She stood at the edge with the sun in her face, as if she's in the limelight. For a moment, I thought God has answered my prayers. All eyes were on her, including mine.
As she got in, it wasn't hard to notice that the fabric has hugged her tighter than before. It pushed her bosoms up, highlighting her proud curves.
I didn't ignore her butt either (I'm a butt man, just so you know). The sexual tension heightened as I watched the water swerve down her lower back, bend over her butt and drift down her thighs.
Despite this smoky entry, I told myself to remain nonchalant, even though it felt like pushing a knife through my veins.
I continued wading when out of a sudden, she glided alongside me. We exchanged glances for a second. Then she overtook me, as if trying to show off her liquid dance. Indeed, it was enticing to watch the water softly caress her body. I can only wish it was me who's drawing circles on her inner thighs.
In the next hour, she would occasionally skim from behind and rub her thighs against mine. Or she would playfully brush her fingers against my arm. I tried to appear indifferent but I was already all juiced up.
Then, much to my disappointment, she got out and, again, stood at the edge, as if it's the end of a gig.
She threw me a cheeky grin and headed for the showers.
Swimming will never be the same again.