This story was inspired by "Encounter #3," by JYM (with whom I 
have tried -- unsuccessfully -- to get in touch).
  



                          POOL GIRL 
			
                             by

                         C. Lakewood
		 


    It was mid-July and sweltering.  Those days, I was almost glad 
I was unemployed and could laze around inside my air-conditioned 
home.  From time to time, my husband, Brian, would suggest that I 
go back to work.  But I just fobbed him off with vague excuses.  
I am -- or was -- a college professor who was denied tenure.  So 
now I was unemployed...and practically unemployable....  I was 
bored and restless and resentful.  I had a sort of white-bread 
version of the blues, and I hadn't a clue as to the cure.  

    As usual, I lay in bed, drifting in and out of a doze, until 
long after Brian had left for work.  Eventually, though, I dragged 
myself up and staggered downstairs.  I was wearing only my robe.  
It's not very stylish, but it suits me, and I've had it for years 
(16 years, I guess, ever since I was a college Freshman).  I was 
wandering about, barefooted, sipping a tall iced tea, brooding 
over the problems Brian and I were having, and wondering if I was 
ever going to snap out of this funk, when I heard the squeaky door 
on the "cabana" (aka "back yard shed").  I looked out and saw it 
was Amy Austin, our 18 year-old pool-girl/yard-girl.

    Amy was planning to enter the university in the fall.  She'd 
been quite an athlete in high school and was very fit.  In June, 
we'd hired her to tend to both the pool and the lawn and garden.  
And she'd done a marvelous job.  The pool was always sparkling, 
the lawn beautiful (green and weed-free), and the flowers 
burgeoning.  She apparently serviced 10 or 12 other clients.  

    She had a shrewd mind, quick and perceptive, and I enjoyed our 
frequent chats.

    I watched her.  A cute girl, slender and not too tall (5'3" 
maybe, and no more than 115 lbs.), with short auburn hair, hazel 
eyes, and a golden tan.  She was muscular, but still quite feminine.

    She was wearing just a tank top (emblazoned with the name, 
"A.A. Services"), loose cotton shorts, and flip-flops.  Despite 
this, she was already sweating heavily, and her damp clothes 
clung to her.  I opened the window a crack, and immediately the 
oppressive heat took my breath away.  "Amy, come in and have a 
nice, cool iced tea," I called.

    She looked up, dropped her skimmer, and wiped her forehead.  
        
"Great!  I'll just be a minute."  I had another tall glass ready 
by the time she came in, bringing the scent of sweat and healthy 
teenaged girl into my sterile kitchen.  She grinned appreciatively. 

    "Wow! That sure looks good!  The heat and humidity today are 
murder."  She took a gulp then pressed the cold glass against her 
forehead and sighed.   

    "Sit down, Amy, and take a break.  How about something to 
eat...a croissant maybe?"

    "Well, I had breakfast hours ago.  A snack would go good about 
now -- whatever you're having."  She drained her glass and accepted 
a re-fill.  "You staying in today?" 

    "Oh, I just...thought I'd -- um -- vegetate a bit...."  

    Her face got a strange, sly expression.  "You sound kinda 
bored."  

    She made a lateral, throw-away gesture that caused her breasts 
to wobble.  She was braless, and her breasts were clearly outlined 
by her sweat-damp cotton top; they were nicely rounded, and her 
nipples were erect.  (It must be the air conditioning, I thought, 
or a passion for iced tea.  Then, embarrassed, I looked away.) 

    At that moment, the telephone rang, and I had to circle 
around Amy's chair to answer it.  (The kitchen phone is on the 
wall, and Amy was where I usually sat.)  Of all people, it was 
my mother-in-law.  

    We exchanged the usual vapid small-talk, in the excessively 
polite words and saccharine tones of two people who hated each 
other and daren't show it.  I was standing so close to Amy that 
I could feel the heat radiating from her skin.

    "No, Margaret, I'm really not up to going shopping today.  
I think I'll just laze around in the sun.  Besides, I've got to 
economize....  Yes, of course I'm looking for a job, but there's 
not much open right now -- and the few places that are hiring 
tell me I'm either 'over-qualified' or 'under-qualified.'" 

    Amy, with a mischievous look, reached out and took hold of my 
sash and casually pulled on it until the slip-knot gave way.  As 
my robe gaped open, I was so startled I froze momentarily.  I let 
out a gasp or whimper or whatever, but fortunately Margaret was 
still yakking away about "economic responsibility" and didn't 
notice.  

    I was holding the phone in my left hand and trying to muffle 
it by pressing it to my suddenly naked breast, while using my 
right hand to wrestle with Amy for control of my robe.  I was 
losing -- both control of the robe and the thread of what Margaret 
was saying as she nattered on and on.  Amy simply ignored my 
efforts and was pulling me closer.  I felt her hot breath ruffle 
my pubic hair.  I was shaking my head violently in between the 
times I had to make monosyllabic, pseudo-word noises into the 
phone.  I even hissed at Amy, trying to get her to stop, but that 
was as useless as my feeble struggles.  

    And my mother-in-law kept right on talking....
  
    I twisted half out of the robe and tried to back away.  But 
that made it worse than before.  The left sleeve got all tangled 
up in the phone cord, and she reeled me back in easily.  When I 
was within reach, she slithered a hand between my thighs.  I was 
wet there and getting wetter.  I stood still, overcome by the 
moment.  And she fingered my cunt like an expert, paying 
particular loving attention to my clit.  (Margaret, of course, 
was still talking, and I answered her even more absently than I 
had before.)  

    I had just enough self-control to whimper, "No, please, 
I-I'm not-not that w-way.  Please."  

    But Amy concentrated on my body and totally ignored what I 
was trying to say.  She started playing with my asshole -- and 
then...oh, god, then...she slipped a finger inside.  And then 
another.  I closed my eyes and sighed. Then she began 
finger-fucking me front and rear simultaneously.  I surrendered 
then.  With an evil giggle, she whispered in my ear what I must 
say to my mother-in-law.
  
    "Margaret, I've got to go now -- I-I must d-deal with the 
pool girl."  I paused an instant and then hung up, cutting off 
Margaret's uncomprehending squawk. 

    The decision had been made -- not by my brain, but by my tits 
and cunt and asshole all voting together.  I moaned and thrust my 
hips back and forth to add more force to Amy's corkscrewing fingers. 

    "Ohmigod!  Ohmigod!  Ohmigod!  Ohmigod!"  I felt dizzy, pliable. 

    She giggled again and wiped her fingers on a dish towel.  "Head 
up, hands behind your back, chest out, Katie."

    I did as I was told.  I shivered as she went back to playing 
with my nipples, twisting and togging and, finally, (OH, GOD!) 
sucking on them.  I'm not very busty...rather smallish, in fact, 
34a, but my nipples are quite large and quite sensitive.  She 
kept me on "simmer" for I don't know how long, suckling me until 
I was almost breathless.  And then she finally just brushed her 
fingertips across my swollen clit -- and I had a shattering 
climax...and, a moment later, another one.  I went rigid and 
nearly blacked out, it was so intense.  It seemed a long time 
before I was again capable of rational thought and articulate 
speech.

    "Oh, Amy, please, this is just not right."  

    She grimaced.  "That's not true, and you know it."  Then she 
smiled wolfishly and went back to licking my nipples.

    I hesitantly and clumsily groped her breasts.  I'd never made 
out with another female -- not even in my college sorority...not 
really.  But I loved it.  We played with each other's tits for a 
while, and then she released me.

    "I need to get naked, too," she murmured.

    I watched her strip.  She had a wonderful body, nicely tanned 
and attractively sinewy -- firm breasts and lovely big nipples, 
dimpled butt, smoothly muscular thighs, rippled abs, plump cunt 
(thinly veiled by pale, silky hair).  She pulled me to her once 
more -- she was shorter and lighter than me, but considerably 
stronger (and I really wasn't resisting).  She kissed me 
again...then French-kissed me, and I let her.  I straddled her 
sleek, sweaty thigh and scrubbed it with my drooling cunt. 

    She spent the whole morning playing with me, teaching me how 
to please her.  We were in and out of the pool; I tasted her cunt, 
and it was rank, but so sweet.  She masturbated me to half a dozen 
orgasms.  I ate her cunt hungrily and humped her leg like a bitch 
in heat -- which I guess I was.  She made me cum while she spanked 
me.  She fucked me with the butt end of her skimmer while I 
crouched on all fours, whimpering with pleasure.  I drank her pee.  
When noon came, I fixed her lunch and knelt by her side as she ate. 
She fed me scraps, and I told her how awesome she was.  

    But she had many other pools and yards to service that 
day...too many.  That's what inspired The Idea.  She told me 
that my only real problem was that I was bored.  Her problem 
was that she was over-extended...especially if we were to 
continue what we'd started today.  The solution to both problems 
was simple: I could go to work for her as her assistant!  She 
would be Boss, and I'd be paid minimum wage to start....  I put 
up only a short, feeble resistance.  To tell the truth, I found 
the arrangement she described...exciting.  

    I agreed to start immediately.  She told me to get a pair of 
flip-flops, and she'd supply the rest of my "uniform."  She 
hurried out to her truck.

    By the time I'd returned to the kitchen, so had she.  She'd 
changed into a fresh t-shirt and shorts.  She handed me her 
other things, still damp with her sweat.

    "B-but I must be 3" taller and 20 pounds heavier than you.  I 
just c-couldn't possibly wear your clothes.  Your tank top would 
be like a crop-top on me -- a very tight, th-thin one -- a-and 
the sh-shorts...."

    She smiled and slipped her hand between my legs.  I was wet, 
of course.  I held onto the edge of the table and moaned as she 
fingered me again.  As I reached orgasm, she asked, "Who's the 
boss, Katie?"  

    I reached for the sweaty tank top and shorts.  "Y-you're the 
boss, Miss Austin...."  

		******************************       

    Well, I worked for her the rest of the summer, sweating away 
behind a lawnmower or wheelbarrow or long-handled shovel.  Amy 
handled the skilled jobs, and I did the grunt work.  I lost 6 
pounds and developed a deep tan.  At her insistence, I also got 
my tongue pierced and my pubic hair permanently removed.  I never 
put on a bra anymore and often wear miniskirts -- sometimes 
without panties.  Brian doesn't know why I made these changes, 
but he thoroughly approves.

    Though the pools are closed now, and the yards are dormant, 
Amy comes over practically every day after class and puts me 
through my paces.  She also got me a minimum wage job working for 
"Charlene's Cleens," a small janitorial service run by a couple 
of bossy black women.  I start my 6 month probationary period next 
week.

    But I'm still anxiously awaiting the coming of spring, when 
I'll resume my job as a trainee Pool Girl.        

