I should be ashamed to tell you this story. But for some reason, I have to do it.
My name is Billy. I had just broken up with my girlfriend, Wendy, and I was feeling pretty blue about it. It was the summer after my junior year in high school I had just turned 18, and my parents were taking me on a trip to see colleges in the southeast. We were staying at a very nice resort hotel near Atlanta, my parents had gone off to play a few rounds of golf. I was alone with my moody thoughts by the hotel pool.
I had been a swimmer in high school-- not a great one, but good enough that my coach had told me to shave off all my body hair so I would have as little resistance as possible in the water. I had worked up a good tan, which set off nicely against my little white Speedo bathing suit. I had covered my body with oil and now, glistening, I had hoped this afternoon to find a cute girl by the pool. The only girls there seemed to ignore me, so I tried to lose myself in a novel. That's when I heard a deep male voice ask me a question.
"Is this chair taken?"
I looked up to see a big man with a broad face. He looked to be about 45 years old and in extremely good shape. I told him the chair was available, and e sat down right next to me. I had to admit it, he was extremely handsome. As he took off his robe, I saw his powerful muscular body. He was so much bigger than me, I felt like a girl beside him--- perhaps, in retrospect, too much like a girl.
We struck up a conversation. His name was Jim, he said, and he was here on business.
As usual at that time in my life, I wasted no time telling d him all about my breakup with Wendy. He seemed quite sympathetic and interested, leaning forward and offering me advice. As he made his points about how I should handle my pain, he kept touching my knee. I thought about moving my leg away from him or telling him to stop, but for some reason, I didn't.
The more we talked the more his hand simply rested on my knee. I felt a little uncomfortable at first, but soon I got used to it. He stared into my eyes as he spoke to me. He seemed very wise, with his deep voice, and I noticed his fingers were squeezing my thigh as he spoke.
I also noticed, to my horror, that my cock was beginning to harden in my suit. His long thick fingers were now sliding up and down my oiled thigh. I was finding it harder to breathe. My cock was now stiffening, it had formed a tent, and I knew he could see it. But I didn't try to stop him from touching me.
Fortunately, we were the only people by the pool at this point. That's when he took things to the next level.
"Well Billy," he said. in a husky half-whisper, "Want to come to my room for a drink?"
I decided that a little alcohol might relax me a little so I agreed. We both put on our robes, grabbed our stuff,and headed to the elevator. We didn't speak as we rode to the top floor of the hotel. As we rode I thought I felt his hand touching my bottom through my terry cloth robe. Why wasn't I telling him to stop?
We entered his suite, and I was impressed by how big it was compared to the rooms my parents and I had rented. We were in a living room, but the bedroom was someplace else. He asked me if I would like some bourbon and I nodded. He smiled, fixed us both a drink and we toasted our new friendship.
I finished my drink rather quickly, and he made me another one. As I began sipping it, he put a hand on my shoulder and looked deeply into my eyes.
"You were getting hard out there, Billy," he said. "Was I making you hard?"
I blushed and looked away.
"Look at me young man," he said, his voice now a little menacing.
I didn't like where all this was going, but I also didn't want it to stop.
"You have the kind of body that would make any girl happy."
"Show me again, Billy," said Jim. "Take off your robe and show me your body."
