by Anya Aurelie
Second to perky breasts in his hands, that is.
And he had to admit that it was just those perky breasts that skewed his decision about what exercise to do during his lunch hour. Normally he lifted. Today, he would swim.
In the locker room, Marcus pulled on his swim shorts, glad that he kept a pair in his gym bag even though he rarely used them. He dug around in the depths of the bag for goggles, then headed into the pool area.
Yes. Laurel was still there, swimming back and forth like some kind of mythic creature, a beautiful mermaid just popping out of her suit, that dark material stark against her light skin.
He imagined his own dark material against her light skin, his hands, his lips, his cock.
They were the only ones in the pool area. The pool wasn’t very popular during the day. Marcus guessed it was because most of the housewives who made up the primary population of gym-goers on weekdays at their gym were afraid of the chlorine discoloring their typically dyed hair, drying out their skin, or weakening their manicured nails.
In fact, the whole gym kind of cleared out at this hour. Most of the working men and women came in before or after work, and the housewives dominated between the hours of nine and two. But from then until four o’clock or so, things were pretty quiet.
As Marcus slipped into the pool in the middle lane, Laurel reached the end of her lane and popped up next to him, breasts heaving. She pulled the swimsuit up quickly and flashed him a smile.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hope you don’t mind if I join you,” Marcus said, returning her smile. A smile from her was more than he’d expected, and she had the kind of smile it was impossible not to return.
“Not at all. It’s better than swimming alone.” And she pushed off the wall and headed toward the opposite side of the pool. Something about her tone had been mildly suggestive, almost flirtatious, and Marcus was surprised. What had happened to the ice queen he was expecting in her? He combed through his memory, trying to figure out where that impression had started, and came up empty.
He began a first slow, awkward lap, attempting to practice his breaststroke since it was the one he needed most work on. Breaststroke was definitely not his forte, and it had been so long now since he’d been in a pool for exercise that by the time he got to the end of the lane he was already breathing hard and had to rest a few moments before starting back.
Laurel, of course, was already heading back toward him by the time he finally pushed off the wall toward his starting spot. She was doing front crawl, and as he passed her in the water, he saw her massive breasts shifting from side to side as first her right arm exited the water, trailed forward, and then glided back in, and then her left arm did the same. The water was pushing her swimsuit down, he saw, as she moved forward through it, and both areolas were clearly visible, peeking out the top of her suit.
They arrived back in their original positions at the same time, her having completed two laps to his one. It was embarrassing, him being a personal trainer and her being a customer, and he gave her a weak smile, knowing his cheeks were flushing even through his dark skin. Maybe this was a very bad idea; now in addition to not fucking him, she’d also lose respect for him as a trainer.
But she just smiled again and said, “Looks like you might need some pointers there, huh?”
“Hey now,” he objected. “Which one of us is the trainer here?”
“Based on your breaststroke, I’d say it should be me,” she said, and he was impressed with her quick wit and ability to return his serve right away.
Marcus puffed up his chest. “All right, then, show me what you’ve got. What am I doing wrong?”
Laurel giggled. “Other than just about everything?” she asked. From her lane, she helped him adjust his hand position and arm position, holding her own up in the air to demonstrate.
“Now, as for your stroke…” she began.
“Oh, I think my stroke is just fine,” Marcus said.
She reacted just as he’d hoped she would, giggling again and giving him a sly smile. “I’m sure it is,” she said, lifting one delicate eyebrow.
His cock stiffened almost imperceptibly. He certainly hoped it would be imperceptible to her, at least.
She showed him how to move his arms, but when he tried it on the next lap, it felt awkward. Maybe he’d just return to front crawl — that’s what he was comfortable with, so why change it up?
This time, she was waiting for him.
“You’re not going to get very far like that,” she said matter-of-factly. “Look, I don’t mean to be obnoxious, but if you want some more tips I’m happy to help.”
“Yeah, for sure,” he said, all thoughts of abandoning breaststroke going out the window. “I’d love some pointers.” Instinctively, he glanced down at her breasts, noticing for the first time that her nipples were hard — pointers themselves, which were currently pointed straight at him. Speaking of breaststroke…
She smiled confidently. “Practice like this,” she instructed, and leaned over so that her breast were floating on the surface of the water, her arms reached out in front of her. She demonstrated the arm movement of the stroke, her breasts bouncing as her arms moved forward and back. He tried not to stare at her tits, but they were mesmerizing, and when she glanced over at him, she caught him looking.
But she only smiled more broadly and gave a quick wink.
“Now you try.”
He leaned over and mimicked her movement, but his mind was firmly on her breasts. He felt himself begin to get hard in the water, and hoped she wouldn’t notice. But there was definitely no stopping it now, no matter how he tried.
“Your movements are too big,” she said. “Here, I’ll come over.” And she ducked under the lane line and a second later popped up beside him, water streaming down her body over those delicious curves. Laurel grabbed hold of one arm as Marcus leaned over obligingly and let her mold him into shape. He let her guide his arm out in front of him, and when he pulled forward toward his body, she was standing so close that his elbow grazed her breast. He felt the skin, cool from the water, and a moment later the fabric of her swimsuit.
His breath caught in his throat. He tried to pretend it hadn’t happened, but he knew it had, and he knew she was equally aware of the moment, of the tension that had now appeared between them. The hand on his arm sported a huge diamond engagement ring and a wedding band, and the stone flashed in the light as she moved his arm through the stroke for a second time.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice sounding thick. He could hardly breathe — that moment of her skin had almost asphyxiated him, she was so enchanting.
He wanted more of her. He wanted all of her.
But it was so dangerous — he shouldn’t. Certainly not here, not now.
And yet…Marcus glanced up toward the window into the weight room that only minutes before he’d been standing at, taking in surreptitious glances toward Laurel as she did her laps. No one was out there. It wasn’t even a large window, he reasoned.
Danger! he thought. He reminded himself that her husband was the CEO, that he could do a lot of damage if he found out.
But the bet with Andre.
But those tantalizing breasts.
But his aching cock.
He allowed his elbow to slide over her breasts a second time as he pulled his arms back in toward his body, and this time he did so more slowly, more purposefully.
She didn’t pull away. In fact, it felt as though she leaned into him, pushing her tits into his skin. He loved their wetness, the way his elbow glided around on their surface. Everything else felt frozen except that tiny movement of his arms, of his elbow on her breasts.
And now he leaned toward her experimentally, resting more and more of his body weight against her, and she moved to stand behind him, to guide both of his arms now in the breaststroke. It was an odd feeling — he was used to being the one to guide people. He was used to being the seducer, and yet now it felt as though the
y were simultaneously seducing each other, or maybe just that she was so eager, so receptive, that it didn’t take much to push her over the edge into accepting his advances.
She stood behind him, and it felt almost comical, her much smaller figure wrapped around his six-foot-plus frame, but he felt almost hypnotized by her touch. Her huge breasts were pushing into his back, and they felt amazing against his bare skin. He was fully erect now, and if she hadn’t noticed already it was just a matter of time before she did.
Laurel moved him back into position, leaning over in the water away from her, and then moved both of his arms simultaneously to simulate the breaststroke. It was all about tiny movements, he realized, so much tinier than he’d ever known. He’d always thought breaststroke was about big, sweeping strokes, but it was the small movements that had the greatest effect.
Just like in sex, he thought. And he pushed every so slightly back into her, pressing his ass slowly into her thighs, into the spot where her legs came together, wondering if she could feel it in her clit. And she ever so slightly moved forward into him, pushing her body into his muscular ass and gripping his arms in her hands just the tiniest bit more firmly.
“Thank you,” he said again as he felt her begin to pull away, feeling lightheaded and almost out of breath from her electric touch.
“Show me what you’ve got,” she said flirtatiously, her eyes never leaving his, and she returned to her lane and swam along slowly next to him across the pool, those huge breasts bouncing along beside him, keeping him going. When they got to the end of the pool, she didn’t bother pulling her swimsuit up, and he didn’t bother pulling his eyes away from her light pink areolas that were peeking out the top.
When they got back to the starting point, she cocked her head to the side and said, “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Doesn’t what hurt?” he asked.
“Swimming with that massive hard-on,” she said with a smile.
Marcus looked down bashfully. “I guess…it did a little. I didn’t notice it so much, though.” Because I was too busy staring at your body was the unspoken end to the sentence.
If they were laying it all out in the open, he decided, he would play. And he gave another quick glance at the still-empty window out into the gym, then reached a long arm across the lane line and swept his hand under her breast, taking in the fullness of it, his palm raking across her nipple. She took in a shuddering breath, staring straight at him, encouraging him.
And so he continued. His hand moved across the bottom of her breasts, feeling the heaviness of one, the empty space in between, and then the equal heaviness of the other. They were magnificent, perfect, and a moment later his hand had snaked back up her breast, found the low neckline of her swimsuit, and plunged underneath it to feel her raw, naked skin. Her nipples were so hard in the cold water.
Laurel moaned softly. Marcus glanced up again at the window, nervous about getting caught. Still no one in sight — and he knew from the angle that he’d probably see them coming before they were able to actually see in the window.
He closed the space between them, just the lane line separating them now, and finally descended his lips onto hers, tasting her lightly minty breath with a hint of chlorine from her skin. His tasted the same, he was sure — hopefully as good. She was soft and wet and delicious, and his hand — both hands now — continued to probe at her breasts, kneading and squeezing them harder and harder until he was using them like a stress toy, and she seemed to love it.
“Aren’t you married?” he asked tentatively, knowing it was exactly the wrong question to be asking, that it would likely kill the mood. He nodded toward her ring finger, pretending he didn’t know and wasn’t worried about that CEO husband of hers.
“I sure am,” she said, her voice smooth like honey and hypnotic, and looked at him again with those clear blue eyes. “My husband is never around. He hasn’t fucked me in a year. I’m so horny I think I’m going to burst.”
“I want you to burst all over me,” he said, ducking under the lane line and appearing next to her in her lane. Marcus pushed her up against the wall then, and held her there firmly, though not so firmly that she couldn’t get away if she wanted to.
He stood far enough away from her that if someone appeared at the window, he could play it off that he was giving her a lesson — if he had to explain it, for the sake of his ego, he would say the tutelage was going in that direction, rather than that she was the one who knew more than him in this arena.
But his hand didn’t stay away from her. Knowing that even if someone appeared at that window they wouldn’t be able to see below Marcus’s and Laurel’s chests when she was pushed up against the end of the pool, his hand found her thigh, grasped her firmly, squeezed her pale skin. Then he moved to her inner thigh, and up toward her pussy. And finally, slowly, he pushed his fingers underneath the fabric of that sexy black swimsuit and found her bare skin underneath, soft and fresh and young.
And he kept going, feeling until he found her wetness — even here in the pool, he could tell that she was very, very wet, his fingers gliding inside of her with ease, her pussy yielding to him as he penetrated her. He rubbed the nub of her clit and she moaned in pleasure — in need.
“Oh god,” she said, grinding herself into his hand, riding his fingers in the near-weightlessness of the water.
It wasn’t long before she began moaning louder, and again Marcus looked around to make sure no one had appeared in the window — or in the pool area itself. But they were still in the clear. He hoped it would last.
Her moans continued, and he pushed into her, let her guide his movements as she used his fingers like a sex toy, grinding against him and onto him, and he felt her pussy begin to spasm. She choked out a few short cries, high-pitched and insistent and throaty, and her pussy grasped him harder, tightening and releasing, tightening and releasing, her head thrown back and eyes closed as she orgasmed against his hand.
When the spasms slowed, Laurel seemed to come to, looked around them, slowly pulled herself off of him, and then those blue eyes met his, sparkling at him as they shared their naughty secret.
“You’re fun,” she pronounced. She adjusted her swimsuit back into position, covering her pussy again. “Now it’s your turn.”
He moved to stand against the wall, eager to have his turn, to see what she would do, could do in this limited environment. He’d never been able to come from a handjob before — not someone else’s hand, that is — but he was happy to let her try. What he really wanted, though, was to be inside of her, something that he knew was impossible in this arrangement. Surely it would still count for the bet, though, right? Andre couldn’t hold it against him if he wasn’t able to manage penetration in the pool.
As he stood up against the back of the pool, Laurel pulled on the tie of his swim shorts, and he felt it give. She pushed the shorts down just enough that she could get at his cock, which popped eagerly out to greet her.
“Ooooh,” she said admiringly, and then she touched it for the first time, her hand closing around his wide girth, and he shivered. It felt so naughty, so wrong, to be out here in the open where someone could walk in on them at any moment. It was definitely a risk.
Yet that was part of the fun, he decided.
Laurel traced her fingers up and down the length of his cock, feeling the spongy head and then back down to the base, squeezing his balls, then working her way back up before grasping him firmly and starting to jerk him there in the water. He loved the pressure she was using — perfect without having to be told — and the way he could stare down into her cleavage as she stroked him.
Then things got even more fun.
“You know,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him flirtatiously, “I can hold my breath for quite a long time.”
“Is that so?” Marcus said. Was she suggesting…
