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Miguel, the Pool Boy, Part 1

By RobertFoley

submitted August 22, 2017

Categories: Crush, Gay Erotic Stories, Mature, Men On Holiday, Muscle, Romance, Summer Adventures

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The scale read 245 lbs (111 kg). I stepped off and walked to the bathroom mirror. I flexed my biceps. I wasn’t looking too bad. I had just finished my workout in the gym of my apartment building and I had felt old surrounded by all of these young guys. I had turned 40 only a few months ago, but it was playing mind tricks on me. My hair was turning grey at the temples as well as in my facial hair. It was getting me lots of attention on the hook-up apps, but it made me feel fetishized more than it made me feel wanted. With my 6’5’’ (196cm) stature and my muscles I had managed to make it to the big 4-0 without a relationship that lasted longer than two years. Casual sex had never been a problem. As I had been an athlete since high school, I had a body that many men had lusted after. Even now, the twenty year-olds with daddy issues were lining up. The problem was finding someone I felt connected to on an emotional and mental level.

I put on some briefs and walked into my loft apartment. With floor-to-ceiling windows and beautiful views, I sure had been lucky to score this apartment in Midtown Atlanta. I had been so fortunate to live my dream as an author. A novelist. The first four books that I had written had been major successes. After years of just winging it, I decided to send a story to a publishing company and I was so overwhelmed with their enthusiastic response. It felt ages ago, but it had only been 2010. Now, four books later, I was struggling. I sat behind my laptop and stared at the empty document. I had no idea what to write about. I’ve had days like this, but it had now been weeks. And I didn’t even have a topic or anything resembling a storyline in mind. I decided to be upfront and call my publisher.

“Rainbow Bay Press, this is Sharon speaking.” “Hi Sharon, it’s Jay.” “Hello there! How is your fifth success coming along?” “Well, actually… I have felt uninspired for the last weeks.” “Oh, that’s too bad. Do you have anything so far?” “No.” “OK. Nothing to worry about. Maybe you just need a change of surroundings. When’s the last time you’ve been on holiday?” “I don’t really have anyone to go on holiday with, so..” “Oof.” “What?” “That’s depressing.” “Well, all my friends are coupled up. I think the last time I went to Greece with two couples. And that was three years ago.” “Yikes. You know what, I think I have just what you need. I bought this place in Mexico with my husband. We’re going to rent it out, but it’ll be empty for the next three weeks.” “But… by myself?” “Just do it, Jay, I swear to God. You’re going to love it.”

A few days later I landed at Cancún International Airport. I rented a car, not only because it was about a 90-minute drive to Sharon’s villa, but also so I could drive around whenever I felt like it. It was a pleasant 88 degrees (31 Celsius). I got in the car, turned the AC on, turned on some music and just started driving. It wasn’t a very exciting drive in the sense that it was one straight road that would lead me to Tulum. The scenery didn’t change very much, except when I passed through Playa del Carmen. It was a perfect drive to think. I was trying to think of characters or storylines, but nothing really seemed interesting enough. I also thought a lot about where this writer’s block was coming from. Was it the pressure of previous success?

Before I knew it, I drove into the town of Tulum. I liked that I didn’t see many tourists. It was just the people of Tulum going about their daily business. The GPS in the car told me to take a left, which brought me into a narrow street called Calle Asunción. I was starting to feel adventurous. If I couldn’t find my inspiration here, then nothing would do the trick. After a few more turns I arrived at the address that I was given. The neighborhood seemed very new and unfinished. There wasn’t really anyone around. I got out of the car and got my suitcase. There was a high, white wall with a door in it, which opened just as I approached it. “Jay Parker?”, a woman’s voice asked. “Yes?”, I said. The woman stepped out and shook my hand. “Erica Flores.” I estimated her slightly older than me and quite the business type. She wore a blue shirt, a black skirt and high heels. “I look after the villa when the owners, Mr and Mrs Dutton, are not here. Let me show you around.” She let me in and the first thing I saw was the pool. The blue water contrasted with the white, concrete patio. But then I saw the front of the house. I was surprised at how modern it was. It was two floors, with ceiling-to-floor glass windows, just like at home. Inside, there was a very open space living room, with a seating area and a flatscreen TV, very minimalistic stairs up to the second floor, and in the back I saw a kitchen and a dining area.

Erica was showing me around and I found out there were three bedrooms, one downstairs, two upstairs. One of the upstairs bedrooms had gorgeous views of the Tulum jungle and a very large, private balcony. The bathroom connected to it was also very large and beautifully designed. The other upstairs bedroom had twin beds. The downstairs bedroom was small, but had sliding doors going back into the pool area, which was also quite nice. Erica explained a few more things about the kitchen amenities and the WIFI. Then she said a maid will stop by for clean sheets and towels once a week and that someone will be by to clean the pool twice a week. “Oh. OK!”, I said. I guess I hadn’t expected people would come by at all, but clean sheets, towels and a clean pool did all sound pretty great. Erica left her phone number on the kitchen counter and told me to call her whenever I needed something.

I unpacked my suitcase and took a shower in the very fancy and spacious upstairs bathroom. I changed into a T-shirt and shorts with a Speedo underneath, grabbed one of the towels that I had found in the wardrobe and got back in my car. I drove to the beach in one go. I was there in five minutes. I put my towel down, took off my shirt and shorts, kicked off my flip flops and made a run for the water. I dove into one of the waves and it felt so refreshing. Like I had just cleansed myself of all worry, I let myself float in the blue-green water. I let out a deep sigh. My mind was clearing. I smiled to myself and decided not to leave my car keys and phone unattended for too long. I made my way back to the beach. It was surprisingly quiet for the time of year. When I got out of the water I could feel my black Speedo cling onto my bulge and ass. I saw people look at the tall grey man with the muscular body. I felt good.

I relaxed on the beach a little longer, before I got back to my car. I changed out of the Speedo with just two car doors to keep my dignity. I went commando in my shorts and drove to a supermarket. I walked down the aisles, feeling my cock flop against the front of my shorts. With my phone and keys in my pocket, the shorts slowly sagged halfway down my ass as I walked. There was something liberating about going commando.

I stocked up on some food and drinks and I drove back to the villa. Not too long ago I wasn’t exactly a star in the kitchen. But by my mid-30s I had really started to enjoy cooking and tonight I took my time to make myself a nice dinner. It was still light outside, so I ate out on the patio. I treated myself to a few glasses of wine. When nighttime came, I was practically finishing the bottle. I had brought copies of each of the books I had written so far. What did they have in common? What exactly was the Jay Parker recipe for success? And how would that translate to Tulum, Mexico?

The next morning I woke up to the sound of birds in the Tulum jungle. I smiled as I remembered where I was. I was pretty much spread eagle across the kingsize bed in the upstairs bedroom with the balcony. I had a raging morning erection. As I moved to touch myself, I suddenly remembered I pretty much finished a bottle of wine. My body and head felt heavy. I got myself to the bathroom and stood under the rain-type showerhead. I immediately felt better. I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked out onto the balcony. There were trees as far as the eye could see. I felt liberated. I could feel the towel was about to drop and I didn’t stop it when it did. I felt the crisp morning air all over my body.

I went downstairs and made myself some breakfast. I saw I had scribbled something on a notepad last night. I could still make sense of it, even though it was clear I had been intoxicated. I had pretty much already set out a possible storyline. I just needed a main character. I felt so much more inspired than I had felt in Atlanta the last few weeks, so I had a good feeling I could come up with something today. I ate some breakfast, walked back upstairs to put on a Speedo and swam some laps in the pool. I then laid down in the sun, put on some sunscreen and let my mind wander.

I remembered thinking of a blue collar guy as my main character just before relaxation took over my body. Someone down on his luck, struggling to make ends meet. Then suddenly I woke up from a slumber. I must have drifted off. It was the sound of a door closing. “Hola?” I raised my head, shielded my eyes from the sun, and saw a guy in his 30s. Loose white tanktop, old, torn jeans and a red baseball cap. “I am Miguel, I come clean pool?”, he said, like he was asking me for permission. I stood up and walked over. I saw him scan me up and down as I realized I was just wearing my blue and white striped Speedo. He took off his hat, so I could see his face. His short black hair stuck to the sides of his face with sweat. His beard was incredibly sexy on his sculpted jawline. There was something incredibly sexy about his smile as he looked at me. “Hi Miguel, I’m Jay”, I said as I shook his hand. Our handshake lasted a little longer than usual as we looked at each other in silence. “Well, go ahead”, I said as I gestured to the pool. “Do you want something to drink?” He looked confused for a second before he said, “Yes. Water. Thank you.”

I walked back into the house. A sexy pool boy. It seemed like such a cliché. I hadn’t even considered it an option. I could take his look for the main character in the book though, I thought as I prepared him some iced water. I walked back out and put the water on the table. Miguel immediately walked over and downed the water in one go. The loose tanktop showed off his built chest and every now and then flashed me a nipple. His chest was lightly hairy. “It’s a hot day, isn’t it?”, I said, asking the obvious. “Yes. Thank you”, he said a second time as he put down the glass. His muscular arms shone with sweat. He had already gotten to work, the red cap back on his head, as he cleaned the bottom of the pool. I sat down at the table and continued to ask him questions. “So, have you cleaned pools for a living for long?” I saw him smile. “No. Is my second job. I work… I fix cars.” Perfect. “You work in a repair shop?” “Yes. Since I was 18. I need more money, because father is sick. So I take second job.” “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that”, I said. But my main character was taking shape. He shrugged. “In lunch break I drive around and clean a few pools, is not so bad.” I am not sure he understood what I meant, or maybe I misunderstood him. I stopped asking questions for a while.

Miguel checked the thermometer in the water and subsequently walked to the front of the yard, lifted a tile off the ground and started fiddling with whatever was underneath. He was on his knees and bent over the hole in the ground. His round ass had tested the material of the light blue jeans, as I saw the material was already torn. I was pretty sure the jeans were actually old and the tears weren’t a fashion statement. I didn’t want to stare, but I’m pretty sure he wore white underwear underneath.

Miguel got up, put the tile back and fished a few leaves out of the water. “If this is your lunch break, do you want me to make you some food?” He once again looked at me like I was crazy. “No, is OK. I need to go back.” “OK”, I said. I watched him work. He put everything back where he found it and came to shake my hand. “Thank you, Jay. See you on Friday. Maybe.” “No, thank you Miguel! See you Friday.” He walked out. It had only been 5 minutes, 10 at most. I grabbed my laptop and started writing.

The next few days I got used to being in Mexico by myself. I drove around the area, went to the beach, got myself some fresh groceries, or whatever I felt like doing. The only thing I still found awkward was eating by myself in a restaurant. In the evenings I would write until I got tired. In the mornings, over breakfast, I would re-read what I had written the day before and maybe make changes. I would use the day that followed to think about how I wanted to further develop the story.

One morning I got so caught up in the editing of what I wrote the day before that I just continued to write. I was on the balcony, still in my towel after my morning shower. I was so caught up in all the ideas I had gotten for the story that I was too excited to type them out. I had lost track of time when I suddenly heard someone was in the pool. I looked down and saw that it was Miguel. I had forgotten that it was Friday. But why was he in the pool? It did feel particularly hot and humid today at 91 degrees (33 Celsius).

I quickly hung my towel in the bathroom and slipped on some shorts as I walked downstairs. I walked onto the patio just as Miguel got out of the pool. “Hi, Miguel!” His expression when he saw me was one of shock. “Jay! I am sorry. Is so hot today. I did not know you were home.” “No problem! It is a hot day”, I said. I got distracted when I saw he had gone swimming in his underwear. Grey briefs stuck to his body and revealed everything. I saw the outline of his uncut cock, but in the back the briefs had practically become see-through and I saw his smooth, round ass and could feel myself getting erect.

I saw Miguel walking to the pile of clothing he had left and he got himself dressed. It was the same pair of torn jeans and the loose white tanktop. “I am very sorry”, he repeated. “Not professional.” “Don’t worry about it”, I said. “Hey, are those the same jeans you wore the other day?” He had just gotten dressed and looked down at the jeans. The jeans had gotten wet as he hadn’t dried himself off. “Yeah”, he said, “very old. No money for new clothes”, he continued to look down in embarrassment. “Oh, that’s not OK”, I said. “Wait.” I came back with my wallet. I hesitated and then gave him two notes of 500 pesos. “Only for buying clothes”, I said. He looked at the money and seemed to absent-mindedly hold on to it when I gave it to him. He then looked at me incredulously. I could see his eyes welling up. He hugged me real tight. “Thank you so much”, he said with his face pressed into my chest. I guessed he was about 5’11’’ (180cm) which made him half a foot shorter than me. I hugged him back and put my chin on the top of his head. I had flashbacks to many former lovers. When he finally let go, he quickly wiped tears from his eyes. He was genuinely happy, but his smile was still very attractive to me. “I promise I buy nice clothes”, he said.

As he left, I looked around and noticed he had already cleaned the pool before I had noticed him. I smiled. I hoped I had made his day.

To be continued…



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