For the next few days, I barely breathed. I arrived at work early, completing all my assigned duties and then helping others. I was a very good girl. I didn't think the men were going to report me, but I still worried. I loved my job and would hate to lose it. Plus, I had become accustomed to the the extra money and the use of the gym facilities.
I returned to my original routine, cleaning the dressing rooms and showers first. But then, I did the other workout rooms, avoiding the pool until I knew both of the guys would be finished. Fundamentally, I avoided the 'near occasion of sin' as I learned as a child. If I didn't go where the men were, if I stayed busy and kept my thoughts pure, I could stay out of trouble. Being good was its own reward, and I was being very good.
But I was so enraptured with Speedo, so invested in his every movement, it became increasingly difficult for me to stay away. The chlorine in the air lured me to the pool, the time spent in the dressing rooms and showers just reminded me of the men and the excitement. As punishment for myself, I refused meet my own needs. No matter how much I ached, how badly I wanted to touch, even for a moment, I would not allow myself the pleasure. I had been bad, spying on others, risking my job, I didn't deserve pleasure.
For the first few days, it was easy to remain firm, to just do my work and then go home. But, by the middle of the week, I kept hearing his voice, seeing his body, envisioning the shower activities that I was missing. By the end of the week, I thought it would be ok to watch them swim. It was a public pool, anyone could observe the morning swims. After cleaning the men's dressing rooms, I resumed the old routine of cleaning the pool offices. I kept my head down, working diligently, trying to be invisible, as I once was.
It took a few more days, but soon I was back at my post at the pool, taking my break while watching them tandem swim. It was a thing of beauty. Two well-built men, both in the tiniest of suits, sluicing through the water, in perfect harmony. I didn't think they noticed me. I was very discreet in my observation. I just stood back, enjoying the sheer physicality of the workout. This went pretty well. I was finally able to watch them again, enjoy them again, and I wasn't doing anything wrong. Being a good girl was not too bad.
Of course, the problem was I kept imagining them in the shower, after their swim. I could see them, rinsing, stripping, touching. They were there and I was not! Then, I thought perhaps I could just slip in and watch until the suits came off, just to see how nicely they rinsed and wrung and hung the suits. Then I would leave. After that, they would have total privacy. This sounded like a perfectly acceptable plan to me, one that would not hurt anyone and give me the Speedo-fix I desperately needed.
I waited until they climbed from the pool, their tiny suits clinging to their hard bodies. I pushed my cart into the closet, and casually wandered into the shower area, returning to my perfect little niche against the wall. Aaaahhhh! It felt like coming home. Speedo and Tattoo were already rinsing chlorine from their bodies, turning under the powerful spray. They were both incredible-looking men, but Speedo had won my heart and I scrutinized him, drinking in all the little details of his form.
They seemed to move in unison now, both reaching for the little string, pulling it, dropping the suits to the floor. Both bent to retrieve the suits and picked them up in perfect time. My eyes darted from one stall to the next, anxious to see everything. The conversation had been muted, but now I was able to pick up sentences, hear words. They were talking about sex. Speedo had finally met his online woman. Initially, she was as wonderful as he had imagined. But as the weekend progressed and they performed one sexual act after another, he realized that this wasn't what he wanted. As a fantasy, it had been unbelievable, but as a relationship, it had ended. Still, there were many adventures to tell, many fantasies to share. He told Tattoo about the entire holiday, describing all the activities he had enjoyed with her before telling her goodbye. As the men talked, they washed. And they lathered. And they massaged. Each had a massive erection, each was treating it very nicely. They seemed to have choreographed everything. Tattoo leaned on the far wall, facing Speedo, his hands sliding rapidly up and down his impressive cock, listening to the details of the tryst, his eyes bright, his body tense. Speedo stood at the common wall, leaning on his arms, talking, occasionally reaching down to stroke his own bobbing dick. Tattoo had become slower to orgasm, enjoying the buildup more. As Speedo spoke, Tattoo used his hands to caress his cock and balls, even his ass, the soapy bubbles covering his skin seductively. Finally, he couldn't wait any longer and he exploded, loudly and abruptly. The come shot from his dick, hitting the far wall, with incredible force. Speedo stopped talking, impressed by his friend's display. As Tattoo slumped against the wall, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged, Speedo waited quietly. His cock was hard and throbbing against his belly, soon he would need to find release too. He moved back in the stall, in preparation. In this little ritual, it was Tattoo's turn to share exploits. But, instead of talking about the blonde beauty in his life, Tattoo said something totally unexpected. Without turning his head, without looking in my direction, he spoke.
