The public pool was chaos — school holidays, a heatwave, and the place packed to the gills. Families everywhere. Lifeguards barking orders. The wet slap of feet on concrete echoing nonstop.

But behind the change room door?
That was another world entirely.

She’d slipped me a look earlier — over the top of her sunglasses, blonde hair tied up in a messy bun, tits nearly spilling out of her black one-piece like they were trying to cause a riot. Curvy, wet, and every inch built for trouble.

She mouthed just one word: Now.

I followed her like a man hypnotised.

The change room was humid, damp, and echoing. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The smell of chlorine mixed with cheap body spray and something darker: anticipation. She dragged me into the furthest stall, slammed the door shut, and pushed me against the cold tiled wall.

“You’ve been staring all day,” she hissed, breath hot against his mouth. “About time you put that tongue to better use.”

Her swimsuit had a zip — front and centre. She pulled it down slowly, letting her massive tits bounce free like they’d been caged too long. They were glistening with pool water… or maybe sweat. I didn’t care. I dropped to my knees like a worshipper at an altar.

She moaned — loud. Reckless. The echo made it worse. Or better. Either way, neither of us were stopping.

She sat on the little bench in the stall, spread her thick thighs, and pulled him in by the hair. I devoured her like a man starved — hands clutching her soft flesh, lips working like his life depended on it.

“That’s it,” she panted. “Right there, fuck — yes!”

The splash of a mop bucket outside made us freeze. A cleaner passed by, whistling. Didn’t even pause.

The moment they were gone, she yanked me up, flipped me around, and dropped to her knees. Her mouth found me through my swimmers — biting, licking, tugging — until I was shaking against the stall wall, one hand gripping the door for dear life, the other fisting her hair as she swallowed me whole.

i couldn’t last. Not with that view — her tits pressed together, eyes locked on mine, dripping from the pool and soaked now from me too.

When she finally stood, she didn’t even pull the swimsuit back up. Just turned, bent over the bench, and looked at me over her shoulder. “You better be quick, lover. I think the swim school’s about to start.”

I buried myself inside her in one filthy thrust.

The sound was obscene — wet, raw, desperate. Her ass bounced back against me, every stroke deeper, harder, faster. The stall shook. The bench squeaked. Her moans were muffled by her hand — barely.

“You gonna fill me up?” she growled, breath hitching. “Leave me dripping when the mums walk in?”

I growled something unintelligible and came with a shudder, still pumping into her, holding her hips like I never wanted to let go.

When it was over, she fixed her hair, zipped up — tits still slightly visible — and winked.

“Swim’s over,” she whispered. “Better towel off.”

I just leaned against the wall, panting, spent, and soaked.