Milf Swim Instructions: Part 1.
My friend's mom offers me swim lessons.
Based on a post by SIR__CUMALOT
. Listen to the ►Podcast a Steamy
Stories.
Introduction:
Stacy is a petite milf and her son's
best friend is hanging around at her garden pool. The shy boy admits
he can't swim. Stacy offers to give him some private swimming
lessons.
The chlorine smell always brought her
back to that summer job at sixteen; lifeguarding at the municipal
pool, watching teenage boys cannonball into the deep end with more
enthusiasm than skill. Stacy hadn’t thought about those days in
years, not until now, with her son’s friend hovering at the
edge of her pool like a nervous heron. He walked in 15 minutes ago
not knowing Chris wasn't around, or did he?
"You gonna
stand there all day, Jake?" she called from the lounge chair,
lowering her sunglasses just enough to watch him shift his weight
from foot to foot. The kid was tall, lean, all elbows and knees
stuffed into borrowed swim trunks that hung a little too loose on his
Jake’s fingers twitched at his sides, his gaze
darting between the shimmering water and Stacy’s amused smirk.
"I, uh; never really learned how to swim," he admitted,
scratching the back of his neck. The confession came out in a rush,
like he’d been holding it in all afternoon. "My dad always
said he’d teach me, but…" He trailed off, shrugging
as if it didn’t matter, but the way his shoulders hunched told
a different story.
Stacy pushed herself up from the lounge
chair, the sun warming her bare shoulders as she crossed the patio
toward him. "Well, today’s your lucky day," she said,
her voice softening just enough to take the edge off his
embarrassment. She stopped a foot away, close enough to see the faint
flush creeping up his chest. "First lesson: nobody drowns in
four feet of water. Not on my watch." She dipped a toe into the
pool, sending ripples fanning out toward him. "Come on. I won’t
let go until you say so."
The water was cooler than Jake
expected when Stacy finally coaxed him in, her fingers wrapped around
his wrist like a promise. He flinched, then laughed; nervous,
high-pitched; as his feet found the textured bottom of the pool.
"See?" Stacy murmured, stepping back just enough to let him
feel the buoyancy without panic. "Not so scary." Her
sundress clung to her thighs where the water kissed the fabric,
turning the pale yellow material translucent. Jake's gaze flickered
downward, then snapped back up, his ears burning.
They started
with the basics; how to float, how to kick, how to cup his hands just
right to push the water behind him. Stacy’s palms slid along
his back, his stomach, guiding him with a firmness that left no room
for hesitation. "You’re overthinking it," she teased
when he stiffened under her touch, his arms flailing like a
marionette with cut strings. "Relax. The water’s got you."
And then, softer, as her hand drifted lower to steady his hips: "I’ve
got you."
Jake's laughter settled into something quieter,
more breathless, as Stacy's fingers lingered at his waistband, the
water sloshing between them in lazy waves. He'd stopped flailing,
finally trusting the pool; trusting her; enough to let his body go
loose under her guidance. The late afternoon sun painted the surface
gold where it caught the ripples, and Stacy watched the way Jake's
throat worked when he swallowed, his pulse jumping under damp
skin.
"You're a quick learner," she murmured,
letting her thumb brush the divot of his hip bone before pulling
away. The words hung between them, loaded in a way that had nothing
to do with swimming. Jake's grin was boyish, grateful, until his eyes
dropped to where her dress clung to her chest, the outline of her
nipples visible through the wet fabric. He looked like he might
apologize, but Stacy just tossed her head back and laughed, shaking
water from her hair. "Relax, kid. It's not like you've never
seen tits before."
Jake's laugh came out strangled, his
gaze darting away as he splashed water toward her playfully. "Not;
not like yours," he admitted, voice cracking halfway through the
sentence. The admission hung between them, raw and electric, and
Stacy felt it like a current under her skin. She let the silence
stretch just long enough to watch him squirm, then reached for the
inflatable ball floating near the steps.
"Catch,"
she said, tossing it underhand. Jake fumbled, the ball bouncing off
his fingertips before he grabbed it with both hands. Water sluiced
down his chest as he straightened, the muscles in his abdomen
tightening under droplets that caught the sunlight. Stacy licked her
lips without thinking, her own pulse picking up as she waded backward
into deeper water. "Come on, hotshot. Show me what you've
got."
The ball arced through the air, Jake's throw
stronger than he'd intended; it landed with a wet smack against
Stacy's collarbone before plopping into the water between them. He
winced, but she just grinned, scooping it up with one hand while the
other pushed damp hair from her forehead. "Not bad," she
said, spinning the ball on her fingertips. "But aim for my hands
next time, unless you're trying to leave a mark."
Jake's
throat worked as he watched her, the way her shoulders flexed when
she lifted the ball again, the way her wet dress clung to every dip
and curve. He swallowed hard, his borrowed trunks suddenly tighter
than they'd been a minute ago. Stacy pretended not to notice, tossing
the ball back with a gentler arc. It landed neatly in Jake's palms
this time, his fingers closing around it with more
confidence.
Jake's grip tightened around the ball, his
knuckles whitening as he hesitated; something flickering behind his
eyes that wasn't just nerves about swimming anymore. Stacy tilted her
head, watching the way his breath hitched when she took a slow step
closer, the water rippling between them. "You keep staring at me
like that," she murmured, plucking the ball from his hands and
letting her fingers graze his palm, "and I'm gonna start
thinking you want more than just swimming lessons."
The
air between them crackled, thick with chlorine and something hotter.
Jake opened his mouth; probably to stammer some half-hearted denial;
but the words died when Stacy reached up to brush a droplet from his
collarbone, her touch lingering. His breath stuttered, his chest
rising sharply under her fingertips. "Relax," she
whispered, her thumb tracing the line of his throat. "You're
shaking like a leaf."
"Let's get out for a break,"
Stacy said, her fingers trailing down Jake's arm as she stepped
backward toward the pool steps. The water rippled around her thighs
as she climbed out, the yellow sundress clinging to her curves like a
second skin. "You can lay out for some sun while I grab us some
icy drinks." She tossed a towel toward Jake, watching him catch
it with fumbling hands before squeezing water from his hair.
Jake
hauled himself onto the concrete, his trunks sagging with the weight
of water. He spread the towel over the lounger next to Stacy's,
hesitating before lowering himself onto it. The sun baked his
shoulders immediately, warmth seeping into his skin. He glanced
sideways as Stacy bent over the cooler, the hem of her dress riding
up just enough to reveal the back of her thighs. His throat went dry;
drier than the chlorine had left it.
Stacy straightened with
two sweating cans of lemonade, the condensation dripping over her
fingers. "Here," she said, pressing one into Jake's hand,
her thumb brushing his knuckles deliberately. She perched on the edge
of her lounger, the fabric of her dress gaping slightly as she leaned
forward. Jake's gaze flickered downward before he snapped it up to
her face, but she just smirked, taking a slow sip of her drink.
"You're staring again."
Jake's can fizzed as he
popped the tab, the sound startlingly loud in the thick afternoon
air. "Sorry," he muttered, wiping his damp palm on his
thigh. "I just;" He broke off, shaking his head, and Stacy
laughed, low and warm.
Stacy stretched her arms overhead, the
damp fabric of her sundress clinging indecently as she arched her
back. "Christ, I need to dry off properly," she muttered,
more to herself than Jake. Then, with a sideways glance at him, she
hooked a thumb under one strap. "You gonna have a problem if I
go topless? This dress won’t dry if I keep it on." Her
smirk was playful, but her eyes tracked his reaction like a cat
watching a mouse. "Ground rules, though; no staring, young
stallion. I am your friend’s mother."
Jake’s
lemonade can crumpled slightly in his grip. His throat worked like he
was trying to swallow a golf ball. "I; uh. No. No problem."
The lie was so transparent Stacy could’ve read it through
fogged glass. She laughed, slow and throaty, as she peeled the dress
up over her hips, revealing the slick black bikini bottoms beneath.
Jake’s gaze skittered away like a dropped penny, landing
somewhere near her left knee.
Jake’s fingers twitched
around the crumpled can as Stacy peeled the sundress higher, the
fabric clinging for a heartbeat before surrendering to gravity. He
fixed his gaze on the pool’s shimmering surface, where sunlight
fractured into a thousand liquid diamonds. His throat clicked when he
swallowed, the sound louder than the cicadas humming in the oleander
bushes.
"Relax," Stacy murmured, her voice ripe with
amusement as the dress pooled around her waist. "It’s just
a bikini, Jake. Not my first rodeo." She shimmied the fabric
over her shoulders, letting it slither down her arms before tossing
it onto the lounger with a wet slap. Jake’s peripheral vision
caught the flash of red; thin straps, barely-there triangles; before
he squeezed his eyes shut like a kid avoiding a horror movie
jumpscare.
Jake's eyelids fluttered open against his better
judgment, the red bikini top searing into his vision like a brand.
Stacy's skin glowed under the late afternoon sun, droplets of pool
water still clinging to the slope of her collarbone. She arched her
back, running both hands through her damp hair, and Jake's pulse
stuttered when her chest lifted with the movement. The straps of her
bikini dug into her shoulders, the fabric straining just enough to
hint at the softness beneath.
Stacy's fingers hooked under the
bikini top's clasp with practiced ease, the red fabric snapping loose
before pooling on the lounger beside her. Jake's breath hitched; a
sharp, involuntary sound; as her small tits lifted free. "Relax,"
she murmured, though her own pulse fluttered when she caught his
dilated pupils tracking her every movement. "Sunblock's a bitch
to apply on your own back." She squeezed a dollop of
coconut-scented cream into her palm, the white blob stark against her
tanned skin.
Jake's fingers dug into the lounger's plastic
weave as Stacy smoothed the cream over her shoulders, her thumbs
working slow circles into the muscle. She arched her spine, dragging
her palms down the knobs of her vertebrae with a satisfied hum.
"Forgot how good this feels," she admitted, tilting her
head to glance at Jake over her shoulder. His throat bobbed as she
reached behind herself, fingers stretching toward the unreachable
spot between her shoulder blades. "Always miss this damn patch,"
she sighed, shaking her head with exaggerated frustration.
Stacy
twisted her arm at an awkward angle, fingers stretching toward the
unreachable patch between her shoulder blades. "Christ,"
she muttered, shaking her head as the sunscreen dribbled down her
wrist. She glanced over her shoulder at Jake, whose grip had turned
the lounger's plastic weave into a crumpled mess. "You gonna
help a lady out, or just sit there looking like you've seen the
second coming?"
Jake's swallow was audible. "I;"
His voice cracked. "Shouldn't; shouldn't Chris be home
soon?"
Stacy's laugh was low, deliberate, as she twisted
the cap back onto the sunscreen bottle with a soft click. "Chris
is elbow-deep in drywall dust at his dad's place for the next three
days," she said, watching Jake's fingers tighten around the
lounger's edge. "Turns out helping your ex-husband renovate a
garage is way more appealing than watching your mother lounge by the
pool." She arched one eyebrow, the sunblock glistening on her
shoulders. "Lucky you."
Jake's pulse pounded in his
temples as Stacy turned her back to him fully, presenting the smooth
expanse of skin between her shoulder blades. A droplet of water slid
down the dip of her spine, disappearing into the waistband of her
bikini bottoms.
"Boy, get on with it before my back
starts to burn," Stacy said, tossing the sunscreen bottle into
Jake's lap with deliberate carelessness. The plastic hit his thigh
with a soft thud, jolting him from his stupor.
Jake fumbled
with the bottle, his fingers slipping on the cap before finally
twisting it open. The coconut scent hit him like a wave; thick and
sweet, mingling with the chlorine still clinging to his skin. He
squeezed too hard; a glob of white cream oozed over his fingers, warm
from sitting in the sun. "Sorry," he muttered, wiping his
hand hastily on his thigh before realizing he'd just smeared
sunscreen across borrowed swim trunks.
"If I didn't know
that was sunscreen, you would have been in serious trouble, young
man," Stacy teased, watching Jake's mortified expression as he
stared at the white streak on his thigh. Her lips curled at the edges
as she added, "I would have called your mother.
"Get
on with it, boy," Stacy murmured, stretching her arms overhead
in a lazy arc that made the muscles along her back ripple invitingly.
The sunscreen bottle sat heavy in Jake’s lap, its weight
disproportionate to how thoroughly it paralyzed him. She glanced over
her shoulder, catching the way his throat worked as he stared at the
expanse of bare skin before him. "Unless you’d rather I
ask someone else?" The challenge in her voice was deliberate,
edged with amusement.
Jake’s fingers finally unclenched
from around the bottle. He squeezed a dollop onto his palm; too much,
again; and hesitated before making contact. The first brush of his
fingertips against her shoulder blades was featherlight, tentative,
like he was afraid she might dissolve under his touch. Stacy sighed,
arching into it. "God, yes," she breathed, her voice
dropping an octave. "Harder, Jake. I won’t break."
Jake's
hands stilled on Stacy's back when she let out a contented hum, her
skin now slick and golden under his palms. "Your turn," she
murmured, rolling her shoulders before twisting to face him. The
movement made her bare chest sway slightly, and Jake's gaze flickered
downward before snapping back up, his ears burning. Stacy smirked as
she plucked the sunscreen from his trembling fingers. "Lie down.
Unless you want to fry like an egg out here."
The lounger
creaked under Jake's weight as he stretched out on his stomach,
pressing his face into the warm plastic weave. Stacy straddled his
thighs, her bare skin brushing against the backs of his knees as she
squeezed another dollop of sunscreen onto her palm. The first touch
of her hands against his shoulder blades made him jerk involuntarily;
her fingers were cooler than he expected, slick with coconut-scented
cream.
"Jesus, you're wound tighter than a grandfather
clock," Stacy muttered, digging her thumbs into the knot between
his shoulder blades. Jake hissed, his fingers clutching the lounger's
edges as she worked the tension loose with slow, deliberate circles.
Her nails scraped lightly down his spine, tracing each vertebra
before fanning out over his ribs. "Breathe, kid. You're holding
your breath like you're underwater."
Jake exhaled
shakily, his muscles reluctantly yielding under her touch. Stacy's
hands moved lower, kneading the dimples at the base of his back with
a firmness that bordered on painful. A groan escaped him before he
could choke it back, muffled against the lounger. Stacy chuckled, the
sound vibrating through her chest as she leaned closer, her breath
warm against his ear. "That's it," she murmured, her
fingers skating down to the waistband of his trunks. "Let
go."
Jake’s breath finally eased as Stacy’s
hands worked magic along his spine, her thumbs pressing into the
tight knots with just the right amount of pressure. The coconut scent
of the sunscreen mingled with the warmth of her skin, and he found
himself melting into the lounger, tension draining from his shoulders
like water through cupped hands. Her fingers traced the contours of
his muscles with a confidence that left no room for hesitation;
digging into the hollows between his ribs, skating along the ridges
of his scapula, kneading the tense cords of his neck until his head
lolled forward with a contented sigh.
"See?" Stacy
murmured, her voice low and honeyed as she dragged her palms down the
length of his back. Her touch lingered at the waistband of his
trunks, fingertips teasing the dip just above the fabric. "Told
you you'd relax." Jake hummed in agreement, too boneless to form
words, his eyelids heavy. The sun baked his skin, the heat blending
with the slick glide of her hands until he couldn’t tell where
one sensation ended and the other began.
Jake's eyelids
fluttered as Stacy's hands worked lower, her fingers skating
dangerously close to the waistband of his trunks. The slow, rhythmic
pressure of her palms against his lower back sent an unexpected jolt
of heat pooling in his gut. He shifted slightly, suddenly hyperaware
of the growing tightness in his swim trunks; thankful for the way the
lounger pressed against his stomach, hiding what her touch was doing
to him.
Stacy's fingers paused just above the elastic band,
her nails tracing idle circles over the small of his back. "You're
still tense down here," she murmured, her voice thick with
something that wasn't quite concern. Jake held his breath as her
thumbs dipped beneath the waistband, just enough to make his hips
twitch involuntarily against the plastic weave. The sound of her soft
chuckle skated across his skin. "Relax, Jake. I'm just getting
the hard-to-reach spots."
Stacy squeezed another dollop
of sunscreen into her palm, the white cream warming instantly against
her skin. Her fingers trailed down Jake's spine; slow, deliberate;
until she reached the hem of his trunks. The fabric clung damply to
the curve of his ass, and she smirked at the way his breath hitched
when her fingertips grazed the back of his thighs. "Forgot your
legs," she murmured, kneading the cream into his hamstrings with
firm, circular motions. "Sunburn here would make sitting in
class tomorrow real fun."
Jake groaned into the lounger,
half from the pressure of her thumbs digging into his tight muscles,
half from the way her nails scraped lightly over his sensitive skin.
The scent of coconut thickened between them, mingling with the
chlorine and something muskier; something uniquely Jake that made
Stacy's pulse skip. Her hands drifted lower, tracing the hollows
behind his knees, and his whole body jerked when she hit a ticklish
spot.
Stacy's hands slid lower still, her fingers curling
around Jake's calf with surprising strength. The muscles tensed under
her touch, taut from years of basketball and nervous energy. She
pressed her thumbs deep into the corded flesh, working out knots he
didn't even know he had. "Jesus," Jake breathed, his voice
muffled against the lounger as her palms glided down to his ankle.
"You're; ah; really good at this."
"Mmhm,"
Stacy hummed, her fingers circling the delicate bones of his foot
with deliberate precision. Her thumbs dug into the arch, earning
another choked sound from Jake as his toes curled involuntarily.
"Sensitive?" she teased, applying more pressure until his
leg twitched. The sight of his reactions; the way his fingers
clutched at the plastic weave, the flush creeping up the back of his
neck; sent a curl of heat low in her belly.
Stacy's fingertips
danced higher along Jake's inner thigh, the coconut-scented sunscreen
leaving a slick trail just beneath the hem of
