"Fuck! Is he ever going to make a move, or is he just going to sit there grinning like a Cheshire cat?"

I was pretty sure this sexy stranger didn't intend to leave the evening's exercise at just a few gentle laps of the pool, but then again, who knows? He could be a happily married man on a business trip indulging in a little fantasy of possibilities but with no intention to follow through. He certainly wasn't making his intentions clear.

Well, damn it, I was going to find out one way or the other. There was no point in letting this go to waste, and my girlfriends would never forgive me if the story ended here. Actually my pussy would never forgive me either because in the state it was in it wasn't going to let me get any sleep until it had been seriously satisfied.

There was no way I could read his face from where I was, so I started slowly side-stroking down the pool, watching his face the whole way. He was certainly showing no intention of resuming the beautiful rhythm he had attained earlier, and watched me the whole way too.

I stopped right in front of him where I could get a closer look. Unashamedly I let my eyes go for a bit of a wander, after all, he'd made no secret of mentally undressing me, (though I realise that didn't require a whole lot of effort given what I was wearing).

I knew I'd like what I saw. Beautifully rounded shoulders with football player biceps. They didn’t scream, “I pump too much iron and am a vain cock-head” though, just that he was a damn healthy specimen of a man, who probably played sport with his mates on the weekend. His body reminded me of a Karate Sensei I once dated. (Now he was indeed sensational… and the ways he could bend his body… but I digress). His hair was all spiky and dishevelled from the water and made his cute freckles even cuter. I think he knew he had a charming face, because he was just giving me an innocent, boyish look which just made you want to turn it into a hungry, nasty, passionate, thrusting one. His best features though, were his intense blue eyes. They were watery and shimmery as the pool, yet deep and thoughtful and framed by gorgeous dark wet lashes. Many women have sailed to their peril enchanted by those eyes, I thought.

I pretended to be distracted by something at the edge of the roof, and let my eyes slip back to his pecs. Was that his heartbeat I could see, or was I imagining it? I played hopscotch with my eyes jumping down his six-pack, and oh yes, I hadn’t been wrong earlier; I was pretty sure it wasn’t that big when the water was cold. Well that at least was a good sign.

He still hadn’t said anything, but I think he was amused at how unabashed I was in checking him out. Lines like “So, do you come here often?” raced through my head, but I didn’t like the sound of any of them, and he looked too classy for that kind of crap, so I just looked back up and arched a saucy eyebrow at him.