The second step along my path to becoming a speedo enthusiast. Read parts 1 and 2 of "Becoming an Enthusiast 01: First Exposure" to catch up to this point in my life if you haven't already!
All of these are true events that happened. The dialogue is recorded here as best as I can remember.
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I will never forget the first time I actually tried one on. Sometime in late middle school or early high school, I was swimsuit shopping at a Sport Chalet (or one of those types of sporting goods stores; they’re all the same to me) with my mom because I needed a new suit, having destroyed the previous one by using it to do manual labor and landscaping for friends. Since we were going to a pool party with church friends, the suit obviously needed to be conservative to say the least, and I hadn’t even THOUGHT about wearing a speedo on its own at this point. Also keep in mind that I was so self-conscious that I regularly wore a rash guard to cover up and contain. (It also had some SPF value, so Mom liked that part!)
But, we found that a lot of suits for sale were board shorts, not lined swimsuits, so they lacked the netting inside which I found very helpful/supportive. So, I had the idea of wearing a speedo underneath as a sort of aquatic underwear and therefore picked out a few Speedo and TYR suits, both briefs and jammers, to try on. After we pulled a large number of suits and board shorts, we found a changing room in the middle of the large, warehouse-like building which resembled a wooden beach shack.
The next few minutes in that changing room were a rush for me. For the first time in my life, I could hold this elusive suit in my hands. Choosing a Speed-brand brief first, I felt the smooth coolness of the fabric, following the seams and gently caressing the nylon fabric. Then, I held it up in front of me and spread out my fingers inside so it would hang like there was an invisible body inside of it. It really wouldn't leave much to the imagination.
I pulled the speedo on first because I’d always been partial to wearing briefs over boxers, and I don’t think “instantly” accurately describes how quickly I became hard! It was like an old episode of Bewitched where they needed to make it look like something magically appeared out of nowhere and there was a noticeable cut in the film: I was normal, and then suddenly rock hard.
They felt amazing, looked amazing, WERE amazing! I couldn’t help but start rubbing a bit, not to reach a climax but to not leave the sexual rush unrecognized and therefore prone to growing beyond control. I suppose it was more of a vigorous readjustment inside the suit more than anything. I looked in the mirror, saw the tent, and then looked down. Because of the direct overhead light in the stall (not a fluorescent bulb but like a halogen one), there was a noticeable shadow on the floor.
With the suit on, I let my hands start traveling along the fabric on my body, following every contour, all the while imagining that I was one of those beautiful specimens of mankind, the swimmers plastered all over the internet as all-American heroes. I felt the slightest wave of emotion start to rush over me: it was the first time I saw myself as even minutely sexy. I saw myself as Michael Phelps (albeit with a little more "insulation" for winter) which was a wonderful feeling for someone who'd been teased about being fat since the first grade.
“How does it fit?” Mom asked from outside, bringing me back to the reality I suddenly found myself in: an aroused, self-conscious teenager in a speedo who was only separated from his mother by an un-lockable changing room door.
“Uuuuhhhhh….” I fumbled for words, “it fits...well?” Oh no, what if she wants to see it?!
“Do you want my opinion?” AUGH!
“UM, NO THANKS, I’M GOOD,” came one of the quickest replies ever made in human history. There was NO WAY I was about to let my mom see my raging boner; considering how shy I was, that was just NOT going to happen, in my book.
Then, to my horror, I realized that the stall door didn’t go all the way to the floor!!!
If anyone even glanced towards my stall which was freestanding in the middle of the store, they could easily see the shadow of what was going on inside! I doubt anyone looked in, but the thought that Mom might’ve seen the bulge or the quick chicken-choking still haunts me to this day…
After a couple very stressful minutes, the arousal started to fade to a more manageable level. I then struggled to pull on the jammer which was much more difficult because of how much stretchy fabric there is to get into place. (Side note: Honestly, if you wear jammers for the modesty, I don’t really think it’s worth the effort of putting it on lol. I can’t imagine what it’s like to put on one of those full-body racing suits!) After managing to get myself under control, I looked in the mirror again and discovered no sign of a bulge whatsoever, soft or hard. Again, Mom asked to see it. I decided that it was better to show a mom no bulge at all rather than a boner, so I conceded and opened the door. I don’t really remember what conversation went down at this point; I was so focused on not letting my still-semi-hard member “refill.” Without further incident, I rushed back inside as I felt the sensation starting to return and got back into normal clothes as quickly as possible.
We ended up not buying anything at Dick's...uh, Sport Chalet...Authority...Goods store (again, can't remember which one it was) because none of the shorts fit my *generously* proportioned hips. I had to settle for some crap net-lined suit at Walmart because they made them big enough for me. But, I remembered where the brief suits and changing room were in that store for future reference.
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Part 2 is on its way! Just putting finishing touches. Please feel free to comment if you shared similar experiences or have questions or comments, or start a new thread to share your own story if you haven't already!