The Water Par

Oakmont had spent $14,000,000 to expand its municipal water park, now renamed "Water Nation." The Husseys from Riverdale, about seven miles away, didn't mind paying the extra money for a family pass. Thirty something, very generously endowed, Joyce Hussey lay with her husband Fred in side by side pool chairs as their two young children splashed with other youngsters in the wading pool. "I guess the Riverdale mayor won't have that kind of money for any pool upgrade," she said, sharing his amazement that Oakmont spent that much. "This place is huge," he agreed, "Riverdale only has two small pools." They laughed about the wrong choice of town; they should have bought in Oakmont when he was transferred from Atlanta.

The radiant noon sun was toasty. Mrs. Hussey applied more sun block to her shoulders and arms. "Not sure I like Water Nation," she griped. "No one's friendly. It's really crowded and noisy."

They people watched. She hid behind her shades and studied the builds of lifeguards, college-aged guys on summer break, and even the beefy high schoolers. She picked out one or two that she assigned as raw materials for daydreams, her habit since they wed. As time passed they lasted longer -----wicked little what-ifs. They hung around to get her to climax during her steadily diminishing love-making with Fred.

She snuck in flirtatious moments with attractive young men that she encountered. Like chatting in the basement with the well-built guy in his twenties who checked the furnace a few weeks in their new home. And small talk with the fit, wide-eyed stock-boy at the supermarket. They responded to her remarkably curvaceous physique, and she played these moments back when in bed with her husband. She just had to have male attention. Her fantasies increasingly went directly from passionate stares to wicked physical intimacy.

Joyce now had to use a water park bathroom, but wasn't a fan of the locker room. She wanted privacy, away from other parents, teens screaming after spending hours on the water slides, and seniors showering after laps in the pool. She stood up, stretched, and cleaned her sunglasses..

Her white one-piece suit was tight on her voluptuous body. Breast feeding had ballooned her boobs, and they had kept enlarging. Her posterior was plump, wiggling for the slightest reason.

"Now I navigate my way through Water Nation," she muttered, walking away. "See you in an hour," Fred grinned.

The attractive blonde of medium height, with vivid green eyes, fine skin, and nicely curved legs, sauntered past the wading pool, then a full-sized one, and looked around to find an alternative restroom. Fred's eyes followed his wife and noticed how slowly she walked, as if to be seen.

She found herself stopping to ask a young, shirtless workman, who was in charge of a crew constructing a picnic area. After a few minutes of feasting her eyes on his muscles, she asked him sweetly if there was an alternative bathroom. She stood straight and ran her fingers through her hair. She felt the familiar glow of a man staring, x-rays through his sunglasses at her flesh. Then he said in a confident tone: "Go through that door," pointing to a two story building further away from her family, "and walk upstairs. There's a john there that nobody uses. It has a passcode lock on the door." He gave her the code. She thanked him.

She noticed how ripped he was, like how Fred used to be. Big brown eyes. Yum.

She turned toward him and pointed at the door as if to ask "this one?", posing in a profile that showed off her chest. He nodded, and did not stop looking at her body until she disappeared through the door. His iPhone had grabbed pictures and a video of her chest and her big ass.

Joyce entered into a hall and walked up stairs. Near the end of a short hall she found a room with two parts to it, the first a powder room about 10 feet by 20 feet. It had a sink at the far end and a large mirror to the right of the sink.

Around the corner in the other section of the room was a toilet at the end of a long, narrow space. The drywall was fresh. There were two grapefruit-sized round holes in the right wall near the toilet space, at waist level. The lighting was only half installed in the hallway and in the sink and toilet spaces it was dim. The whole room was very warm. But the silence and solitude were a treat and the rooms were clean. She wrote down the passcode.

When she came back outside the workman noticed her and muttered to his three helpers. The four boldly stared hard, as if they had been in prison for three years with pent-up desire. Eight male eyes leered at her breasts. Her curious eyes checked out these brawny workers. Her freckled cheeks dimpled. "Thanks again. So is that my private bathroom?" she smiled, tilting her head. "It can be," the tall one said flatly. Then he and the other young men kept on looking her over. "Kind of hot up there," she said, fanning her chest with her hand, as if to focus more male eyes on it. She had attracted enough attention to her body since college and knew when guys were drinking in the sight of her monster boobs and salivating. But these were spooky, openly gawking but not coming on to her like other guys. They were in control.

As she walked away, the tall one grabbed his iPhone, and took more videos and pictures of her unbelievable body. He smiled slightly and said "Let's make it open only to her."

Joyce sat down and rested her head on the chair, half listening to Fred chat about the block party coming up. She was moved by the sight of the young construction workers and the vibe she got from their stares. After a half hour Joyce and Fred collected up their young ones and drove home. On the way she said: "We should come back tomorrow. What a place, right kids?" They agreed.

"Really?" Fred said. "Before you were complaining about the unfriendly people and the loudness." After a pause she said: "But it does kind of grow on you."

Saturday morning was busy and Joyce seemed a bit preoccupied. The heat was raising the mercury. They had an early lunch. Joyce felt the need for a mimosa, offering one to Fred as the kids, ages three and five, devoured hot dogs and cherry tomatoes.

He declined the mimosa and was surprised to see her grab a second, tall one.

With her lobbying (and her encouraging the kids to plead to go to the pool) they were back at Water City. Before they left, Joyce had called the water park office to inquire about swimming lessons for her children, and child care that the website said was available for parents while in adult fitness swims, or in the upcoming yoga classes.

In the car Joyce had the visor mirror down and carefully applied lipstick and eye makeup. "You look all dolled up today," Fred said as they paid for the daily family pass on the way in. "Thanks," she said. "What's the occasion?" he asked. "I just wanted to look hot," she said, winking at him. Her face wore a blush from the champagne, which glowed inside of her.

They found a spot near yesterday. When Fred turned his back to her to get the kids' towels set up and clothes off, Joyce looked around for the tall young man and his workers. She took off her white terrycloth robe.

In the water with the kids, her husband did a double take. Instead of the one-piece from yesterday his wife had on a vivid red bikini. It was not a string outfit that bared practically everything, but it was extremely sexy. The way Joyce was built the cups in the suit's top struggled to contain her boobs.

Her very round and firm breasts had become so large that it was almost evil for her to wear such a revealing two-piece bathing suit. Although her nursing days were over a couple years ago, she had remained a GGG cup, or HH, depending on the day. The top piece hoisted them, somehow. Her shapely legs and broad hips glistened with sun block.

She got into the water with Fred and the kids, and at waist deep she shook with the initial envelopment of colder water on her skin. Her breasts rippled. "That's one hell of a swimsuit," Fred said discreetly, "haven't seen that on you in a while. Wow." She smiled. Fred noticed other men admiring her. The soaked fabric tightened on her body.

Her kids playfully, sometimes affectionately, called their mother's prominent breasts "pumpkins." Fred had taught them to say it for family kidding around when they were toddlers, but now the children were comedians when out in public, and from time to time would announce "Mommy's got real big pumpkins!!" Their father had also taught them "cakes" meaning her full and round buttocks. So now her youngest, Tyler, heard his sister yell, "hey Tyler, look how big Mommy's pumpkins are!! And I can see her cakes. Wow!!" Fred put his finger to his lips with a tentative frown, then grinned but looked around a little nervously. Joyce shooshed her daughter.

After some splashing, Joyce had Fred take the kids out of the pool and to the other side of the park to talk to swim instructors about lessons. While drying herself and freshening her lipstick she texted him and said she had to make a stop in the bathroom.

Joyce headed toward the building where she had been yesterday. The handsome guys she hoped to see were missing. She kept looking, and found herself trembling. Suddenly she found them behind an almost done new concession building. They were taking a work break at a picnic table. There were about six guys, young and very fit. She let out a heavy sigh of excitement.

"Hi!" she waved and called out, wearing a big smile. She walked in from the edge of the construction area and they drunk in the sight of this voluptuous housewife. She turned to the tall one she spoke with yesterday. "Is it all right if I use that bathroom again?" she asked sweetly.

"Yeah," he said, and the others mumbled greetings. Looking directly at her chest, one said in a deep voice, "Wow." She put her hand on his arm, "OK, settle down. Is that bathroom still available?" "It's all yours, right guys?" he said, while looking directly at her tits.

The mimosas felt good in her. "What's with your friend?" she asked the others, "hasn't he ever seen a bikini before?" No one spoke. "I haven't worn it for a while," she said as they stared, "do you think it fits me all right?" The crew leader made a thumbs up gesture. "Are you sure?" she teased, "I need your objective opinion." She was talking out of nervousness. She looked down at her bust, then leaned forward. She put her palms on the picnic table and her stare shifted from her bosom to their faces. Two of them quickly snapped some photos with their phones. "Hey!" Joyce protested.

"We turned on the AC in there for you" the tall one said softly. "Just for me?" she smiled. She stood up straight then said, "thanks." These guys had the military demeanor of sentries at a check point, and their sparing talk and bold stares were turning her on. The more she flirted, and the less they made any effort to flirt back, the more stimulating. The tall one's eyes veered to her left and down. His eyebrows lifted.

"Hey Mom!" Joyce's daughter was suddenly at her side. "Oh!" her mother said, "how long have you been there???" "A while," she said. Her daughter looked at the men and asked "do you think my mom's pretty?" "Huh?" one of the six laughed. "You're looking at her pumpkins a lot," the youngster said. The tall one half smiled, "yes, your mother is very pretty, and it's rubbed off on you." "I can tell you like her," Joyce's little girl said, "you really like her ginormous pumpkins!" And then she pointed to the closest one to Joyce on the left: "And you were looking at her big cakes!" The little girl spanked her mother's fat ass. Joyce, flustered, said: "Let's get you back to the pool," and abruptly left her stolid admirers.

"Weren't you watching her?" Joyce asked her husband when she handed off her daughter to him. "She slipped away, I think she spotted you and said 'I'm going to see what mommy's doing." "She was talking to some guys who really like her pumpkins!!" their daughter yelled, "and one guy was looking at her cakes a lot!"

Fred with a forced smile turned to his wife and said quietly: "Really?" He wondered at her blushing. After a beat she began, "I –uh - recognized one of the construction people from Riverdale, and I had stopped to ask him if there was a john I could use...." "And what did he say?" Fred interrupted, looking at her significantly. "Well, there is one for the workers and I was on my way to using it, and I better get going before I pee right here." Fred nodded. "Stay where your dad can see you," she admonished her daughter, looking with a slight scolding expression at him. Joyce heard a teasing melody: "Mommy has boy-friends" as she ambled away, and Fred and their kids went back to the meeting with the instructors.

Joyce was shaking from getting busted by her daughter. But rather than ignore them, she found the young men. Joyce smiled at them and pointed in the direction of her family, "my daughter's a pistol. OK, so I better get to my bathroom. Thanks again." "We'll escort you," one of them said, "It's the least we can do," another chimed in. She smiled. "Ok, but I have to pee," Joyce said, walking briskly. She glanced furtively to see if her family was watching. All clear. They made their way to the door to the building, the guys following her silently through the crowd, ogling her large tits and her plump ass. At the building door she turned and said: "That AC feels great! OK, thanks again!"

"We can carry you upstairs," one of the crew offered, a short, very muscular nineteen year old who was talking to her boobs. "And back down," another said helpfully. "And everything in between," the tall one said, again without any expression. All of them wound up in the first floor hall, the door closing behind the last guy. "Oh, I know how to pee," she smiled, turning.

They gazed up the stairs as she walked slowly up the steps. She stopped twice, looking down at them. At the top, for a few minutes, she stood in a profile in the quiet while they eyeballed her, then left. She noticed that dim, orange and red lighting had been sort of stapled on the walls. She had felt the cool air on her skin, lifting her from the heat and humidity. A thick carpeting had been installed, and very large mirrors were along the walls by the toilet and the back wall in the first alcove, the primitive powder room.

She closed the door and locked it. Their fading footsteps punctuated her sense of imbalance, and their voices, trailing off, made her sexually confused. Why were these silent guys so hot?

Her cell rang, Fred wondering where she was. "Stomach issue," she said, composing herself from the encounter with the young men. "Well, I hope you're OK." "I'm fine, it's the lower GI again." "Take your time," he said over the crowd noise, "the kids are working with swim teachers. We'll be tied up for another half hour." "Great," she said, sitting down in the powder room, "I'll be a while." "The mimosas?" he said. "I'll be OK. Thank you Honey," she said.

Joyce sat on a small bench that faced the full length mirror in the powder room. The flirting with the young men, openly coveting this married woman and her prominent assets, was nerve-wracking. She heard herself in a quiet pant, and a persistent blush painted her smooth skin, a product of the champagne and the charged atmosphere.

She decided that the boredom in her marriage justified the thrill. Their quiet but intense boring into her body preoccupied her as she regarded herself in the mirror. The new lights put her in her own private club. Joyce's iPhone began a playlist of Rihanna mixes. She stood there, swaying. The odd, raunchy feeling grew in her. She grinned about her husband hearing that guys were checking her out in her bold bikini. In here she could act out any fantasy.

The muffled talk of her he-men admirers faded to silence. Joyce looked in the mirror and played with her hair and caressed herself. She turned to her side, admiring her FF tits. She stuck her chest out and planted her hands on her buttocks, then squeezed the rounded, smooth cheeks. She turned her back to the mirror and removed her top slowly, teasingly. It fell to the floor and she bent over, pulling her bikini bottom into her butt crack. Her ass thrusting out, she writhed to the club mix. Her back still to the mirror, she shook her huge boobs. They took enticing turns swinging out to the side. She imagined herself as a pole dancer in front of men.

Joyce faced the mirror and shook her breasts back and forth, squeezing them, raising them to her face and letting them plop down, smacking onto her chest. She walked to the bathroom in the space around the corner, her iPhone squeezed into her bikini bottom in her ass crack. She danced in front of the mirror to the right of the toilet.

But something, or two somethings, moved into her peripheral sight. They were below her, at about stomach level. They were flesh, they were thrusting in and out of two of the circular holes in the wall. They were erect, large, penises.

"OHH!!!!" she yelped, frozen in place. Joyce gasped and put her hand over her mouth. Could this be possible? What the hell? She could not move. These were long, and fat, and kept moving back and forth slowly. Never in her life had she seen anything like these.

Then they vanished behind the wall. She sat down on the toilet, not comprehending. And then through each hole protruded a one hundred dollar bill. The currency dropped softly onto the floor, inches from her feet.

Joyce sat on the toilet in a daze. She picked up the money and stared at the two bills, incredulous. Then the two long and red male organs reappeared. Veins highlighted the shiny surfaces. One male organ confronted her, in a coital motion. The other, protruding from a larger hole, managed to shake a bit. It disappeared, then came back, fingers squeezing the testicles through the opening so that they plopped lazily out into the open.

She looked around furtively as if someone might be watching, then cautiously directed her eyes back to the wall, and babbled aloud: "I can't believe -----who ------you are is doing this!" With the brazen presence of two healthy males in this shocking display, she nevertheless had not gotten up and left. Nor had she put her bikini top back on. She walked briskly to the door across the room and slid a bolt across the door, locking it. She walked back to the wall excitedly, her jumbo tits rippling, and crouched down. Her big ass grazed the opposite wall in the narrow space.

After a prolonged thirty seconds she reached out and poked them.

Her pulse was speeding. Her fingers wrapped around one, then the other. This was unimaginable, an eerie, thrilling dream. Her hands tingled at the sensation of the turgid tools. She began to stroke them slowly. Joyce knelt on the floor between them. They were warm. They were magnets, pulling on her overheating emotions.

Joyce was taken over by powerful feelings that were brand new. She knelt on the carpeted floor at a spot between the two rock hard pricks and stared at them as she kept stroking. She was alone with this duo of anonymous flesh, the thicknesses of ketchup bottles, in a dimly lit alcove in a town several miles from the one they had just moved to. Moans of pleasure through the wall excited her even more. Her arms pumped away, faster, as her hands gripped tighter. The two dicks were purple looking, aimed no longer at her but higher, more toward the ceiling.

Whose were they? She imagined in her trance of passion which two members of the construction crew she was servicing. One of the cocks leaked a bit and then the other. She stroked as rapidly as she could. Joyce was almost salivating at the sight and the feel of the turgid manhood. After what seemed like an hour she kissed one cock, then the other.