I should be ashamed to tell you this story. But for some reason, I have to do it.

My name is Billy. I had just broken up with my girlfriend, Wendy, and I was feeling pretty blue about it. It was the summer after my junior year in high school I had just turned 18, and my parents were taking me on a trip to see colleges in the southeast. We were staying at a very nice resort hotel near Atlanta, my parents had gone off to play a few rounds of golf. I was alone with my moody thoughts by the hotel pool.

I had been a swimmer in high school– not a great one, but good enough that my coach had told me to shave off all my body hair so I would have as little resistance as possible in the water. I had worked up a good tan, which set off nicely against my little white Speedo bathing suit. I had covered my body with oil and now, glistening, I had hoped this afternoon to find a cute girl by the pool. The only girls there seemed to ignore me, so I tried to lose myself in a novel. That’s when I heard a deep male voice ask me a question.

“Is this chair taken?”

I looked up to see a big man with a broad face. He looked to be about 45 years old and in extremely good shape. I told him the chair was available, and he sat down right next to me. I had to admit it, he was extremely handsome. As he took off his robe, I saw his powerful muscular body and nice ass. But when he turned around I could see a very large bulge in the front of hls suit and was so much bigger than me, I felt like a girl beside him— perhaps, in retrospect, too much like a girl.

We struck up a conversation. His name was Jim, he said, and he was here on business.

As usual at that time in my life, I wasted no time telling him all about my breakup with Wendy. He seemed quite sympathetic and interested, leaning forward and offering me advice. As he made his points about how I should handle my pain, he kept touching my knee. I thought about moving my leg away from him or telling him to stop, but for some reason, I didn’t.

The more we talked the more his hand simply rested on my knee. I felt a little uncomfortable at first, but soon I got used to it. He stared into my eyes as he spoke to me. He seemed very wise, with his deep voice, and I noticed his fingers were squeezing my thigh as he spoke.

I also noticed, to my horror, that my cock was beginning to harden in my suit. His long thick fingers were now sliding up and down my oiled thigh. I was finding it harder to breathe. My cock was now stiffening, it had formed a tent, and I knew he could see it. But I didn’t try to stop him from touching me.