Ned Moore: Little swimmers ecstasy

Bert never took his eyes off the girl's naked figure. Even after the swim which lasted only a few minutes, he stood in the cramped quarters watching. His cock had been hard for ten minutes, yet it didn't ache in the least bit. On the contrary, he felt strong and self-assured, horny in fact. It was the best erection he had had since Vietnam.

"I wonder if she comes here often," he asked himself. His watch read almost eight-thirty. The fog would soon be lifting and there was no point hanging around any longer. The girl was gone. He released his cock and leaned against the wall looking out into the flat, calm water wondering if she would return. "Damn," he whispered, opening the door and stepping up out of the filtering-plant compartment. The pool was immense; a huge, lonely expanse of cement and water that was as lifeless and empty as a tomb.

"I hope she comes back," he said softly. As he reached the front door, Bert decided to stick on as head coach. At least for another couple of weeks.

When Bert got home, the front door was unlocked, dirty dishes and empty wine bottles littered the living room and water from the upstairs bathroom was running.

Heidi was his current girlfriend. He had met her at a singles bar half a mile from the house. She was just a few years over the drinking age, had a pretty smile that matched her wispy blonde hair and spoke three languages, an asset, no doubt, that helped land her a stewardess job with Pan-Am. Her looks were stunning and her clothes immaculate. Perhaps that was why she messed up the house on her stopovers every three weeks or so.

"Fucking slob," he cursed. He had meant to get rid of Heidi, but she was an infrequent visitor and on several occasions her company had helped pass a lonely night. But his patience was running short.

He ran up the stairs, trying to think of a polite way to dump the broad. He pursued several possibilities, none very successful. Hell with it, Bert thought. The best way is the most direct. He heard Heidi's clear voice singing a French song above the hiss of shower water. Taking a deep breath, he twisted the doorknob and walked in. A thick cloud of warm mist rushed up to meet him. Heidi gasped as the door opened then slumped back in the tub. "You scared me," she said, taking a deep breath. Heidi took the bar of perfumed soap and lathered her breasts which bobbed like apples in a water barrel.

The shower was turned on full blast, spraying water down on the svelte, doe-eyed stewardess stretched out in the tub whose long, shapely legs pressed up against the wall. With the shower curtain pulled back, water ran over the tub onto the floor. A puddle of water surrounded Bert's tennis shoes.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked. "Trying to flood me out of my own house?"

Heidi giggled coquettishly and responded with a French phrase he didn't understand, but was no doubt obscene. Bert glared; his hands trembled with rage at the silly, flirtatious girl who blithely left the house scattered with dirty dishes and let the water run all over the bathroom floor. He clenched his hands until the knuckles cracked. Blood thundered in his skull; a blind, ferocious rage filled him.

"Get out of the tub," he snapped. "I'll be in the bedroom." The door slammed behind him, leaving Heidi to her warm bath, and her disquieting thoughts. What have I done, she thought. Such a strange man. One minute happy, the next filled with rage.

Heidi had made love to many men, but none like Bert Anderson. Her affairs were with older men she'd met on the international flights. They were flitting, harmless encounters; men scared of growing old, or strapped with unloving wives. Heidi found sex with these lovers to be quick, painless, and lucrative; they showed appreciation with expensive gifts, lavish dinners, even a proposal of marriage now and then. But Heidi earned her just rewards. More often than not, she wound up with a nervous man who couldn't get an erection and Heidi would cup his soft penis in her hand and rub his slender shaft until he was firm and hard. Then she would flop down on the bed and push his penis between her thighs. That's if she were lucky. Sometimes, her lover got so excited that Heidi had to fellate his cock before come shot all over the bed and ruined their lovemaking. Most of the sex was uneventful, but she enjoyed the gifts and then there was the occasional man like Bert who didn't need coaxing. He had his own hang-ups, she knew, but sex was not one of them. At least not with her. Women thought differently about sex than men and Bert seemed to sense this difference.

"Hurry up and get in here," he shouted from the bedroom.

Panic seized Heidi. She quickly rose from the tub, wrapped her body in a thick towel and ran into the bedroom.

Bert waited for her, stark naked. She looked down his well-muscled body and felt her blood pulsate. In the dark forest of pubic hair rose his cock, hard and erect. Bath water dripped from her legs and vapor trails rose from her shoulders like wisps of smoke. He'd looked at the rumpled, unmade bed and wished that she had picked up the house.

Her breasts rose against the towel, the nipples hard and deliciously excited by the soft, tingling fabric. Tension knotted up between her legs. It was still morning, the best time for sex.

"Darling, I'm sorry about the house," Heidi said. Then she giggled impishly. "I'll make it up to you."

Bert's face was drawn in concentration and his eyes held a strange intensity which made Heidi feel vaguely uncomfortable. She stood silhouetted by the sun's rays beaming through the window, the light reflecting off her fluffy hair, accentuating the heat vapor rising upward off her skin.

"Take the towel off," he said evenly.

Heidi did as she was told, letting the towel drop to her feet. Standing naked with the light beaming down and Bert's eyes burning into her skin like coals made Heidi hesitant, unnerved. Her thighs trembled as bit her lower lip. She clasped her hands in front and turned away from the light.

"Come here, Heidi," he ordered.

The stewardess was terrified. Don't let him hurt me, she prayed to herself. I don't want to be harmed. Oh, I hate violence.

Bert sensed her change in mood and laughed inwardly. Silly bitch, he thought, pulling the jar of jam from the bedside tables. He unscrewed the top and scooped out a generous fingerful.

"W-what are you doing?" Heidi stammered.

"Come here and I'll show you."

Heidi didn't want to step forward and yet she couldn't very well run away. Where was she going to run to dressed only in a towel. She rubbed her sweaty palms against the round curve of her hips and stepped forward, staring just above Bert's eyebrows so she would not have to look into his eyes.

There were a lot of things Bert was capable of doing. But Heidi was not prepared for what followed. She felt his fingers move up along the tight muscles of her flat belly and softly stroke her breasts. At the same time his fingers moved around and around the soft flesh his second hand came up and gently coated each nipple with a gob of jam.

"Oooooohhhhhh!" Heidi gasped. "It's warm."

"Yes, dear," Bert said simply. "Preserves are supposed to be kept warm." For a few precious seconds, he let the jam remain on her nipples. He knew the effect this had on women, it was a sex trick learned in Vietnam.

"Now put some on my nipples," he ordered. He handed Heidi the jar, and closed his eyes, waiting for the warm sensation of her jam-coated fingers to seep into his muscles. The effect was always astonishing. His dick would throb and he would want sex immediately. The Vietnamese, not known as sensualists, used jam to excite their men. It was part of a fertility rite, at least that's what a news reporter in Da Nang had told him. Wherever the custom came from, the effect was astonishing. Bert strained his self-control, trembling with passion and in a low, raspy voice said, "Now my cock."