9 comments/ 54759 views/ 17 favorites The Pool Service By: Justplaingifted I am writing about this at the recommendation of my therapist. It is a story that really embarrasses me to relate and something that I once thought only happened to women with manipulative older men; not the other way around. Here's what happened. * I was in college-poor, struggling with the requirements of premed studies, attending a small college on a track scholarship. It paid my tuition, but little else and so I picked up additional work where I could. I'd seen the offer on a bulletin board for work cleaning swimming pools. It said I could set my own hours and that they paid top dollar. I called and learned that they desperately needed help and they would teach me what I needed to know. I started immediately. At first it wasn't bad. Fresh air. Decent money. The company had contracts for some of the most upscale homes in the area and it afforded me the opportunity to hope that someday when I was a successful doctor all that could be mine too. I'd been at it a few months when one afternoon I'd gone to a palatial home straight from track practice. I didn't realize, but the owner was a woman whose husband was an alum from my school. They had been divorced for a few years and she had gotten the house. Another lesson learned. She was forty and not bad looking. Not exceptional either. She had short frosted blonde hair and green eyes. She had put on a few pounds since the break up, probably weighed 140 at 5-4. Had it not been for the breast augmentation she would have been nearly pear shaped. I was working away when she opened the French doors to the patio and came out with a glass of water in her hand. It was a nice gesture. I was sweating, in just my singlet and shorts and I was still a little dehydrated from practice. She watched as I drained the glass and smiled. "You look very athletic," she said. "Thanks, Ms. Hayword" I said. Now, it's important that I clarify something. I was very shy. Painfully modest in fact. I was 6-2 and weighed 180. I had stereotypical runner's legs-big thighs and defined musculature- and very low body fat. I also-due only to the chance of genetics- have a very large penis. That is not all it is cracked up to be, I assure you. Everyone thinks it is, but there are lots of downsides to it. I'd been kidded abut it by my team mates and when I was wearing running shorts I always made sure I wore a jock or I'd find that the betraying outline of my anatomy and its movement as I ran, led to some embarrassing observation and comments. So when she looked at me and said that, I turned a deep shade of red. "You look really hot," wouldn't you be more comfortable doing that in a bathing suit?" "No, ma'am," I said. "Aren't you polite," she said and then shrugged and smiled and walked back to the house. I went on with my work, but about ten minutes later, the intake on the pool started making noises that told me there was something blocking it. The only way to open it was to get into the water. I had just primed the chlorine and didn't want to get in wearing my uniform as chlorine could play hell with the material, so I walked up to the house and knocked. When she came back, she was wearing a fairly small bathing suit herself. It probably had not seemed as small on her years ago when she was slimmer, but with her heavier hips and the added tummy she'd gained, the only part of the suit that looked remotely fitted was her top. The bottoms were tight and a Brazilian coverage so with her weight gain they were barely decent. She had obviously had a pretty large augmentation and her breasts were easily D cups. They had "settled" and so they hung heavily. "Finished already?" she asked. "No I was wondering if you might have that bathing suit you offered earlier. I need to get into the pool and check the valve," I said. "Oh of course," she said. "Come on in and I'll get it." I followed her in and down a hallway to a guestroom. She started digging through a chest of drawers and then said, "Here you go." She was holding a very brief pair of speedo trunks. I must have looked as surprised as I felt, because she said, "All I have here, sorry." With a pretty embarrassed look on my face, I took them. There wasn't much to them at all. She didn't smile; just gave me a sympathetic look and said, "You can change in the pool house." I really didn't see any other option, so I took the little trunks and walked over to the pool house. Once inside, I undressed and stepped into the brief suit and just like I had anticipated, it was minimal. It was low rise, well below my hip bones. The worst part of it was that while it fit me around the waist and covered my butt, when it came to the front my cock barely fit and the bulge was ridiculous looking. With my flat abdomen the bulge looked even more ridiculous. I walked out and as I should have predicted, Ms. Hayword was seated on a chaise lounge. Immediately her eyes went to my crotch. "My goodness," she said with a kind of half-laugh. That simple phrase just went right through me. She could tell it humiliated me, I think, and I felt like diving straight into the pool. Instead I placed my track gear on the side of the pool away from the water. I slipped into the water and swam over to the intake vent. It was cluttered with some palm fibers and took me a good fifteen minutes to get them out. Finally the sputtering noise cleared and I swam back and climbed out of the pool. Now wet, the suit was an even more obscene display of my anatomy. The head of my penis and the thick, wadded shaft in the constraints of my trunks stood out so that its detail and dimension were undeniable. I immediately started looking for my track gear so I could go change. Unfortunately my clothes were gone. I looked around and saw them neatly stacked under Ms. Hayword's lounge chair. Having no choice I walked over feeling completely exposed and embarrassed. It didn't help that the whole time she was looking me over with a slightly superior smirk. She could tell I was embarrassed. She could tell I was basically shy. She could tell, well-as I said in the description of the speedo-a lot of things about me. I started to reach for my clothes, when she did something that was completely unfair. She said "Scott" (not my real name) what would it take for you to wear those every time you cleaned my pool?" I looked shocked. "There is no way I would do that," I said. "I'd pay you a lot more!" she grinned. The offer, the embarrassment, and my being so off-balance from being barely dressed and now propositioned had me almost sputtering. "Uh no thanks." She then reached back and undid her top. Even though she was an older woman, and even though she had gained some weight, the effect on me being barely twenty-one was profound and instantaneous. The surging blood to my crotch made the speedo entrapment of my cock profoundly uncomfortable. The bulge doubled in size right before her eyes. With an almost victorious look she laughed and said, "Well now that is impressive... and undeniably flattering. I guess you really area boob man, huh Scott?" The lycra of the suit stretched to its elastic limits and as my enlarging penis pulled it away from my waist, I began experiencing real pain. She seemed to actually be getting off to that. "Owww," I said and doubled over a little. "Are you sure you won't wear that when you clean the pool from now on?" she asked and then started to unfasten her bottoms. "Okayyyyy," I said pleadingly as she pulled them off exposing her neatly trimmed pussy. At that moment I was in real pain and I untied the top of my speedo desperate for relief. My cock sprang up extending almost to my navel. Without the constraint of the suit, it filled out rapidly expanding to its ultimate length and girth. Ms. Hayword was delighted. "You must me half race horse," she said. "you run like you do and are sporting that thing. Oh my Lord." I bent down, humiliated and my cock jabbed my abdomen as I grabbed my track uniform. Then, utterly ashamed, I ran with my big erection waving, toward the pool house. Making matters worse, I heard the happy and slightly smug laughter coming from Ms. Hayword. There was nothing I could do. My erection was intense and insistent. Inside the pool house, I stroked it thinking of her naked body. It didn't take long until I exploded in a heavily roped ejaculation. The sensation was so intense, I almost blacked out. Sometime later when I had composed myself, I pulled on my workout clothes and left the cabana. Ms. Hayword was still on the chaise lounge in her bikini. It was back on and the coverage was in place as though nothing had happened. The only difference was her slightly self-satisfied smile, that, and the hundred dollar bill she was holding. She waved it beconing me to come over. I walked up terribly embarrassed. She held the bill out. "Take it," she said, "you are going to be getting tipped a lot more in the future." I took the money without saying a word. "You know, that was the most flattering and fun experience I have had in years." She said. "Well, one where I didn't have to insert anything." And then she laughed. I left her backyard holding the hundred and the speedo. I looked at the small suit, realizing that the next time I was there it would be all I'd be wearing. A sudden surge of embarrassment and powerlessness went through me. I didn't want to do that, especially when I thought about her mocking looks, but I knew I would. At the same time, inexplicably, I felt a surge of blood flow again. * This a true story and there is a lot more. If this is exciting or interesting to anyone, I'll keep writing. The Pool Service Ch. 02 So the next week rolled around and it was time to head back over to Ms. Hayword's place. I opened the drawer in my dorm room and look at the Speedo bathing suit she had given me to wear last time, when I had to jump in the chlorinated water to clear the drain. It was after that that she had dropped her top and caused me to get the excruciating erection. That ultimately escaped the small suit, and had led to the most conflicting combination of excitement and shame of my young life. I set the small swimming brief on the top of the dresser and sighed. I needed the money and I had agreed to wear it this time, but the idea of going back in that was hugely disempowering. Hugely disempowering. As huge, in fact, as my penis. I've mentioned before that most people think it's really great to be as endowed as I am, but I can assure them all that it's not all positive. If you recall, I was 20 years old when this all happened. I was 6-2 and 180-185 and in college on a track and field scholarship so I had around 5 percent body fat. My abdomen was completely flat and that just made my "package" look even more pronounced even when flaccid. When erect, well, it was almost caricaturish. So I undressed and slipped the suit on. I wadded myself into the small front pouch and caught a look at my reflection in the mirror. What I saw was simultaneously embarrassing and laughable. The suit was ridiculously inadequate and the folded mass of my organ was obvious. I looked like the world's worst smuggler trying to get a half pound of kielbasa out of Poland at spring break. Sighing with resignation, I pulled on a pair of shorts and a t shirt for the ride over and went down to my car. It didn't take too long to drive from the relative slum of the student neighborhoods to the affluent section where Mrs. Hayword lived and I soon pulled up in front of the Spanish style mansion. I got out of the car and walked up the drive to her front door and rang the bell. I couldn't be sure, but I almost thought I heard the sound of female laughter inside. A second later the door opened and Ms. Hayword stood looking at me. She had on a string bikini top that strained with her big augmented breasts and had a sarong wrapped around her very wide hips. Since statistics matter in these kinds of stories I would say she was probably about 5-3 and weighed 130. I do know that her measurements (I'll explain that later) were 34E-29-38 and she had short, frosted blonde hair and dark brown eyes. The sort of laconic smile on her face when she first opened the door, changed to a petulant frown as she looked me up and down. "I thought we had an agreement on what you were going to wear, Scott," she said. I blushed furiously which she seemed to like. "Uh, I have it on," I said haltingly. The cat-with-a-canary smile was back on her face. "Oh goody. Of course, I expected that it was ... all... you would have on so...?" The directive hung in the air. Smiling weakly, I swallowed hard and took off the t shirt and shorts. She looked down at my stomach and the pronounced, wadded bulge in the front of my Speedo. A big smirk spread across her face. She cleared her throat. "Oh my, I never get over the surprise of that" she said and then recovering added, "so, you ready to clean the pool?" It hit me. The pool equipment was still in my car. "I need to get my stuff first," I said reaching for my clothes. She grabbed them impishly and smiled. "That's okay. Go get it like that." The look on my face must have been priceless, because she laughed with a kind of surprise at the discovery of how embarrassed the very idea made me. "Go...on," she said insistently. Almost numb I turned and started walking back to my car. At the edge of the drive I looked around worriedly and seeing nothing I sprinted the rest of the way to my car, popped the trunk and grabbed an arm load of skimmer nets and supplies before slamming the lid down. I was just coming back around the car when an expensive SUV turned the corner and the young soccer mom behind the wheel caught a full-on look at me in the brief suit. There was nothing I could do to protect any aspect of my dignity and my face turned a furious red. The smile on her face made it all the worse. I started back up the drive and crossed the lawn to the gate to the back yard. Raising one foot I kicked the latch and noticed as I did that the small suit gapped with the mass of my penis and balls to show a slight expanse of my scrotum. It was something I would have to keep in mind as I moved in the future, I knew. The gate swung open and I walked around the house to the pool area. If I'd had a million years to guess I would not have been prepared for what was waiting for me there. At the edge of the pool, seated at the many tables and on chaise lounges were older women ranging in age from late thirties to one or two in their sixties. They were all dressed like they were attending a summer pool party and their wardrobe ranged from some in sun dresses to a number in swimsuits and sarongs. All of them had expectant and sort of self-congratulatory smiles on their faces as I stopped dead in my tracks and stared in dumbfounded embarrassment. It could have been forever, but in reality it was just a few seconds before Mrs. Hayword broke the silence by saying, "Oh it's the pool boy!" Using that term instead of my name only served to reinforce my subordinate state and the resulting grins among the woman who were looking me over made me want to turn and run away. Instead I just kept walking forward. Almost no one made eye contact. At least not a first. Every single one of them was fixated on me just below belt level where the obscenely exaggerated bulge of my Speedo stood out. My embarrassment was ever deepening, but it really increased when I heard a woman's voice say, "Well, Julie, you certainly were not exaggerating when you said he was... gifted." The chorus of resulting laughter was like someone had grabbed my trunks and yanked them down to my ankles, and even worse, I felt a sudden surge of blood to my entrapped anatomy in the undersized swimsuit. My discomfort was now both psychological and physical as the monster began to awaken and swell. The change in that was not lost on any of those women. It's a personal weakness that sexual embarrassment causes an almost involuntary response in me. I was soon to prove the undeniable fact of that. I heard a number of amused and surprised gasps as my bulge increased in size to almost laughable proportions. At the same time, I was dying with embarrassment, which made it grow even more. It was a vicious cycle. Within seconds the suit stretched, and it looked like I had on a cartoonishly large codpiece under the trunks. As it swelled even more from their laughter, the suit began to stretch out away from my waist so that some could actually see part of my cock, doubled over. "Oh my god," said an attractive snooty brunette in an expensive floral sundress, "he's not human!" A gale of laughter followed and I realized she was speaking about me, not to or including me. She was playing to the increasingly aggressive sorority of ladies around the pool and I began feeling less like a person and more like an object. I truly felt like a large phallic prop with a college guy attached to it, there for their amusement. "He's blushing!" said a middle aged blonde with a delighted giggle. "I'm surprised there's enough blood in his body to fill that thing and still manage to flush his face laughed one of the sixty year old women. And worse, that somehow was making me even more erect. Suddenly Mrs. Hayword was standing next to me. "Now, now ladies," she said patting me on the butt with one hand as she held up the other admonishingly. "This is a nice young man and very, very bashful it seems. Let's not scare him off. Or at the very least we should make him feel a lot more comfortable before we do." She looked up at me and smiled a calculating smile before looking down at the large amount of my cock that was visible. I wanted to crawl under the well manicured lawn and disappear, but instead I just stood there with my trunks pushed out by my erection. "You do look uncomfortable," she said staring down at my confined anatomy. She gave my buns a final proprietary squeeze and waved to a very attractive blonde woman in a bikini top and a sarong. The lady rose with a kind of mischievous smile and sauntered over. She was extremely busty and her top barely held her in. Otherwise she was incredibly fit and Mrs. Hayword's intention in having her walk up with her big perfect tits swaying, was having exactly the effect she wanted. I felt a sudden pain as my erection began to renew its attempt to enlarge. Just then the older woman that had commented on my blood supply called out loudly, "Oh Hell, let's just pay him to take off those tiny trunks. I'm dying to see that thing and he obviously needs the money. Besides, if you don't I think that thing is going to kill him." The rest of them laughed and started saying a phrase that I will never forget as long as I live. "Take it off.... Take it off... Take it off...." It started as a chant with them looking at me then at each other for encouragement. I shook my head no and started to take a step back. The older lady suddenly stood up. She opened her purse and to my shock and despair fished out a wad of cash almost as big as my package. "Okay, honey," she said. "We want to see, you want to make some real money, and if you don't get those off you're going to strangle yourself below the waist." "No," I protested, but she was right and to make matters worse the hot blonde lifted her sarong so only I could see. She had nothing on under it. The new onset of pain was excruciating. "Okay," I finally said, resignedly, and in an act of surrender on so many levels, I dropped the pool supplies and untied the Speedo. As soon as the restriction of the drawstring was gone, my cock flopped out and unfolded into view. A second later, it began an immense expansion into a tumescent arch. I instantly felt both a release of the physical discomfort and a new surge of embarrassment as the women around the pool reacted. "Holy shit," said a woman that could have passed for a PTA president. "I think I am in love," said another older society type. There I was nude, erect and psychologically outnumbered. My penis started to thicken and began a humiliating throbbing as even the slight breeze stimulated it. It was massive and the combined shock, amusement began to transform among the women to a kind of snarky lust. "Woof," laughed the snooty brunette. The rest laughed uproariously as my faced deepened with shame. "Oh!" she said suddenly as if inspired. "Oh I have a great idea." She motioned to a couple of her frumpier friends and whispered behind her hand. Their eyes widened and the broke out in new gales of laughter. Suddenly one of them stepped away toward Mrs. Hayword's exercise equipment and when she returned she was carrying a jump rope. Instantly I shook my head. "Nooo way," I said. The dumpy woman just smiled and tossed it at my feet. At the same time the same old woman that had offered the cash for me to take off the trunks, started waving even more money. That fact that she didn't even seem worried about the amount told me that I was no match for this group of rich, aggressive and entitled women. I bent over to pick up the jump rope and the head of cock rubbed against the base of my sternum. From behind I heard Mrs. Hayword's voice say, "Very, very nice!" I glanced back and saw that she was commenting on my ass and my big balls that were pushed out between my legs. I felt like a prize bull being assessed. I stood up quickly holding the jump rope and looked around. It was as though they had somehow managed by sheer entitlement, to crush any last vestiges of my dignity. With a hard swallow, I swung the rope and began to rhythmically jump. I don't whether the appreciation for the anatomical display or outright amusement was predominant, but gasps and laughter filled the air as my muscles tensed and flexed and my huge erection bobbed and bounced with its extraordinary turgor. The skin was tensed and the proportions were overly emphasized. The light veiny pattern stood out and the engorged head was the size of a large peach. Every time I landed and jumped the shaft waggled and bounced in time. I really could not imagine it could get any worse, until I noticed that two or three had taken out cameras and were getting images of me doing that for posterity. They let it go on for forever it seemed until Ms. Hayword laughingly said, "Okay that's enough of that." I stopped and dropped the rope, thinking that somehow she had found some sense of mercy and decency and was going to stop my humiliation. The error of that was immediately obvious when I saw that she was holding... A tape measure. Instantly my heart sank. As I have said, everyone naturally assumes that having a large cock is a constant delight. It isn't! Underwear and bathing suits don't fit. You can never hide your arousal and it is evident to everyone, every time you get excited. Athletics, as I mentioned before, require that you make sure you have support, and even sex is not always that great as a lot of women are reluctant and limit what can be indulged. The simple fact is, I was embarrassed by the thing. Now you may not believe this, but I had never measured it. It's true. I guess it had something to do with me convincing myself that not knowing the "raw number"-forgive the pun-allowed me some illusion that I was at least delusionally, kind of normal. That was about to change. "Please don't," I begged of Ms. Hayword. But one look at her face and I knew that no amount of appeal would alter what was coming. She, and the rest had discovered my weakness that embarrassment set off reactions in me that gave them control. She boldly leaned over as the rest watched in delighted anticipation and stretched out the tape measure to lay it along the length of my erection. Just the touch cause it to throb, a point she didn't miss. "I think he likes it," she said to the crowd. They laughed and stared with hungry fascination. I felt like a helpless prey. A second later she had her answer. The tape showed I was a millimeter over twelve inches. The announcement was simultaneously a triumph for them and an immediate label for me. Honestly an inch more or less would have been better. Now I was going to be forever known as a "foot long." She removed the offending measurement and then with a wickedly mischievous look leaned up and gave me a light kiss on the lips. At the same time she reach around behind me and squeezed one cheek possessively. The group broke out in applause. "Way to go, Julie," said the snooty brunette. Then she stepped back leaving me on display again. "You still need to clean the pool." I leaned over again impaling myself with my own dick and picked up the skimmers and nets and walked over to the concrete edge. My erection didn't flag a bit as I started doing my job. The truly degrading thing was that I had to work my way around the pool, so as I did every one of the women got to see me up close and from too many angles and perspectives. I tried not to make any eye contact, but it was impossible not to occasionally see that they were all getting exactly what they wanted at my expense. Eventually when they had all gotten a good, excruciatingly long look, they started to disperse. I did notice that all of them stopped off to whisperingly chat with Ms. Hayword, before shooting me a final salacious look. When they had all departed, and I was alone with Ms. Hayword she sat down on her chaise lounge and watched me with a superior greedy expression. Through it all, my erection never dipped. Finally I finished my work. I looked around. As inadequate as it had been I was actually hunting for the Speedo. Finally I realized, Ms. Hayword was holding it. She smiled and twirled it on her finger. "Looking for this?" she asked. "Yes, Ma'am," I said. She stood up and started toward the house. "Come on in and we can discuss how you can get home in a decent state," she said almost maternally. I followed her into the huge house and as I entered the air conditioning kicked in, making my cock ache. She looked over her shoulder and down at my penis and smirked again. "This way," she said as she walked the length of the hall and turned into the master bedroom. I hesitated at the doorway as she stopped with my trunks dangling from her well-manicured finger. "Come onnnnnn," she coaxed. I walked in as she tossed them over her shoulder and stepped toward me. She reached around behind my neck with one hand and pressed her full lips against mine. When she broke the kiss she said, "Now, I can see to it that your little performance out there stays fairly private and I can make sure you get home with enough clothing to keep you from getting arrested. But you are going to have to make it worth my effort." She smiled and then tapped the head of my cock with her finger. It jerked involuntarily. "Do we have a deal?" I was erect beyond distraction and my will had all but been crushed. I just nodded. "Good boy," she said and leaned in kissing me again. This time I kissed back and her tongue began an invasive exploration of my mouth. She stepped back and looked me over as she reached behind her and untied the bikini top. As I said she was a wealthy woman and had a huge augmentation that almost made her upper body proportional to her very wide hips. Her big boobs with their dark areolas and thick nipples, dropped to the level of her navel and she smiled as I stared. She smiled even wider as she snapped her fingers and raised an eyebrow. "Now," she said, "take off the rest." It wasn't a request. I walked forward and grasped the knot of her side tie sarong. I slipped it free and I removed the skirt. Underneath she had on a very small thong bikini bottom. It was, in fact, way too small for her and barely covered her pussy and pubic hair. It also emphasized her fleshy thighs, full hips and ass and the slight tummy that pooched above it. She was a voluptuous woman, slightly past her physical prime, but still sexually hungry. Now she had the perfect, vulnerable outlet for that in me. I grasped the sides of the thong bottom and dragged the tiny garment downward. As I did, I revealed her thick, neatly edged, jet black bush and the shaved lips below. I knelt as I pulled them the rest of the way down her thighs to her ankles and held it as she stepped out of them. I look back up and found myself staring straight into her dark muff. Then I looked up past her belly and huge tits at the smile on her middle aged face. "Well while you are down there...," she said, and then grasped the back of my head and pulled my face into her pussy. "Eat it, Mr. Foot Long." She was already pretty aroused and her muskiness was really strong. To tell the truth I really didn't want to be treated like that, like a servant, but the events of that afternoon had me in a weird place and I obeyed her, licking her salty slit. She stepped back and reclined on her huge bed. Still staring hungrily, she opened her legs so her bald wet pussy was right in my face and said, "Now make it good." I climbed up on the bed and started licking. She groaned like I was getting at something basic and needed for her and she grew even wetter as I lapped and sucked at her lips and clit. Soon she started moving her hips almost like she was fucking my face and left traces of herself all over my nose cheeks and chin. Given how close I was, I was seeing every aspect of her most intimate anatomy, her slick pink lips with a dark edge of pigment and her very dark, shaved anus. She was also making sure I orally worshipped every aspect of them. In turn she made sure I licked and serviced it all. The Pool Service Ch. 02 As I said, she was not the type I would have voluntarily slept with, but I was furiously embarrassed and aroused and in a very obligated and vulnerable state. I didn't want what I had done at the pool to get out, so I stayed between her heavy thighs and asscheeks working until I drove her over the edge of ecstasy. She made me do it for a long time. By the end I was sweating a little and my jaw ached from the effort. Finally, she growled and arched her back and hips and pulled my face in tight into her pussy as she writhed even harder while she came. When she started to regain control, she lifted my head and said, "Oh my god, you ARE talented." Then she indicated that I move around and straddle her face with my penis as I stared down at her hairy mound. "Eat it again," she said and as I lowered my face, I felt her mouth and tongue running along the length of my cock. I almost lost my mind. I was beyond saying no by then and I gave in to a depraved sixty nine with my mature boss calling the shots. She seemed to sense I would not hold out long like that and she let up at just the right moment and said, "Now I want you to fuck me with that foot long monster." I blushed as much from sexual intensity as shame, and I moved around and pressed the head of my cock against her pussy. "Easy, big fella," she laughed like she was talking to a horse. I started to slowly press into her and she wrapped her legs around my back and began a rocking motion that took in a little more with each thrust. I was the one with the cock, but she was the one in charge, dictating the tempo and how much she engulfed. It was like she was consuming me and I felt a sense of subordination that I had never experienced before sexually. Sadly, my cock had a mind of its own so even if I wasn't entirely happy about the attitude and treatment, my physical state indicated just the opposite. Soon we were fucking intensely, I was coated in her arousal as she was urging and coaching me to slow down and speed up, to work myself for her maximal pleasure. She especially liked for me to slide almost entirely out so that the ridge around the head of my cock was just past her lips to rub her clit before sliding back in along the length of her g-spot. She must have orgasmed three times and I lost track of how long we had been at it, when she said something I will never forget. She said, "I want to see how you look when you come." At first I did not know what she meant. I thought she wanted me to come with her, in her. Then she made it plain. She pushed back and sat up at the head of her bed and looked at me. She wanted to see me masturbate to climax. I was already slick and I started to rub my cock as she watched fascinated. I stroked it for barely a minute, running my hand up and down the length and giving a little twist at the head each time. My breathing came faster and faster and I tensed as the sensation began to build deep in my pelvis. Finally I gasped and the long ropy jets began their limpid shots into the air. It was so intense, I almost blacked out. All the shame and intensity surged up in a powerful release. A minute later I kneeled there completely spent. Finally I looked at Ms. Hayword and her satisfied grin made me want to crawl away in shame. She was so happy, so superiorly satisfied by her... triumph. I had come over to clean her pool and now I was an obligated, subordinate sexual partner. Still she kept her word, sort of. She got up and left the room, returning a few minutes later with my t shirt and shorts in one hand. In the other she had the Speedo bathing trunks. I took them from her and was just about to get dressed when I realized something was different. There was something packed into the crotch of the trunks. I looked. It was money, a lot. I looked from the cash to Ms. Hayword who smiled with a kind of superior delight. "You earned every penny," she said, and then to my great embarrassment added, "We'll see you next week."