My swimming teacher closed the pool with just me inside

I had gone back to the Las Lomas club pool after a year without setting foot in a swimming pool. My body was asking for it, and the office routine had been leaving my shoulders stiff. The instructor was the same as always, Esteban, and from the first class I noticed he had a more feminine side than I remembered: the way he moved his hands when explaining the stroke, a small silver hoop in his left ear, and a citrusy cologne that was no accident.

Esteban was in his mid-thirties, stocky without being muscular, tall. The red swimsuit he wore for the late shifts outlined a round, firm ass that, because it was so obvious, stopped being a detail and became a statement. And I, standing six feet tall and carrying eight inches that never go unnoticed, had learned to read the glances that linger a second too long on the bulge. His lingered two.

Friday that week was the last shift. The pool closed at ten, and by nine-thirty it was just him, me, and the girl at reception who was locking up the place. She was glued to her phone, oblivious to the rest of the world. Esteban was handing out instructions in that neutral instructor’s voice that suited him so well.

—One more set and we’re done —he said, patting the edge of the pool.

I did the set without hurrying. I took my time breathing deeply between lengths so he could see me come up. When I finished, I sat on the step at the edge and let the water run down my shoulders. Esteban was standing in front of me, drying himself with a towel, and the red fabric of his swimsuit was clinging to his crotch. It wasn’t the only thing clinging to him.

—All set —he said—. You showering here, or taking the shower home with you?

I looked up. He had already dropped his gaze, without trying to hide it. “If you want to look at it, look properly,” I thought, and spread my legs a little more as I leaned on my elbows.

—Here wouldn’t be bad —I answered—. But I confess it’d be better somewhere else.

He smiled, and it wasn’t the smile of a teacher.

—I’ve got the van around the corner, on the back street. If you feel like it, I’m in no rush to go home.

—I feel like it.

***

Less than fifteen minutes passed from the moment he locked the pool door until he rang the bell of the apartment I rent three blocks away. I opened the door in shorts and no shirt. He had his bag slung over one shoulder, his hair still damp, and a smile he wouldn’t have dared show at the pool.

—Make yourself comfortable —I told him, nodding toward the couch—. I’m going to take a quick shower. If you want, there’s beer in the fridge.

—Maybe I’ll join you in the shower.

He said it softly, almost like a joke to himself. I didn’t answer. I went into the bathroom, turned on the hot water, and waited. I knew he was going to come in.

When he slid the door open, I was facing away, letting the water run down the back of my neck. I didn’t hear him come in. I felt him when my cock swelled against the fogged glass and rose before he said anything. Then his hip brushed my thigh and that was when I spoke.

—No asking, huh?

—You have no idea how badly I wanted you to shove that in me —he murmured against my shoulder.

I turned around slowly. His eyes were fixed on my cock, hard and pointing right at his height. I took his jaw in my hand and turned his face toward me.

—Look me in the face when you talk to me.

He nodded. I kissed his mouth calmly, with tongue, as if time were ours and no one was waiting anywhere. His hand went down and gripped my cock hungrily. He tried to guide it downward, to find his own way between his ass cheeks, to take it in at once. I gave him a sharp slap on the thigh and he froze.

—We’re going to go slowly here. And I’m the one making all the decisions. Understood?

—Yes.

—Yes, what?

He swallowed. The question threw him off for a second. Then he lowered his head a little, almost without realizing it, and chose the right answer.

—Yes, whatever you say.

I settled the head of my cock between his ass cheeks, pressed just enough to part him and draw a moan from him.

—Just the head. For now.

I heard him stifle a cry. His back sought mine. My tip met the limit of his entrance and stayed there. Every time he moved his hips to take more of me, I pulled back. Every time he stayed still, I pressed in another millimeter. Patience, I had learned long ago, was its own form of violence.

—No, please, give me more.

—No.

I pulled my cock out of his ass, took him by the hair without yanking and kissed him again. Then I pointed to the bathroom door.

—Go. Dry off. Wait for me in bed, face down, with a pillow under your pelvis.

He left without arguing. I stayed under the water a little longer, letting the mix of heat and desire steady my breathing. “This is going to work out well,” I thought.

***

When I went into the bedroom, I found him exactly as I’d told him. Face down. A pillow under his pelvis. His ass raised, round, exposed. The dim light of the bedside lamp fell at an angle and drew the curve of his back. The van, the silver hoop, the teacher’s neutral voice: none of that remained. What was on the bed was something else.

I knelt behind him. I spread his ass cheeks with both hands and lowered my head. I ran my tongue, slowly, over the whole seam, once, twice, three times. Esteban moaned into the pillow and clenched the sheets as if he wanted to tear them off the bed.

—Hold still —I warned him—. If you move, I stop.

He stayed still. I kept going. I devoured that hot little hole of his for several minutes, playing with my tongue, alternating pressure with caresses, blowing cold air after each lick so he’d feel the contrast. His back tightened and loosened with every breath. The pillow under his pelvis was slowly getting soaked.

—Pass me the oil —I said.

He stretched his arm to the nightstand and handed it to me without lifting his head. It was massage oil, not just any oil you keep in a forgotten drawer. He had prepared the detail. He had prepared everything. I liked that more than I expected.

I poured a good amount between his ass cheeks and let it run on its own. Then I lubed up my cock, slowly, watching it shine under the lamp light. I put one hand on the back of his neck, gentle but firm, and used the other to adjust his hips. My cock found the way. I pushed without warning him. In one motion, slow but complete, I sank in as far as his body let me enter.

Esteban arched his back and let out a muffled cry into the pillow. I slid my left arm under his chest and lifted him until his back was pressed against my torso. My right hand circled his neck, not squeezing, just marking the place. My other hand found a nipple and pinched it.

—Do you like that?

—I love it, you son of a bitch —he said, his voice breaking.

—Who’s in charge here?

—You.

—And who are you?

He took a second. He closed his eyes. He gave the answer as if he’d been waiting for months to let it out.

—Your slut.

—My slut —I repeated, close to his ear—. And you’re going to do everything I tell you.

He nodded. His hips began moving against mine, searching for the rhythm. I let him for a while. I let him settle in, get used to the girth, learn to take cock from both ends. Then I took his hips in both hands and took control.

I fucked him. Deep, steady, without stopping. The bed started knocking against the wall. His ass bounced against my pelvis with a dry sound that blended with his moans. I grabbed him by the hair, right at the crown, tugged just enough to arch his back more and kissed his ear between thrusts.

—You like that, little whore.

—Break me, daddy. Do whatever you want with me.

***

At some point, I’m not sure when, my cock started slipping out. Esteban wanted to turn his head and kiss me, and the position changed. When I came out, he took my cock in his hand himself, without asking permission this time, and shoved it back into his ass. But slowly.

—Slowly —he murmured—. I want to feel every centimeter go back in.

I did as he said. For the first time that night, I did as he said. I entered centimeter by centimeter, looking him in the eye over his shoulder, and he gave me back a look full of submission and defiance that made me lose the last bit of control I had.

The kiss came after. Long, deep, with his tongue inside as if he wanted to swallow me. That mouth shattered the pose. I grabbed the back of his neck with both hands and sped up. Ten minutes, maybe more. I lost count. The only thing in my head was the wet sound of my cock sliding out and in, and Esteban’s moans that were no longer moans but pleas.

When my body warned me, I didn’t warn him. I drove myself in to the hilt, grabbed his waist with both hands, and spilled inside him. Three, four spurts. Esteban trembled against me and came onto the pillow at the same time, without my having touched his cock.

We collapsed together. My body fell over his, my cock still inside, still throbbing, still letting out the last drops. He was moving his ass in small spasms, as if he wanted to milk me dry. I bit the nape of his neck, slowly, without force, and dragged my lips over his shoulder.

—Son of a bitch —he said between laughs—. On top of breaking me, you treated me like the slut I am.

—Like the slut you wanted to be today —I corrected him.

He laughed. Then he went quiet for a long while, breathing hard, with me on top of him. When he managed to turn his head, he kissed me again. Without urgency. Almost tenderly. But with something in his eyes that was no longer the eleven a.m. instructor.

—Are you staying? —he asked.

—The night is long —I answered, settling beside him without pulling out yet—. And I still have plenty of load left for my bitch.

He gave a low laugh and curled up against my chest. Outside, in some apartment in the building, someone switched off a light. The Las Lomas club pool was going to open at seven the next morning, and I already knew that on Monday I was going to sign up for a second shift.