The summer sun beat down mercilessly on the sprawling backyard, turning the pool into a shimmering mirror as I, the lowly pool boy, skimmed leaves from the water—until my rake clattered forgotten to the deck. There she was: the boss's wife, lounging on a chaise by the edge, her bronzed skin glistening with oil, barely-there bikini straining against full, heaving breasts and the lush curve of her hips, one leg draped lazily, exposing the shadowed V where her thighs met. Her eyes flicked open behind dark sunglasses, locking on me with a lazy, predatory smile that said she'd been waiting. "Hot out here, isn't it?" she purred, voice like honey over gravel, arching her back just enough to make those tits spill toward freedom.What do you think happens next? I dropped my net, heart slamming as she crooked a finger, beckoning me closer—close enough to smell the coconut lotion mixed with her sun-warmed musk, her hand trailing up my thigh to palm the bulge already tenting my shorts. No paycheck today; instead, I peeled off her bikini bottoms with a wet snap, diving between her slick thighs to tongue her swollen clit until she bucked and gasped, nails raking my scalp. Flipped her over the chaise, I slammed home—deep, raw thrusts pounding her dripping pussy, her moans echoing off the patio as she clawed the cushions, begging for it harder. I left her a gracious tip of my own, flooding her with hot ropes of cum, that extra cream dripping down her thighs as she shuddered in aftershocks. Boss never knew; I just skimmed the pool again tomorrow.