POOL GIRL
by
C. Lakewood
It was mid-July and sweltering. Those days, I was almost glad I
was unemployed and could laze around inside my air-conditioned home.
From time to time, my husband, Brian, would suggest that I go back to
work. But I just fobbed him off with vague excuses. I am -- or was
-- a college professor who was denied tenure. So now I was unemployed...
and practically unemployable.... I was bored and restless and resentful.
I had a sort of white-bread version of the blues, and I hadn't a clue as
to the cure.
As usual, I lay in bed, drifting in and out of a doze, until long
after Brian had left for work. Eventually, though, I dragged myself
up and staggered downstairs. I was wearing only my robe. It's not
very stylish, but it suits me, and I've had it for years (16 years, I
guess, ever since I was a college Freshman). I was wandering about,
barefooted, sipping a tall iced tea, brooding over the problems Brian
and I were having, and wondering if I was ever going to snap out of
this funk, when I heard the squeaky door on the "cabana" (aka "back
yard shed"). I looked out and saw it was Amy Austin, our 18 year-old
pool-girl/yard-girl.
Amy was planning to enter the university in the fall. She'd been
quite an athlete in high school and was very fit. In June, we'd hired
her to tend to both the pool and the lawn and garden. And she'd done
a marvelous job. The pool was always sparkling, the lawn beautiful
(green and weed-free), and the flowers burgeoning. She apparently
serviced 10 or 12 other clients.
She had a shrewd mind, quick and perceptive, and I enjoyed our
frequent chats.
I watched her. A cute girl, slender and not too tall (5'3" maybe,
and no more than 115 lbs.), with short auburn hair, hazel eyes, and a
golden tan. She was muscular, but still quite feminine.
She was wearing just a tank top (emblazoned with the name, "A.A.
Services"), loose cotton shorts, and flip-flops. Despite this, she
was already sweating heavily, and her damp clothes clung to her. I
opened the window a crack, and immediately the oppressive heat took my
breath away. "Amy, come in and have a nice, cool iced tea," I called.
She looked up, dropped her skimmer, and wiped her forehead.
"Great! I'll just be a minute." I had another tall glass ready by
the time she came in, bringing the scent of sweat and healthy teenaged
girl into my sterile kitchen. She grinned appreciatively.
"Wow! That sure looks good! The heat and humidity today are
murder." She took a gulp then pressed the cold glass against her
forehead and sighed.
"Sit down, Amy, and take a break. How about something to eat...a
croissant maybe?"
"Well, I had breakfast hours ago. A snack would go good about now
-- whatever you're having." She drained her glass and accepted a
re-fill. "You staying in today?"
"Oh, I just...thought I'd -- um -- vegetate a bit...."
Her face got a strange, sly expression. "You sound kinda bored."
She made a lateral, throw-away gesture that caused her breasts to
wobble. She was braless, and her breasts were clearly outlined by her
sweat-damp cotton top; they were nicely rounded, and her nipples were
erect. (It must be the air conditioning, I thought, or a passion for
iced tea. Then, embarrassed, I looked away.)
At that moment, the telephone rang, and I had to circle around
Amy's chair to answer it. (The kitchen phone is on the wall, and Amy
was where I usually sat.) Of all people, it was my mother-in-law.
We exchanged the usual vapid small-talk, in the excessively polite
words and saccharine tones of two people who hated each other and
daren't show it. I was standing so close to Amy that I could feel the
heat radiating from her skin.
"No, Margaret, I'm really not up to going shopping today. I think
I'll just laze around in the sun. Besides, I've got to economize....
Yes, of course I'm looking for a job, but there's not much open right
now -- and the few places that are hiring tell me I'm either
'over-qualified' or 'under-qualified.'"
Amy, with a mischievous look, reached out and took hold of my sash
and casually pulled on it until the slip-knot gave way. As my robe
gaped open, I was so startled I froze momentarily. I let out a gasp
or whimper or whatever, but fortunately Margaret was still yakking
away about "economic responsibility" and didn't notice.
I was holding the phone in my left hand and trying to muffle it by
pressing it to my suddenly naked breast, while using my right hand to
wrestle with Amy for control of my robe. I was losing -- both control
of the robe and the thread of what Margaret was saying as she nattered
on and on. Amy simply ignored my efforts and was pulling me closer.
I felt her hot breath ruffle my pubic hair. I was shaking my head
violently in between the times I had to make monosyllabic, pseudo-word
noises into the phone. I even hissed at Amy, trying to get her to
stop, but that was as useless as my feeble struggles.
And my mother-in-law kept right on talking....
I twisted half out of the robe and tried to back away. But that
made it worse than before. The left sleeve got all tangled up in the
phone cord, and she reeled me back in easily. When I was within
reach, she slithered a hand between my thighs. I was wet there and
getting wetter. I stood still, overcome by the moment. And she
fingered my cunt like an expert, paying particular loving attention to
my clit. (Margaret, of course, was still talking, and I answered her
even more absently than I had before.)
I had just enough self-control to whimper, "No, please, I-I'm
not-not that w-way. Please."
But she concentrated on my body and totally ignored what I was
trying to say. She started playing with my asshole -- and then...oh,
god, then...she slipped a finger inside. And then another. I closed
my eyes and sighed. Then she began finger-fucking me front and rear
simultaneously. I surrendered then. With an evil giggle, Amy
whispered in my ear what I must say to my mother-in-law.
"Margaret, I've got to go now -- I-I must d-deal with the pool
girl." I paused an instant and then hung up, cutting off Margaret's
uncomprehending squawk.
The decision had been made -- not by my brain, but by my tits and
cunt and asshole all voting together. I moaned and thrust my hips
back and forth to add more force to Amy's corkscrewing fingers.
"Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!" I felt dizzy, pliable.
She giggled again and wiped her fingers on a dish towel. "Head
up, hands behind your back, chest out, Katie."
I did as I was told. I shivered as she went back to playing with
my nipples, twisting and togging and, finally, (OH, GOD!) sucking on
them. I'm not very busty...rather smallish, in fact, 34a, but my
nipples are quite large and quite sensitive. She kept me on "simmer"
for I don't know how long, suckling me until I was almost breathless.
And then she finally just brushed her fingertips across my swollen
clit -- and I had a shattering climax...and, a moment later, another
one. I went rigid and nearly blacked out, it was so intense. It
seemed a long time before I was again capable of rational thought and
articulate speech.
"Oh, Amy, please, this is just not right."
She grimaced. "That's not true, and you know it." Then she
smiled wolfishly and went back to licking my nipples.
I hesitantly and clumsily groped her breasts. I'd never made out
with another female -- not even in my college sorority...not really.
But I loved it. We played with each other's tits for a while, and
then she released me.
"I need to get naked, too," she murmured.
I watched her strip. She had a wonderful body, nicely tanned and
attractively sinewy -- firm breasts and lovely big nipples, dimpled
butt, smoothly muscular thighs, rippled abs, plump cunt (thinly veiled
by pale, silky hair). She pulled me to her once more -- she was
shorter and lighter than me, but considerably stronger (and I really
wasn't resisting). She kissed me again...then French-kissed me, and I
let her. I straddled her sleek, sweaty thigh and scrubbed it with my
drooling cunt.
She spent the whole morning playing with me, teaching me how to
please her. We were in and out of the pool; I tasted her cunt, and it
was rank, but so sweet. She masturbated me to half a dozen orgasms.
I ate her cunt hungrily and humped her leg like a bitch in heat --
which I guess I was. She made me cum while she spanked me. She
fucked me with the butt end of her skimmer while I crouched on all
fours, whimpering with pleasure. I drank her pee. When noon came, I
fixed her lunch and knelt by her side as she ate. She fed me scraps,
and I told her how awesome she was.
But she had many other pools and yards to service that day...too
many. That's what inspired The Idea. She told me that my only real
problem was that I was bored. Her problem was that she was over-
extended...especially if we were to continue what we'd started today.
The solution to both problems was simple: I could go to work for her
as her assistant! She would be Boss, and I'd be paid minimum wage to
start.... I put up only a short, feeble resistance. To tell the
truth, I found the arrangement she described...exciting.
I agreed to start immediately. She told me to get a pair of flip-
flops, and she'd supply the rest of my "uniform." She hurried out to
her truck.
By the time I'd returned to the kitchen, so had she. She'd
changed into a fresh t-shirt and shorts. She handed me her other
things, still damp with her sweat.
"B-but I must be 3" taller and 20 pounds heavier than you. I just
c-couldn't possibly wear your clothes. Your tank top would be like a
crop-top on me -- a very tight, th-thin one -- a-and the
sh-shorts...."
She smiled and slipped her hand between my legs. I was wet, of
course. I held onto the edge of the table and moaned as she fingered
me again. As I reached orgasm, she asked, "Who's the boss, Katie?"
I reached for the sweaty tank top and shorts. "Y-you're the boss,
Miss Austin...."
***********************************
Well, I worked for her the rest of the summer, sweating away
behind a lawnmower or wheelbarrow or long-handled shovel. Amy
handled the skilled jobs, and I did the grunt work. I lost 6 pounds
and developed a deep tan. At her insistence, I also got my tongue
pierced and my pubic hair permanently removed. I never put on a bra
anymore and often wear miniskirts -- sometimes without panties. Brian
doesn't know why I made these changes, but he thoroughly approves.
Though the pools are closed now, and the yards are dormant, Amy
comes over practically every day after class and puts me through my
paces. She also got me a minimum wage job working for "Charlene's
Cleens," a small janitorial service run by a couple of bossy black
women. I start my 6 month probationary period next week.
But I'm still anxiously awaiting the coming of spring, when I'll
resume my job as a trainee Pool Girl.
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