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All of a sudden he darted away and swam to the other end of the pool. Gulp. Maybe I had scared him away by being so full on. But then I remembered how he had rocked gently in time with my hand, and that brief look of satisfaction on his face… he hadn’t hated it.

“Do you like games?” he asked, and I smiled, realising at last that he did want to play. Excellent. I adore this type of guy. Sexy, horny, smart and not prepared to roll over, beg and play dead every time someone flashes him a bit of breast. I was beginning to want him badly. Who knows what a body like that could do to a girl? Especially on a hot night in a strange city. I was primed for some very, long, hard, anonymous and fucking fun sex. Who knows what his fantasies could be? Or what proclivities could lie behind the twinkling of his eyes? But with that one line, I knew I was going to find out the very best way.

If that wasn’t enough to send reverberations through my wet pussy, he followed it up with, "Get those titties out," in a polite kind of a commanding way. He then rationalised, "after all, it is only fair that we get on a level playing field here". Sweet. He knows what he wants, and is prepared to ask for it without sounding like a prick. I was liking him more and more.

Of course that didn’t mean I was going to play by his rules.

“Oh.” I said innocently, as I started moving towards him. “I didn’t realise there was a dress code”. “But if there is”, I said between strokes as I drew nearer and nearer, “who’s going to enforce it?”

Now there was an open invitation, if ever I’ve heard one. We were at the shallow end of the pool and close enough to hear each other’s breathing. Was that the swimming, or anticipation that was quickening its pace? I stood on the balls of my feet, ready to spring away from him should he suddenly decide to take me up on my offer. ‘He can catch me if he can’.