Squirt Gun

Chapter 1: Trouble in the Towel Room

Sarah Condry is especially bronze this summer. She enjoys seeing the contours of her tight body in the sunlight when she lies out. The distinct red of her bikini clashes with her skin. She has Aviator sunglasses on, and she loves to use them to watch people sneaking glances at her nubile body. She arrived thirty minutes early for her lifeguard duty so that she could relax by the pool.

She leans over across her lounge chair to check her phone in its shade, 2:23 PM. Her shift starts in seven minutes. As she straightens back up, she sees a group of three guys open the gate. She imagines that while she was leaned over they were checking her ass out, which, admittedly, was a very proud part of hers. She loves the toned crease that she frequently looked at in the mirror. She has thick legs, so the backs of her thighs reached right up to her cheeks and the cheeks were big enough to sort of reach over and offer the roundest crescent. When she walks it's like poetry in motion, the most satisfying bounces allowing every nuance of her to be appreciated with every step.

She moves her eyes behind her sunglasses towards them. They must also spend a lot of time perfecting their bodies, she thinks, watching their broad backs revealed as they take off their shirts across the pool from her. She wants to claw down their backs. All three at once or maybe just the one with the dark locks of hair and maybe he would also be into it, she thinks. She feels a bit of warmth in her face as she envisions the look of concentration on his face and her hands tracing from his chest down past his abs. He looks and feels like he is carved of stone. She suppresses the urge to trace her own fingers down her own body with this hot scene in her head.

The face she was already imagining turns thickset shoulders towards the pool and not-so-subtly rests his eyes on her for a moment, instinctively flexing just a little bit as a reaction to seeing such a fit body. She sees this through her glasses and does not react, smiling inside and now warm all over. His friend yells at him, "how's the water, Jack?" and pushes him in the back. He tumbles down into the shallow end of the pool with a satisfying splash. Sarah, noting his name, leans her head up to watch him emerge from the water. He immediately jumps up, body tensed and water sneaking into every curve of his abs, and flicks his hair back. Something out of a men's shampoo commercial, she thinks, seeing the whole movement in slow motion. He immediately wades to the edge of the pool and grabs the shorts of his unsuspecting friend, "it's perfect!" he shouts back and pulls the friend in. His voice is dusky like the twilight situation she wants to be in with him experiencing the lines blurred by nightfall.

She gets up, gathers her things, and dismisses the scrawny high-school boy who had the shift before her. She wants to catch the attention of all three of them, who she knows are all going to be trying their best to allow their eye lines to cross her, but she really wants them to see her climbing up the ladder. Her legs would flex up showing their most rewarding thickness and her ass would be pointed in their direction if they were in the pool. She checks her phone, facing away from them and towards the ladder she's about to climb, deliberately hesitating as if to give them time to realize she's giving them a free one. Then she begins her climb, and she can hear their activity hush behind her. She imagines them lost in her body, standing awkwardly in the pool and maybe even lowering their stomachs in the water to cool themselves down after such a sight. She imagines Jack's face resting on Jack's shoulders imagining Sarah's firm body without that little red bikini and maybe even the red leaving his face and moving down south.

She sits down on the stand having given the boys their time to see it all. The third one jumps in, clearly the goofball of the group, in a cannon ball. The guys swim around a bit. Sarah casts occasional glances towards them when they move. Motion reveals the best of their bodies: flexing cores, shoulders broadening, backs turning into tremendous walls, and subtle bulges emerging from wet trunks sticking to their frames. Jack was apparently lucky in that department, maybe even lucky enough to be able to handle such a tight body as hers, she thinks. She would, too. Oh, would she ever. She would right now if it was possible. She needed it right now. She needed to make it possible.