Let’s be peeeeeerfectly honest: chances were I was gonna get caught. It was just a little too risky, even for my standards (which are pretty loose ;p). I probably should have stopped, swallowed my pride, and apologized. Buuuuuuuuuut I didn’t.
There was a reason the possibility to get caught was so high. I was at the pool. For those of you who don’t know how much I like pools: read this one. I’ve played there many times before, and I’ve always loved it.
But this time was different. There was a thought in my head I couldn’t shake. I had never not locked the single-person changing room door from the inside. But this time, I did. Not. Didn’t. I did not lock the door ;p
It wasn’t overly busy, but wait long enough, and someone will unexpectedly open the door. I knew this was eventually going to happen. And yet, after I had stripped down to my bare skin, got comfy on the little bench thingamabob, and had played with myself for a while, something inside me wanted to slow down.
I could have eeeeeaaaasily had an orgasm, but I didn’t. I just paused. Brought myself close, then paused again. And again. And again. And again and again and again until……………… the door swung open.
There was a man standing there. An older man, probbaly in his late sixties. Not the usual image in my head when I’m about to have an O, but beggars can’t be choosers, right? At first, he was on his way to close the door, but I could almost see his brain working, and he decided to keep his hand on the knob.
He didn’t say anything, and neither did I. I just stared him in the eye and kept going. Or well… it took me about twelve seconds to let go. I was shaking, I had stopped breathing, I was just letting the good feelings rage through me while he was just standing there, looking at me.
When I was done (-ish), I kicked one foot up, put it up against the door, and pushed it closed. I could see his shadow lingering for a bit longer, and then he walked away. I could barely keep myself from cracking up.
I don’t think I’ve ever gotten dressed as quickly as I did. I desperately not wanted to run into him on my way out, and thankfully, there was no sign of him when I made for my bike.
I think he liked it, but I don’t think he liked it as much as I liked it.