T-touch me. Please.

A triumphant, greedy glint appears in her eyes. “Like this?” She sighs, as if giving in to a stubborn child. Her hand detaches from your wrist and slides slowly, unbearably slowly, between your bodies. Her fingers graze your stomach and you flinch. “Here?”

You can only shake your head, your eyes pleading with her. She knows. She knows everything.

Her hand sinks lower, circling your hip, and then, finally, her hand closes around you. It's not a tender, insecure grip. It's firm, demanding, possessive. A stifled gasp escapes your lips and your head falls against the edge of the pool.

“Ah, there it is,” she murmurs, as if she's found a lost toy. Her thumb runs over your most sensitive spot and you groan. “Small, but... eager.” She begins a slow, controlled rhythm, her lips lingering on your ear. "This is what you wanted all along, huh? For me to see this. For me to touch this. That I know how much you want me."

Her other arm wraps around your shoulders, holding you tight as she works you over. She watches every twitch of your face, every quiver of your legs under the water. Her own breasts rub against your chest, her pointed, hard nipples press against you.

“Someone might...” you stammer, a last, feeble attempt to call reality back.

“Look at me,” she commands, and you obey. Her eyes are dark, almost black with lust. "No one is coming. And if they do..." She increases the pressure and pace slightly, and you bite your lip to keep from getting too loud. "...then you'll look like a guy being eaten by the captain in the corner. Isn't that hot too?"

It's disgusting. It's humiliating. And it's the most exciting thing that's ever happened to you. You can feel the heat building up in your abdomen, unstoppable, an unstoppable train.

“Chris, I... I can't...”

“I know,” she hisses, and now there's an impatient, gasping note in her voice too. Her body presses even tighter against you, her thigh pushing between your legs. "Then let it out. Show me. Let me feel what I've done to you."

Permission is the last bar to break. With a stifled, **** moan, you come in her hand, shaking and shuddering against her, your claws digging into her bare shoulders. She holds you tight through it all, her grip becoming hard, almost painful, as she squeezes every shudder out of you until you sink limp and breathless against her, completely exposed in every way.

For a long moment, all you can hear is the clapping of the water and your heavy breathing together. Then she slowly detaches herself from you. With an almost indifferent movement, she pulls the straps of her swimsuit back up, hiding her breasts. Her eyes fix on your exhausted, ashamed face.

A slow, contented, feline smile spreads across her lips. She lifts your lost, tattered swimming trunks out of the water, which she has been holding in her other hand the whole time.

“So,” she says, her voice almost back to normal now, just a little hoarse. "I think you need a new pair of swimming trunks. And I..." She leans forward again "I'll be expecting you in the shower today after the softball game. Just as you are now."