The same, only different

Jamie didn't have to wait very long. It was less than a minute before the door opened, and she heard the voice of the lifeguard saying, "The cop had to take a call. He'll be back as soon as he can. He asked me to take over for him while hes' gone."

Jamie didn't look around. She could hear the lifeguard's footsteps as he came up behind her. Then she felt his hands as he started working at the bonds on her wrists, and, as had the cop, fondling her butt.

This time, however, when Jamie felt the lifeguard's strong fingers touch the firm flesh of her tight butt, Jamie felt a thrill.

In many ways, this was the same thing as the cop had done: a man who was supposed to help her was groping her while she was trapped in a **** situation. But, now, she was enjoying it.

The cop was overweight, gray-haired, and 45 or 50, which, in Jamie's book, wasn't just old, but ancient. The lifeguard was in his early 20s, much closer to her age, and very buff, with a flat stomach and broad shoulders and short brown hair. She minded him touching her a lot less.

And her body was now primed, as it were, as a result of the attention the cop had paid to it, causing her to respond physically to the lifeguard's touch despite herself.

Jamie moaned and shook in pleasure as the lifeguard split his time between trying to untie her and fondling her breasts and butt. She didn't want to be feeling these reactions, but knew she had ****.

Jamie had no idea how long the lifeguard spent trying to untie her, but, at the end, she was a quivering mass of need. She moaned again. She could feel her pulse beating rapidly, could hear her rapid breathing. She was still shaking, and could feel juices flowing down over her legs.

The lifeguard seemed to be aware of her state, too. "This is going to take a while," he said, "and I'm sure you're getting tired. Want to take a break? We can use the desk."