Warning: there is no actual sex in this story.
"Ted? Is that you?"
The middle-aged man stood waving at the poolside, his short stocky frame clad in blue swimming shorts. He was not sure, but it looked like his friend Ted, doing laps in a determined if not amused way. He squinted against the glare of the sun on the moving water. It really looked like Ted.
"Hey! Ted!"
The swimmer finally heard him, grinned and raised a tanned arm before finishing his lap. He ignored the steps in the corner and pushed himself up and out of the pool, showing bulging muscles in the process.
"Donald, you little shit. What're you doing here?"
The guy named Ted was just as middle-aged as Donald, but the opposite of short and stocky. He looked like the traditional male suffering from midlife crisis. A tanned skin from the parlor, toned muscles from the gym and instead of graying hair he had dark curls from the hairdresser.
Donald eyed his friend with a quizzical look. "Man, you make me sweat, just by looking at you. Why do you do it?"
Ted grinned and pointed at the round middle of his friend. "That's why." He stretched his trim body and looked quickly around to see if there were interesting subjects in the vicinity.
"Let's have a drink. It's been ages." He picked up his towel, draped it around his neck and walked towards the terrace, expecting Donald to follow him.
He chose a table near the front of the terrace, sprawled in a chair and watched Donald lower his compact body. He called the waitress with an imperative gesture. "A Perrier for me. And you?" He looked to his friend.
"Beer, drafted." Donald grinned. "I know, I should drink water like you. Man, I don't know why you do it."