Pool-boy Voyeur by Imnohemingway
Indulge in 'Pool-boy Voyeur,' a sizzling erotic sex story that uncovers secret fantasies and forbidden desires. Follow the tantalizing tale of seduction and temptation as playful encounters by the pool escalate into steamy passion. Dive into this thrilling escapade and ignite your imagination!<br/>
This is a fictional story from the recesses of my perverted mind. Any resemblance to any real people or places is a coincidence. All characters depicted are 18-years of age or older.
The build up to the sex scene is gradual. After all, half the fun is in the tease.
Pool-boy Voyeur
x
You know when you meet people for the first time in a casual setting, such as a bar, the topic of conversation will ordinarily get around to occupation? Very common, right? It’s a classic icebreaker. Well, when I mention that I run my own little business, Paul Porter’s Pool Service, the person (usually a guy) will give a sly grin and a salacious laugh. “So you’re a pool boy, huh?” It’s generally followed up with a perverted comment like, “I bet you have some wild stories?” or “Bet ya must see a lot of T and A!” Some will even crudely ask, “Ya get any pussy from the lonely housewives?”
The new acquaintance is usually disappointed when I explain that in my twenty-plus years in business, I hadn’t encountered any erotic situations, let alone had a sexual liaison with a customer. In fact, I tell him it’s actually a pretty mundane job. Most of the time no one’s home when I arrive to clean their pool. And, if the homeowner is around, they might say a quick hi or complain about an issue with their pool, but usually that’s it. If kids or teens are in the pool area, they usually run in the house when I show up. Nothing too out of the norm.
Honestly I’m amazed that the acquaintance I’m talking with thinks I would be capable of such sexual affairs; assuming they’re being serious and not sarcastic. Quite honestly I don’t look like the stereotypical porn movie pool boy. I’m more like the alcoholic pool cleaner Buttermaker, played by legendary actor Walter Matthau, from the classic 70’s movie The Bad News Bears.
Like the Buttermaker character, I tend to spend my off hours consuming a lot of malt, barley, yeast, and water. As a result, I’m shaped more like a pear these days than a muscle bulging body builder. Not the type of physique that generally inspires a sexual fantasy amongst my female customers.
However, about a year ago I experienced something that I could definitely characterize as a “wet dream come true”. I’m taking a chance sharing this story, but it’s too good to keep to myself.
xx
It all began on a hot Friday afternoon in late June when I arrived for my weekly service call at the Lombardi residence. Jerry Lombardi was a very well to do and powerful lawyer that had just bought a new home on the barrier island in the mid Atlantic ocean front community that I lived in. Well, I technically live in the more affordable mainland just a few miles from his place. He was a new account of mine that had been referred to me by Franklin Battinger Sr., one of my long time customers. Jerry and Frank are members of the same golf club.
Jerry’s a good looking, tall, athletic guy in his early 50’s; maybe a couple years older than me. Beyond that, I didn’t really know a lot about the guy. I certainly didn’t know he’d sired a gorgeous daughter.
Still feeling the effects of the previous night’s drinking binge, I clumsily opened the fence to the pool area of the breathtaking multi-million dollar home. The eight-foot pool cleaning pole I was carrying slipped from my hand and crashed loudly to the hard stone deck.
“What the Fuck!!!” yelled a very attractive, but startled, young woman as she jumped from laying on her stomach to a sitting position on the round two-person day bed. I swear I got a quick glimpse of tight, tanned ass cheek before she spun onto her back.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry miss!” I responded as I dropped the rest of my equipment and put my hands up in a non threatening posture ” I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Paul the pool guy. I’m here to do the weekly service.”
“Oh…hi…Paul,” she finally sputtered as her right arm held her bikini top tightly to her chest. It appeared she’d untied the strings around her back, I’m assuming to avoid tan lines. The strings around her neck were secured. “I’m Stephanie. Now that I think of it my dad did mention you’d be by today, but I guess I forgot.
“Look’s like I scared you as much as you scared me,” she continued, chuckling. “You can put your hands down now. I’m not gonna call the cops.”
I laughed nervously and quickly lowered my arms. “I won’t be too long. Twenty-minutes or so,” I said as I bent over to pick up my equipment. “Take your time,” she replied.
While I walked towards the skimmer on the opposite side of the pool from where Stephanie was laying, I glanced to see the woman deftly tie the strings of her top. Without her arm in the way, I could see she had a nice set of medium sized tits. She then released her long, luxurious brunette hair from the scrunchy that was holding it in a bun on top of her head and shook it out so it fell to midway down her back.
At that point, I honestly expected her to pick up her towel and head into the house or at the very least put on head phones and become absorbed in her phone. However, to my surprise she propped herself up against the back of the day bed and extended her long tan legs out in front of her, giving me a better view of her attractive body. Then she did something that totally surprised the hell out of me. She actually began a conversation with me.
“So ya keeping busy this summer Paul?” she asked, seeming genuinely interested.
I responded that I was, which led her to ask me about my business. I proceeded to give her a short synopsis of my life story. I’d begun cleaning pools during summer breaks back when I was in high school, got a two year degree at the local community college then ventured out into my own business which I’d had for nearly thirty-years. I had one part time employee to assist me. Between the two of us we serviced about eighty customers. Enough business to allow me to make ends meet and pay alimony for a marriage that had gone south. I left that part out of my story to Stephanie, and won’t bore you with the particulars here.
“Uh, how about you?” I asked, upon finishing my story. By that time I’d tested the pool water, hooked up the vacuum hose and had begun cleaning the pool floor while making my way closer to her position on the deck. “How’s your summer going?”
Stephanie said it was going well, and explained that she was on summer break from Duke University where she was going into her junior year. I figured that made her about twenty-years old. She was visiting her parents for a couple weeks before she headed off to the training camp in Princeton, NJ, for the U.S. National Rowing Team. Turns out she’d been rowing crew since her freshman year in high school and had worked her way to being one of the top women in the nation. Smart and athletic. I was duly impressed. It also gave us a common interest to talk about it.
“I know you wouldn’t believe it to look at me today,” I joked, “but I actually rowed crew my first two years of high school,” She gave a cute little giggle. I added that I rowed stroke seat, which she knew meant that I helped set the pace that the coxswain called for.