A male swimmer

Izzy’s eyes flashed to the newcomer’s face first. Lean but masculine, clean shaven with nicely cropped hair. She felt herself get wet.

Her eyes travelled downward. A bare chest, athletic, with a well-defined six pack. She felt her pussy start to throb and twitch.

Her eyes travelled further downward. A tight speedo, hugging a bulge so closely she could practically see the veins on the penis within. She lost it.

With a pathetic, mewling moan, Izzy came in her pants. Her knees knocked together, and a rush of girly fluids erupted from her helpless little pussy. With trembling hands, she clumsily tried to yank the front of her pants down to avoid wetting them, but it was too little too late. The spray of squirt from her spasming gash caught her panties and the front of her pants, soaking them both through.

“Oh fuck’s sake,” she heard the newcomer say. Still shaking, she glanced over to see him striding toward her, visibly pissed. She flushed, realizing just how pathetic she looked: scrawny little thing, wetted pants around her knees, bare pussy still clenching and dripping. Sure enough, he looked down at her unimpressed as he reached her.

“It’s off hours,” he said. “Pool’s only open to the swim team. What are you doing here?”

“I-I was just looking around!” Izzy stammered. “I didn’t think anyone would be here!”

“Yeah right. You know voyeurism’s against university rules, right? Same as indecent exposure,” he said, nodding down at her still-exposed pussy.

“Sorry! Sorry!” she yelped, scrambling to pull her pants back up.

He eyed Izzy, clearly deciding what to do with her.