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!