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She looked down and wondered if the lump that was rising in his shorts was something to do with her own display. She moved further round the room towards him taking note that the lump was getting bigger, she decided that she was not going hide the fact that she was looking directly at his lump as he was staring at her crotch. Do you like what you see Peter she asked him. He jumped Oh sorry I was staring, yes I must admit I do like ladies with ample breasts and yours are ample indeed. She did not know what had got into her but she just could not seem to stop what was happening in fact she was actively encouraging it to happen. All she knew was there was about one and a half hours before Ernie was due back and she was alone, nearly naked in a bedroom with a man who obviously by the size of what must be his erection was thinking about what he could do to her body. With that thought she asked him if he would like to see them free of the sparse covering of her bra. She had moved closer by. Something about keeping the playing field level. I'm about as level as any playing field could be, for a mature (nearly) female high school senior. But I admit, without containment of their endowments, more voluptuous swimmers would be at a disadvantage, hydrodynamically speaking.Not that they aren't already, given my record.Anyway, the pool at home is too short, so I was taking advantage of the town pool's early-morning workout hours -- and loose dress code -- by doing an endless individual medley, switching from stroke to stroke to stroke with every touch -- butterfly, back, breast, free, over and over. Fortunately it wasn't crowded so I had a lane to myself. With my wingspan no one wants to share when I'm doing butterfly or breaststroke. Even backstroke is cramped.On a freestyle lap -- call it "the crawl" if you prefer, though the way I do it, it is anything but a crawl -- everything is in line, my arms alternately sweeping down, fingers spread like I'm trying to grab the water,.
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