He likes what he sees.

July 21, 2021

Dear Diary,

Nick texted me last night—“Meet me at the pool for an early morning swim before lectures. See you at 7 am.” Ugh, God, he’s a morning person. I groaned so loud when I saw it—7 am? Who even functions that early? But that white ASICS swimsuit was still on my floor, staring at me, and the thought of him seeing it… yeah, I couldn’t say no. Set my alarm, cursed him under my breath, and crashed out dreaming of that nerdy grin of his.

Woke up late—6:45, total panic. Yanked the swimsuit on, that thin spandex hugging me tight, and threw a blouse and skirt over it. Didn’t have time to button the blouse all the way—left it half-open, flashing a little, but whatever, I was rushing. Got to the pool, and there he was, waiting by the entrance. Kinda nerdy, kinda shy—glasses fogging up in the humid air, all lanky and awkward. But that Arena swimsuit he had on? Minuscule, barely a scrap, his bulge straining against it. He lit up when he saw me, and I dragged him into a changing cubicle—privacy be damned.

Inside, I peeled off my clothes, slow, letting him watch the white swimsuit come into view. His eyes went wide, dick twitching in that tiny suit, and I couldn’t resist—pressed my butt right against him, grinding slow. Felt him harden, throbbing, his breath hitching. Kept going, teasing, until he was this close—then he pulled away, gasping, “Let’s head for the shower and swim those laps.” What? I was burning, dripping, and he just… stopped? Frustration hit me hard—why won’t he finish this?—but God, I wanted more of him, more of that edge we were riding.

Under the shower, it all went sideways. The water hit, and—oh no, Diary—the swimsuit turned translucent. Like, see-through. My labia, my pubic hair, my breasts—everything on display, the white spandex clinging like wet tissue. Nick burst out laughing, this smug little chuckle, and I realized he knew this would happen the second he saw it. “Nice choice,” he teased, grinning like an ass while I blushed, hands scrambling to cover up. But people were staring—guys by the lockers, a woman with a towel, everyone—and I… liked it? My face was on fire, but my body buzzed, every step to the pool a show I couldn’t stop giving.

Swam laps with him behind me, his eyes glued to my cameltoe—fully exposed, spandex outlining every fold. Every stroke rubbed me raw, the fabric grinding my cunt, driving me wild. I arched my back a little, let him see more, loved how he couldn’t look away. Felt like I was performing, and he was eating it up. After, back in the cubicle, he didn’t waste time—yanked the swimsuit crotch aside and mounted me, sliding in deep. Fucked me hard, relentless, my back against the wall, legs shaking. I came—screaming, blissful, spaced out—over and over, lost in it. His pounding didn’t stop, just kept going, driving me higher, but he… didn’t cum? Stayed rock hard, on edge, no matter how much I clenched around him.

When it was over, I was a wreck—panting, dripping, barely able to stand. He pulled out, still hard, smirking like he’d won something. I don’t even know what happened—he didn’t finish, but I was too gone to care. Just remember his thrusts, my screams echoing off the tiles, that white swimsuit twisted around me. Walked out dazed, wet, the toys from yesterday still in my bag, unused. He’s a freak, Diary, and I’m hooked. Lectures? Missed ‘em. Night.