Photo by Steve Di Matteo from Pexels

(Author’s note: Turned it over to my other self ”Mike Mayak” for this week’s story.)

Kenny’s Pool

By Mike Mayak

“Awright. Hey, hand me the towel and I’ll tell you the story. It was back in July of 1961 and I had just turned eighteen. Yeah. I really looked like this. Crew cut, perfect teeth, muscles, tan, worked at the pool. Great Summer job for Kenny Blasco. Coolest music in the world playing over the speaker hooked to the radio. My boss hated all the rock and roll. I wasn’t a lifeguard, I was more a towel boy who helped clean the pool.

I was on the school basketball team and that got me the girls usually. One reason I loved the job; I could bang girls behind the bushes when we weren’t busy and my boss had given me a key to the storeroom which I made a copy of, so I took girls in there at night. Yeah, fun, fun, fun!

Hang on, I’ll grab you a soda. No, we get ‘em free here. Just gotta work a lot. Okay, where was I? Oh, yeah, the girls.

My boss may have known what I was doing, he certainly encouraged me to wear nothing but my swim trunks and flirt. He thought it brought in more customers. I smiled at that. I was a young hunk who was having the time of my life at an age where summer lasted forever.

This girl showed up, looked just like Marilyn Monroe. Blonde, red lips, stacked, the works.

My tight black swimming trunks got tighter when I saw her. She smiled. I was dazzled. I loved to watch her swim. She had me, not Chris or Ricky or Ray towel her off when she got out of the pool. I remember thinking that maybe she had sprayed the hair to look like Monroe. I didn’t know anything about girls’ hair.

So, it was a slow afternoon and the Marilyn girl shows up. She knows my name. She jumps in the pool in this, wow, white one piece swimsuit, and dares me to race her. Well we swam around the pool for a while and she says “I love your arms, Kenny,” and I just grin and my trunks get tight. I ask her what her name is and she says “Nymphette.”

We are floating in the pool then and she grabs my, you know, with one hand and then brushes my lips with a finger and says if I want more she’s going to have to see what a jock I am. She climbs out of the pool and lays down on the diving board (oh, God! Hot!) and tells me to pull myself up to kiss her but I had to agree that I was hers from now on.

Hey, I was Kenny Blasco! I’d made a lot of promises to girls so they’d put out!

So I jumped up, grabbed the board (thinking “You look really good, Kenny!”) and she’s there on the edge of the diving board grinning at me, and I glance down and I’m young, tan and muscular like guys envy me and the music is playing and I pull myself up a little more and we lock lips and I realize she’d just got out of the pool but she wasn’t even wet at all and I feel my lips stuck to hers and my crotch feels like it’s freezing and my fingers go limp and I let go of the board and fall into the pool but the water spreads apart beneath me and I’m falling into air and spinning and I’m screaming and I feel like bristle brushes are hitting my body all over and then I splash down in the pool.

Well, you know, it isn’t the same pool, but trust me, it’s an exact copy. And Nymphette is here. She’s one of the Water Nymphs. I serve her, well, you and I serve her now. Towel her off, do whatever she says. Got no choice.

I stand on the side of the pool and flex my muscles every now and then, when the Nymphs order me to. I liked doing it for girls when I was in High School. But I don’t now that I’m the object of lust.

It’s kinda boring, actually. I mean, you’d think being the, uh, toy of nymphs would be wonderful but it’s for their pleasure. I don’t get pleasure here. Well, not often.

So, that’s pretty much what you can expect here. That and being a towel boy. When did you, I mean, what’s the last year you remember? In the world, I mean?

2458? Wow.

Okay, the only food we get here is cheap snack bar pizza…”

—-end—