Ms. Johnson, the lady next door, asked me to clean her pool once a week. It was an easy job; she had a machine that did most of the work. I only had to push it around a little and then clean the filter. The pay was decent, but I worked for reasons other than money. When I usually arrived, Ms. Johnson would still be swimming. She always wore a white bathing suit and when it was wet, I could see her nipples and hairy mound through the thin material. That was more than enough for a horny 18-year old guy like me, even if she was 45 and 6'1" and 190 lbs.
I had been making some progress with my girlfriend who, like me, was about to graduate high school. She was the prettiest girl in school and I being only 5'5" and 125 lbs was happy with Susie. We had sex, but she wouldn't satisfy me the way I wanted. I wanted to be fucked with a strap on. She would play with my cock and ass, but nothing else. I felt frustrated night after night. I had to masturbate just to feel some release. We were going steady and planning on attending the same college in the fall, but she had these damn rules. I ended up writing about my fantasies of getting fucked with a strap on in a notebook. I often carried it in my pocket, for those moments when my time with Susie left me lusting for more.
It happened one week, when I had gone over to her place to clean the pool, Ms. Johnson got out, I had my looks at her and that swimsuit, and she went into the screened-in porch. Once inside she unhooked the straps on her bathing suit, pulled it down, and dried off with a towel, and I got an even better look at her body.
It happened again the week after.
The third week I was ready and I was almost certain that she was doing this for me to see her. I watched until she put on a big fluffy white bathrobe and then I went over and knocked on the screen door. She opened it quickly, her robe giving me nice view of her cleavage.
"Come in Bobby, come in," she said, "Can I get you something to drink? Maybe a beer?"
"Sure Ms. Johnson, a beer would be great."
"Oh don't call me that. Call me Gail. Everybody else does," she said with a smile as she walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge.
I had no doubt that she wanted to show me her breasts as she bent over to get the beer off the bottom shelf. Her robe was open at the top and she made no effort to close it. I was starting to get a bulge in my shorts.
We walked back out to the porch and she motioned me to a chair. She sat down across from me and crossed her legs. Her robe dropped open, showing off a generous amount of thigh. She caught me looking.