I'm going to come right now," he said, "turn around."

I did as he said, and I had an idea what was coming next. I got on all fours on the wooden bench, and soon after I felt his mouth burying itself in my ass. Never in my life had anything felt so good. He started to slide one spit-covered finger in and out of my ass, then two, then three. I took them all easily, and he seemed to hum his approval.

I felt something both soft and hard pressing at the entrance to my ass, and I tried to relax. I guess it worked, because suddenly most of his dick slid inside, feeling warm and alive and beating with his pulse. He started to slide in and out, slowly at first, and then more quickly. I moaned and bent more, letting him have better access, and I realized how effeminate I must have looked just then, posing just like a girl taking it from behind. I started to pretend I was a girl, and that my boyfriend was trying anal sex as something new. Whenever he went too far in I tightened up a little to stop him from going deeper, and whenever he seemed ready to pull out I tightened even more, to keep that dick inside me.

His hand appeared in front of my face, and I licked his palm- seconds later that hand was wrapped around my cock. I started fucking his hand while he fucked me, and as we got into a rhythm I made a goal- we would come at the same time.

He moved faster and faster, back and forth in my ass, and then, looking up, I realized that I could see into the bathroom that adjoined the locker room- could see the full-length mirror on the bathroom wall. I saw both of our pleasured expressions as he fucked me, and I could see his hand working on my cock. I could see his balls rubbing against mine, and the sight of all this was too much. The juices started flowing, splattering over his hand and sticking to my chest, and he lifted his hand to my mouth again. I licked every drop of my jizz off his palm, looking at myself in the mirror as I did it, and then he grunted and I felt warm jizz shooting up inside of me.

Good girl, I thought to myself, and shivered with pleasure.

A little bit later, his dick pulled out and we kissed for a few more minutes.

"My name's John, by the way," I said.

He grinned. "I'm Tim."

"So, Tim... what are you doing tonight?"