From: Shorts <Shorts@hotmail.com>
Subject: How 'Bout a Swim?
Date: 25 Sep 1996 13:27:17 GMT

***
Standard Disclaimer:  
Do Not read further if you are under 21 years of age.  Also, this is a
story involving M/M Sex.  Reprinted from a story by a friend--Do not
attempt to sell any this material, etc..  But DO feel free to post your
interest, if you'd like to read more...
***

      It has been a hot day.  A day in Houston that just seems to follow
directions from a cook book: broil, steam, roast, bake . . .   Thank God
this
is to be my last pool of the day.  How I get myself into these situations
I
can never quite figure out. Sure Mark is my best friend.  So it is only
natural for me to tell him that I will fill in for him while he is away at
his brother's wedding.  Somehow or other I just expected a few days --
not a
week of this torture!
        Anyway, one last pool for the day and then home for a shower and
a hot date.

        Actually this is a beautiful home -- really a mansion.  One of
those hidden
behind the brick fences and trees of Memorial.  I park the van in the
parking
courtyard and walk around to the side gate, following the directions
pulled
from the office computer this morning.  Finding the right key, I unlock
the
gate and enter the pool area.
        "God, what a set-up", I mutter to myself.  I survey the pool and
the
grounds: a  pool, a hot tub, waterfalls, a pool house, and what looks to
be a
fantastic guest house come into view as I walk down the path.  Following
the
map which Mark has drawn for me, I locate the supply room, unlock the
door,
and get out the chemicals and skimmer.
        Doing a quick analysis of the pool condition, I determine that
there is
actually little to be done.  Hey, what a break: a few chemicals in the
pool
and I am out of here.
        I am drenched with sweat -- Mark's uniform is too small and is
starting to
glue itself to my body.  The pool water sparkles and under other
cirmcumstances, I would be nude and enjoying the cool refreshing water.
        Well, get this over with and on to my date. . . 
        While measuring the chemicals into the pool, I feel eyes boring
through the
back of my uniform.  I turn suddenly to find you there ------
        A hunky, young stud -- late 20s ? early 30s ? -- in a speedo and
T-top.  
        "Hey, Guy", I mutter.  "You gave me a start!"  "How's it going
today?"
        "OK, I guess", you reply. "You're the pool guy, huh?".
        "Yep, I'm Bill, and I am taking over for my friend, Mark, while
he is out of
town."
        As we talk, I can see your eyes move to the bulge in my uniform
trousers.  I
have had to borrow Mark's uniform, and he is several sizes smaller than I
am.
 Obviously, you can tell that I am not wearing underwear.  The smaller
sized
trousers and the sweat from my body have caused my cock to be pasted
along my
right thigh.
        "I don't know Mark", you say. "I'm J,  -- a guest here from out
of state."
        "Oh, I see," I reply, obviously attracted to your fantastic shape
and
bulging speedos.  How to handle this, I wonder.  Should I make a direct
attack or play it cool?
        I decide on the latter move and pick up the pool skimmer, knowing
full well
that there is nothing to be skimmed from the pool.  You saunter over to a
lounge chair and throw your towel on the back of the chair, never taking
your
eyes from my quickly growing cock down my leg.
        You sit down on the lounger, and then straddle it, giving me a
full view of
your speedo enclapeslated manhood.  I approach your lounger with the
skimmer
in hand, pretending to clean the pool.
        Suddenly the phone rings.  You get up and go to the phone on the
bar of the
pool house and answer it.  I decide to make my move.
        I walk over behind you, reach around you and put my hands under
your T.
        Running my hands up your firm chest, I tweak each nipple, sending
surges of
excitement through your body.
        You are having trouble keeping the conversation on track but try.
        I finger your nipples and tongue your left ear.  You gasp and
lean back into
my  hardening erection.  I slowly lift your T over your head as you
manuever
your hand, arm and phone through the opening. 
        With an audible gasp, you stiffen as I reach around and run my
hands down
your stomach and cup your stiffing pouch.  Trying to make a sensible
conversation, you try to twist out of my grasp; however, I have you
pinned to
the bar and proceed to massage your mound of manflesh at the same time you
are grinding your ass into my uniformed cock.   
        Slamming down the phone, you reel and scream: "Get your hands off
of me!
You are nothing but hired help!  Who told  you that you could take such
liberties?"
        "Your eyes", I reply.  
        With this, I grab you and plant a firm kiss on your lips, forcing
my tongue
deep into your suddenly-inviting mouth.  Face-to-face and holding you
firmly
within my grasp, you start to melt.  My hands go round your body and cup
your young ass.  Massaging your round mounds, I pull your body into my
firm
erection.  Your erection meets mine, and we both sigh with anticipation of
things to come  . . . 

to be continued . . .