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The pool at night was always relaxing. With the deck lights off, and the pool lights on, the swirling currents were cast as shadows on the walls and ceiling, almost making me feel that I was surrounded by water.

I loved being alone here, in this warm, fluid haven, where I felt like I didn’t have to care. The other guards had gone home. I had nothing worth going home for, so I chose to stay, offering to close up. I rushed the last few chores, putting the chairs in their rows, stowing left over towels, and toys and a pair of ladies underwear in the lost and found, and hosing out the shower rooms.

When I finished, I sat staring at the pool, watching the shifting patterns, and the interplay of light. I had heard about some of the guards, mostly couples, staying after work to go skinny dipping, but I had never done it myself. I was too afraid. Or maybe too self conscious. But tonight I was feeling a little blue, a little rebellious, and a lot tired of bending to social expectation. Before I had an opportunity to over think it, I stood up, and stripped, and made a clean, swimmers bursa escort dive into the pool.

The sensation was unlike anything I had ever expereienced before. Without the restraint, and thin protection of my bathing suit, the rippling water relentlessly teased my nipples, and stroked my pussy like the tenderest of lovers.

I swam, relishing the new feelings, and the new freedom. I loved the feel of the water lapping against my naked skin. When I was breathless, I turned onto my back, floating, and experienced a whole new set of feelings, as now the surface of the water raised gentle tongues against my pussy, and tasted gently of my clit. My nipples, exposed to the air, as they were, tightened, and I raised my hand, carefully, to stroke them. I had never felt them so hard, or so sensitive.

I suddenly had the feeling that I was being watched. My heart began to pound, and my breathing quickened. “No,” reasoned my brain. “You did the last check, and locked the doors. No way is anyone here!” Still, my inner wimp said that there could be someone. Better cover up!

I bursa escort bayan shushed my inner wimp, and stroked my fingers down my naked belly, gently exploring my pussy, seeking my clit. I was beginning to doubt my ability to remain buoyant in this position, so I turned over, and moved toward the side of the pool, slowly.

As luck, or perhaps fate, would have it, I came to the wall exactly where one of the jets was. I know I gasped as that warm jet of water pulsed against my clit, evoking feelings I had never experienced before. I spread my legs a little further, moving my hips in a slow sensuous roll, inviting the water to continue its liquid exploration. By now the thought that someone was watching had vanished. I couldn’t have cared if the entire staff was watching. I leaned my head back, until the sounds of the water, and my own breaths were all I could hear, and allowed the water to tease me, bringing me inexorably closer to orgasm.

It came slowly, teasing, until it arrived, drawing a small scream from me, and making my toes curl, and the muscles in escort bursa my inner thighs tremble. My entire body tensed, back arching, as exquisite sensations poured through me, leaving me breathless.

As it passed, slowly, I felt incredibly light, and care free. I lay back, again, kicking my way toward where I had left my clothing, and my towel. I pulled myself out slowly, feeling languid, and sated. Now I knew what was so appealing about skinny dipping, I thought with a giggle. I decided I would have to volunteer to close more often.

The next day, when I came in to work, there was a note in my box. People were always putting things out; invitations to parties where I would feel guilty about not buying some product I didn’t need, notes about the health inspectors last visit, notices about staff meetings, and the usual drivel. This note, was different though. It was hand written, folded up, and sealed with a sticker.

I waited until I was alone to open it. I was afraid that it was a pink slip, and I couldn’t bear the thought of crying in front of any of my co-workers. When I had a minute in the locker room, alone, I tore the sticker, and opened the paper. It only contained two sentences:

Thanks for the lovely show last night.

Don’t worry, I’ll never tell.

The note was unsigned.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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