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Stop it Jason, I told myself. She's a gym member and a swim lesson pupil.
Jill smiled at me as she hoisted herself out of the water in a single swift action, like a gymnast pushing up from a dip on the parallel bars.
"You're a great swimming instructor Jason! I have never swum so powerfully. I needed that little extra bit of adjustment."
I smiled back at her, amusement on my face.
"What?" Jill asked. "Why are you smiling at me like that?"
"You were already such an incredible swimmer. But I'm glad I was able to help with that little extra bit," I said, the tone of my voice becoming mockingly playful with those last four words.
"What? What do you mean?" She asked.
She knew exactly what I meant, and smiled back at me mostly lighthearted but also just a tad defensive.
"So...?" I asked, pausing briefly. "I bet you swam in college. Probably even Division 1. I am the one who needs lessons from you!"
She burst out laughing, not able to keep the ruse up any longer.
She knew I had her and came clean.
"I am so totally busted!" she said, still laughing.
"So...did you swim in college?" I asked
"Yes," she replied laconically.
"Yes and it was at....?" I asked again.
"Okay, okay now I'm not only busted but discovered as a swim lesson fraudster. I swam for CHU. And yes Division 1. And yes I didn't really need a swim lesson."
CHU—Chatham Hill University--was the state's flagship public school and a national NCAA powerhouse in most varsity sports including women's swimming.
It was my turn to laugh and eat some humble pie.
"I should have seen it! Not many women are as muscular in the upper torso as you. I should have immediately recognized your talent when you were stroking in the air with your eyes closed. And if not then, certainly when you swam that first lap," I said, feeling sheepish at missing the fact that I just gave a lesson to a Division 1 swimmer who should be giving swim lessons to me--and who probably lapped me three times during our workout!
We both chuckled some more.
"Wait, Terry lives with Carol and she must have known you swam at Chatham since all three of you went there. Even though Terry is about 7 years older than us."
It was beginning to dawn on me that I was probably only about a year older than Jill.
"So, a CHU swimmer here for a swimming lesson," I said in near-disbelief.
"Okay, I can't lie," Jill said and this time she had the sheepish smile. "I'm 22. Terry told me she had an employee at work—a guy, a nice and cute guy—a year older than me whose girlfriend broke up with him a while back and she thought I should meet him...er...you."
There were a few seconds of silence as I took this in—good-naturedly, I will add.
"So Terry devised this plan. Tonight was the only night I could take this lesson because of my work--and Terry said you were never busy at 6:30 on Saturdays. She made this plan knowing that you would come to work on a Saturday night if someone had requested you by name for a swim lesson. It fell into place from there on."
Then it suddenly dawned on me.
"Wait, Jill, my little sister Kara was in your class at CHU!"
"Correct! And she and her roommate Robyn were my suitemates in Kohlerhaus freshman year. Well, actually every year but we moved to Morriston sophomore year onward"
"Of course! You get to know someone pretty well when you share a bathroom for four years."
Don't picture that, Jason, I warned myself so I wouldn't think of Jill getting out of my sister's suite's shower--in the very bathroom I had used so many times while visiting her.
Of course, saying that forced me to picture exactly that image. Like if you said, "Don't think about a pink elephant!"
And Junior midway down my body responded as Junior always does thinking about a naked and really, really pretty girl. He was becoming full mast again.
"I thought you looked familiar!" I marveled.
Then I really REALLY felt embarrassed.
"Wait, it can't be! Kara told me she had a suitemate who won a bronze in freestyle in the 2012 Olympics! That's not...."
There were a few moments of silence while Jill looked at me like she was expecting something. Her facial expression became more focused and quizzical.
We sat down at the picnic table I used for classes, on the same bench but facing each other.
"You don't remember, do you, Jason?" She asked.
Okay, Jason, I told myself. Don't mess this up. Think hard. You visited Kara three times her freshman year and Jill was her suitemate. You drove up from Whalen College in Spartanburg each time: Halloween; the CHU-Whalen basketball game; and 'Dance-Off Night', I thought to myself.
That's it!
"Dance-Off Night!" I yelled out so loud I probably made ripples in the water.
"Right!" she said happily. "I was one of only about 25 or 50 girls you danced with that night and you were fantastic!"
Then I recalled that, after a few beers, I was sitting on the steps of the Sink, a small brick amphitheater outside the Student Union. I remember talking with a girl and spilling my guts about...well, not exactly sure what. I know we discussed me and Tate. And I'm pretty sure we discussed my parents' messy divorce. Beyond that...did I tell her what was truly secret? What I longed to tell someone but never felt close enough--even to Tate at the time who was a sophomore at Duque, only 10 miles from CHU. That weekend we were still physically if not emotionally distant.
"Jason," Jill said very softly, "you really don't remember. I guess I should have known since you had a few beers. But you told me lots of hard stuff about your girlfriend--Kate?"
"Tate" I replied. "Short for Tatum."
"Yeah, Tate. And some really sad things going on with your parents. I already knew a lot about that since Kara was open with all us suitemates..."
"You know we all went on Spring Break together to hike the Appalachian Trail freshman year. We spent the night at yours and Kara's house in Asheboro to pack and leave early Saturday morning."
"Yes, I do remember now! I can clearly see helping someone adjust her backpack that looked like--must've been--you!"
"Right! As I recall you were only home for an hour. I think you were heading to the game in Chatham Hill?"
"Boy you have a great memory! Yes, one of your suitemates had two tickets to the Duque-Chatham game in the Jordan Dome. I think she also gave Tate her ID and another suitemate gave me her boyfriend's ID because we looked a lot alike. "
I paused then blurted out: "That's it! Now I remember I had to swing by home in Asheboro to pick up the CHU IDs."
"And the tickets," Jill reminded me. "I specifically remembered that because Duque was number one and we were number 2. Those were the hottest tickets in the whole NCAA, especially since it was already March. We all joked that we should sell the tickets on EBay and make a few hundred dollars to fund our trip."
"Correct! I remember you all joking about that. At first I thought--um, who was it?"
"Right, Susan the math major!"
"Okay, at first I thought Susan really was selling them. I was running a little late because I couldn't leave Spartanburg until my chem lab was finished. I got home, you all had somehow faked an EBay auction well enough to fool me. Just as I walked in, on cue, Kara yelled loudly, 'Wow! Five hundred dollars for the tickets!' You all had me going there for a while."
"And you stayed for dinner which we cooked, and were very polite to all of us. You ran down the hall to get your shower, only to rush out of the bathroom back to the kitchen with a towel around you--flapping your beautiful hard member between the towel's opening in front, yelling to Kara about where she put the soap."
When she mentioned my "hard member," my hard member suddenly hardened harder. Again.
"Was I really flapping in the breeze like that?"
"Yes! We all loved it! You're so cute, Jason. And even with boyfriends, several of us had never seen a real dick, much less a hard on."
She said "us" as if including herself.
"Jason, I know this is really forward of me to say--really, really forward for me to have done, too. But I have had a crush on you since that week. Even though I was with Rob for so many years, you were so unlike him or any other guy I hung around with. Like, deeper, more insightful. Sensitive."
Now I was not quite so embarrassed about Raging Bull which was obscenely pushing out my Speedeo. And that explains why she was so turned on even before she had "met" me today, even before the swim lesson--even before leaving the women's locker room, I bet.
"Without knowing any of that background, Terry told me about 'this guy at work who you'd really like, Jill,' Terry had said. She told me some particulars including that his sister was one of my suitemates freshman year. I immediately knew it was you."
"Yeah that was a bit forward, I must admit Jill. Kind of surprised me. We are strictly NOT to have any physical touch with members beyond what is necessary to save a drowning swimmer or teach a lesson. And even then we must be very aware of where our body is--and where the swimmer's body is."
I looked deeply into her beautiful eyes. Yes, this is definitely something I remembered from several years ago. Why didn't I act then? Tate and I were really struggling with the distant relationship, and Jill and all the suitemates came to our house several times each semester; Asheboro being only 45 minutes from Chatham Hill. Plus they stayed suitemates all four years. Such an incredibly wasted opportunity it turned out. Wasted opportunities.
"Jason, what you don't remember telling me at the dance-a-thon is that you had never met someone to whom you could tell "anything and everything" as you put it. And you asked, 'Where have you been all year?!?' And I said, "Fourth floor Kohlerhaus with your sister!" And then, as naturally as if we were really lovers, you leaned over and kissed me. Not a peck either. We kissed for probably 10 -15 minutes. With any other guy I would have stopped. But there really did seem to be a connection that night. And of course, when I saw you at your house in Asheboro--especially with your hard cock swinging like a bell clangor. OMG, Jason, I melted into a puddle of cunt cream."
"Jason, I wish I had known that you wish you had known! It sure seemed like you 'knew' that night at the Sink. You asked if we could see each other again."
"Yes, really. And I was a freshman, and you were this hot sophomore. It definitely built up expectations..." She trailed off.
"I'm so sorry, Jill. I wish I hadn't gotten drunk that night. I wish I could remember every nanosecond..." I trailed off too.
"So, when you learned who I was and what job I did here, you asked Terry to set up a Saturday night swim lesson at 6:30 knowing the pool would be empty and we'd probably be by ourselves once Terry left."
"You're pretty smart, you know that? Actually Terry knew those details. Still, we were pretty clever to pull it off so successfully."
Jill's eyes became languid with desire, her nipples rose like tent poles and I could tell that her clit was like a rosebud inflating instantly like the universe after the Big Bang. Her swimsuit was still damp, but her crotch was clearly wetter than the surrounding material.
Sitting next to me her legs straddled the picnic bench as did mine. It was just the way we sat down, but I think for Jill it was intentional. Most women I teach--in fact all women I teach--always sit across the picnic table from me if we have to sit down for a lesson.
Yet Jill immediately took the saddle approach. And it was clear why.
She stretched her arms backwards propping herself up on straightened elbows. She spread her legs even wider.
"Jason, I'm serious. I dream at night about doing something like this with you several times a month. I swear to God. But the dream is nothing compared to this reality."
The pool was empty. Terry had gone. The men's locker room was locked. The pool's front door was locked, and I knew that the door into the women's locker room from the lobby would also be locked. No one could come in without some sort of noise unlocking doors. It was so quiet we would even have heard someone unlocking the women's lobby door.
It was 7:30 and YLG was dark; the room and the pool were half dark.
Jill moved her right hand forward and pulled down first her left then her right Speedeo strap over her arms. She slowly pulled her bathing suit down her chest exposing tan lines that matched bikinis, not Speedeos. A bit further appeared the half circle of vanilla wafer-sized areolas--same color too, golden brown against the whiteness of her untanned breasts. Pulling her swimsuit half an inch further flattened her nipples by the taut fabric, and then allowed them to spring upward like diving boards releasing divers.
Once stilled, her nipples stuck out as straight as diving boards too, albeit shorter and stouter.
As I looked at them, though, they got longer and stiffer and stouter.
She was starting to breathe more rapidly and so was I. Raging Bull was so hard and long it literally pushed the top of my swimsuit away from my waist, allowing a clear view of my cock struggling to be free.
As Jill continued to slowly pull down her Speedeo, she took in that full bull view. She stood up to finish disrobing, swinging her inside leg over the picnic bench so that she could finally be as naked as in her dreams. All without taking her eyes off my "hard member." She let her swimsuit drop to the ground and stepped out of it and toward me. I had my hands on the edges of my own swimsuit ready to pull it down but she shook her head, and replaced my hands with hers. Motioning with her head to stand, she slowly pulled my swimsuit down too.
Freed from its corral, Raging Bull bucked upward as if trying to dislodge an unwelcome rodeo rider. To me, my cock was so hard it looked purple and raw and rude. It looked offensive! But then I heard Jill whisper--
"Wow, Jason, it's beautiful! I have never seen a real erection...I mean, except yours that one time. Beautiful then; but gorgeous now."
Finally I looked up to admire the Olympian goddess standing in front of me, and I couldn't take it all in fast enough. It occurred to me that I was only a few inches taller than she. Her shoulders, deltoids, biceps and forearms were muscular but in a feminine way--incredibly sexy and appealing. Her breasts did, in fact, fully reveal bikini tan lines as did her hips. Her abs were firm, tanned and rippled.
But what melted me into a pool of precum was her gorgeous mons: chestnut pubic hair neatly trimmed or waxed at the sides without any stubble. Her lush, dark, upside down triangle of pubes ended at the front of her camel toe, like an arrow pointing towards her inner sanctum. Her large outer lips as well as the whole gap between her legs were either shaved or waxed. Between them were her glistening inner lips, as swollen and purple as my cock.
Although she intentionally stood in a splayed stance, her minor labia were large enough to appear nearly fused, and certainly too swollen to show her clit--which I knew was probably blooming gigantically underneath her thickening labia, well beyond rosebud stage.
Except for Jill's comment, we remained quiet while we admired each other, our breath catching in our chests, our hands trembling.
After a long visual draught, I whispered, "Jill--it's you who are beautiful."
With that, I reached out and pulled her close to me in a tight embrace.
Wrapping her arms around my waist, she pulled my hips even closer. As if she had done this before, she reached down, grasp my cock, and positioned it in the trough of her labia. Then, shifting her feet together, she stood taller, while squeezing my cock between her now closed thighs. If it weren't for her natural gap, the grip of her strong legs I'm sure would have made me blow my load right then and there.
In front of me like that, the top of her head came to the top of my nose. I could move my head around easily and see almost all of her if I leaned back. Doing this pulled my cock against the tightness of her closed thighs, bringing the head of my upwardly curved cock forward, and un-fusing her swollen wet labia. I felt my meatus pee-hole suddenly lodge against a firm knot, at which moment Jill breathed in a startled "Oh!"
Leaning back a bit, I took in the beautiful canvas painted before me--auburn hair, green eyes, fit, muscular arms and torso, gorgeous breasts, tan lines contrasting creamy white with bronze skin--and the most glorious bush and pussy I have ever seen. In fact, the whole landscape was more erotically beautiful than any I had pictured in person, online or in magazines my entire life.
'More beautiful than Tate!' I thought to myself. And with that observation, it was like the last threads stitching me to her—Security? Familiarity? Comfort? Ease?—snapped as I pulled Jill toward me tightly again. I began to barely thrust my pelvis forward and back. Stop. Forward and back. Stop. At each stop, I kept a bit of tension where my meatus hit her clit, and she shivered slightly each time. Although it was warm in the natatorium, the tile floor was cold. And even though the opening to her pelvis felt as hot as bathwater to my cock, she started getting goosebumps on her arms, and then shivering uncontrollably.
"You seem cold," I said, "let's go lie down on the rubber mat. It insulates against the cold floor."
She nodded her assent, but would not let me disembark from the upside down canoe of her cunt. Instead, we awkwardly waddled like ducks over to the mat, facing each other. She walked backwards not daring to let go of the prize she had caught between her legs.
She relented to disengage my cock in order for us to sit down. But before she got any other ideas, I guided her to sit in front of me with her knees up, legs spread and feet on the warmer mat. I locked her eyes with mine. Then, still facing her, I slid my legs under the arches of her bent knees, reached behind her upper butt cheeks with both hands and pulled her forward until I could feel my equipment push solidly against the hot bathwater of her pussy.
At that instant we both looked down. It might not have been the tidiest mixture of male and female parts—for one thing, my cock was sticking into her belly button—but the surreal picture of my cock near the prettiest female genitalia I had ever seen made me deeply ache with desire. My throat felt a sensation rather like thirst, and my salivary glands pinched fluid into my mouth like I was anticipating delicious fruit.
Her fruit! The peaches on her chest, and the peeled and split peach of her hot vagina, inner labia and outer lips.
With my right hand, I pushed my cock downward, backing up just slightly so that it could get past her mons. Once I was pointed toward her cunt, I reached behind her again and slid her forward up my legs but not quite into my lap.
"Lean back a little bit, Jill" I said. "And hold yourself up with your arms stretched out behind you."
