Lisa Teases the Pool Boy

You ever had one of those days when you've been neglected for so long by your husband that your mind starts to wander a bit?

Really? Me too.

I'm Lisa. I'm thirty-seven years old, married to Randy for ten years. He travels a lot, so I'm home a lot. I have black hair, I'm five-foot-five, very slim and fit and tanned. I tan a lot around my pool and had been doing so that morning until the sun got too hot and I retreated into the breezy shade of my enclosed patio.

Anyway, I was having one of those days, sitting in the enclosed patio, drinking a raspberry iced tea with just a little vodka in it. Ok, more than just a little, but that's not the point.

So I'm sitting there in a little bikini, my tanning bikini - which means it's much smaller than I would really wear in public - and I hear the gate at the side of the house open. I don't like that, since I'm not expecting to have a meeting in the back yard with anyone. I start to get up off my gloriously padded wicker chair to dial 911, when I see Billy come around the corner of the house.

Ok, not a problem. In fact, the farthest thing from a problem if you ask me.

Billy is a college student that cleans our pool. Used to be an old guy did it, but he sold his client list to Billy and the visual part of the pool service really took a marked uptick at that time.

So here's Billy, six feet tall of tanned muscle, blonde hair, blue eyes. Just lovely that boy.

And it's hot out today so Billy is not wearing a shirt. How nice.

Billy is a competitive wrestler, he told me so, and he often wears his little old worn out wrestling shorts when he works. I've become a big fan of wrestling, or at least a big fan of little wrestling shorts...

Now, something you have to understand is that, if you're out at the pool in the direct sunlight, you can't see into my screened patio enclosure because of the screening and the shade inside. But of course, I can see out clear as day.

I like my enclosed patio, especially today.

So Billy sets to work with all the reaching and bending and scrubbing with the long pole and it's enough to make a girl blush and feel her heart race. All the time I'm sitting there quietly, so as not to be discovered, but as he works I start feeling a number of dilemmas emerge to the forefront of my mind.

First of all, I don't like to be so sneaky as to just hide from the boy and let him leave without saying hello. On the other hand, there's a picture of my bikini next to the word "skimpy" in the dictionary, and I'm just not sure I should display myself in all my jiggling glory in front of the boy...

Secondly, my husband is not home. As usual. It's not really accepted in most circles for a married woman dressed as I am to entertain a young hunky man in her home alone. On the other hand, I really would love to see the look on his face if I let him see me... And I wondered what other involuntary physiological responses might occur if I did let him see me...

You can see how I was just totally caught in a Catch-22. It was unladylike to be so rude as to sneakily hide from the nice young man without offering him a lemonade, but to just open the door and step out into the sunlight in my tiny pink bikini would be, well, exciting.

Ooh, did I say that?

Well, I supposed you can guess what happened next... That's right, I went to the kitchen. I slugged down the remainder of my iced tea for courage's sake, and got Billy a tall frosty glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade.

There's one of those full-length mirrors sitting against the wall in our family room, and I caught my gaze in it. I saw that I was wearing my little pink string thong bikini. It's very short and narrow in the front, but happily, I had shaved that morning.

The top was also of 'string' design, strategically positioning small triangles of fabric to hide my nipples and not much else. I could see my tanned breast flesh above, below, and on both sides of the triangles.

This was a truly naughty little bikini, and for me it was what to wear when tanning alone because a normal swimming suite would never get close to showing these tan lines, or lack thereof in some cases...

I smiled, thinking of watching Billy's face when he saw me. I knew he liked me and liked to look at my curvy body, but this would be a true revelation.

On the other hand, I thought, "Am I out of my mind? What the hell am I thinking? I'm almost twice his age!"

I decided to compromise, and I knew my time window of opportunity with Billy was beginning to close since he was nearing the end of his work.

I quickly set down the cool glass and ran to my room, returning with a short beach robe of silk in a pretty red floral pattern. It fell to mid thigh. Not my choice was whether or not to leave it open in front.

I looked at myself again in the mirror, and picking up the glass, I let the robe fall open around my breasts as I made my way for the door. I was determined not to look down and see how nearly naked my boobs were. That might make me chicken out, and the same goes for the tiny front of my bikini bottoms.

I satisfied myself that the robe would at least cover my bare thong-clad bottom, and thereby I was being somewhat modest.

Yeah, right.

I opened the door from the patio, "Hi Billy," I said brightly, "I brought you some lemonade."

He smiled and looked up as I strode boldly toward him as though nothing was unusual about a thirty-seven year old house wife jiggling her near-naked boobies in front of the handsome young pool boy.

Oh, wait. Now that I think about it, perhaps it's not as rare as all that...

As he fully sees me and his eyes finally register my condition in his brain, his eyes go wide like Frisbees and his jaw drops, making me worry that he might at any moment drool. Oh, that was priceless. I jiggled right up to him and handed him the glass of lemonade. It took him a moment to tear his eyes away from my body and see the glass and take it. Boys...

"Uh, wow, um, thanks Mrs. T," he stuttered.

"You're welcome, honey," I said, with just a hint of sultry flair for which I am famous.

I let him try not to stare at me for a few moments, enjoying his failure. I put my hands on my hips and said, "Billy, do you like my tanning Bikini? I only wear this when I'm laying out in the sunshine..."

"Oh yes, I mean, well, you look awesome. I mean, very nice, in your...bikini...Mrs. T."

I smiled coyly at him, "You don't think it's too tiny for me to let you see me in it, do you?"

"Uh... No ma'am, it's just really, uh, looks great. Uh, you look fine... not a problem at all, Mrs. T."

"Why, thank you, Billy," I said. So innocent, me. Well, if you don't mind, I was thinking I'd lay out in the sun a little more today. It won't bother you if I do that, will it dear?"

Billy stumbled, "No ma'am, no bother at all. It's your house and you should do whatever you want. I'll just keep cleaning the pool and you don't have to pay any attention to me at all."

My, his ability to speak was improving. Perhaps the initial magic was wearing off. But then again, I could blatantly see his pretty blue eyes darting between my face and points lower down on my body. It was so cute how hard he was trying not to stare.

"Well," I said, "If you're sure it's not going to be a problem for you..." and I smiled, "Feel free to jump in the pool if you get to warm, Billy."

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, trying to keep his eyes on mine.

I took his empty glass and sauntered back toward the chaise where I like to lie down. As I turned away I got a nice lingering glance at his cute red wrestling shorts. I felt, in my experienced judgment, that the bulge at Billy's groin had expanded a bit, and that was definitely a delicious thought.

The little table next to the chaise still held my bottle of tanning lotion, and that gave me a wonderful idea. I was sure Billy wouldn't mind pausing to help rub a little lotion on my back, would he?

I stood with my back to Billy, sure that his eyes were on me, and I lowered the robe and let it fall to a chair next to me. The string back of my bikini was now fully exposed, allowing Billy a view of my heart-shaped, tanned, and basically naked ass. I only hesitated a second before I moved to lay down.

I untied the stings at my neck and back, and rested my head on my arms, facing away from the boy. I was feeling completely free, knowing that Billy could now look at me as long and as much as he might like. Being that he was a twenty year old boy, I suspected that he would like. I couldn't keep the smile off of my face, so I was glad to be looking away from him.

Finally I could hear the pole moving in the water, brushing the bottom of the pool. I guessed he decided he ought to at least pretend to work. He didn't know that I'd already watched him complete his job, so I knew he was just passing time so he could gaze upon my body. How thoughtful of him.

After a while, I called out, "Billy, could you be a dear and come over here please?"

"Yes, ma'am," he responded, was that eagerness in his voice? I heard the padding of his muscular feet on hot concrete, and then I looked up right into the beautiful bulge he had where his beefy thighs met. Scrumptious.

I giggled to myself as I raised up onto my elbows for two reasons. First, because I had just stared directly into his crotch from less than two feet away, and had accidentally allowed my gaze to linger a bit long. Can't blame a girl for having curiosity and being inquisitive, can you?

Second, because I knew that as I raised up just to my elbows, leaving my bikini top flat on the chaise beneath me, that the only parts of my big boobies still in contact with the towel were my nipples. I knew from previous experimentation, that when I was in this position, the edges of my large dark areolas were visible, and that Billy would be able to see them.

It sent shivers down my spine to think of this cute young man having a look at my near-naked breasts. I made a point of moving and jiggling for him so that I could keep his attention properly focused. On me.

I had to really move a lot to look up to his face as he stood next to me. I honestly don't know if my entire breast was exposed or not, but the way his eyes were bugging out of his head I'd guess they were.

"Could you be a good boy and rub some tanning oil on my back, dear? It would be so nice because it's hard for me not to miss a spot..."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. Definitely eager, that boy. He knelt beside me on the concrete, poured oil onto my back and legs making me squeal and both of us laughed.

He set to from my shoulders down to my waist, and maybe a bit lower, steering clear of my bottom. It felt so good to have big strong male hands all over my body, and that fact that he was able to look at my naked ass from such a close distance made me feel happy in my tummy.

Then he started at my ankles and worked his way up near the tops of my thighs. As he worked on my legs, I couldn't help but shift my legs a little bit further apart - you know, to help him. My crotch was tingling with the knowledge that the boy could look right between my thighs, right under my naked ass, and see the little pink bit of fabric hugging my shaved pussy lips.

I was getting pretty aroused, with all these thoughts. I guess in my darkest recesses, I'm a bit of an exhibitionist, at least under the right circumstances. Like a handsome muscular young stud. There's just something about being attractive to younger men that can make a girl's heart sing!

I giggled to myself thinking of a recent episode of "Bones". Constance asks Sealy "what does the term 'Cougar' mean?". He answers, embarrassed, "A Cougar is a woman that prefers the company of younger men." Constance replies, in her typical Vulcan deadpan, "So, all women are Cougars, then?"

He stopped at the upper limit of my thighs, hesitating. Such a gentleman. I cooed, "Billy, I need the oil over all of my exposed skin so I don't burn. You understand, don't you? So be a good boy and go ahead and finish the job."

I don't know why it was such a turn on to refer to him as a (my?) "good boy", but I just loved addressing him that way. Maybe I was a Cougar.

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered.

The feeling of his firm hands all over my soft ass was to die for. My breath caught in my throat and I had to be careful not to moan in pleasure. Top to bottom, side to side, both cheeks... oh God, would he make sure I didn't burn BETWEEN my cheeks...??????

YESSS!!! Oh, his fingertips gently slid down into the cleft, following the little string, to bath my tender flesh in the smooth safety of the tanning oil. Down, and up. Again, down - a little further this time - and up. Down...oh my God...to gently glide right over my anus.

A tiny gasp passed through my tight lips, and I blushed in both arousal and embarrassment because I knew it was loud enough for him to hear.

He didn't stop. Again, down - more slowly this time - ooohhhh, all the way down until his fingers touched the little pink fabric at my perineum - and slowly up. I was starting to pant. I felt my legs part, of their own accord, to give him a little more access.

I heard my voice whisper and rasp, "Make sure you don't miss anything, Billy," without forethought. I was suddenly overcome with lustiness, and it fell upon me hard and fast. I'm not normally like this, I thought, but suddenly I was all woman. In heat.

Without a word, Billy poured some oil at the top of my cleft, letting in run down between my spread cheeks before he followed it with his firm but gentle fingers. I felt the oil slowly trickle down, inch by inch. Down, down, slowly down, across my anus, down. I could feel the oil reach and soak into the little pink triangle between the now-lewd, or at least unladylike, spread of my thighs.

He began not merely to slip his fingers up and down my cleft, but he began from the top down, to massage both sides of my exposed private crevice. And the middle. Oh God, the middle.

His fingers worked their way down to my anus again, where they paused to do some quality work. Round and round they went, massaging me, teasing me, making me want... it... something... anything... as long as it was more.

Slowly, his fingers delved down deeper, into more uncharted and intimate territory as I struggled not to gasp and moan in obvious pleasure. A thought crossed my mind that this boy wasn't entirely inexperienced with women - or failing that, he was naturally gifted in the arts of foreplay and feminine arousal.

At my perineum, he paused and massaged and circled his fingers, driving me absolutely out of my mind. I knew any moment I would jump up, rip off his shorts, and vault onto his big young cock... But then, down his fingers went.

I could feel a finger between my pussy lips, atop the pink fabric and right above the entrance to my vagina. Circling, circling, gentle, firm, compassionate, passionate. OH. MY. GOD.

My clitoris, aside from having swollen to the size of a Buick, was captured between my rather full vulva, and I found my hips wiggling just a little to get some friction between my lips and clitoris.

But then my body froze, and my mouth made a silent "O", and my eyes squeezed shut.

There was a strong male finger, continuing to probe and circle as it went farther down, parting my puffy lips and exploring my soft folds. The silk fabric between his finger and my flesh felt amazing, soaked in the tanning oil it was so deliciously slippery and moist. Just like me inside.

The tip of that finger made another pass, and... WOW! It just barely brushed my pleasure nub. My clitoris exploded with pleasure that shot straight up to my nipples.

Oh, God. There was more. That wonderful, precious, manly finger continued to probe and prod and massage and circle between my lips, pressing ever forward on its journey to bump, and eventually rub boldly against my clitoris. I had expected that, and was at least mentally prepared for it.

But then another finger began circling and putting pressure on my slippery anus. It made my eyes open wide and I almost screamed. My hands gripped the sides of the chaise, and my left hand found his taking purchase there for support. I clawed at that hand, taking hold as though I could never let go as I was deluged in sensations between my legs and cheeks.

I was panting loudly now. No more pretense. We both knew what he was doing to me, and I couldn't pretend anything any longer. I moaned. I gasped. I buried my face in the chaise and stifled a wail of pleasure, helplessness, and desire.

He returned my grip on his left hand as I bucked against the chaise, completely out of control of my body. His right hand - that wonderful flat length of his index finger buried firm and deep between my pussy lips and going round and round in big circles. He was stretching my lips to each side, plundering the tender flesh of my labia, and between ten o'clock and two o'clock on the circles he made, the tip of his finger taunted, teased, pleasured, my clitoris, only to disappoint her by pulling away for another circuit.

The thumb of his right hand seemed independent, yet a team mate to the index finger. That thumb made circles over my anus. Around and around, pressing down and in, but never quite able to penetrate. The combination of these intense stimulations was driving the very last bit of dignity and modesty from me.

I had become a panting, gasping, madwoman for this boy. Right in my own back yard. I had to be quiet or the neighbors would come looking, and find me nearly naked, being serviced under the hood by a sexy pool boy. That would not do, so I bit my tongue.

I felt his thumb slip underneath the string that was sort of 'protecting' my bottom from complete plunder. Oh my, that thumb seemed to indicate it would like to enter me. Ohhhh, it felt so wicked, so nice, as he teased in the tiniest circles right at my opening, feigning intent, but just not quite doing it.

My lips were pinched shut. My eyes were tiny slits under a furrowed brow. My attention was drawn from my ass back to my pussy. My clitoris was on fire, and that glorious finger was right on top of my pleasure bud, small fast wiggles.

At last.

I could feel my orgasm beginning. It was like a tidal wave from miles away, coming fast, getting bigger and bigger, brimming at the shore, impossibly high, impossibly curled over my head.

It crashed upon me. I was completely undone.

I think it lasted a long time. I'm not really sure. I have vague snippets of memory, my hips bucking uncontrollably against that hand the completely controlled my pelvis from below. I remember the feeling of trying to escape from the hand. The amazing hand. I could not escape.

I was forced to continue coming. Again and again, I tried to withdraw my pelvic region from the field of battle, and each time I was made to lie still and come once more. And once more.

I'd never felt helpless to escape an orgasm. I'd never wanted to. I didn't really want to now, it was just that the sensations flowing through my body were so relentless, making me stiffen and shake and whimper and beg.

And then it would start over again, and I was helpless to resist.

My clitoris felt like a swollen log between my thighs and I ground it against that glorious finger, but the finger kept moving on its own, just making the sensations more wildly intense and devastating.

That thumb kept pushing against my ass, as though it wanted in. I wanted it in - I wanted to be ENTERED - ANYWHERE!, but it refused, content with teasing me. My vagina felt like a wet, squishy, soft tunnel - longing and begging to be penetrated, violated, deflowered, taken - but to no avail.

As I was coming, for what seemed like hours, against just that hand, my brain fixated on the image of a cock. A big, stiff, throbbing, dripping, swollen cock. I had never wanted a cock so bad in my life. I heard my mouth whimper "Cock, cock, cock, cock," followed by the equally eloquent, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."