Date: Sat, 4 Apr 2009 21:07:50 -0400
From: Rocco Talespinner <la-plume-volante@hotmail.com>
Subject: My New Pool Boy

A highly successful society interior designer, I recently moved into a
swankenda in the Dallas suburbs, one with an outdoor pool, cabana, and pool
house -- more than I cared to maintain with my own efforts. With summer
coming on, I placed an ad in several college newspapers for a student over
18 to be my pool boy between the Spring and Fall terms. A week before final
exams normally take place on most campuses my phone started ringing off the
hook in the evenings. I had friendly exchanges with a number of eager young
guys. I hadn't foreseen what a pleasant task this was going to be -- so
many possibilities.  But I soon learned that before one gets very far into
a conversation you can tell just by the voice if a guy is likely to be to
be an enticing male. And that, I must confess, was the #1 qualification for
this position (unstated, of course).

Needless to say, when I called several of the applicants to come for a
face-to-face interview, there were some real studs. A couple of them,
obviously straight, turned me down, I would guess because their gaydar
alerted them that stuff could develop besides just maintaining the pool
area. However, one, who blew me away as soon as he entered the door, was
either oblivious or cool enough not to be bothered by open-endedness.  He
arrived wearing a muscle-T, jeans, and sneakers, an outfit ideal to exhibit
his physical qualifications as lifeguard during my pool parties. I had to
control myself to keep from swooning over the way the broad muscular
shoulders tapered down an extraordinarily long torso to a strikingly narrow
waist and hips. There was just the right amount of bulge in the crotch and
the buns on his backside -- oh, those buns! -- were like melons in a
gunny sack. I could bliss out just gazing upon him. So, the body, already
great, would be greater still with a summer tan, But beyond all that it was
the steady gaze of those brown eyes and the adorable crooked smile
(innocent and provocative at the same time) that sold me. I was in lust
with him in five minutes and hoped it didn't show because I sure as hell
didn't want to scare him off. I offered him attractive wages and hinted
that there could be a substantial bonus for services beyond the duties
specified. Thank god, he accepted. As he departed I was thinking this could
be the greatest summer of my life -- and I wouldn't even be going to
exotic places.

Scooter, he calls himself, reported for work in May and now shows up, as
specified, every day, with the understanding that he will be a sort of
waiter-bartender-lifeguard for my friends and me, as well as maintenance
man for the pools facilities. In fact, I keep finding more and more tasks
for him to perform, increasing his compensation accordingly. I do what I
can to guard against my friends getting the jump on me with any physical
favors and I've been looking for an opportunity for my dreams to come
true. In the meantime, he looks great in a swimsuit, all the more so since
he exchanged the long baggy ones for skimpy tight Speedos. I have
complimented each new one as it became progressively smaller, so he got the
point and is nowadays wearing a micro-bikini with a soft cup, leaving
virtually nothing to the imagination. His suntan has deepened each week and
I love it when he strains enough doing something that the tan-line shows.

I've been telling you this as if in a continual present, but the kicker is
something special that happened yesterday, something that has to be placed
at a specific point in time. I was at poolside ready for a quick morning
dip before going to work when he arrived a half hour late. He waved in
greeting and rushed to the pool house to change. He was there for a while
and as I needed to tell him something before I left I went in. He must have
been using the bathroom before because as I entered he was just undressing
to put on his swimsuit, as you see him here. He was at the point of
lowering his jeans and I was more than gratified to see that he goes
commando (maybe for my sake?). In any event, he froze, fixing me with those
soulful eyes and that devastating grin. My response was involuntary: I
gasped, I gaped, I couldn't do anything less. He remained motionless,
knowing this was a moment that needed the right handling -- with the
instinct of a truly wide-awake man.

No doubt about it, Scooter is a sensualist. He is also a realist and, knows
the score about me. There he was, unashamedly displaying that athletic
body, that full bush, and that adorable penis that had just popped out of
his jeans. Staring straight at me, looking pleasant about it, he challenged
me, "You want this, don't you? I mean you really want it, right?" I am old
enough not to let a golden opportunity pass and, embarrassing as it was to
come out and be explicit with him, I replied, "Yes, Scooter, I do. You know
it, man. I hope it's OK with you and, if not, I promise I'll make it worth
your while." Then he surprised me, "You don't have to put it on that basis,
man. You've been really good to me and I am not blind to what you want. I
think you know I'm straight, but at least for now I'm willing be bi for you
if you want me to."

What could I say to that, he, so young and yet so savvy about the ways of
the world and so beyond his years in understanding? All I could do was to
sink to my knees and mutter, " Oh, Scooter, yes. I mean thank you. I do
want this more than anything, as you well know. Oh, please! Oh, yes, yes,
yes . . ."

With that he let the jeans drop to the floor as I cupped his buns and
kissed his cock. Many penises have passed between my lips, but this one was
special, mainly because is belonged to this adorable boy-man. It looks
small in the photo, but in the duality of "show" or "grow" he definitely
belongs to the "grow" category. As I went down on his shaft it seemed to
thicken and lengthen until, when I got to the hilt and buried my nose in
his bush -- so freshly washed this very morning, I felt it press
deliciously into my throat. I wanted this to last and last, but I was also
pressed for time, to meet an important client in my office, so I worked
expeditiously. I sucked hard and I made a loud sucking sound as I did so.

He sighed and muttered, "Fuck, yeah, man, do it, really do it," over and
over. When he started trembling and gasping for breath, I knew he was close
to getting my reward. Then he groaned loudly and bucked against my face,
squirting jet after jet of sweet cum in my ravenous pussy mouth.

As I pulled off I said in a loud stage whisper, "Oh, Scooter, you're
wonderful. I'm sorry I have to run. And I'll be late coming home tonight.
So I'll see you tomorrow."

He laughed, "Have a good day."

That was yesterday. Now, on the morning after, I am waiting for him to
arrive. I am not sure how things will go, but I'm hoping he's gonna be OK
with what we did . . . He's already a bit late again. Oh, Scooter, please
please, please don't quit on me!