Toy Boy Ch. 03

Continuing the story of teacher Jenny and her ex-student Michael. Michael gets his first real glimpse of the visual treats Jenny has in store for him.

Chapter 3 – Swimming

I collected my beloved little ruby-red Mini Cooper from the garage in the morning, and drove straight home after the heart-stopping bill had been put onto my credit card. I needed time to get ready for meeting Michael at the local swimming pool. I had dressed relatively plainly in the morning as I certainly wasn't going to give the surly garage mechanics the visual treat that I was planning for my Michael.

I had my choices already picked out. After packing my swimming costume, towel, and other paraphernalia into my trusty tote-bag, I put on my makeup and got dressed. I did my eyes with almost no eye-shadow, as I knew it would be washed off in the pool, just some pale shimmer as a highlight, so instead I compensated by enhancing my eyeliner and mascara. With a waterproof liquid eye liner, I drew a thick line all around my eyes, making an obvious sharp point in the inner corner, then going all around both the top and bottom of my eyes, including the waterline, to go out in a very long narrow cat-flick-point extending out a really long way from the outer corner, almost as far out as the bottom corner of my eyebrows. Then, after three coats of quality waterproof mascara, I chose a deep ruby-red lipstick that really stood out. My finger and toe nails I painted with a matching deep red nail polish.

I left my hair loose around my shoulders, as I knew that way it would be easier to dry after swimming, and I chose a pair of simple small real-gold hoop earrings, only about two inches in diameter, as jewellery. Then on a whim, I quickly added a slim gold chain anklet for my left leg - something to add just the merest touch of the exotic to otherwise quite mundane jewellery choices. I had to be careful not to select anything that might hinder me, or get caught, whilst swimming.

Underwear was simple, a strapless white lace bra and matching white lace thong knickers. Then I chose one of my purchases from my shopping trip the other day - a wonderful simple jersey-knit micro-mini-skirt in bright red that closely matched my lipstick. It was almost short enough to be a belt – only about ten-inches in length. The stretch-material clung to my curves very tightly, emphasising my bottom, and was so short that it had to be worn quite low on my hips to keep me from revealing my underwear in public. To top off the ensemble, I chose an old 80s-style white cotton off-the-shoulder gypsy-blouse with an elasticated top-edge. More prudish girls could wear it on-the-shoulder as a normal blouse, but the elasticated top edge meant that it could also be worn off-the-shoulder, pulled down the arms, exposing strapless shoulders completely. I pulled it down as far as I dare without showing my strapless bra, but leaving as much of the upper curve of my breasts visible as I could. It was short enough that it didn't quite reach the top of my tiny skirt, leaving several inches of exposed flesh between the two. Several times in the past I had thought about getting my belly-button pierced with a delicate gold hoop, but I had always been too chicken. Today I wished I had had the courage to go through with it, as it would have been shown-off wonderfully in the gap between the blouse and the skirt.

The finishing touch was to slip on an old pair of red leather mules with a full five-inch high wood-block stiletto heel and a one-inch wood-block platform. I was ready to see Michael. Or perhaps I should say I was ready for Michael to see me, as I knew I didn't want to disappoint him by wearing anything but skirts, makeup and heels. I wanted to make sure Michael knew I was not the school frump he had usually seen in the past, so I vowed to myself that he would never see me without makeup, or in trousers, or flat shoes. Michael would never see "school-me" any more, only ever "weekend-me". I was physically excited by the prospect.

Michael was waiting outside for me when I arrived at the leisure centre. I parked, and trotted out to meet him, smiling warmly as I got near. Michael smiled back, looking me up and down as I came across the car part towards him, taking in my clothing choices, admiring my legs under the very, very short skirt. I kissed him slowly on the lips as a greeting – still no tongues though. As we pulled apart, he looked deep into my eyes, studying my makeup.

"Hello. All ready?" I asked quickly.

"Hi Jenny! Yes, I'm all ready," and he jiggled a small rucksack slung over one shoulder to indicate his kit "shall we go in? Oh yes, and..." he feebly waved a hand at my ensemble, "let me just say: WOW! You look amazing."

"Why thank you sir." I replied with a smile, and a jokey little curtsey. Then I took his hand in mine as we went inside.

After paying, we separated into our respective changing rooms. This was one place where I knew I had the potential to cause a stir. The more prudish parents might get a shock, but hopefully Michael would appreciate what was to come, as it was all for him. I changed into my swimming costume quickly. It was a small leopard-print bikini. Very small in fact. I had bought it in Spain at the behest of my ex-boyfriend last year whilst on holiday together. It had actually been the beginning of the end for us because, when I had tried it on, he had become very jealous of the looks it attracted from all the other guys in the resort. We had had a big argument about it. He had wanted me to buy it after all, and then he no longer wanted me to wear it. I hadn't had the opportunity to wear it since then, but in deciding to put it on for Michael I felt like I was exorcising old demons. It suddenly felt good. It was very small though, just three tiny triangles of material held together by the thinnest of spaghetti-strings. It went up to tie in a halter behind my neck, with the two bra sections only just big enough to cover my aureoles; and the tiny thong made me thankful that I kept my pubic hair very neatly trimmed in a "Brazilian" - I wasn't brave enough to go for the full "Hollywood". The panties of my bikini had a small triangle as the front, but no back as such, just another spaghetti-string that went up between my butt-cheeks to join the waist-string which then arched high over each hip. It was almost indecent, and even as I changed into it, I could feel the wonderfully disapproving glances from most of the other women in the changing room. A little thrill went through me.

I quickly packed my clothes into the locker, and headed out through the little smelly foot-bath-thing and into the main pool area. Michael had changed more quickly than I had, and was waiting for me. He wore a pair of loose baggy swimming shorts, for which I was thankful. Although he had a body that could probably carry off a pair of "Speedo's", and much as I wanted to have a better look as his "package", I always preferred boxer-style somehow. Plus the shorts gave him some element of modesty, as I could see straight away that my bikini was having the desired effect. I padded towards him smiling, and his smile just got bigger with each step, as did the bulge in his shorts. He tried his best to hide it, but I just knew it made me happy to see the physical reaction I could provoke in him, so I didn't care.

"Wow... Jenny... You look..." he trailed off, lost for words. I just smiled and stretched up to give him a very quick kiss on the lips. It was a surprisingly long way up, and on tip-toe I realised that this was the first time he had seen me without a minimum of four-inch heels on. Barefoot, I was suddenly down to my normal height of 5-foot-4, and Michael was over 6-foot. It felt slightly strange, but I could see he had hardly noticed, his eyes were locked on my body, almost completely exposed by the tiny bikini.

"I'm glad you like it." I said, and did a little twirl for him. "I chose it especially for you – you said you were a very 'visual' person."

"Oh yes." He said breathlessly. "You looked fantastic in the mini-skirt and top before, but this...?! I just never imagined you could look so..." he paused as he wondered if he dare use the word, "...sexy!" There! He had said it, and I was so pleased that he felt he could say it that I almost jumped him there and then. I restrained myself.

"Thank you, Michael." My mother had always taught me to try and accept a compliment gracefully, and I could tell that just saying the word had been a hurdle for Michael to get over. "A girl always likes to hear when she looks good. Please don't stop doing it." And I gave him another quick, but slightly longer kiss on the lips before taking his hand and walking to the steps into the water together.

Once in the water, we did a quite a few lengths each. He was clearly a much better swimmer than I was, outpacing my simple breast-stroke with his powerful and practiced "crawl" stroke. He was doing at least two lengths for every one of mine, and after a while, I stopped and retreated to the side of the pool to catch my breath, and admire his supple body as he dove past me. Plus I was bored with doing lengths, I wanted to watch Michael. No, that wasn't the whole truth. Actually I wanted to stroke his chest, and have him hold me close. As I watched him, I could feel my nipples getting hard, and through my thin and tiny bikini they became very obvious indeed.

I wasn't tired as such, I usually either work out or jog three or four times a week, and so I keep myself pretty fit. I liked to stay around the 8 stone mark if possible – that's 112 pounds for any American's reading this. As I watched Michael swim past me, I couldn't help but admire his body. Firm, slim, and tall - as only an eighteen-year-old can be. I could think of a several ex-boyfriends who would have killed to own a body like his, and the thought of this made me smile. His arms bulged with muscles, not like a weight-lifter or body-builder (ugh!), but more wiry and sinewy. Subtle, yet strong.

After a few more lengths, Michael noticed that I wasn't following him any more, and came up to me, splashing playfully. I joined in, and we laughed together in sheer abandon, oblivious to the stares of the other people around us. I had seen the jealous and disapproving glances of several of the women, and the lascivious looks coming from most of the men, and I absolutely revelled in it. I was enjoying myself too much to pay any real heed as we splashed and played around in the water.

As Michael and I laughed and splashed, I slowly managed to manoeuvre him between me and the side of the pool, and then I took my chance. I pushed him back playfully, and pinned him between me and the poolside. The water came up to his stomach, almost to my chest, and I deliberately pushed him back against the side of the pool so he had no reasonable escape. I reached up to put both my hands behind his neck, and he hesitantly put his arms around my waist – the first time his hands had touched my bare skin other than simple hand-holding. I smiled up into his eyes, and pulled his head down to kiss him. This time I didn't hold back, and I opened my mouth to push my tongue between his lips. He quickly relaxed into the kiss, his tongue playing with mine as we melted into each other. Instinctively he pulled me closer, and now unable to pull his bottom away from me as it was up against the poolside, he had no choice but to press his hard cock into my stomach. I pushed into him in return, moulding myself to him as we kissed. His hands moved slowly down my back to gently fondle my almost completely exposed bottom under the water as I continued to deliberately push myself up against his now rock-hard cock under the water. I could feel it hot and stiff against my abdomen, and I squirmed against it to let him know that I felt it too, and that I liked it.

I wanted so much to grab his cock and feel it in my hands, but this was too public, even for me and the aroused state I was in, and so I let his hands simply wander up and down my back, cradling and fondling my buttocks as my hands played with his hair. From the slow caressing of his hands, I got the impression that he wanted to feel my breasts, and I really did want to feel his hands upon me too, but this was far too public for that – we would get thrown out. We were probably pushing it as it was. Our mouths were pressed hard together, my deep red lipsticked lips slick against his, our tongues twirled and played in each other mouths, back and forth, until we had to come up for air. Breathing hard I looked into his eyes with a big smile, and he smiled back warmly. Then I had to giggle, and it broke the tension. His lips were almost as red as mine with all the lipstick that had transferred in our passionate kissing.

"That will never do." I cradled his cheek with my hand as I rubbed the lipstick from his lips with my thumb. He kissed my thumb as I finished smudging off the transferred lipstick, holding me tight up against him. His cock was still as hard as a rock against my abdomen, and I continued to press against it, enjoying the thrill it gave me.

"Oh, Jenny..." was all he could say as he held me close.

As I pulled my hand away from his face, I noticed that I'd started to "prune" in the water, so I showed him my fingers.

"Time to get out of the water I think." I pulled away and looked pointedly down at his crotch under the water and giggled. "Though, perhaps you ought to wait a few minutes? I'll meet you in the bar in a little while." And with a laugh I gave him another quick kiss on the lips before I made for the steps out. He just stood there, rooted to the spot as he watched me climb out of the water and head back to the changing rooms. My nipples were so hard with desire that they made extremely obvious peaks in my tiny bikini, and I hoped Michael could see how much he had turned me on. I didn't care about the drooling looks I got from the other men, and the judgmental looks I got from the women. I was blissfully happy, and I wanted to show the world.

After showering, and washing, conditioning, drying, and brushing my hair, I moisturised thoroughly to get rid of the "prune-finger" look, and got dressed. Then I inspected my makeup. The swimming pool water had washed most of it off except my waterproof eyeliner and mascara, and all our kissing had worn off most of my lipstick. I had to start almost completely from scratch with foundation, a light dusting of powder, a hint of blush, and touch-up to my eyes before re-applying my lipstick. Once I was fully presentable again, a quick squirt of perfume and I headed out to the leisure centre bar. Michael, being a guy, only had to shower off the chlorine and get dressed, so despite staying longer in the pool he was way ahead of me, and already had an ice-cold diet coke waiting for me, the darling.

I sat down next to him, and greeted him with a quick kiss on the lips as I did so. As we talked, he had clearly relaxed almost fully in my company. I think, I hoped, that he was learning how to be around a woman, as he had so little experience of being intimate. My hopes were confirmed when without prompting he gently laid a hand on my bare knee as we spoke, and I covered his hand with mine and squeezed his fingers in acceptance, holding his hand there. His fingers very lightly caressed my inner thigh, causing my skin to flutter involuntarily and send delightful little tingles of happiness to shoot up my spine. We huddled close, legs touching as we talked quietly for a time.

I hardly noticed at first, but as we talked, his hand slowly moved its way up my bare leg from my knee to the very edge of my micro-mini-skirt. His fingers against my exposed inner thigh were warm and soft, and it felt quite natural that he touch me there. I wasn't concerned, and felt no desire to gently move his hand back down to my knee. He was slowly starting to get bolder, and I liked the change, letting his hand wander as far as he wanted, and dared.

When we got up to walk out to the car park, he took my hand without any hesitation, or prompting from me, and when I squeezed his hand in mine, he gently squeezed back, our fingers entwined so that, glancing down, I could hardly tell where his hand ended and mine began. Only my deep-red painted fingernails gave the game away to which was masculine and which was feminine. We walked very close together, hip to hip, out to the car park and he led me back to my car, my stiletto heels click-clicking on the concrete.

I had been forced to park quite far to the back of the car park as it was a busy time of day, and as we reached my car Michael turned me to face him by gently pulling on my hand. It was a surprisingly deft move, as with my back up against my car, I was effectively pinned between Michael and the car door in a manoeuvre not dissimilar to what I had used in the pool. He gave me plenty of time to stop him if I wanted, but he slowly reached up to cup my face in his right hand as his left hand slipped around my waist. Again moving slowly, giving me time to object or pull away if I wanted, he tipped my head back, and leaned down to press his lips against mine. I almost wept he was being so considerate, but I wanted him to do this. Wanted it badly. Then, for the first time, he actually initiated the kiss, instead of me kissing him. He kissed me softly at first, but with an open mouth, and his tongue darted tentatively into my mouth, warm and moist. I pushed back against him, returning the kiss deeply and throwing my arms up around his neck. His tongue was hot in my mouth, seeking mine, and I returned the compliment eagerly. Our lips press tightly together, tongues playing with each other, my lipstick slick against his warm lips. Hungry for him, I pulled him closer.

I knew that we were almost completely unobserved, and he must have known it too, as his free hand wandered caressingly from my waist, up across my bare stomach, making it flutter slightly under his tickling touch, up over my blouse until he came to my breast. With only a moment's hesitation, his hand carried on its journey, cupping and fondling my breast through the material of my blouse and bra.

"Oh, please..." I said breathlessly between kisses, "Please..."

He stopped abruptly, hardly daring to move.

"Please what?" He asked, his voice suddenly filled with concern. "Please don't?"

"Oh no," I said smiling, our faces just millimetres apart, "please DO!"

"Oh Jenny..." He said, and his lips suddenly crushed down onto mine, his tongue even more eager and thrusting than before. His hand quickly moved back to my breast, fondling and caressing more assuredly, now knowing that I wasn't going to reject his advances, as he had clearly been accustomed to from all previous attempts with other girls. He was massaging desire into me - as if I needed any more. His hand on my breast had lit a fire inside me. My nipples were like little bullets against my bra and Michael felt this, pinching them gently through the material.

I could hold back no longer, and I dropped one hand down between us. I could feel his stiff cock against my abdomen, and I brought my hand down to feel his rod in my fingers. He stiffened slightly, unsure for a second as I touched him down there for the first time, then he quickly relaxed as I wrapped my fingers tight around his rock-hard cock as best I could through the material of his trousers. I could feel he was red hot, very stiff, and even through the layers of cloth I could tell he wasn't a small lad. I so-wanted to unzip his fly and feel the naked flesh of his cock in my hand, but although we were mostly hidden from view by my car, I also knew that was too much for such a public place. I gently rubbed his cock through his trousers, grasping and fondling tightly at it. I wanted to turn him on as much as he was turning me on, with his hand on my breasts, his tongue in my mouth, my tongue in his, his body pressed hard against mine as his other arm around my back pulled me close. We kissed, and kissed, and kissed.