Gradually I extended my arms and legs, wobbling a little but generally floating.
“Great, now let me just...”
I gasped - and almost choked down a mouthful of water - when his hands slipped up around me.One palm pressed against my breastbone, the other on my abdomen.Mere inches, at most, above the waistband of my suit.I could feel him tilting me, maneuvering me into the position he had in mind.
“What are you...”I started, then flinched as his fingertips scuffed against my flesh.Turned my head, to see his look of thoughtful concentration.
“Right, now try slowly kicking out your legs,” he suggested.
Still trying to tamp down the shock at his touching me, I carefully pulled my knees up, then straightened them out again.
“That’s it, that’s much better,” he praised.“Now - slowly - start with your arms, too.Remember, elbows out of the water as you pull the stroke back, and then under when you bring your arms in, and up.”
In a sort of daze I found myself complying.A slow-motion breaststroke, balanced atop Kai’s strong hands.
“You’re trying too hard to get your knees up toward your chest,” he explained.
I felt his hold on me shift, a deft repositioning as I continued the slow practice.Suddenly, I felt his hand on my ass.
“Try to focus on bringing your feet up to your butt, with the soles facing out,” he said.
My head was too busy spinning, though, to really listen to the technique.His palm was a soft but persistent pressure atop my cheeks; I knew he’d be able to feel them flexing against his touch as I scissored my legs.The thin layer of fabric separating our skin was little more than a whisper.
I couldn’t take it any more.For all that his hold on me was gentle, the sensations spilling through my body as a result were bordering on overwhelming.I found myself twisting and half-falling out of his grip, an untidy jumble of splashing limbs before I eventually kicked my way back, first to the surface, and then to safety at the edge of the pool.
Deep breaths, my lungs feeling like they’d been punched.I knew I must look a state, not to mention seem like a crazy person for the practice’s unexpected abort, but it had all become too much, too suddenly.Painfully aware, too, that my cock was mortifyingly rigid, pushing insistently against the stretched pouch of my swimsuit.
Kai paddled over to me, a look of concern on his face.I fought the urge to turn my body away from him, desperately hoping he wouldn’t see how hard I was.How hard I’d got from merely having his hands on me so innocently.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded, still feeling awkward.“Sorry,” I mumbled, “It was just...”My voice trailed off.
“I rushed you,” he finished, sounding apologetic.
“I just wasn’t expecting...well...”How could I explain it without then going into the real reason Kai’s hold on me had proved so triggering?
A beat.“Ah, okay.”
I cringed inwardly.What must he be thinking about me right now?
We were silent for a minute, me still clinging to the edge of the pool, and Kai letting his body drift in the slight currents.Even as my heart rate was returning to normal, my erection was showing no inclination toward subsiding.
“That glass of wine you were talking about before sounds pretty good right now,” he said, eventually.
I smiled, weakly.“You go get a glass,” I told him, “I’ll be out in a minute.”
His eyes examined my face intently, just for a moment.As though searching for a hidden message, or some truth that might be lying so close to the surface that its topography would be visible through my skin.Either he didn’t see anything, or he was satisfied with what he read, because after a few seconds he nodded and swam to the side.
“Don’t take too long,” he joked over his shoulder, “else I might drink it all.”
I chuckled back.“Don’t worry, I have more than one bottle.”
“I would never doubt it,” he teased.
There was the temptation, of course, to watch as he pulled himself from the water.To see the way the muscles in his body would flex and stretch; the way his buttocks would press so alluringly against the fabric of whatever swimsuit he was wearing today.All the same, I knew I couldn’t follow him out until I’d rid myself of my hardness: there’d be, frankly, no way of hiding it, given what I had on myself was so brief.
Running a slideshow of unpleasant and mortifying memories through my brain, I willed my dick to go down.In the end, though, it was the thought of being seen - and laughed at - in this condition that seemed to do the trick.I figured I was in a condition just discreet enough to get out, strategizing how I’d then high-tail it to my bedroom and get changed into something less exposing.
