I am the Spanish fly on the wall. Fuck man! This is the best gig I ever had. Seriously. You so want to be me.
Don’t let appearances fool you. I may not look like much in my white jumpsuit, slicked-back hair and cheap sunglasses. You might be turned off at first by my busted-up nose and rough working man’s hands. It might take awhile for you to be turned on by the chemical burns on my arms and legs. But I’m here to tell you, the bitches fucking adore me.
OK, alright, maybe I’m not so adorable. I know the reason I’m a commodity around here is that I’m fucking invisible. I’m like the invisible fucking dick. I don’t really exist. I’m just the pool man. I can walk through walls. The bitches tell me I’m loaded though. They at least give me that. I mean, these ladies aren’t going to pay for some little pinprick when they could buy the fucking King of Siam, now are they?
My God, there are so many stories. Where do I even begin? I guess I’ll begin at the beginning. Shit, these women, I’m delling you dude, they’re unfuckingbelievable.
Dude, grab a beer man. You’re going to want to hear the whole story.
So I took this crap job cleaning pools for a guy over in Anaheim. You know, filters, chemicals, draining and scrubbing, basic shit like that. I needed some cash. So one day my boss sends me over to this fucking mansion in Beverly Hills. I pull up to a gate and push the button, talk into a little box, tell ‘em I’m the fucking pool guy.
A dude tells me to park in back. I pull around and this guy in a suit and dark glasses walks over to my truck.
“There’s something stuck in the filter. Again. Here. The gate will open automatically when you leave.” He points to a path. “Pool’s that way.”
The dude hands me a hundred bucks cash. Shit man, I could have just left right then. But I’m not that kind of guy. So I go down a flower-lined path to the pool, this fucking huge pool with a mermaid mosaic in the bottom, rock waterfalls, palm trees, four our five little cabanas, three fully stocked wet bars. So now I’m thinking this job could cost a lot more than a hundred bucks.
I get the lid off of the fucking filter and the pump is fucking grinding away, burning up. Not good. I get it turned off and reach around in there and find a fucking thong wrapped around the motor. So I’ve got my arm down there, up in the intake hole up to my elbow like I’m a fucking pool gynecologist and I feel plastic and rubber. Oh my God, I’m afraid of whatever it is. So I pry it loose and fuck! It’s a blue torpedo vibrator with a fucking propeller. I would have thought it was a kid’s toy if it didn’t say “Water Rocket Fantasy Fuck” on the side.
I’m putting all this shit away, turn the pump back on, getting ready to go when this broad walks out onto the pool patio in a white robe.
“Hey Mr. Pool Man,” she calls out in a kinky raspy voice, kind of like a high-pitched Demi Moore,” probably all fucked up from coke and booze.
“Come over here Mr. Pool Man.”
I forget I’m holding the fuck rocket in my hand and walk over, my forehead sweating, my back twisted from bending, my dick in a cramp. I’m mess. But I walk over and say, “Something I can do for you?”
“Oh yeah Mr. Pool Man,” she coos. “First you can give me back my toy.”
Fuck! I’m still holding the water donkey. Flustered, I practically throw it at her. She’s just too smooth and cool. She’s not fazed a bit and I’m turning to goo in my white coveralls.
Then the robe drops from her shoulders and she’s this goddess straight from the pages of a dirty fucking magazine. Just standing there. Completely naked except for a silver belt around her waist and little tiny silver spiked heels. It’s maybe 11 a.m. The birds are fucking chirping. The mermaid is dancing on the pool bottom. And this babe is just full- on hot. Huge, and I mean huge fake tits. Just barreling out of her chest. Shaved wet pussy as slick as the head of a baby fucking seal. Long brown hair, all bed messy. Huge glossed lips, all topped off with a sweet little perfect nose.
She grabs the clit hit from my hand and tosses it back into the pool.
“Hey! Uh, Ma’am. That thing will mess up your pump. I just got it out of the pipe.”
“I don’t fucking care,” she says, rubbing her bongos with her slim manicured hands, hundreds of thousands of dollars of diamonds dripping from her fingers.
“That’s not the toy I was talking about.”
“Show me your stuff Pool Man.”
In my mind, I’m thinking no fucking way is this happening to me. I know I look like a fool. I’m stuttering, “Oh Ma’am, I don’t.”
“Shut up Pool Man. Follow me.”
I’m the stupid following fool here, so I trail behind her like a dog in coveralls, my tongue practically falling out of my mouth, her perfect naked ass leading the way. She crosses the patio and takes me to the waterfall. She slips out of her heels and dives in, coming up behind the falling water. She shakes her head and signals me with her finger to join her. Jesus fucking Christ, man. Here I am wondering what the fuck to do. I mean, of course I want to. I can see her back there rubbing herself, those mondo boobs. My dick is practically ripping out the seam in my pants.I can almost taste the hot fucking waterfall sex, but the whole thing just freaking me out, man. What if some security guy comes out of the bushes? What if there’s a jealous husband in the house? I mean, this bitch is obviously crazy.
I know, I’m a fucking idiot, but I’m panicking. I shake my head at Bo Derrick and head back towards my truck. Now I need a fucking drink.
So I get in my truck and go to the nearest bar to get a grip. My legs are shaking. My head is spinning and all I can think is, “you stupid fucking fool.”
A week later my beeper goes off. It’s a call for a job back out at the mansion in B-Hills. My heart starts racing. Did the bitch make up a story? Did she tell her dude that I’m a rapist or something?
It’s late on a Wednesday afternoon, about 5:45 and I should be heading home by now, but I had to take the call. I just had to check it out again even though it’s scaring the hell out of me.
So the sun is just going down as I pull through the gate. I walk around back with my tools and you wouldn’t fucking believe the scene. It’s like the set of a porn flick. There are at least twenty women barely dressed in swim coverups and bikinis. They’re at the web bar and on the lounge chairs and in the pool. Music is blaring. There are tikki torches flaming around the perimeter of the pool.
Bongo drums comes walking up, this time wearing a flaming red bikini and mile-high platform heeled flipflops, and sipping on a cocktail.
“Hey there pool man,” she says. “Gonna stick around this time?”
“Looks like quite a party,” I manage to croak out.
“Oh, this is just our little charity fundraiser committee. We’re raising money for cosmetic surgery accident victims.” She lowers her eyes to her drink for a moment, then looks up at me, batting her lashes, and gives me a wink.
Holy shit, what fucking planet did I land on?
“So how late can you stay Pool Man? We need you to dip for us. And we might be up all night.”
“Yeah, Dip. Little gnats and bugs fall in the pool at this time of night. We need a dipper.”
“I charge $100 per hour for dipping,” I say, attempting to rise to the occasion.
“No problem,” she says, licking her lips. “The committee budgeted $200 per hour for tonight’s dipping service. You’re hired.”
“Wait here Pool Man. I’ll get your dipper.”
She comes swaying back with a pool net and a rum & coke. She tells me to help myself at the bar & just “keep dipping and the ladies will be happy.”
“You can call me Charity.
Holy fuck. “Pleasure to meet you Charity. I’m Pete.”
“I know,” Charity says. “I got your card from Service Magic.”
So I’m dipping with one hand and slugging down the rum & coke with the other, just trying to let my brain adjust to the surroundings by dousing it in alcohol.
A couple of security-looking guys pass through now and then, but otherwise it’s just me and the bitches.
I’m dipping away, concentrating hard on getting every last insect out of the pool when a chick falling out of a miniature white bikini walks by and slaps me on the ass.
“Whatya got under that awful white jumpsuit?” she growls, blowing boozy breath in my face. She reaches down and gives my nuts a squeeze. Now I’ve got the rum & coke booster, so I’m starting to relax.”
“More than you could ever imagine.”
“Mmmmmm….." hot pants moans before diving into the pool.
She glides towards the far end of the pool and climbs the ladder.
“Hey big dipper. Come over here.”
Fuck it. I’m all over it now. This place is nuts and I’m not messing it up this time. I swing by the bar and pour straight rum into a shot glass and shoot it. Party time.
The white bikini is sliding into the hot tub. I see her top fling off as she slips into the foaming water.
Now I’m getting totally fucked up. I’m out of my mind! I want Charity to see me in the hot tub with Blondie. I turn my back to the tub and unzip my coveralls. My cock is standing at attention like a fucking Marine. I grab my dipper – fuck – I am so out of my mind – and join Blondie.
“Lose the dipper big boy,” Blondie squeaks. I toss it aside and join the party.
I’m in there maybe 10 seconds, the water stinging my skin, all light headed from the rum, my heating up like a fucking lobster, when Blondie dives under and fucking latches onto my cock with her fucking huge collagen lips. They may look weird, but those plumped up lips are hard and huge and fucking hot. Oh my God! Jesus! Blondie pops up out of the water like a balloon, those huge lips spread into a wide smile. Damn, Elvis! You’re loaded!
Blondie stands up on the steps of the Jacuzzi, steam rising from a perfect set of bronzed tits and screams, “Jill, get over here! Dipstick is loaded!”
I can’t help myself. I grab my cock. Damn! It feels huge, even to me.
Jill comes skipping – literally skipping over to the jacuzzi, apparently to check me out. Charity comes sauntering over in those fucking hot flip-flops and before I can say “outtake hose,” I’m surrounded.
Dude, you can only imagine what these babes are like. They’re animals. They take turns sucking on my dick. It’s all I can do to hold back. I’m dizzy in the hot water.
“Ladies,” I politely request. “Can we go somewhere to cool off?”
“Right this way P-man,” Charity says, her tits bobbing around in the water like a couple of fucking life rafts.
We climb out of the tub like a bunch of fucking evolution fish. I follow the bitches as they dive into the far end of the pool that leads to the waterfall. Behind it, there is an underwater bench big enough for five or six people. Charity is on my dick like a mermaid in heat. Blondie is rubbing Charity’s melons. We’re behind the waterfall. I’m feeling like a mother from another planet and damn, and I just can’t take it anymore. I pump my whole fucking round with Charity riding me like an underwater cowgirl.
“Oh Dippy, you have to learn to behave,” squeals Blondie. “It’s time for you to get back to work.”
Aw fuck! I blew it. The girls dry me off with towels stacked in a neat pile and hand me my clothes, giggling and jiggling. I can picture the suburban shit of Anaheim pool suck in my mind. I was so close to some fucking Nirvana I didn’t know existed. Look at me. A loser. I pick up my dipping net and sigh.
Charity leans close, her breasts pressing against my chest. She bites my bottom lip and grabs my nuts.
“Don’t worry Pool Man,” she whispers. “We offer on-the-job training and you’re on the clock.”