aroused.
'Pinch me…' she murmured. 'Pinch my nipples…'
She was begging him, crying for him to pinch her nipples. Neil took one nipple between his forefinger and thumb and squeezed. It flattened out and turned a brighter red. As he released it the amazing button immediately puckered into a tight cone.
'Oh, yes…' she hummed.
He did the other one. Then he took handfuls of her smooth breasts and squeezed tight, and she moaned and bucked her hips even faster. She loved it. Neil didn't stop, he wanted her to enjoy what he did, wanted her to find satisfaction in him equal to what he was getting from her.
The slick rub of her box was caressing his cock back to the point of no recall. He felt it in his legs and along his spine. He was going to come again, going to spray his jism once more. But this time it was going to be deep inside her burning cunt, right up there where it belonged, way inside where cream and pumping cocks should be.
'Oh, Neil!' she gasped. 'So close! I'm so close!'
He squeezed large handfuls of her tit as hard as he could. The balloons mushed fiat in his hand and she nodded her head up and down with concentration. The slap of her backside turned to a continuous blur of sound as she clipped her hips at a remarkable speed.
All Neil could feel was the tingling, vibrating sensation of his cock as it came nearer and nearer the point of explosion. Her body stiffened, she arched her back so that the breasts jutted forward with hungry fullness, she bit her lip and moaned way down inside.
He felt his sperm rise along his completely imbedded pole. She groaned and twisted. The sperm reached his cock head. She ground herself down hard on him and suddenly went limp.
'Ohhhhhhhhhhh…' she moaned with half shut eyes. 'Yes, yes, yes, it feels so wonderful… '
He felt the tremble along the walls of her box just as his cream spilled. His hips jerked up hard and held her in the air as the first wracking jolt of his climax coursed through his perspiration-coated body.
The sensation of his sperm pumping into her sent Helen into a flurry of action. She clipped her pussy, swirled the sweet skin back and forth around his gushing rod, then fell forward onto his heaving chest. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pressed her lips against his.
Neil's mouth opened automatically and he felt her wet, cool tongue slide inside to wash back and forth. Their tongues danced together as his cock emptied a plentiful load inside her jerking, clasping pussy.
Then everything was still except for the slow grind of her happy pussy on his even happier shaft. She lay on top of him for a long time while the trembling, gasping motions of her soft body subsided. Then she sat up on her haunches and smiled down at him.
Neil smiled back. He had never felt so great in his life. What a woman!
'Two things, Neil. Two things you have to promise me,' she said.
'Sure.'
'That you'll never tell anyone about this…'
Neil nodded. 'Never.'
'And that you'll forget it happened because we can never do it again.'
Neil started to nod out of politeness, then stopped. 'I'll never be able to forget this!'
She liked that She smiled. 'Well, you know what I mean. Don't hope we can ever do it again – after all, I am married.'
The picture of Helen's enormous husband came into Neil's mind and left him little doubt about the dangers of trying for more of her gorgeous body. He silently nodded.
She lifted herself off of him with the sounds of sticky separation. His cock had lost the hard-on, it fell sideways in limp satisfaction. She leaned down and kissed him on the mouth once more before saying, 'You better go now.'
Neil stood up and pulled his swimsuit on. As he was about to leave she said, 'Thank you, Neil. Thank you ever so much for everything.'
'Thank you, ma'am… I mean Helen. Thank you.'
Once again her deep eyes tried to pull him inside and away but Neil didn't resist. He wished they actually could. After a silent but not awkward pause, he left the patio and went back to work.
Chapter 2
Neil didn't have to come back to clean the pool for two days. When he did there was little to do. But he washed the tiles again and struggled the long brush out of the pump house. As he stood brushing the small collection of debris along the pool bottom toward the drain, Christine Hamilton passed by.
'Hi, Christine,' he said.
'Hello,' she answered almost as if he weren't there. Then she was gone.
Neil stared back into the water and continued his brushing. Christine was a year behind him in school, she lived in the apartments with her parents. For two years he had admired her from a distance, then he got this job. Now he saw her more often, and each time he did his heart skipped a beat, but it didn't seem to matter. She would say hello and be polite but it was obvious the distance was still there.
Christine was a popular girl at school. This year she was chosen to be one of the High Kickers. The High Kickers were the high school drill team, or dance team. A selection of the most beautiful, most poised girls on campus. And in Neil's estimation, she was the most attractive of all.
Last week, during the first football game of the year, the High Kickers performed at half-time. Neil sat in the bleachers and was able to pick her out from all the rest. His heart ached for her attention, she was outstanding, breathtaking. But he knew how futile his hopes were.
He worked after school. The only activity he was involved in was the swim team. Last year he was only a second stringer, nothing glorious. He didn't have the time to cultivate a wide range of friends, to be a big man on campus, to be popular and have the opportunity to select a fitting girlfriend.
Then there was his shyness. Neil hated it. Whenever he was among the popular people he found he couldn't speak, couldn't say the cool, witty things they were always coming up with. He considered himself a dullard, a fool, a dud.
'You were quite a hero the other day,' came a voice from behind him.
Neil snapped out of his deep thought, and turned. It was Mr. Crocker, good old Mr. Crocker. He sat in his usual chair with his sunglasses on and nodded.
'Oh, all I did was pull the girl out of the pool,' said Neil.
Mr. Crocker grinned and showed his yellow teeth. The sparse gray hairs on his chin glittered in the bright sunlight. 'Oh, that's what you think, my boy It's the simple things, the small acts, which make the difference between a normal man and a heroic man.'
'Well…'
Mr. Crocker just kept talking right on through Neil's sentence, as was his habit. 'Of course you are still pretty young. I don't know if you're a man yet. You have the body of one, but hell, that doesn't mean a thing. Maybe you're a boy-hero.'
Neil knew the elderly gent was putting him on. He always referred to Neil as some kind of child, and indeed he was a child in the eyes of a man in his eighties. 'I'm going to be nineteen pretty soon, Mr. Crocker.'
'Ah yes, nineteen, I remember it well. When I reached nineteen I thought I had done it all. I was ready to retire then. Now look at me, I'm eighty-two and trying to make people think I have plenty of good years left.'
'You do, Mr. Crocker.'
'I have years but that's about it. I don't know what's so good about them. I sit out here and watch what's going on. Look at the half-naked ladies and wish I were your age. My sight is about the only decent sense I have left, but I sure do enjoy what I see. Heh-heh.'
Mr. Crocker always managed to steer the conversation around to the ladies. Neil and the old man had had many long conversations about how things were in the old days. How the women were much more coy, a lot
