Nightmare Summer as a Lifeguard - Part 1

Disclaimer: All people involved are over 18 and this is a work of fiction. If you don't care about narratives, skip to the triple dashes (---) further down below for the confrontation, or the six dashes (------) for just the sex.

- While doing my summer job as a lifeguard at a pool in Santa Clarita, California -

The sunset over the Los Angeles skyline to the south was still a fair sight to see. Santa Clarita, like most LA suburbs and metro cities/towns, was practically built to admire LA from afar. Tonight the sunset's typical orange was met with a hue of pink. The smell didn't match the view however, as the over-powering chlorine from the city pool lifted and filled the air. I didn't have any summer classes at CalTech, but I also didn't want to visit family in Missouri or Florida. Luckily, this city pool was less than an hour from my campus in Pasadena. Most of my friends went home for the summer, but I stuck around and further enjoyed my independence and being away from my bigoted family.

The sound of flip-flops smacking the wet tile, pattered from across the pool. A slightly overweight woman in her 40s in a black one-piece-suit scanned around some chairs. I took a deep breath and pushed my cart of discarded valuables in her direction. "Excuse me, Ma'am. I've already gone around and collected everything left behind. Can you tell me what you're looking for and I'll check my lost-and-found cart here." My higher-pitched voice squeaked out across the pool. I pushed the cart of discarded sunscreen, glasses, water-wings, tubes, towels, water bottles, keys, and the like over to her. She found what she lost and went on her way.

I continued my laps around the pool area, cleaning and organizing everything I could. Somewhere in the office, my boss was waiting to lock up the lockers and close the register. But of course, I would be the one to actually clean the locker rooms. It became clear to me that no one likes their boss, so we have to find other ways to enjoy our jobs. The pay here was actually pretty good, as far as summer jobs go. I got time in the sun with free sunscreen. Free pool passes to relax on my days off were a nice touch. And, being as this was a family pool, there were plenty of dads to gawk at, during my shift.

Of course, I hadn't failed to notice all the soccer moms doing the same thing to me. Often times I felt like Billy in Stranger Things, with all the older ladies whistling and eye-fucking him as he taunted everyone with his Greek god of a body. I myself, wasn't a Greek god. I was on the smaller side, at 5'6" and a lean 130 pounds, a spitting encyclopedia entry for 'short twink with a slight swimmer's build.' But I think most of these moms were just that desperate for some attention in their home, that a 19-year-old lifeguard was their perfect fantasy. Meanwhile for me, there were dad-bods and daddy jocks galore, when they weren't distracted by their little tyrants. Most of them definitely didn't wear enough sunscreen, and it was definitely aging them on the rougher side. But I didn't mind. I liked the rougher side. I liked it when a man showed a little wisdom, and their being fathers definitely did other things for my fantasies. Come to think of it, I think one of them was staring at me a couple of times an-- "Hellooo! Hey kid!"

A much older, deeper, and commanding voice was raised at me, and the speaker stood maybe 20 feet from me, walking bristly. I had zoned out again, day dreaming about some of the fantasies with the dads here today. All of a sudden, I felt exposed. My 5-inch inseam red shorts may as well have been wet underwear, as this fit, 40-year-old, and silver-haired, jock of a daddy firmly tried to get my attention. His white shirt was still damp in a few places, highlighting how well he took care of his body. His black-with-white-striped, knee-length shorts with side pockets revealed chiseled muscle around his knees and tight calves. He was completely tanned, all the way down to his large feet in his white Adidas flip flops. His spiked hair protruded through his black visor. He was all decked out, like if Danny Phantom was a football dad.

"Sorry sir, what... can I do for you?" I fumbled over a couple words, but pulled my attention to him. If I wasn't already nervous, it felt like he was checking me out. Even though the cool summer air was starting to pump through, I hadn't put on my shirt yet, so I had nothing but my very short and tight red shorts, a whistle with a red cord, and my white crocs. I could feel chills pop up around my hairless chest and pink nipples. If the sun had still been out, he probably would have noticed how warm my cheeks felt by their brightness against my white and tan-lined skin. I caught his eyes drifting down and then back up. I definitely wasn't paranoid. He was either judging me for my size or checking me out, and I don't know which one I hoped it was. But before I could crash out on the possibilities, he calmly but assertively directed me, "Key ring. Rams logo. Mercedes key fob. Blue house key. And a black and red pair of Beats by Dre. Probably still connected to one of their phones."

I pulled the headphones up with no issue, and sure enough they were blasting some form of lo-fi or edm. I shuffled around and dug into the couple of pits and pockets in the cart, but eventually found his set of keys as well. "Here you go sir, sorry about the wait." I rushed through the sentence as if he was a superior officer giving me an order. He turned the head phones off without looking and started to spin his keys in his hand, catching and stopping them every rotation, before repeating the same motion. God... let this happen. He started to turn away with a nod, but stopped and rolled his ankles and gait back to me with a finger pointed.

"Ya know, this... will probably seem awkward. So feel free to tell me to go fuck off. But... I take the mini-me's back to Satan herself tomorrow afternoon. I'll be all alone for the week with no plans. Would... you be interested in coming over?" Fuck yes! I composed my head and tried to hide my excitement. Play it coy, Cody. Play it aloof! I tossed my eyes and head about as if I was rummaging through a mental calendar and replied, "Honestly, outside of work, I am not doing anything either. That... could be fun. I didn't think you'd be into that." He kept the key-spinning and stopping like a metronome for our verbal dance. "Not always," he said, as he started to unlock his phone and handed it to me, opened to the dial-pad, "But sometimes. It's hard to be me, when you're a dad."

I typed in my digits and the name, "Cody (pool boy)," dialing it so my phone could save his number as well. I think he caught the name as I handed the phone back to him because he smiled and let out a slight chuckle. I raised my eyes to him with my phone open in my hands and said, "What should I put you down as?" As if he was dreading the question he softly shook his head and bobbed his eyes in the sky before looking at the ground and then back to me, "You can put me down as Kitt." I started to type it but raised an eyebrow and said, "As in, Kat, the candy bar?" "No, smartass," he joked, "as in the car. My dad was a big Knight Rider fan." I put it in with a single "t" because I didn't know any better. "Oh," I continued, "Sorry I've never heard of that before."

He bounced his head up and down a few times, trying to shrug off some cute and vulnerable embarrassment, making him more human and relaxed in my eyes as he started, "Yeah well, that's not surprising. Judging by... well... what I see, it's probably at least a couple decades before your time. Maybe even the reboot." He stopped flipping the keys and popped his hands to the air and side, slapping his legs in the process and saying, "You know, that's okay. This maybe is actually inappropriate and maybe I shouldn't..." I cut him off before he could continue, "No. No. This, right here. It's great. Sorry, I was maybe too harsh. I want this. Let's do tomorrow."

He stopped in his tracks lifted his hands from his side and redoubled his confidence, "Okay then. I'll pick you up tomorrow. Can we do, here? About this time." I looked at my smart watch and back up to him and said, "Top of the hour, but yeah. That gives me time to finish and clean myself up." He looked me up and down once more as he started to walk back to the locker room, "Honestly, if you wear that tomorrow, I wouldn't be mad." I smiled and playfully replied, "Oh yeah?" He shot back as he faded into the zig-zag walls that funneled into the Men's locker room, "Yeah. I think it'll be fun. See ya tomorrow, Cody." "You too, Kitt."

I caught the upstairs office lights on through the window. And standing there in the orange light, was my boss, David, tapping his watch at me. I took the signal to hurry up and started doing some Flight-Of-The-Bumblebee across the patios and tiles. I caught myself smiling several times, thinking of Kitt and his ruggedness, confidence, and that splash of vulnerability. I started to get carried away, thinking about how easily he could pick me up and do whatever he wanted. By the time I was finished with the outside, I recognized I had gotten a bit of a chub. The sun had gone down but a couple of the lights started to power on as well. I heard David's hoarse voice shout across, "You're taking too long Cody. I have a life to live too. Get to the men's room. I'm almost finished in the women's. I'll meet ya in there and help ya finish."

I was done with just about everything except for the nightmare of a toilet. I got the plunger and started to slowly work at it. The brown water all but made me gag. That's when I heard the door open, and close, with the patter of swim-shoes on the tile echoing in the locker room. "Good god, Cody." I was squinting my eyes at David as he spoke, as if the narrowing of my eyelids would make the smell better, but really I feared it splashing back at me. I pulled off the plunger and put a hand on my hip and a forearm around my nose and mouth, wishing that now I was wearing a shirt. I spoke through my muzzled mouth to David, "There's always one, man. It gets old. Why are people like this?"

(---)

David walked over to me and stared down at the toilet in the stall. He pointedly commented, "Probably the same reason people work slower today than back in my day. They just don't care." I wanted to roll my eyes at him, but he wasn't wrong. I had definitely been distracted today. He continued, "Well it won't fix itself. I'll check the rest of your work for the checklist and be right back."

Dave was the picture-esque definition of an average, American dad. Salt and pepper hair combed over to hide his receding hairline and light balding. He had a bit of a belly, but there was definitely a history of muscle under the last few years of poor diet, stress, and lack of free time to take care of himself. He was probably ashamed of it enough to rarely be shirtless at the pool, even on the rare times he was on duty. But not too ashamed because his shirts were still relatively form-fitting. He also rocked the standard goatee and 'stache, like every profile pic on Facebook that had unnecessarily strong opinions about which lives mattered. He was 6'0" and somewhere north of 240 pounds with callouses all over his hands and thick hair over his arms and legs, more pepper than salt.

I took one big breath in my forearm as he walked away and then leaned down with the handle and started plunging away. I knew I needed to put more force into it, but I was so worried about the backsplash. I didn't want someone's... ew... all over me. Fucking nasty. It hadn't been 2 minutes before Dave came back around the corner and was clearly annoyed as he said, "Come on, Cody. It's not that hard. Just put some oompf into it." I slowly picked up the force and pace then responded, "I'm trying Dave. But I don't want it to get everywhere." Dave came over to me and said, "That's what the hoses and the showers are for, so we don't need to give a damn. Some of us got families to get home to..."

He squeezed his dad-bod into the stall with me and put his hands over mine on the plunger handle, dramatically and (if plunging could be sarcastic) sarcastically shoving my hands with his on the wooden handle. As he was doing this, he was spouting about how he was already late to take his family to the movie, and his wife was going to have to handle everything herself, and he would be lucky if he made it within the 1st half of the film. I felt bad, and was trying to wiggle in an apology, but between his venting and control and force of the plunger, I couldn't get in an inch edgewise, verbally or physically. And that's when it happened.

The plunger sunk farther than it ever had, and in that force, the brown water splashed up all over the both of us. It speckled his white shirt, added spots to my freckles all over my chest and shoulders, and splattered on our cheeks. I turned and saw a few spots in his facial hair. If it was anything other than human waste, we probably would have cracked up laughing. But I was grossed out beyond belief, shrieks and chills flowing across my skin. And David was furious. He ripped the plunger up and flushed it. The mess all but disappeared and he went and got a hose, spraying everything that wasn't flushed to a nearby floor drain. I got the cleaning supplies put off into the corner but there was nothing else I could do. I felt bad for causing him to miss time with his family. It took me a few seconds but eventually I was able so squeak out a few words, "I can take that over David, you need to get out of here."

He ignored me for a few seconds, or he was so mad that he literally could not hear me in his attempts to stay calm. But his blood pressure was definitely high, his semi-wrinkled skin did him no favors to hide that. It was always hard to tell if he was 40 or 60. I usually landed in the middle with 50, but never had the courage to ask. Either way, I felt so young and immature when he was mad, like a fish out of water. I never handled my father's anger well. So I didn't know what to do with David either. I just kind of shut down. But eventually he spoke up, "Leave it alone, Cody. Just get in the fucking shower and toss your uniform in a mesh laundry bag. I'll be done in a minute.

I did as he said. Later, as the suds began to puff up around my small and wet body that shimmered in the white lights of the tiled room, I heard a few splashing patters and steps. 2 nozzles down the wall, was David, without a care in the world, completely nude. His wet uniform sat in a soggy pile against the wall on the floor as he let his body wash over his slightly swollen stomach. The hairs on his chest and arm became darker, as their wet follicles clung to his peach-white and slightly wrinkled skin. I couldn't tell if the shower was relieving his stress or not. And I had never even seen David wet before. He stayed in the office and only came down to take notes of any rescues, injuries, and the like for possible insurance issues or possible ambulances. Other than that or training someone, he never left the office or register. I think he was ashamed of his body, but in the right light and when it was all wet, he looked like every other dad out there in the pool today.

I was trying to think of something to say to him, and finally let out, "Sorry, David. I'll make it up to you." "Kid..." his eyes opened as he dead-panned over to me, "just shut the fuck up."

(------)

"I saw you out there tonight." He spoke as if all care and energy left his soul. "I saw you out there, flaunting your perfect little faggot-ass for that guy. I saw him get your number. You're gonna leave here, and have the time of your life wrecking somebody else's home. I'll be damned if you wreck mine too." I was still trying to contemplate what he had just said before I understood his actions that followed. I felt his clubby and chubby hands on my shoulder blades quickly shove me forward. Instinctively, I popped my hands up in front of me to absorb the impact, splattering a small amount of water off the tiled wall.

I turn and with a hand wiped the excess shower water away from my eyes which displayed confusion with a slight twist of anger as I reacted, "What the hell is your problem, David?" "What's the matter, little faggot? I thought you liked this kind of attention. You have no problem oogling every guy at the pool. Don't think, for a second, I don't notice. This is what you want, isn't it? The whole world is yours to fuck up. Right?"

David was ranting and raging. Part of me was screaming to just push him and run. While David was above average height and definitely above average weight, that beer gut was probably sitting on plenty of muscle mass as well. His whole body was like that, a little bit of soft fat from his suburban, dad-life just barely obscuring the muscle he had built in his years before fatherhood and marriage. I was at least half-a-foot smaller than him, and my slim and slender frame probably gave me a bit of an advantage to push past him. I'd been in a situation like this before. Never again.

David was starting to rant again as his feet patted on the floor towards me. As he raised his arms out towards me and the wall, regardless of whatever his intent was, I quickly ducked down and darted underneath him, shoving him at the hips for some extra chaos and separation. "Fuck off, you old fuck!" I shouted and darted at the same time, quickly rounding the corner out of the showers and into the locker room. I just needed to grab my clothes and run. Once I made it outside, even if someone saw me, I would be safe. If only I wasn't so, so incredibly stupid. I should have known better. I was a swimmer throughout all of middle and high school. I still swam on occasion here at CalTech. I was fucking lifeguard at this very same pool in a summer job. Yet, in the heat of everything going on, I ran too fast barefooted and took too sharp an angle on these wet, shower floors. My feet flew sideways underneath me.

Between the force of my running, pushing off of David, and slipping faster than a magician removing a tablecloth without knocking over any dinnerware, I slammed and slipped into a variety of injuries. I landed squarely on my side, causing my hip to crash and bruise with the floor. The side of one of my knees also collided with the floor. Both made crisp, cracking noises under the force of their respective collisions. Luckily i braced with my shoulders and neck enough to avoid slamming my temple into the hard surface. But I slid with such force into a wall that jutted out as an open door frame for the showers, that I still bumped my head and jammed my middle finger of my left hand. I let out a few grunts as I started to stand, but as I was still bent over, I felt David's mitts grabbing my hair and my right arm.

He quickly peeled my arm and hand behind the small of my back, grabbed my thumb and started to pull it towards the middle of my back and bend it how it wasn't meant to bend. The pain was immediately unbearable and I squatted and curled back down to the floor, letting out loud yipes and bursts of anger and pleading. Eventually David let his grip loosen but still held his posture over me as I was kneeled and squatted on the wet ground. A couple of times I felt his hairy ball-sack bump and tap against my upper back and shoulders. He definitely had some low-hangers, likely due to his age. I thought about turning and biting them, anything to give me another chance to limp out of here. I definitely bruised my knee and hip at a minimum, if not a also a minor fracture.

As I continued to weigh options, I heard his angry, raised voice bark at me, "Sucks doesn't it? See when you have to work real jobs, like I did as an MP in the Army, you learn things. I learned how to make anyone squirm and squeal and listen to whatever the hell I say, by subduing them. Cuffs, spray, tasers, were all too overused and weren't respected. You hold a man's arm or thumb in a vulnerable place though? That man will do anything to make the pain stop. Ain't that right, Cody?"

I caught myself breathing heavy like David probably does when he walks up the stairs. Closing my eyes, I tried to think clearly on what to do or say. Compliance at the moment seemed like the best answer. I couldn't do anything until I wasn't held down like this, unless I just wanted to let him break my thumb so I could run. I wasn't that desperate, yet. I heard him repeat his question a couple of times, raising his voice and tightening his grip again. I yielded, "Okay, Okay! You're right. I'll do anything."

"There you go," David continued in relief, "see? Now... get up." I winced in pain as I did, and he continued to hold my thumb behind my back, but I obeyed. He walked me out of the showers and into the locker room, over to one of the benches. He sat down on the bench and let my arm drop to the side, pointing to his lap, and now grabbing me instead by my wrist to pull me to his lap. "I can let you go, Cody. You can go get that rich cock just like you planned. But I feel, like you don't appreciate this moment. And I think your generation doesn't understand the consequences of their actions. So I'm gonna do what your parents should have done a long time ago. You need to be punished, and then you can go. Bend over."

With my thumb free and his grip now loosely on my wrist, I furrowed my brow at him. "Fuck off," I commanded as I went to yank my arm away, turn and run. As soon as I turned and yanked, I was halted in my tracks. David's grip had become a death squeeze, and he barely moved, to stop me from running. Quickly I turned back to him to pull away with my other hand to help pry his sausage fingers off of me, and instead I was met with the fastest and most disrespectful backhand I have ever seen, and certainly felt. He struck across my cheek. His wedding ring added the smallest extra sting as well. My head cocked to the other direction and I reactively brought my free hand to caress my cheek and let out a painful shriek, "Aaaah shit!"

I turned my head back to him, realizing he was still holding my wrist. Fight-or-flight, and I was tired of running. His legs were spread and his balls hung low. My face scrunched. I didn't care that he was more than twice my age and probably twice as strong. I went for it, regardless of the pain in my bum knee. I swiped my leg up to kick him straight to the balls, ready to dash after he would inevitably let me go from the pain I finally was able to inflict on him. He read me like a fucking book.

He let go of my wrist to angle his body to the side, dodging my kick, and on the come-down from my kick, he caught my leg at the ankle, able to circle my entire ankle from thumb-to-middle finger. Balancing on my good leg, I tried to yoink it down, and before I could finish the first pull, he reached back with his now free-hand and swung a slap forward against my other cheek. The sting was just as bad, but the force was more powerful, causing me to fall as I spun. He never let go of my leg, but instead pulled it forcibly towards him and upwards, causing my fall to be guaranteed. I tripped once more and this time I could not save my head from the tile of the floor.

My vision immediately went black.

I woke up with a splitting headache, staring at the tiled floor, only now it was 2 or 3 feet below me. My confusion became more potent as I felt a blistering sting on my butt cheeks. I tried to push myself up with my hands, only to realize they were behind my back and tied or bound together. I turned my head and arched my back as best as I could. My confusion was resolved, only for me to be met with pain once more. A hand slapped my face back down into its position of staring at the floor I floated above. A hand gripped my hair and pulled and held me down. Then a SMACK filled the air and the sting on my ass became quite clear. I had no idea how long I had been bent over the lap of David with my hands tied behind my back. But the cheeks of my ass now stung far worse than the cheeks of my face. Another SMACK. Another. And another. Then a flurry of 3 more quick ones, followed by a final big one. I squirmed helpless bent over his thick thighs. No matter how hard I tried, I could not move anything worthwhile. So I screamed and howled.

That lasted maybe a second, before he pulled on my hair with such force that my head smacked against the bench upon which he sat. I had little left to do, but let out muffled whimpers and cries. Tears began to stream down my face. "Awww... did the big tough boy have enough? Are the consequences of your actions too much to bare?" David continued to mock and speak in a taunting baby-voice. He continued, "Maybe you should have thought about that, before you fucked with my night with my family." He held me there for quite some time. The air conditioner kicked on, and I felt the briefest of reprieves, as the cold air in the vent above cooled off the heat and sting around my buttocks. I let out a couple coughs as I tried to catch my breath and control my crying.

David went further, but relinquished his mocking voice, and spoke instead more matter-of-factly, "You cry more than any of mine have when I disciplined them. I can tell you were brought up like a soft bitch. I'm so happy mine won't turn out that way. Your parents should be ashamed almost as much as you should be. And... I gotta admit," David continued, "This is the first time I have ever enjoyed this, in anyway. What's the thing you all say in comment sections of tik-tok? This better not have awakened anything inside me."

He let out a few self-amused chuckles before he went on, "But... I think it has Cody. I think you have pissed me off just the perfect amount for me to realize something I didn't even know I was hiding about myself. So we're just gonna have to work through it together." And with that, he slapped my ass again with his full hand across both cheeks. I couldn't tell if the moisture making things worse was the shower water or sweat of his chubby hand and fingers. Whatever it was, it added volume to the slapping echoes and area to the pain. I did everything in my power to keep my mouth closed, but the whimpers and cries still came muffled. Underneath my belly and between his thighs, I felt his fat chub of a cock poke through, getting harder with each swat.

His hand never faltered. Slap after slap, he continued to whip my ass until eventually I screamed a high shriek through my muffled lips and felt my face turn bright red. The spanking, no... the torture, stopped. The humiliation of it all began to seep in, as he pulled me off of him, directing my movement with the pull of my short and curly hair. I now stood before him, looking down at my feet, until he grabbed my chin with his hand inverted, and tipped it up to look at his red face, sopping with a mixture of sweat and water. He had been really laying into me, enough to get his blood pressure up, which was noticeable by his pigment and his still-erect dick protruding through his thick bush above his dangling and hairy balls.

I've willingly fucked men like him before, well... mostly they fucked me. Something about an older dad-bod turned me on. But not this dad. Not this asshole. Everything about him disgusted or frightened me. I wanted nothing to do with him. I was simply hoping my punishment was over so I could leave, quit, and never come back. David stared deep into my tear-filled eyes, and looked me up and down. At first I thought he was equally disgusted by me. But slowly, I watched as eyes turned from disgust... to curiosity... and then... to lust.

He reached out a hand and grabbed my neck, wrapping his hand at least half-way around it. He squeezed only enough to get his point across and pulled me forward, wet feet pattering and dragging on the floor, almost jamming a toe to keep myself upright. David spoke calmly but threateningly, "I hope you understand the gravity of the situation, Cody. I told ya... you've awoken something inside me. And now you're gonna help me work it out. Lucky for you, I don't trust that filthy mouth of yours. So that will spare you from some of what I am gonna do to you. But for now, let's keep it real simple." He took me into the showers and placed me against the wall.

"Please," I whimpered. "Please don't hurt me. You're right. I'm selfish. I hurt people. I hurt families. I'm a home-wrecker. I won't do it again I pro-" and before I could finish my plea I felt the thick-as-fuck mushroom-head of his cock plant against my hole and then shove it's way deep inside of me. My rant of a plea morphed into a scream as he dove deeper, nearly splitting me in half with his thick cock. I felt his fist slam into the top of my head before reaching in a hand to slap around my mouth and muffle my cries and screams. With the rest of his body, his cock, and his other hand, he pushed all of me against the wall, once again almost jamming my toes down below. He kept his cock buried deep. The friction of his dry dick against my dry hole felt like he ripped me wide open.

He kept me there pushing his entire weight against me. The angle wasn't favorable for him to fuck me, but he had already accounted for that. He reached an arm around my chest and under my armpits, and began to completely lift me off the ground, using the wall to assist with the leverage where he could. I was so helpless in the air as he held me in place. He slowly, and painstakingly pulled his dick almost all the way out, before pushing it all the way in. He did it again. Each time hurt just a little less, but the pain was always there, and my cries into his sweaty palm let him know it. Judging by his grunts, struggles, and even his devilish chuckles, it was clear to me that he was enjoying not only the warmth of my tight hole, but also the pain with which he inflicted. But no matter how much he tried to take in the little things about forcing me, eventually... like all men... he began to give into his desires and pick up the pace of his thrusts.

The power of his hips collided with my bubble butt and kept my body flat against the wall as he continued to fuck upwards into me. All I could see with my head on its side against the wall, was the tiled wall for a few inches before it was lost in the steam. His pace picked up further, his grunts louder, and his force somehow even stronger. I may have well have been a blowup toy, with the method and disregard in which he plowed me. I doubt he fucked his wife the same way. By some small grace, I think the skin of my sphincter and soft tissue inside of me was all saved because of him actively pre-cumming while he fucked me. But no matter the little graces I found, he was still stretching me raw and filling me whole.

My cries and screams softened, and turned to whimpers and moans of pleasure. I don't know if he noticed or became to focused on ripping me in half, but he pulled his hand away from my mouth and placed it around my chest and under my armpits just like the other. He leaned his head into the small of my neck, and utterly ripped and pounded up into me over and over and over. The thrusts became quick and jutted. His body began to quiver and shake. His mouth exhaled and grunted relentlessly that I thought he would pass out from the lack of oxygen.

My head began to lightly bounce off the wall until I pressed it firmly against it to prevent any further brain damage this night. With each thrust, I gasped and moaned as he continued to hammer me into the wall. Then he stopped. And instead he shook and shivered as he held me against the wall. I felt his cock expand even more, if possible, and the warmth of his cock depleted as he spilled his seed deep inside of me. If I was a woman, I no doubt would have become pregnant from the power of his shot and the depths at which it reached. He clearly hadn't had sex in weeks, maybe months, and all that frustration and energy poured into me like river. It was so much, that for a moment I panicked that he was pissing inside of me. But eventually his shudders and shivers, the pulsing of his cock, and his breathing all calmed down.

He pulled out of me and pushed one arm against the center of my back, holding me there against the wall. This was beneficial to me, as I had definitely began pre-cumming myself. So the longer he stayed like this, the more my erection went away. Eventually he gathered himself, untied me, and let me go. I turned to face him, wrapping an arm around my chest and the other to cover my cock and balls with a hand. David looked me up and down with a mixture of exhaustion and content. "You don't have a car, do you?" David snuck the sentence in between breaths. I shook my head no and said, "Bus?"

He pulled his watch up to his face and put it back down, looking at me once more, this time with... was it pity? Regret? Shame? He spoke again, "the next bus comes in 30 minutes. You can take a spare pair of shorts and shirt from my office. Use the first aid kit in there. I'll lock up once you get on the bus. Come. The bus stop is a 10 minute walk away. We need to hurry and clean you up. I reluctantly followed, filled with a hatred for the man and just trying not to ruffle his feathers any further. He got what he wanted anyways, I could just leave. But in a night of being punished for all my risks, I had no will to risk anything further, and instead did as he asked.

He grabbed a couple of towels, giving one to me, and we walked, naked and wet, up to his office. He ran the key through the lock and opened it for me, ushering me in first. He followed in after me, leaving the door open, allowing the cooler air from the ocean across the city to whisk its way in, calming and relaxing me further. David opened a closet and pulled out a pair of red shorts and a white lifeguard shirt, and gave them to me. "Keep 'em, if you want. If you bring them back, wash them," he instructed. He began opening and closing drawers in his desk, rummaging around 'til I heard a few rattles. A couple of pill bottles were in his hand, and he placed one in front of me on his desk before pocketing the other.

He started walking across the room to a minifridge as he pointed at the bottle and said, "Percocet. For the um... you know. To help." He looked over his shoulder at me in a pitiful way. It was definitely remorse he was feeling and struggling to hide. He continued, "Just take two. Someone your size could probably do with one. They're good and fresh. I get them as a prescription from the VA. The VA isn't good for much but a steady supply of pain pills. If you are allergic to that, I also have some Vicodin, but that stuff is kind of addictive and I have a higher dosage."

He continued rambling a surprisingly specific amount about the differences in various pain medication. Slowly, my pity for him before he force-fucked me began to set in. It didn't matter. Tonight was my last day with the pool. I was quitting tomorrow. Maybe I'd report him, maybe I wouldn't. I hadn't decided yet. I dreamt of my bed. I dreamt of the man I met earlier, of Kitt. He was a man who would treat me properly. It would be nice to be held after a night like tonight. To be protected and not assaulted. He finally pulled out a bottle of water, cracked it open, and placed it in front of me. Then he got out the first aid kit and placed it next to the pills, the water, and the fresh clothes. He walked out of the room and shut the door partially, leaving a small crack as he pulled open his phone. I heard him mutter something while he was dialing, "God dammit, you idiot. You fucked up so bad. How are you gonna look yourself in the mirror, you dumb, old, fuck."

I took some solace in the misery he was manifesting and enduring. I looked at the bottle of Percocet, confirmed the date and the dosage. I was worried about we he said about the addictiveness of pain pills. So instead of two, I took one and downed the water with it. It dissolved fast in my mouth, almost making the water ashy. I guess that's why they're fast-acting. I downed the rest of the water to help rinse out the taste, thought it didn't seem to help. I got up and started drying myself off.

"Hey honey."

The old fool was calling his wife. Trying to find some way to ease his conscience. I continued to dry off and then picked up the first aid kit, walking over to the sink and mirror he had in his office. I applied some antibacterial ointment and band-aids to the couple of cuts that occurred when he slapped and hit me. They barely bled, but better safe than sorry. I looked at my jammed finger and placed gauze all around it, before wrapping it to another finger with paper tape. That would do, until I got to an urgent care. Maybe tonight, I would just go to an ER.

"I know, I'm sorry. Tell them I love them. Take them to another movie if you like. Use the credit card."

I could make it a one-stop-shop. I pondered all the options and possibilities amongst the backdrop of his desperate attempt to make up some lies to his wife about where he is and why he wasn't home. Surprisingly, he didn't blame any of it on me.

"The water main leak here is pretty bad. I'm gonna need to shop-vac, clean, and close off the lockers most likely. I'll probably lose a lot of customers tomorrow."

I could get a kit done, or a medical exam. Report him. I regret not doing either of those things to the last guy.

"If I shut it all down, I'll lose even more revenue. Money is too tight, sweetheart."

Get x-rays. Maybe an MRI. My parents have good insurance so I can get it all done.

"I know you would. I love you for that. But you stay with the kids. Don't worry about me. Joe is gonna come down first thing in the morning to help. I'll probably just stay here a couple of nights. I got the nice couch here with the hide-a-bed."

Maybe some pills, too. Hell, that Percocet was hitting pretty fast. I should get another water, I don't want to be walking this woozy all the way to the bus stop, and I definitely wasn't gonna let David drive me. I stumbled over to the minifridge and looked for another water. I grabbed the first one I saw and dragged it out against the grate shelving. I heard a soft clatter on the floor, as if I knocked something else out of the fridge. I looked down to see another orange pill bottle. I bent down, almost falling over as I did, and picked it up to examine it. David was hooked on way too many pills.

"You win, baby. I promise, tomorrow, when Joe comes over, I will take a break and come home. I will come and get a proper shower, change of clothes, eat your lovely lasagna, and spend an hour or two with all of you before I come back. Absolutely."

The name on the bottle was for David. This was the Vicodin he mentioned. The date was the same as the other prescription. Man... talk about being regimented. Something wasn't right though. There was no rattle. I made my way to the couch and sat down. Pulling the fresh clothes over to me to change as I examined the bottle. There were no pills in it. Only some powdered residue, like if he crushed all the pills and put them back in the bottle. Does he snort it all? Maybe he is an addict. Why else would he do that?

"I promise I will lock the doors tonight and be safe, baby. I'll get it all fixed. I have all the help that I need."

Motherfucker... The room began to spin as the daunting revelation of the situation became known. I fell back onto the couch, powerless to move. My vision began to fade once more, this time not from a concussion. I caught a glimpse of David hanging up the phone, coming into the room, and shutting the door just as I shut my eyes.

To be continued...