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The Community Pool

The pool will never be the same
I really hated the community pool in our housing development. Well, not actually the pool itself, but the fact that the place seemed to always be overrun with screaming kids and surly teenagers. I really wanted to be able to swim laps and get some sun while reading (and quaffing the occasional adult beverage); but found these tasks to be hard to accomplish due to the aforesaid. I was seriously thinking about giving up my pool membership, when a petition made its way to my door. Apparently, a lot of other adults without children had the same complaints I did, and one of them had decided that the problem was the lack of any community-sponsored supervision; to wit, a lifeguard crew.

The petition made the case that the cost of lifeguards would only increase each pool membership by twenty-five dollars, and would also garner savings for the community association’s liability insurance policy. I not only signed the petition; but, like most, attached my check for the extra twenty-five dollars. The community association took notice, and a week later the first lifeguard appeared.

A young woman, looking to be in her early twenties, showed up in the guard that day: Susan. She looked like something out of Baywatch; sun-bleached hair, a red Speedo that showed off her muscularly tanned body, a non-nonsense look on her face, and wrap-around mirrored sunglasses so that no one knew where she was looking. From the moment she climbed those four steps and sat down, everyone knew who was in charge. By the time her first shift was over, order had been restored.

If there was any complaint at all, it was from the wives of the married men. Guys that you couldn’t have drug to the pool with a team of draught horses suddenly were aquatic wonders. It was actually funny to watch. But Susan was the consummate professional. The indirect flirting she merely ignored. The direct approach was met with an admonishment that she was on duty, first; and, second, they were married. The weekend air was often thick with the smoke of egos going down in flames.

From that perspective, I was luckier than most. I was single; and well enough off that I didn’t have to work but did so anyway, from home. I was able to hang out at the pool during the week when I had nothing else going on and when almost no one else was around, so I got to strike up a casual “conversation friendship” with Susan. The only problem was that I was in my late fifties, and thus “aged-out” of any chance to get anything going beyond that.

The Fourth of July holiday came; which meant open swim for everyone in the community, not just paid members. The association also provided free burgers and dogs, soft drinks for the kids, and beer for the adults. Even though Susan had an extra guard helping her out, she was run ragged by the time the pool closed at nine that night. I had stayed to help with the clean-up, and was just hanging out when Susan came over and asked me to walk her to her car, which she had to park five streets over due to the crowds.

Seeing how tired she was, and feeling in a particularly chivalrous mood, I offered to carry her gear for her, which she gladly accepted. It felt like I was carrying her books home from school, and I was about to make that somewhat corny observation when she said exactly the same thing. I asked her if she would pass a note to Becky Sue in home room, and she promised to but only if I told Bobby that she “liked” him, but didn’t “like-like” him. We both were laughing as we got to her car; but there the amusement ended. Someone had slashed two of her tires.

Not just hers, but several other cars. Unfortunately she only had the one spare tire, so changing one wasn’t going to help. She was lucky enough to have AAA; but due to the holiday, the wait time was estimated to be at least three hours. I offered to let her wait it out at my house, which was just down at the end of the block. I could tell that she was hesitant, but I guess the prospect of sitting alone in her car in the dark for three hours convinced her that I wasn’t such a bad guy. “Thanks,” she said, “I appreciate the offer.”

We walked to my door in silence. I opened it, flipped on the foyer light, and showed her where she could put her stuff. “Feel free to use one of the bedrooms or bathrooms if you have something to change into or need to freshen up,” I offered. “Meanwhile, I’m going to fix a drink. Do you want anything?”

“Thanks; water would be great,” she said, but then I heard a hesitation in her voice, “unless you have some good Scotch.”

“How about a Macallan 25?”

“Two ounces, two ice cubes,” she smiled back. “Now, which way to the bathroom?”

I fixed the drinks, and had them on the cocktail table in the living room with a wedge of Stilton and some smooth jazz softly playing on the stereo when she came back out. She was wearing a short sleeve faded work shirt tied at the waist, a pair of cut-off jeans and some sandals. Her hair, which she had kept tied up at the pool, was now down on her shoulders. I handed her a glass and pointed to a leather wing chair. She looked at it, scrunched her face, and took a seat on the couch instead.

I sat at the other end. We clinked our glasses in a toast, and then each took a long pull. “I needed that,” she said, sounding tired. “What a day. I can’t wait for this gig to be over.”

“Over?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m just here through Labor Day, then I have to report for OCS.”

“Really, what branch?”

“Navy. They sent me to college; I just graduated this past semester.”

“Are you excited?”

“I am, but my parents aren’t real happy about it; and my boyfriend can’t handle it at all. Actually, I should say ex-boyfriend. We got in a big fight over it and haven’t spoken since.”

“That’s gotta be tough.”

“Well, it’s probably for the better anyway. We really weren’t getting anywhere, and I had my doubts that the relationship would last once I was gone. At least I won’t have to put up with any drama now.” Susan emptied her glass at that remark.

“Can I get you another?”

“Yeah sure, why not. It’s not like I’m going anywhere soon…I mean… if that’s okay with you.” I got up and fixed her another, still nursing my first. I handed her the glass and she took a large sip; then sunk back into the couch.

“Hey, stay as long as you need to,” I offered. “Worse comes to worse, I can fix you up in one of the spare bedrooms.”

Susan drained her glass. “You know what,” she said, a little slur in her voice, “I am really beat. Maybe I’ll cancel AAA and take you up on that offer.”

I was a little concerned about her state of sobriety and how lit she might be if she kept drinking while waiting for the tow truck. I thought about it, then said, “Sure, that’s a good idea. You make the call, and I’ll make the bed.” She was pulling out her phone as I headed down the hall. I was lucky; the bed was, for a change, already made up. By the time I got back, she was just hanging up with AAA.

“It’s all set. They’ll be here bright and early tomorrow morning. I hate to be a party pooper, but can you show me the bedroom. I really need to crash.”

I led her down the hall to the room. “Here you go. You know where the bathroom is. You should have everything you need, but if not, my room is just right next door.”

“Thanks, Rick; you are a life-saver.” She pulled back the spread and dropped onto the bed. “Hey, would you happen to have an old t-shirt or something that I can wear to sleep in? I’m going to need what I’ve got on tomorrow morning.”

“Sure; be back in a flash.” I went into my room and pulled out an old concert t-shirt, figuring it would make the perfect night-shirt. “Here you go,” I said, as I returned.

She held the shirt up and smiled. “Chicago 1973. I love that group. But how old does that make you?”

“Go to bed!” I said, laughing.

I was kind of beat myself, and was asleep about ten minutes after my head hit the pillow. But, I’ve always been a light sleeper, no matter how tired, drunk, or a combination thereof I am. So when some strange noises started coming from the next room at about two a.m., it woke me up. I turned on the nightstand lamp and listened. It took me about a minute to remember that I had a guest in the room; but, now concerned that she might be having a problem, I paid a little more attention. As I listened more intently, I realized that what I heard was moaning. At first I thought that Susan might be in some sort of pain, but then it became fairly obvious that the moaning was of a sexual nature; as I also detected the distinct sound of rhythmic mattress movement. Susan was either masturbating, or having one heck of a dream.

I suppose that a gentleman would have either just gone back to sleep, or else made some sort of noise to warn the person on the other side of the wall that they may be overheard. I guess that meant that I wasn’t a gentleman, because I did neither. Instead, I eavesdropped as my guest spent the next ten minutes pleasuring herself. By the time she got to about her fifth orgasm, I couldn’t take it any longer. I threw back the sheets and pulled off my pajama bottoms, freeing my now throbbing erection.

I retrieved a tube of sex lube from the nightstand, and began to slowly slicken my cock in anticipation of my own jack-off session. My preparations caused me to be momentarily distracted, so that I didn’t even notice that the noises coming from the next room had stopped. I was caught totally off-guard when the door to my bedroom swung open and Susan walked in; finding me and my shiny, hard penis naked in the center of my bed, bathed in the soft glow of my reading light.

“I am so sorry!” she gasped. “I thought that I was going into the bathroom. I guess I got turned around in the dark.” Then, it suddenly dawned on her why she found me on the verge of self-abuse. “Oh my god, you heard me, didn’t you?” I just nodded. I wasn’t sure what words to use; but she eyed my equipment a bit longer and found some of her own. “I guess it’s my fault that you’re ‘up’, no pun intended. It’s only fair that I should give you a ‘hand’ with that; this time pun definitely intended.” She pulled the t-shirt that I had given her to wear over her head, and now stood before me as naked as I was. Crawling onto the king-sized mattress, she came up alongside me, opposite of the light, so that her figure was now also softly illuminated.

Now there had been a lot of discussion around the pool about Susan’s physical attributes, as her bathing suit gave nothing away. Thus, as she sidled up, I was happy to note that I was half-wrong, as her breasts were not surgically enhanced; at least they felt totally natural to me. And, I was gratified to note that I was also half-right; she did not have a shaved mons, as I discovered when she pushed me back flat and flipped one leg over my head, so that I was face-to-face with her pussy while she started sliding her hand up and down my greased pole.

I pulled her down closer, and could see and smell her previous arousal. Even in the half-lit room, the reddened, engorged condition of both her inner and outer lips was obvious. I ran my tongue between the folds, tasting her sex as she moaned. She spread her legs wider so that I could get my hands in, and I was able to open her wider so that I could get my extended tongue into her hole, and then across her clit. I alternated between these two loci; catching her nub between my teeth and then drubbing it with the tip of my tongue, then sucking on her inner lips. I was rewarded with an outflow of pussy juice. It tasted ambrosial. Because she came in already “warmed up”; it didn’t take much for me to give her a crashing orgasm.

The only problem was that my oral ministrations caused Susan to momentarily lose track of what she was supposed to be doing with my erect member. But, as she came down from her sexual high, she realized that she was still gripping my rod. She resumed stroking as she said, “You know, this is too good of a hard-on to waste on just a hand-job.” Without letting go, or missing a stroke, she moved forward until she was straddling my waist. Lifting herself up, she position the circumcised head at her opening and slid down; taking the full length inside in one fell swoop and letting out a guttural moan as she hit bottom.

Between the heat of her vagina, and the fact that we were both pretty well lubed, it was like sticking my dick into hot butter. She started out with a slow, rocking motion; adjusting to my size and angle. But once she got the “lay of the land”, she sped up for a wild ride; reverse cowboy style.

With her back to me, I had a good view of her ass as it shimmied and shook; even in the dim light. Watching those two cheeks move was too much; I started lightly spanking them as she kept sliding her lower torso forwards and back over my pubic region. “Oh, yeah, baby. Spank me! Spank me hard!” I applied a little more force to the next two slaps. “Harder! Spank me harder!” was her response. I started really wailing on her behind. “Yeah, like that! Keep doing that!”

Meanwhile, I could see her squeezing her high, firm breasts in the mirror over my dresser, giving the nipples a real workout. She reached down with her right hand and began playing with her clit, speeding up her movements. I kept spanking her ass, which was now a deep red. Suddenly, she started making this high-pitched sound, and began shaking through another orgasm. It was so intense that she had to lean forward; letting go of her clit and tit to support herself as the spasms wracked her body.

“Man, was that good,” she sighed. She was finally able to right herself, and noticed that I was still hard, and still inside her. “We need to do something about that,” she observed. Keeping herself impaled on my cock, she twisted herself around until she was now facing me. I reached up to pull her down for a kiss, but she stopped me. “No kissing,” she said, “this is just sex.”

“Okay,” I began, “then if it is just about sex, why are you having it with me? I mean, you’re incredibly hot, and way younger. You could have your pick.”

“I don’t know; part of it is that I was really horny all day. I know that I shoot down all of the propositions that I get, but some of those guys today were hot looking, and if they weren’t married and I wasn’t working I probably would have fucked two or three of them.” She was now making a subtle up and down movement, keeping me hard. “And part of it is the fact that in all the time we’ve talked to each other, you have never once hit on me. Maybe I had something to prove to myself.”

“Hey, if I thought for a second that an old guy like me had a chance, I’d have taken a shot.”

“Don’t put yourself down,” she continued, her rocking on my crotch becoming more pronounced. “You’re in pretty good shape for a man your age, and you are certainly good looking enough.” She then lifted up enough to reveal my cock half-way up her pussy. “And you’ve certainly got the equipment. I’ve seen you get out of the pool after swimming laps, and your wet bathing suit kind of shows it off. Truth be told, that’s what I was thinking about when I was getting myself off.”

She then thrust back down. “But I’m just not looking for a relationship, and if I start kissing you, one of us may get the wrong idea. I’m leaving town for who knows how long, and I don’t need any complications. If it helps, just think of this as a ‘booty call’.” Then, shoving herself even harder onto my shaft, she smiled and asked, “Now, what do I have to do to get you off?”

I didn’t answer with words. Using a little rocking movement of my own, I flipped us both over so that I was now on top. I rose on my haunches and wrapped her legs around my waist. Holding on to her shoulders for leverage, I pulled out, then shoved back in. At that angle, the head of my dick rubbed a straight path across the sensitive spot at the top of her vagina, which felt good for both of us. I started a steady pounding of her pussy, and she helped by lowering her legs down across my ass and pulling me in every time that I pushed. We were both on the verge of cumming, but we were both also holding back.

“Cum for me,” she said, looking me in the eyes with a gaze of pure lust.

“No, you first,” I replied; emphasizing the command with a particularly vigorous thrust.

“No, cum, dammit. Cum in me now!”

“No, y…” I didn’t get the rest out. As I shoved in as hard and as far as I could, we both came; my cock pulsing as it pushed what felt like a gallon of spunk up her vagina while the rippling contractions of that climaxing organ squeezed their encouragement. She held me in until we were both spent, then released the grip that her legs had on me. I lay across her heaving chest, feeling the hard points of her aroused nipples pushing into mine.

I looked into her face, and couldn’t help myself. Before she could even react, I kissed her. Softly at first, but when she didn’t resist, harder, hungrier. She moaned, then opened her mouth to accept my tongue; wrapping her arms and legs around me and hugging me close. When we finally came up for air, she looked up at me, stroked my cheek and whispered, “Now things are complicated.”

“No they’re not,” I replied in a soft voice. Outside these walls, this never happened. And it never will again, unless you want it to. I can be a ‘booty call’ if that is what you want, or need.”

She hugged me, and we slept tangled together. But when I woke up the next morning, she was gone. She never returned to the pool job, she just disappeared. I thought about her a lot, but had no way to contact her, and eventually gave up on ever hearing from her again. Then, late on the Friday afternoon of the second week of December, a small package arrived via FedEx. I signed for it, and as the FedEx driver drove off, opened it. Inside was a pair of Navy issue women’s panties with a single silver bar fastened to the crotch, and a small piece of paper. All it said on it was “Booty Call”.

I smiled.

The phone rang.

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