"Mmm," I said, "I think I'd better get out of the water while I'm still kicking." Besides which, my skin would be starting to wrinkle before long. "Would you help me to the edge of the pool? I think I'm still a little shaky." And to prove it, I trembled weakly in his arms, my teensy shudders fluttering up and down his clutching frame.

In another couple of minutes we were both sitting at a poolside table, shaded by a tenting top, and a waitress had just brought us a pair of matching Margaritas.

"Is this the way you always pick up girls?" I asked, slyly letting him know that I considered myself picked up.

He just laughed. "My name's Eric. Why don't we go somewhere?"

"I'm Pamela Crosby," I said, "and the first place we'll have to go is home, so I can get dressed." I sat back and let him have a fresh eyeful of my bikini stuffed with goodies. Mama and Daddy should be gone for a comfortably long spell, and home would probably be the only place Eric and I went.

He had to change first, out of his obscenely tight and gorgeously revealing trunks, and then we mounted his bike and scooted away. I'd warn a bikini and robe from home, because I hadn't counted on meeting anyone like Eric today, so as we rode through the streets I sat on the robe and let the winds dry me off. My arms were around Eric's waist, my head nabbing his shoulder, my tits pressing the back of his shirt. He was a nice armful and I squeezed closer. One of my hands slipped down and touched the front of his jeans. The promising cock-bulge I'd noticed at the pool was more concealed now, but it was still there, and as I touched it with gentle, probing finger strokes, his prick began to stir with interest.