Confessions of a Pool Boy

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Big Tits

– 1972 –

Three women sat on the couch facing me. Behind them were cheap prints of big eyed kids probably retrieved from a garage sale, and the fake-wood coffee table in front was littered with weed, papers and empty bottles.

We were all still bleary from last night’s party. The last of the guests left at 3 am, and the girls had to shake me awake from my place on the couch. It was almost noon, and they had a decision to make about me.

I had been crashing on my friend Mike’s couch for the last week. New in town, I needed a steady place to stay and the subject came up at the party. The girls were renting this house together. Two shared a bedroom and the third had her own. That left an open bedroom that could be used in return for a share of the rent. I asked if they would consider me as a new roommate.

Chelsea, a thin freckled girl with straight blond hair and a chambray shirt, took a long burbling draw from a bong, held the smoke in her lungs for a few seconds and blew a cloud up to the ceiling while Janice and Grace stared at me impassively. Elbows on my knees, I was intent on wiggling my toes through the thick carpet to unearth peanut shells, beer tabs and old cigarette butts.

Janice broke the silence as Chelsea passed the bong to Grace. “Rick, are you working?” she asked. Janice was a black woman with a picked out afro. She wore a makeshift halter top, made from a paisley silk scarf looped through a silver choker at her neck and tied in back.

I paused only slightly at her breasts before answering. “Yes, I am,” I said. “Down at the Sunny Field Bakery. I work in the kitchen making bread. It’s righteous work.”

“Cool, man.” squeaked Grace, the chubbier of the three, who had just taken a hit from the bong, her cheeks reddened from holding her breath.

I panned over to Chelsea who added, “Mm mm bread. I love bread,” nodding.

Janice glanced at her two roommates before looking back to me. “You have any hangups we should know about?” She asked.

“Nah. Just looking for a place to stay,” I replied.

“We’ve never considered a dude before. You dig?” contributed Chelsea.

Grace chipped in, “But a dude could be handy around here, don’t you think?”

They all nodded, and I was in. An hour later, I was moving stuff out of the trunk of my Rambler into the third bedroom.

The house was a 20 year old ranch with a cedar-wood privacy fence around the backyard. Most of the grass had been displaced with an aqua blue, in-ground pool and a single hickory tree shaded one end of the yard. It think the girls bucked up for the place because it really was an ideal party house. They had made it clear my house duties included keeping the yard and pool maintained.

So, that’s how I found myself on Saturday morning digging hickory leaves off the bottom of the pool with a long handled net.

The girls, well, were naked. Grace and Chelsea were sunning themselves on web strapped aluminum lawn chaises and Janice was casually stroking through the water end to end. I’d pause my pool cleaning as Janice came to deep end, and waited till she turned. Water droplets beaded on her ‘fro and sparkled like diamonds in the dappled sunlight.

Janice eventually climbed out on the far end, dried off with a terrycloth towel and covered herself with a tie-dyed, muslin wrap. She sat down at the small table under an umbrella shade and opened a hardback book with a loud red and black paper jacket.

Grace sat up in her chair, pulled up her huge cat-eye sunglasses and looked around. She called to me, “Hey Rick, are my flip flops over there?” She seemed oblivious to her ample boobs laying across her stomach. I wasn’t.

“Um,” I said as I looked around, “Yes, here they are.” I picked them up and walked them over.

“Ooh, you’re getting burned,” Grace said looking at my reddening shoulders. She hopped off the chaise with a bottle of Coppertone, squirted a handful and eagerly rubbed it on my shoulders and back. I felt a rise in my cutoffs as she danced around me rubbing the liquid into my skin. Chelsea adjusted her towel and rolled over. Janice eyed me over her sunglasses from the shade, inscrutable.

I backed away from Grace with an embarrassed smile saying, “Thanks. Thanks, I think that will work. I appreciate it.” A wisp of disappointment crossed her face and she wiped off the residual suntan lotion on her boobs and chest and a little on her hips. I rubbed in some of the white streaks left on my chest and arms and turned to return to my pool duty. I glanced back at Janice and caught her eyes for just a second before she hurriedly pushed her sunglasses back and turned her head down to read.

Back in the hickory shade, I pulled on my New Riders t-shirt and did my best to ignore the women as I finished cleaning the pool. I stowed the pole and on hooks mounted the fence, retrieved my lemonade and headed inside.

I really felt the need for a shower right then and rushed to our shared bathroom. Careful not to disturb the brushes and cans of hairspray on the vanity, I observed myself naked in the antep escort mirror. My shoulders were a little red and there were still streaks of white lotion in places I couldn’t reach. I pulled the translucent plastic curtain aside, stepped into the tub and twisted the cold knob to full.

Contrary to popular opinion, cold showers do NOT lessen a hard-on. Mine was standing straight and I had visions of three naked women swimming around in my head. Not wanting to waste a good thing, I soaped up and began stroking. A moment later, the bathroom door opened, someone came in and flipped up the toilet seat with a sharp wooden thunk. One of the women sat down, and I could hear pee tinkling in the toilet bowl.

“Hey, Rick, what are you doing in there?” It was Chelsea.

“Um, just taking a shower,” I replied.

I heard rustling paper, and saw some movement through the curtain as she twisted around to drop the lid and flush. A moment later, the curtain was wrenched aside and Chelsea was smiling at me with crossed arms.

She nodded to the soapy hand wrapped around my cock, and said, “I thought so!” She giggled as I vainly tried to cover myself.

She snagged the bar of Dial from its tray and let the water cascade over her hands as she adopted a more serious look. “Here, let me help you with that,” she said.

She leaned forward, pushed away my hand and began expertly stroking my cock with both hands. Water was splashing off my shoulders and rolling down my chest.

As she worked she said, “You know, dick is really not my thing, but yours is pretty nice, and I’m always willing to help a friend.”

I noodled through her logic while I watched her tits sway back and forth. A short time later, I spurted semen across the sea foam green tile and Chelsea tittered with delight. She picked up my beach towel from the floor to wipe cum from her hands and leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek.

“I hope that makes it better,” she said in a motherly fashion.

She dropped the towel and left the bathroom with the door hanging open. I hadn’t really needed her help, but I was beginning to appreciate the nature of my house.

My old car rattled horribly as I rolled to a stop in front of the house. I pressed the N on the dash, set the brake and killed the engine. It dieseled for about 20 seconds and finally quit leaving the whole car in a cloud of bluish smoke. I cranked the window back up and leaned into the heavy door to open it.

I had some leftover french bread from the bakery, a head of lettuce and a bottle of Boone’s Farm in my arms when I entered the house. Tonight was my night to make dinner.

None of the girls were home yet when I started heating up water for the pasta and a can of Chef Boyardee sauce. I poured a generous amount of dry herbs I found in the cabinet into the sauce and dropped a package of dry spaghetti into the boiling water.

I was breaking up the head of iceberg when Janice came home. She breezed through the kitchen headed to her room, and paused to smell my the sauce bubbling on the stove.

“Mm mm, smells great!” she said as a greeting.

I grinned in response and continued peeling and slicing vegetables for the salad.

Chelsea and Grace, came home together about then and made a beeline to their room, dropping bags and clothes as the went. They came out together a few moments later dressed in pajama bottoms and fluffy slippers. They were bra-less with thin t-shirts- their usual after-work attire.

Grace passed me in the kitchen to retrieve something from the cabinet over the stove, pausing a for a few seconds to watch me. She made an ‘mmmmm’ sound and went out to the living room where Chelsea had dropped a Doors album on the changer. Shortly after that, I peeked at them through the counter pass-through and they were diligently rolling a joint for the evening.

The kitchen timer dinged, and I drained the pasta, dumped it into a bowl, covered it with sauce and sprinkled dry Parmesan over the top. All the girls joined me at the chipped Formica kitchen table as I set out the food. I screwed off the top of the wine bottle and poured out equal amounts into mismatched water cups for all.

“Oh man, I am famished,” said Grace.

“This looks great, Rick,” said Chelsea.

“Thank you, Rick,” said Janice who sat back in her chair sipping her wine as the others dished out heaps of pasta and salad on plates. She had changed into a thin strapped white tank top that glowed against her dark skin.

For the next 10 minutes we just ate like it was the best meal we’d ever had. Soon, the pasta and salad were gone. Grace wiped out the last bit of sauce with the last bit of crusty bread.

Chelsea burped and giggled. We all looked at her and started laughing-Not really sure why.

Janice had a big stripe of red sauce on her white top, but instead of freaking out, she was eyeing it curiously.

I thought she looked funny, pulling her shirt out like she had bullet tits. I laughed. They all laughed. Pointing at her, pointing at each other, pointing at me.

Everything seemed so odd to me, but yet sparkling clear. I looked around to see what I had missed, and I spied the big box marked ‘Oregano’ sitting next to the girls’ rolling papers on the coffee table. Oh, no!

That’s when the babbling started. We talked about astrology and biology. Religion and history. We shared far ranging theories about politics and sex.

It was Chelsea who raised the topic of oral sex.

“In my opinion,” she said earnestly, “Men really don’t know how to go down on a woman, so chicks always do it better.” She nodded, emphasizing a statement I am sure she thought was profound.

“I don’t think that’s fair,” I said.

“Wouldn’t you say that is true, Janice?” asked Chelsea.

Janice had moved to the couch and her head was tilted to the side. Apparently drunk AND stoned, she mumbled, “Brothers don’t lick pussy.”

“Right on, girl!”

Janice’s reply was a snore. She was out.

Chelsea and Grace looked at each other and then at me. Grace said, “Let us show you.” They took me by the arm and we tiptoed -er- stumbled to their room and closed the door.

Chelsea deposited me in a big orange bean bag chair, and proceeded to strip down Grace. She pushed Grace onto the bed and spread her legs wide. “See man, it works like this,” said Chelsea as she demonstrated proper cunnilingus technique.

Grace moaned and shuddered in all the right places.

Chelsea paused and asked, “It’s good baby, right?”

“It’s outta sight!” trilled Grace.

They both looked at me expectantly.

“My turn,” I said eagerly. I knee-walked to the bed, pushed aside Chelsea and did my best ‘S-pattern’ pussy licking. Truthfully, it may have been ‘X-Y-Z’ pattern, but Grace was soon bucking on the bed. She grabbed my hair and pulled me into her.

Unable to resist any longer, I stood and pulled my shirt off. Chelsea reached around, undid my western belt buckle and helped slide my jeans off. Grace crab walked back further on the bed.

I few moments later, my cock slid into Grace’s warm, wet pussy.

My back arched. Her hip canted up. Soon, we had a nice rhythm going. Shortly after that, Grace’s body seized up and she cried out. It relaxed, then it seized again. I felt her deflate under me, punctuated with momentary aftershocks.

Chelsea pulled me off and over on my back, my cock waving like a slippery flag pole. She was naked now too.

“When in Rome…” she said as she straddled me. She deftly reached behind her ass, and guided my cock into her cunt. It slid in smoothly as she settled down on me.

“Fuck meeeee, that’s good!” she exclaimed as she rocked forward and back.

Her face was flushed, her tits were jiggling, her eyes were closed. For a non-dick lover, she was doing just fine.

“Don’t cum in me, fucker!” she said, as her body quaked and rocked. “Don’t you cum in me!” she repeated.

So, I didn’t. When the time came, I grabbed her hips and lifted her off. Semen and sperm splattered her abdomen and she lay flat on my stomach, squeezing it out to the sides in little rivulets. A few minutes later she rolled off and curled into my side. Grace snuggled in on the other side.

So, there I was, in a satisfying Grace-Rick-Chelsea sandwich. The room went quiet, and all that was left to hear was my own heartbeat and gentle snoring from the living room.

It has been a while since I had taken out my old dusty Epiphone, and it was a pleasant day, so I took it outside to tune up and play under the hickory tree. Grace and Chelsea had gone camping for the weekend. Didn’t expect them back till Sunday night.

Janice came out of the house looking fine in strappy sandals and a thin white cover over a black one-piece swimsuit. She had a wide brim sun hat and tortoise shell framed, green tinted sunglasses. Her red lips parted slightly, and she gave me just the slightest of smiles as she turned to walk to the shaded table at the far side of the pool. The book came out and she settled into a lawn chair to read.

I started strumming a little chord sequence… C, F, C, Em, G7 which I repeated because I liked the sound and was trying to figure out the best finger transitions. On the third round, I heard, “Deep river, my home is over Jordan…” sung from the far side of the pool. Like Nina Simone but sweeter.

I paused playing, and Janice continued a cappella.

“Deep river; Lord I want to cross over”

“Into camp ground”

“Oh, don’t you want to go to the Gospel feast”

“That promised land where all is peace”

She punched the word ‘peace’ and it resonated across the water for a second before fading to silence.

We watched each other across the pool for a few moments. She looked amused. I set the guitar down in the grass, pulled off my t-shirt and dove into the deep end of the pool.

When I surfaced and swiped the hair out of my eyes, I looked over at Janice and she had not moved, but her grin had changed to a bright smile that I could see, even in the dark shade of the patio umbrella. I breast stroked over to her end of the pool and propped my elbows up on the edge by her feet.

“Wow,” I said. “That was amazing!”

“Thank you,” she said, with a simple nod.

“How is it, after all my time here, I didn’t know you could sing?” I asked.

She replied “Oh, honey, everyone can sing if they have a mind to.

And, I, haven’t felt it till now. You’re not too bad on the guitar for a white boy either.”

I pushed away from the edge and floated in my back for a bit to think about her words. “… for a white boy” bothered me a little. So, I swam back to tell her.

“Janice, I don’t think about you that way,” I said. “You’re a beautiful person; a sexy smart human being who I enjoy being around.”

Janice looked away, focused on the fence for a minute or so; then abruptly stood, took off her wrap and hat and came to edge by me. She dipped her toe into the water, eased her body into the pool and then dunked herself completely under the water. She sat on the bottom for a few seconds and then surfaced facing me.

“You’re a good man, Rick,” she said and she kissed me on the lips. “That was a toss-out line, and I’m sorry it bothered you.”

She turned and started breast stroking across the the pool, singing as she went.

“I’ll go up to heaven and take my seat”


“And cast my crown at Jesus feet”


She continued to the far end of the pool and dropped under the water again. When she came back up, she was holding her swimsuit in her hand. She dumped it on the edge in a soggy heap, and called out to me, “I hope you don’t mind. It’s too confining.”

“Not at all,” I called back. I was pretty accustomed to the girls being nude. (Frankly, I preferred it that way.)

She breast-stroked slowly, singing, looking at me. When she got to the shallow end, she rose from the waist-deep water directly in front of me. Water rolled down her breasts and off her dark nipples. Her deep brown eyes were focused on mine. She leaned forward, put her arms on my shoulders and kissed me again.

She cocked her head to the side and said, “OK?”

“Yes.” I said with a nod.

She pulled me in tighter, tickled my lips with the tip of her tongue, nuzzled my nose and leaned in again for a long, deep, wet kiss. I held her head in my hand and felt her tongue reach deep inside my mouth. Her bare breasts were pressed against mine and I could feel her heartbeat syncing up with mine.

Janice suddenly pulled back, her eyes wide. I thought for a moment she might have been spooked by my rapidly hardening cock. Instead, she closed her eyes and dunked under the water again, unhooked the top rivet of my cutoffs and unzipped my fly. She pulled off my jean shorts completely before again surfacing.

She flung my shorts out of the pool and moved in close again, her hand between my legs feeling my balls and gently touching the length of my shaft.

“Not too bad… for a white boy,” she giggled but there was fire in her dark eyes. I pulled her close again and kissed her, deeper and longer than before.

She didn’t object at all when I grabbed her by the hips and set her on the edge of the pool. I pulled her legs apart as she leaned back, hands on concrete. Her pussy glowed pink in the bright sunlight.

“I’ve heard brothers don’t lick pussy,” I said, “but I do.”

She ran her fingers through my long hair as I massaged her clit with my tongue. I tasted chlorine and essence of Janice as she leaned further back, elbows on a poolside towel. Her head was back and she was moaning, impatiently.

I pulled back, took her hand and led her over to the corner steps into the pool. I had her stand two steps down in the water, slowly turned her around and pressed her down gently with the flat of my hand till she was bent horizontal. Her beautiful ebony ass was exactly cock high.

Water drops puddled in the trough of her spine and in the dimples above her ass. I reached around and cupped her breast with one hand and guided my cock into her welcoming pink pussy with the other. She held onto the chrome pool banister as I pumped, slowly a first, then with fury. Our bodies were slapping and water sloshed around my calves.

I abruptly pulled out and Janice twisted around with expectation. She was not disappointed. My cock expelled a full load of semen across her chest and continued to spurt rhythmically onto her hands and arms. She looked at it curiously, then gazed into my eyes as she tasted it briefly, licked up a dollop and swallowed.

The TV was on the fritz. In fact it never worked well, not as long as I had been in the house. The knob had broken off (and I fixed that), but the picture was always a haze of snow, no matter how much aluminum foil I added to the rabbit ears. So it sat in the corner of the living room with a vice-lock pliers clamped to the front, forever pointed at channel 3.

And it was raining. I stood in the kitchen with a Miller pony watching the rain splatter and divot the pool in the dying light of the day. More leaves were falling from the Hickory tree now so I was thinking about pulling out the cover for the pool. The season was coming to an end.

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