His Private Swim Sessions - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading His Private Swim Sessions, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of His Private Swim Sessions.
The taunts from my classmates only fueled the illicit excitement coursing through me.
When I saw Vincent Roland pluck my panties from the water and press them to his face, inhaling deeply with shameless hunger…
Was he really—?
After Vincent climbed out of the pool, I finally slid my panties back on.
He then ordered us to sit on the deck and follow his lead for warm-ups.
Mirroring his movements, we pressed our soles together and spread our knees apart, fluttering them like butterfly wings.
"This works the inner thighs," he explained, pausing for effect. "It'll make you stronger in the water, but…"
A slow, wicked grin curled his lips. "Get good at this, and your boyfriends won't know what hit them."
The implication hung thick in the air—no one missed his meaning.
After demonstrating a few more times, Vincent had us practice while he circled the group, adjusting our form.
Just as promised, after several sets, a deep burn spread through my thighs.
The constant rub of fabric against my oversensitive skin only made it worse.
Truth was, at this age, my body was starved for touch.
At school, my icy attitude kept guys at arm's length. I didn't have male friends, much less a boyfriend.
So I'd taken matters into my own hands—literally—night after night.
But the more I gave in, the hollower I felt afterward. The fleeting pleasure only made the loneliness sharper.
Lately, the craving for a real man had become unbearable.
And now, during ovulation, every nerve was on fire—the slightest friction sent shocks of need pulsing through me.
Sitting on the deck, instinct took over. My thighs fell open and shut with growing desperation.
In my mind, Vincent shoved me down right there, claiming me in front of them all…
When I saw Vincent Roland pluck my panties from the water and press them to his face, inhaling deeply with shameless hunger…
Was he really—?
After Vincent climbed out of the pool, I finally slid my panties back on.
He then ordered us to sit on the deck and follow his lead for warm-ups.
Mirroring his movements, we pressed our soles together and spread our knees apart, fluttering them like butterfly wings.
"This works the inner thighs," he explained, pausing for effect. "It'll make you stronger in the water, but…"
A slow, wicked grin curled his lips. "Get good at this, and your boyfriends won't know what hit them."
The implication hung thick in the air—no one missed his meaning.
After demonstrating a few more times, Vincent had us practice while he circled the group, adjusting our form.
Just as promised, after several sets, a deep burn spread through my thighs.
The constant rub of fabric against my oversensitive skin only made it worse.
Truth was, at this age, my body was starved for touch.
At school, my icy attitude kept guys at arm's length. I didn't have male friends, much less a boyfriend.
So I'd taken matters into my own hands—literally—night after night.
But the more I gave in, the hollower I felt afterward. The fleeting pleasure only made the loneliness sharper.
Lately, the craving for a real man had become unbearable.
And now, during ovulation, every nerve was on fire—the slightest friction sent shocks of need pulsing through me.
Sitting on the deck, instinct took over. My thighs fell open and shut with growing desperation.
In my mind, Vincent shoved me down right there, claiming me in front of them all…
End of His Private Swim Sessions Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to His Private Swim Sessions book page.