Pool Boy

“Oh… my god… fuck… fuck me!!”

Her gold hoop earrings swayed in rhythm to her recreation.

She was several years past her physical prime, but had managed to climb the social ladder to her satisfaction. Her leathery skin was slightly overtanned, her hair a little thin from overtreatment. Not that she wasn’t an attractive woman, but she nailed the cougar tropes pretty hard, from the cheetah-print tops to the bedazzled boots and maybe a bit too much eye makeup.

At the moment her husky moans and grunts did not quite manage to drown out the raw flesh-on-flesh smacking sound of their afternoon activity. Her ass cheeks rippled with each impact, along with the modest rolls of fat from her belly pouch. If we count elbows, she was on all fours, and laying the side of her face into her bedding.

For his part, Derek definitely played the part of a serviceable stud. He already had the sunken, beady-eyed look of a dumb jock with a buzz cut more befitting the 1950’s. His shock of blonde paired with the tall musculature of a Roman god made him more like a young Dolph Lundgren than any contemporary comparison. He was a caveman; all brute force and sweat, vasculature and boundless energy.

And he was railing her like a seasoned porn star.

His visage was stony, emotionless; the rest of his body, however, ran like a well-oiled machine. His fingers dug into her hips with visible creases, his hips moved back and forth in a precise pistoning. His legs went into every thrust as well, and from his vantage point he was content to watch her bouncing bob of messy hair, the way her face stayed in a constant wince and her mouth hung open awkwardly, each of them glistening in a thin sheen of sweat as the room conducted a concerto of carnal melody.

Then came the awkward whimper, the strange deep tone of an “oh” drawn out over several seconds. One of the woman’s legs splayed out further to one side, its thigh twitching and convulsing as Derek succeeded in digging another orgasm out of her.

“Okay, shit,” she rasped, vaguely gesturing a hand behind her. “Stop, stop, stop,” she continued, wriggling forward as her pool boy finally got the hint and began his retreat.

The young man stood there, in the expanse of space beside her bed, and calmly ran his hand up and down his slickened shaft.

Shannon laid there, a puddle of woman on the bed with one knee still planted askew. She panted, then sighed, and flicked her hand at Derek once more. “Go finish in the bathroom or something,” she muttered. He only nodded, and walked away.

“Uhhh,” he said, as soon as he entered the hallway, having stopped in his tracks.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Derek, you can use the master bathr — ”

And then she heard it.

Her eyes widened as the distinct sound of click-clacking heels on a hardwood floor came to a halt.

“Really? The pool boy?” another woman shrieked from the corridor.

Shannon’s limbs were a blur of flurried motion as she pulled a nightgown back on at a record-breaking pace. She stepped out into the hall, now standing next to her poolhand, who was in the nude. And still holding his manhood. The two of them faced a friend, Marla.

“Look, just, go, get out of…” Shannon was mumbling, and shoving Derek, who obliged to walk back into her bedroom in search of her bathroom. It was in obvious view, so it should only take him a few minutes.

“How old is he?” Marla whispered, her eyebrows threatening to fly clean off her thinner face on a taller frame.

Shannon was rubbing her temples as she stood there shaking her head. “He’s in college, Marla. You know this. What do you think I am?”

Marla crossed her arms with a slow, dramatic flair.

Shannon rolled her eyes.

Marla shrugged. “I’m not one to judge. I just thought maybe you forgot we were shopping today.”

Shannon looked down for a moment and muttered, “Shit.”

Marla clicked her tongue. “So you did. It’s fine. I’ll wait downstairs ’til you’re ready.” She looked Shannon up and down. “Is he any good?”

Shannon frowned. “Excuse me?”

Marla’s mouth hung open a moment while she eyed Shannon. “I mean, it’s January. I’m no Sherlock but I’m guessing you didn’t wait all this time just to make a dick appointment out of the blue. How often is he over? Once a week? Twice?”

Shannon managed to blush as she set one of her knuckles in her teeth.

Marla mouthed in silence: “That good?”

Shannon nodded meekly in response. She loosed the knuckle to add quietly: “First guy to make me cum penetration only.”

Marla raised a skeptical eyebrow. “He doesn’t go down on you?”

Shannon’s voice rose, almost excitedly. “I mean he does, when I tell him to, but he doesn’t need to. That’s the thing.”

Marla’s eyes were now the ones to grow. “When you tell hi — ”

They heard a toilet flush.

Marla cleared her throat. “Maybe you could give me his number?”

Shannon smirked.