By The Pool

He was young, about 18 or 19, sun-bronzed with blue eyes and boyish good looks. She was 37 (must be twice his age, she thought to herself), a good figure (the wolf-whistles told her) and old enough to know better, but still young enough to know better still. He worked the pool in the hotel - she was not too sure what he did exactly; he did not seem to be a life-guard, though he may well have been trained; pool-attendant perhaps; he was certainly not a waiter, but if she asked him, he would get her drinks from the bar. She was widowed and financially secure; to keep herself busy she did various bits of work for charities. She wondered if he had a girlfriend. He seemed lonely to her and there she stopped her idle thoughts, aware that she was creating some fantasy existence for the boy based on very little real evidence. Her name was Jean.

But the roots of the fantasy were there and as the days passed she developed and modified it by observation. There was a girlfriend - young (much younger than him), blonde and (she thought) too thin; she giggled a lot and the relationship seemed rather one way: although he was always very attentive, the girl seemed to play one or two others similarly. This boosted the fantasy significantly, having a girlfriend so transparently superficial and fickle was better than none at all - the poor boy. His name, she learnt, was Mark. But it was still only a fantasy.

Then fate lent a hand. Jean was sunbathing, as usual, by the pool and Mark had gone to the bar to get her a martini. Over the other side of the pool some children were playing with a large inflatable shark. As Mark returned walking beside the pool towards Jean, two of the children tumbled into the pool with the shark, probably pushed by the third. Momentarily distracted, Mark turned to see what was happening and caught his foot on the leg of the sunbed next to Jean's and stumbled. Although he managed to keep a grip on the glass, most of the contents shot out over Jeans body, the heavier ice not quite making the distance. The initial coldness did not last long in the heat of the sun and the expression on the boy's face when he realised he had soaked one of the women guests was worth the minor discomfort she felt.

'Ooooh!' thought Jean, to herself, 'You naughty boy, you've made me all wet!'

Instinctively, after his initial horror at what he had down, Mark reached for a towel to mop up the spilt drink. Then, realising that most of it was over Jean's body, he hesitated again, unsure of the right thing to do. Jean saw an opportunity to take control of the situation: the last thing she wanted him to do was give her the towel; her preference was to get him to lick it off, but that would be pushing it too far; she would settle for his hands with the towel.

'It's ok,' she said 'accidents happen. If you could mop it up here, over my stomach and legs, I'm sure I'll be fine.'

With clear instructions what to do, Mark seemed much happier and started to use the towel on Jean, apologising as he did so.

'You're very sweet' said Jean, 'and I really dont mind! Here, there's some more between my legs.'

Without thinking, Mark moved the towel over Jean's pubic mound between her legs. 'Ooooh!' said Jean. Mark suddenly reddened. 'Oh dear' thought Jean, 'I've gone too far.'

Mark moved away. Jean put her hand on his arm to stop him getting up and then realised that although he had pulled back, he was in no hurry to get to his feet. Mark normally wore shorts around the pool and Jean suspected that he was concerned that they wouldn't conceal what was happening inside. 'I bet he's got an erection', she thought.

'I'm sorry,' she said to him, 'I took advantage. That was naughty of me. Please forgive me.'

The boy relaxed, in fact he seemed to be far more at ease.

'That's ok,' he said, 'I rather liked it.', he admitted.

'Me too!' said Jean, 'did that make you stiff?'

Mark looked uneasy, then he nodded.

'I know it's wicked, but I rather like thinking about that. Would you like me to help you out with it?'

Mark nodded again, not trusting himself to speak. Jean was now aware that she could make out the outline of his burgeoning prick inside his shorts. 'That must be uncomfortable.', she thought. Then she thought of somewhere that it would feel ever so good and felt her own hot moistness warming up the cold dampness of the spilt drink.

Jean looked around. The pool was obviously not a good place to continue. 'Is there somewhere more private?' she asked.

Mark thought. One of the things he thought, was that 'No' was not going to be the answer.

'There is a hut,' he said, 'behind those bushes the end of the pool. We use it for storing sunbeds and parasols and stuff. I could take this sunbed back there, it doesn't really need to go, it's only wet and a bit sticky, but it's an excuse.'

'I'm wet and sticky, too!' said Jean 'Perhaps, I'd better go as well?'

She got up, allowing Mark to pick up the sunbed and carry it, hiding the awkward and uncomfortable distortion in the front of his shorts. She followed behind him, the sight of his strong young body feeding and combining with her own passionate yearnings to excite her so deliciously.

The hut was larger than Jean expected, it had not been visible from the poolside. It was low and also quite well lit from a window in the roof. On one side were a pile of canvasses, which looked as if they may be soft enough to lie on. She thought of herself spread out there, her legs open, her hot pussy tightly gripping his thick cock as he rammed it hard up inside her, but no … not here … not yet. Mark had put down the sunbed and was looking at her. She smiled as her eyes fell upon the unconcealed bulge in his shorts.

'My,' she said, moving over towards him 'you know how to flatter a lady!' Jean cupped her hand around his balls, feeling them soft through the fabric. As she moved her hand upward she felt the hardness pressing against the material and some of the girth. She gave it a small squeeze and Mark groaned.

Feeling up the full length of his straining penis, her hand reached the waistband of his shorts. Simply elasticated, they were easy to pull away from his body and downwards allowing his cock to spring out thick and meaty into her hand. She put her hands around the swollen head and explored the single eye at the top with her thumb. She felt his slippery precum oozing out and, with her hand, she smeared his stickyness over his cockhead and down his shaft.

'Mmmm!', she said looking him directly in the face, her eyes half-closed as her hand moved up and down his thick cock, her mouth smiling wickedly. 'That feels good!'

She looked into his eyes, savouring the control she felt over him. 'Do you like this?'

Mark was obviously lost for words, but his expression was pleasing for her. Smiling, his eyes half closed he nodded slightly and mumbled some incomprehensible appreciation.

'A fine thick cock', she added, 'Lovely and suckable!'.

She dipped down before him bringing her mouth to the level of his fully erect penis and flicked her tongue along the slit at the end of the swollen purple knob, licking up some of the precum still leaking out there.

'Mmmm!', she said again, pressing her lips against the underside of the tip in a gentle kiss and looking up at him. 'Would you like me to suck it?'

'Oh yes' he said, 'Yes, please.'

'Ask me.' Her hand stroked the thick cock, teasing, drawing out the experience so she could savour it and the feeling of control she so obviously had.

'Please Miss, suck my cock!'

The combination of politeness and crudeness was exciting. 'Of course,' thought Jean, 'I never told him my name.'

'Jean', she said, as she moved her head forward, allowing his cockhead, swollen and lubricated with precum to force open her lips, letting them slide over the hot flesh as the round full head filled her mouth like a ripe plum.

She tasted him, his skin flavoured with his precum and a faint trace of chlorine from the water in the pool. Continuing to use her right hand on the base of his cock, she cupped his balls in her left while her lips, tongue and teeth worked on the sensitive head.

'Jean' he said, with difficulty, repeating her name. His hand moved down to her breast, sliding beneath the bikini top to caress the skin, his fingers just brushing her nipple.

The warmth and sensations of Joan's mouth around Mark's cock were more than he could handle and he started to cum … a small creamy load first … she felt it enter her mouth, hot and salty … and then a sudden spurting … she swallowed what she could and then pulled away, still jerking his pumping prick, watching his semen continue to splurt out in a white arc, some hitting the side of her face while the rest passed over her shoulder.

Then the flood subsided. She moved her mouth back to his cock, licking up the remaining juice and sucking him clean.

She stood up in front of him, her hand still on his dick, some of his cum on the side of her face. She smiled. She guided his hand between her legs, pulling the bikini to one side so he could feel how hot and wet she was. She felt him run his finger along her pussyslit, slipping it up inside her. She moaned, cumming a little as his fingertip touched and then moved around her clitty, so sensitive, so swollen and oh so ready. But she wanted to keep control too … just for a little longer. If she gave in now, it would be too quick … hurried in the corner of this little shed. She wanted more than that – deserved more than that. With a little regret, she moved his hand away.

'I think you owe me a favour and I know just what I need, but this is not the place and I need your cock good and hard again. Room 36, 9 o'clock tonight. Will you be there?'

'Yes, Jean', he smiled, 'It will be my pleasure'.