The Swimming Pool

Here we are, packing to leave. We're moving west tomorrow with the intention to relaunch my wife's business as a pastry chef and baking mentor.

I'll try to see if I can get a better job in the IT sector. Since big corporations got rid of remoting, I struggled to bring a steady income home. This last one wasn't bad but I screwed our stay.

It's a pity: We're going to miss this house. Old and needing maintenance but we built really fond memories here. Very spacious; a renewed kitchen with tons of natural light; and an amazing pool.

My wife worked for the most popular bakery in town; the one that had gained the favor of many wealthy white old ladies for whom a 20 bucks muffin is fair business. The nosy me said from the beginning that their immorally high-paid husbands in their golf clubs compensated the lack of interest in their wives' private muffins allowing them these delicious cravings.

The bakery wouldn't hire and she only worked a few early hours so, being a contractor and us needing extra bucks, she independently offered personal cooking and baking classes later during the day. Having her walking around in white cook uniform so classy was one of those little pleasures that gave me hard-ons all day long.

A stream of ladies would come home to spend the morning with her in our kitchen, where she shared her tricks of the trade and many shared secrets and gossips. They all seemed delighted. We were new in town and mouth to mouth was the best promotion.

One Sunday afternoon, while we were relaxing in our amazing pool, I suggested that she should bring her clients for a swim while their pastries were baking. She thought that was a really great idea and took it in really fast.

I worked mostly afternoons and during the mornings I took care of our garden and pool. Easy handyman stuff. I'd say I was learning by practicing.

During those days I found out that swimming pools are delicate continuous systems with chemical reactions that need to be balanced. A constant battle against a bunch of variables: Chlorine, pH... Then pumps, flows and back-flows, skimmer, mechanical parts, and weather conditions. It wasn't that romantic, but pretentiously imagining that it was made the work more appealing.

In no time, visits that took advantage of our pool started coming. I tried not to get nearby, but my wife told me there was no reason for me not showing up if I needed to. The first day I did, I greeted my wife and a friendly-looking visitor, a middle aged lady, as I walked all sweaty down to our garage to grab some tools.

"Morning, ladies."

"Morning" they said back.

They were sitting on the pool border chatting, resting arms behind their backs, and legs and feet cooling down inside while their upper bodies warmed under the sun.

I stayed in my garage reorganizing and fixing other stuff, like my ever-broken old bicycle. Their chatting and giggling had stopped when I came out and walked back with the pool sweeper. I didn't pay much attention initially. I was absent minded, thinking that if I'd be able to check if she had nice buns like my wife's or if they were still sitting.

But soon the new view totally surprised me. They sure were comfortable with each other because they appeared in front of me totally topless. My wife's swimming suit was down revealing her ample breasts. Today's client's bikini top was gone revealing her perky tits. Their hair was wet and their skins shone, sensitive with goosebumps as some glistening drops ran over their shoulders.

I hesitated. But they didn't show any glimpse of discomfort so I got to the other end and started picking up dry leaves from the surface, trying not to look awkward.

"Look at you below the belt!" My wife said, lowering her sunglasses down her nose and watching me with her bare eyes.

I failed concealing the hard-on between my legs.

"You better get that fixed right now."

I stayed still looking at both of them, which didn't help with my visible issue. I was troubled in case our visitor found this inappropriate, but she said with soft voice: "You heard the lady."

"Get a hand towel, I don't want you to leave a mess." My wife said. Then went to the other side and sat facing them.

They had me horny as hell. I took off my t-shirt, put down my trunks, and my cock sprang like a wood stick. What happened next wasn't my intention, but I didn't want to look just like a monkey beating my meat and I gave them a little show.

They both stared at me. I really loved that attention. Shamelessly looking how my balls bounced and my fist traveled up and down, or looking straight to my eyes with lust. At the beginning I held it close to its base to make it look bigger, but my fist gradually went up increasing my pace, grazing that sensitive area close to the glans rim.

This was every man's dream. If they had ever told me I'd be doing this back during my teens, all those times I lost playing the soggy cookie game... I'd have said this was the pie in the sky.

I tried to edge and squeeze hard to improve the visuals with an engorged cock. However, oh their tits and their nipples poking out all hard. Knowing that under their sunglasses their eyes were fixed on me. All my sweat mixing with pre-cum under the warm sun... When I came, my belly shook violently and several jets of cum landed on it and up on my chest. My wife smiled satisfied while her friend clapped with enthusiasm.

With the arousal gone, my penis started to shrink making me feel vulnerable. I cleaned up in front of them, put back my clothes and went to the house still confused while they laughed and talked I guess about me.

That night when I came back home from work, I went straight to bed to find my wife already there. I did her with all my might, as I always do because she's a sex fiend and standards are high. Releasing earlier gave me extra endurance, which allowed me to last longer and have her come several times. How I love when she does with cock.

Even after both of us came and stayed laying down panting all exhausted, we didn't talk about the pool incident.

Actually, we never talked about it. All I know is that two days later she had another client and the pattern repeated.

I got out of the garage with the sweeper and there they were topless. This one had long blonde hair. She was almost as flat as a pancake but 100% stunning hot. A real beauty. When my wife asked me to wank in front of them again I waited for her companion's approval.

"Are you going to chicken out?" She challenged.

It's a bit intimidating to expose yourself so intimately but I got that fixed soon. They were two real beauties watching me beat it for them. This time they made remarks about my manliness, how hairy I was, or about the shape and size of my penis and balls... As if I wasn't listening, commenting honestly. Being objectified should have offended me but, on the contrary, it just lit my fire more.

If they talked about how veiny it was, I'd squeeze it roughly for the veins to stick out. If they talked about my ballsack, I'd make my balls jump like crazy. And so on.

They both took one hand between their legs and started touching themselves. The moment they both opened their lower piece to expose their pussies, I couldn't restrain, beat fast and came erupting into the air like a volcano.

They seemed pleased. "Now, pick up your pieces and go!" My wife said.

I left as they continued masturbating. I witnessed behind their back through the kitchen door glass how their bodies shivered and shook when they came.

As always, I disappeared for them not to see me. And, as always, I left for work, came back, and fucked my wife's brains out at night without a word about.

Her clients never knew (at least before the word spread) what could come later when, during the phone appointment, she suggested that they could bring their bikinis.

Not all the visits were into this bonus surprise. It was easy to find out: If there was no topless or no remark from my wife, I just swept and left. If there was, then showtime started. Sometimes they stayed dressed while I didn't. Those made me feel like a piece of meat. I was intensely turned on, anyway.

Thinking about the visitors, I always wondered how my wife talked them into this. There's something to say about this community because, I'd have thought that it'd have been a rare event, but the naked truth was that for many months, several days a week, I got to do my show.

I counted over fifty and I could recount stories from all of them. Some of her students repeated and most recommended the baking lessons to friends. I found out too that we got substantial tips for the whole service. Again, maybe this should have made me feel bad but, on the contrary, it was flattering.

This changed my lifestyle habits for good. I exercised to get rid of my beer belly. I fixed my bicycle and had lengthy training sessions, and, most importantly, I hydrated plentifully. I had suffered several scant ejaculations and the disappointing faces or laughter weren't pleasant. Even though my horny inner-me sub would later find that humiliation exciting.

All this allowed for safer sex than ever, which was a boost for our relationship. At midnight we fucked like animals. My wife would then fall sound asleep through the whole night, and it had been years since she had been able to.

I'd mostly lust on my wife, but I won't lie: having a companion was amazing. However, I didn't really like a few of them. In those cases I pretended I was feasting on them when I was actually focusing on my wife out of the corner of my eye.

The pool always stood between me and them. I'm a man and of course I fantasized with both women sucking my dick at the same time, but that barrier contained more indecent behavior. I gradually learned to edge better. They were really fascinated by the leaking that preceded my orgasms. I really enjoyed this. Simultaneous cumming rarely happened, but I managed to wait for them, which I could tell they really appreciated and made me feel great with myself.

Very few times (and I suspect this was my wife controlling the situation) the client would have a huge pair of melons.

A memorable occasion occurred after a little break. I was very loaded. My wife looked irresistible and her client had very big tits. She was totally fixated on my cock. When she came, all her body shuddered without control. My wife came later, and she did beautifully. Once she recovered her breath and smiled back to our guest and to me, she commanded me to.

It'd have been very disrespectful not to tribute them. I wished they would hug but I had not much time to wish or think. When I did I aimed at them. My fist had been both holding my sexual energy inside my body and pumping vigorously to let it go. Mimicking my wife's handjob techniques by expertly modulating the pressure in order to use it as a hose, the first jet made it half way through the swimming pool. Several more landed closer and closer to me until my orgasm receded. They gasped in awe over my performance and laughed in delight.

"Now you clean it." My wife said, proud of me.

I got in the pool all naked and started collecting by cupping handfuls of water and sticky go between my hands. My semen was shredding through the water, forming that weird smoky look caused by some liquids of different densities mixing. I wondered how that would affect the balance of the pool components. It took me a while to leave it all clear. They looked at me from above as if they were my mistresses; and I actually felt as if they were. When I got out, I tried to hide the shrinkage effect the cold water had on me turning my back on them.

One day my wife announced that her sister would visit. "And I plan to use the swimming pool all the time." She winked.

"You won't dare!" She never replied, what a tease she is. My sister-in-law is really good looking, but I didn't see myself doing that. That'd be way too weird; bordering what's gross.

I didn't think she really meant it but, just in case, the day she came I didn't dare outside. They enjoyed their time in the pool, and I could see their bare backs from inside the house, but I stayed away.

My cock was weary from so much action, but I couldn't help not taking a break. I went to our room, got some internet porn in my computer and started touching myself.

I heard the door opening and there was my wife under the frame: She had been spying for some minutes. I stood still while she got closer, caught with my hand not in any cookie jar, but around my hard penis. She took off her swimming suit, pulled me away from the table enough for her to seat on my lap. I was trunks down so she simply opened her legs and directed me in as deep as possible.

"Your sis..." I tried to warn, while her weight rested on me and I felt her refreshed skin.

"Don't worry." Replied, and then started a frantic ride.

I held her buttocks and directed her in with extra force at every stroke. We could hear in the back the porn video that I had no time to stop. That one, the next suggested one, and so on.

She was really turned on. "Oh my, that long cock of yours feels like hot iron." Dirty talking always got me on the verge.

Her grinding was rough. She was rocking the rigid chair I was sitting on, making it shriek dangerously. You can tell when a lady is riding up and down to give you pleasure, or when she's using you to get off. She used me as I like her to do. And she came full force, forehead to forehead while she held me still with sheer delight, bitting her lips and thrusting as hard as she could against my groin. Her hair all convoluted, smothering boobs... while her trembling embrace imprisoned me for a life sentence.

When the pleasure eased, she swung her hips slowly and playfully. And then took my cock out of her. She was radiant, and stood up looking at me head to toes.

Then she put her hand between my legs, missing my whole package. This made me jump a little. She placed the palm on my buttocks and slowly forced her ring finger in my butt hole. I whined half from pain, half from forbidden pleasure. She must have stuck half finger in. I was trembling. Then she pulled back up towards herself, putting it all in and using it as a hook. This forced me to stand up and get closer. I had to grab myself from her shoulders not to fall: My legs felt weak. My cock was hard as I've ever seen it.

We heard her sister calling from downstairs. She looked at me mischievously, took his finger out slowly, and, while she patted my cheek, she whispered she needed to go.

There I was still panting and all hard, glistening with her juices while she got her swimming suit on again. More for her pussy juices gushed out running down her thighs. She grabbed me and as fast as she could. At my first whine, when my belly did the first hint of convulsing, she just let it go halting all progress.

"Keep that loaded for me champ. I want more, ok?" She signed with a tongue kiss. "I expect it leaking and abundant." She said while she collected some drops of my initial leaking with her finger and inserted it in her mouth liking it with her tongue lusciusly.

It always took me by surprise how she knew how to blow my mind in so many ways. No wonder she's the one that has spent more time with my cock close or inside her, she knew me well. Still weak and feeling the lack of blood everywhere but in my groin, I put my trunks up and closed the porn videos as I knew that, if I continued touching myself, I would loose it all.

Thank goodness nothing happened with my sister-in-law. My wife had just teased me for good.

That night the three of us went out for dinner. The following days were even busier: She had never been around and we drove her places. She left 5 days later; right when my wife started her period. When she started feeling better, she got some sort of flu that prolonged our sex drought.

Baking visits continued before she totally recovered, yet the pool was skipped. My balls were really full and I was out of my mind. I constantly felt that they were about to explode. Light touches to my ballsack hurt, so riding my bike was not practical.

That's when one of the days, while my wife chatted with a client in the living room as they drank tea, I was wandering around the kitchen and found their muffins right out of the oven. They smelled delicious.

Too much deprivation overwhelmed me. My balls... I couldn't even try a muffin because they were aligned and counted. Their smell. I wasn't getting to see my wife's body, nor her clients'. I had restrained myself from touching her when she was sick. Seeing her kneading the dough in her cook uniform was like the ultimate tease. I felt mad and impatient.

I needed a release badly, I missed my wife, and missed our routine... I took my cock out playing revenge by beating it obscenely. I never held back because I was more than ready. And I didn't realize either how full I was. Then I came over the muffins tray and drenched the first 3 rows. Every twitch was like a liberation. Every spasm felt good, especially in my balls. Each release, each rope of cum landing heavily all over were plentiful and thick.

What a relief. A minute later, when my bread was finding its place to relax between my legs again and blood reached back to my brain, I realized what I had done and hurried to get those rows boxed and left.

The day after this secret incident, we started to recover our sex life little by little.

"I love I always can get to use your thick loads." My wife whispered. I gulped and kissed her. Good thing that she was extra horny and asked me to come inside this time. If I had done out, she'd had noticed there was something missing.

One day I came back home from work to find her alone and crying. When I calmed her down and asked, she told me about the old lady from the muffin boxes presents.

What she thought was a visit to praise her work ended up like a threat to press charges for poisoned food. She was the president of the local Puritans League and came infuriated to rant and complain.

Ironically, the club ladies had found the pastries delicious. My wife knew because some of them were regulars of the decent kind. However, the president was enraged because she knew what they tasted to. She could not confess this publicly, but she vented her anger on us.

I went blank, melted and confessed that it was all my fault. I said sorry repeatedly, and admitted my fault and any consequences.

I was ready to eat the humble pie. What I never expected is that my wife also knew about the special icing. That day she got up to get some extra sugar for their tea and saw my full release. She let it happen because she wasn't liking this lady much. She was sorry she had overlooked my needs and she was positive they'd never find out about the secret ingredient. Finally, she felt it'd give the mixture a nice touch.

She sugar-coated it with a bit of flour and re-packaged it as her biggest masterpiece. And she was right: They all loved it. Well, all but the president. And that was it.

After some difficult thinking we decided to leave. There were several weeks of logistic arrangements but everything was fixed up discreetly and quickly.

"This was a great community. I'm really sorry." I repeated when we were closing the loaded car trunk.

"Don't worry dear. This was fortunate. It was a matter of time until the word spread among the husbands in the club," she said, "and one of them sent someone to break your... legs."

"It'll be easy as pie, you'll see." She signed with a kiss.

I have the best wife ever.