During my first session of college summer school, I took a part-time student position as a pool desk clerk. My main duties would be to check IDs of students using the pool, answer phone calls, fill out a few obligatory forms, and be available for miscellaneous duties when called upon.
It was a miscellaneous duty which came first. Before the pool would be reopened for the summer term, I was told that I would be assisting the aquatics director in cleaning the locker rooms. They were not really in that bad a shape, but the shower area of the men's locker room really needed scrubbing.
Early in the morning of my first day of work, I walked to the natatorium and sported work clothes and tennis shoes. The night before, I had gone to bed early and, eager to sleep, I dispensed with the usual jack-off. The five-thirty alarm awoke me to an erection, but since I had to be at work at six, I did not have enough time for relief then, either. I opened the door to the lobby with the key I had been given, and through glass panels I realized that the pool director, who was also the swim team coach, was swimming laps in the heated pool.
Eager to get to work, I went ahead into the locker room and scanned the situation. The walls needed a little paint and the floor and lockers could stand to be shined, but the shower area was indeed a mess.
The swim team's last meet a few months before had been out of town. After they won their victory, they had never come back to shower here. Still strewn all over were disposable razors and cans of shaving cream, the remnants of the group shave, and the drain holes were covered with hair soggy with cum. Jock straps and Speedos hung from the shower nozzles, and soap cakes that had been "dropped" in the shower shone like pebbles everywhere. What a task! With paint chisel in hand, I began scraping the pubic hairs and pearly semen from the drain covers.
After I had scraped the twelve strainers underneath the twelve shower heads, two rows of six opposite each other, I heard the metal door from the pool area open into the locker room.
"Well, Ricky!" (He used my college nickname.) "I see you've already gotten started. That's great! Good morning!" Mr. Black's sinewy body glistened from above his black Speedo up to his tight abdomen, hairy chest, broad shoulders, dark eyes, and black hair surrounding a top-bald head. Water dripped from his snug swimsuit and down his muscular legs and onto the grimy tiles of the shower floor. He turned a faucet opposite me, and warm water sprayed into the enclosed area.
"Hey, I can tell the drains are working better already," he said as he quickly wiped shower water over his body with his hands. "And all this water is helping, too!"
"I have an idea," he said. "Let's turn on all twelve of the showers and really get this place scrubbed." Mr. Black proceeded to turn on the six shower heads against his side of the room. Since I was dressed, I stepped out of the way of the water with each new downpour.
As water filled the area, the drains could not handle it all, even though they had just been cleaned off. As the rising water moved around the soap on the floor, the bars started foaming into suds. Mr. Black took one of the white towels that had been lying around, dipped it into the soapsuds, and began to wipe the far wall with it.
"Shit," he said, as some of the suds ran onto his bathing suit. "I'd do just as well without these so I don't mess them up!" His thumbs adroitly pushed down into the waistband, and the trunks slid off his sturdy legs in an instant. He threw his suit out onto a neaby bench. Unabashed, he continued his scrubbing, his fleshy thick dick with its cut head slopping as freely as the wet towel.
Inspired by his enthusiasm, yet not wanting to appear too anxious, I, still clothed, turned on the six shower heads against my side of the room. Intentionally soaked, I said, "Looks like I'd better get out of these, too!" I went into the locker room area and stripped as fast as my trembling hands would let me. I hurried back into the shower room, not fully conscious of my semi-erection.
Following Mr. Black's example, I took the towel I brought in from the locker room, sopped up some of the standing soapy water with it, and went to work on the wall behind the shower heads on my side. Like exercising in a warm rainfall, the cleaning duties were both relaxing and invigorating. It was delightful to look over and see Mr. Black's firm ass muscles contort as he swiped his towel along the wall. And with each side view of his marvelous equipment, I noticed that his plump dick was getting longer, and his small balls were becoming more taut in their sac. Often, he would look over at me and smile.
Mr. Black and I scrubbed walls for fifteen minutes without speaking a word. Just being aware of each other's naked presence gave us energy. Then I was suddenly diverted by a wet towel hitting my back. I spun around to see Mr. Black laughing at me. Without pausing to think, I threw my towel back at him and hit him in the groin. He slipped over to me and began wrestling with me as we were still standing. He then playfully rubbed his fist over my head, and then we were back at work.
Mr. Black went out to the storage closet to get a mop, and I took advantage of the moment to slide my soapy fist over my cock, which was attaining full erection. When he returned, I just watched as he sloshed the mop around in the soapy water over his side of the shower area. After a few minutes, Mr. Black held the mop out to me. Reaching to grasp the handle, my left foot went out from under me and, as perfectly as if I were sliding into home base to win a baseball tournament, I slid directly between the coach's furry legs. He immediately tried to help me up, but the laughter and the slippery floor added to the awkwardness of the moment. Reaching up to grab his hand, I instead grasped onto his nine-inch hose. When I finally regained my balance, Mr. Black hugged me with his strong arms and laughed. "Are you all right?"
"Not too bad for someone who found the soap you must have dropped!"
As I finished mopping my area, I once again was surprised from behind. Mr. Black had attached a hose to a spigot in the nearby laundry room and, using it to rinse our suds away, aimed it straight at my ass. It was a shocking yet pleasurable experience.
He sprayed the room, he sprayed me, and then he had me spray the grime off him. His gorgeous fleshpole bounced like a diving board as he paraded around the room to turn the showers off one by one.
When he had turned the last nozzle off, he left to turn the water off in the laundry room. Returning with two dry towels and a can of liquid cleanser, Mr. Black announced that we had one more detail to take care of. He poured some cleanser into one of the towels and spread the towel out in his hand. He then made a fist around the first shower head pipe, and stroked it mightily. "Nothing like a good shine to make a place seem clean," he advised.
Turning to throw me a towel, the coach saw that I had taken all I could take. In the pure ecstasy of the moment, I was beating my meat in time to Mr. Black's strokes on the pipe.
Mr. Black came to the middle of the shower area and stood beside me. In camaraderie, he began fisting his tube with one hand and rubbing his other hand over my chest, with my nipples as hard as Hersey's Kisses, and over my abdomen.
I had just wrapped my free hand around to fondle Mr. Black's ass cheeks when he smiled and wailed. The first shots of his wiener juice hit my thigh like so many bullets. As he continued to stroke, he emptied himself onto the checked tile floor and finally onto his hand.
I guided his drenched hand to my dick, which he stroked masterfully, with the strength and grace of a swimmer. I rubbed my thumbs under my nipples. Close to the final moment of pleasure, I guided Mr. Black's hands back to my chest and torso. He rubbed gently as my brain started buzzing in ecstasy, and my balls pushed the cum out of my body and then three feet away onto the shower room floor. Dizzy and dazed, I kept cumming, and when it was over, I looked into Mr. Black's smiling eyes.
"Looks like we have some more cleaning to do, but you and I will have to meet to do it later. I've got some more laps to swim before I go to the cafeteria for breakfast. Can you join me?"
Giving him a smiling "what-do-you-think?" look, I followed his naked ass to the swimming pool. I swam laps in tandem with the coach, gliding as gracefully as our hands had swum in each other's laps just moments before.
At breakfast, Mr. Black told me that at the end of the next full semester, the pool itself was going to be drained for cleaning. "That," he promised, "will be a project for you and me and the entire swim team."