This is the third part of a series of stories that started happening to me last summer, when I met Marc, the smooth talker who was dating my sister. I'm aware that things are progressing slowly and many of you are eager to read on, to the point where you want to jump ahead and see what happens next, just like I did when I first met him, but since this is a real story, I won't pretend that the bastard gave me a hard-on just by looking at me on the first day. He was too straight, and I had too many doubts, for us to realize that we both wanted something more to happen...

So far, I had had a couple of encounters with Marc, and in both, we had ended up with our cocks completely hard, if you want to know more, you'll have to read the first two parts. Because of all this, I was full of doubts, since on the one hand, I had a girlfriend, on the other hand, I had tried some cock, which excited me and turned me on, but I had never felt what I felt every time I saw Marc. When he looked at me with that confidence, with that jaw covered in a three-day beard, with those green eyes and that super toned body that he always wore in tight t-shirts, I felt small, awkward, ridiculous, clumsy, and useless... But I liked it.

It was as if all my complexes and fears came to light, but his confident gaze, his smile when he looked at me, and his winking eyes told me that he was going to protect me and take care of me. Or at least that's what I wanted to interpret, probably the bastard was just a seducer who looked at everyone like that to feel like he had both women and men at his feet. Still, and despite the fact that I hadn't stopped looking like a stupid kid and a clumsy idiot every time we talked, I wanted to keep seeing him.

I was thinking about these things when I arrived home. As I mentioned earlier, my parents have good jobs and can afford luxuries, so we have a nice house in a good neighborhood in Barcelona. It was Friday afternoon, and that meant my parents would be out of the house until late, and my sister probably wouldn't be back home until Sunday at noon, disguising her worn-out face from partying with her wealthy friends all weekend and asking my mom for more money for the party she was going to attend the following weekend. So, most Friday afternoons I took advantage of the opportunity to go down to the pool and get naked in our private pool in the backyard. I got used to this calming ritual a few years ago, when I still hadn't gained the little muscle mass that the gym has given me, and I felt a bit self-conscious about being seen naked. It was the moment when I could free myself from other people's opinions and gazes and feel comfortable and relaxed.

I went into the house, greeted loudly to check if anyone was home, grabbed a towel and my iPad from my room, and went down to the pool. Usually, I spent some time doing a few laps and then stayed near the edge of the part of the pool where the sun always shines, for conve...