[SwimTeamSpeedo]

Writers note: I meant to post this last time: This is a work of fiction, any similarity to any one in real life is totally coincidental. All characters are of adult age.


“Good swim,” Sheri called out to Chris as he climbed from the pool. She admired how he lifted himself with one arm, his well defined pecs puffed up from his swim. She watched as his tiny blue swimsuit clung to his package, giving her quite the display of his manhood, which still looked great despite the effects of the cool pool water. She had watched many guys get out of he water with hardly a bulge left, but Chris was still well gifted, even wet.

“Yes, thank you for asking,” Chris replied. “I love this pool.” Chris pulled the wet clinging suit from his anatomy and in usual swimmer fashion he tugged out his strings and untied them, letting them hang loose in front of him. Sheri smiled as she watched him, she always thought it was funny that the guys did that little string thing. She thought it was boyishly cute, though.

“Yes, it is a nice pool, we have a pretty good swim team here,” she replied. “Maybe you can come to college here and swim for us.” she added.

“That would be cool,” Chris replied. “Not sure I am good enough for college swimming, though.”

“I think you are, plus you’d improve the looks of the team,” she said as if she was teasing him, but she wasn’t.

“Must be pretty ugly guys on the team, then, if a goof ball like me can make them look better,’ Chris replied.

“So, will I see you here tomorrow?” Sheri asked, still admiring the cute body standing in front of her. Sheri was only one year older, having just finished her freshman year. She was still a college girl in Chris’s eyes. He’d never had a college girl interested.

“Yeah, for sure,” Chris replied. He was plating with his strings with one hand, a nervous release. “Hey, any more lap swimming here at night?” he asked.

“Yeah, at five through nine, and there is recreation swimming from 3 to 5. Bring some of your band friends.”

“Thank you, Sheri,” Chris replied.

“See you around, Chris. And hey, you really should come to college here. You already got a friend.” She winked at him.

Chris smiled as he entered the locker room. He was starting to feel the same arousal he had on his way to the pool, a desire greater than just the a passing urge. He turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm up while he rinsed out his goggles. Once the water was warm, Chris jumped in and lathered up, letting the water rush off his head and ripple down his chest and across his swimsuit front. He slowly slipped the wet swimsuit off, his parts springing out like they had just been released from capture. He was, in fact, totally erect, his manhood standing almost straight upward, every vein defined. It turned out to be a longer shower than usual as Chris made sure he was ready for a long day of sitting and playing trumpet. He needed no distractions, especially not erotic desires coming from his parts.

Chris dried off and grabbed his shorts from his bag. The band hall would be hot, so he was planning to wear a pair of Soccer shorts with a Brasil soccer shirt, a hold over from his interest in the World Cup. As he rummaged through his bag, Chris realized he had failed to pack underwear. “Crap,” he said to himself. He had burnt up two hours at the pool, already late for breakfast, no time to get back to his dorm, grab dry underwear and have time to eat. His only other option was his wet swimsuit under the shorts or he could go commando. Chris tried commando, but quickly realized that the short shorts created too much risk. Finally, he decided to try to dry out the wet swimsuit as much as he could using a wall mounted hand dryer. He slipped on the still damp suit, pulled the shorts over and let his shirt hang over the shorts, which were quickly absorbing the moisture left in the swimsuit. “It will dry soon enough,” he thought to himself.

_________

“I was worried you had drowned or something,” Alex said as Chris sat down with his breakfast. His plate was full, the reward for a great swim session. “How was your swim?” Alex asked as he watched Chris shovel a fork load of eggs into his mouth.

“Awesome,” Chris said. “The pool here is really cool. And I met this really cute lifeguard who wants me to come to college here.”

“Wow, you have had a great morning,” Alex replied. Alex listened intently as Chris filled him in on Sheri and the pool, all the while watching as Chris packed in his extra large breakfast. “Hey, how come your shorts are wet?” Alex finally interjected as a very animated Chris came up for air.

“Oh yeah, stupid me didn’t pack any undies, so I had to put my wet swimsuit back on.” Chris smirked as he said it. “So, it looks like I pee’d myself.”

“Your shorts are like my bathing suits,” Alex replied as the guys got up from the table. “You swimsuit is pretty tiny.”

“Yeah, Speedos are pretty cool swimsuits, but they are on the tiny side,” Chris replied.

“Yeah, but they do look hot on the right guy, like you,” Alex replied. The comment caught Chris a bit off guard. He had never had a guy call him hot. Chris left the comment hang. Alex had actually never called a guy hot before to his face, either. The comment just slipped out.

“Let’s go do this,” Chris replied. The two guys headed off to the first group rehearsal. They were opposites in so many ways. Chris was lean and athletic, Alex was a die hard musician who didn’t play any sports. Chris was a brass player, Alex played the oboe. Chris was into girls, Alex was just coming to terms with being into guys. Despite all of this, they were forging a deep bond.

________


Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition was one of Chris’s favorite compositions. The band version was not quite the same as the full orchestra version, but for a trumpet player the solo parts were showcase. The band had received the music weeks before and Chris had worked night and day to perfect the muted trumpet solos as well as the grand opening. There were two great trumpet players in the band, Chris from Maine and some guy names Len from a small town near Allentown, PA. Chris was ready, but he knew it would be a battle for the lead trumpet position, a post that would come down to how perfectly they each played the solo parts of Pictures. It was for exactly this reason that Chris wanted to make sure he had nothing to distract him, not even sexual tension coming from his discovery of Sheri.

Len was equally as tall as Chris, but he had long dark hair, a skinny mustache, and he wore Tight, low cut jeans than hung hardly on his waist. He had a punk style shirt and blank high top tennis shoes. If there was ever a contrast to the clean look of Chris, Len was perfect. There was one common line between them, they both could blow a trumpet exceptionally well. For most of the morning, the two players went back and forth, trading solos and parts at the whim of the director, a tough leader who demanded perfection. He treated the band as through they were a world class symphony. He was the toughest director most of these young men and women had ever seen.

“Chris, Chris, Chris,” the director yelled. “You sound wonderful, but you need to fill the auditorium with sound. Blow it like you mean it.” Alex chuckled at the thought. “Again, not give me some sound!” the relentless director added.

By the end of the morning session, Chris and Len had both had enough. Neither knew what to think about their chances. “We break until 2. Go get lunch and relax.” the rather obnoxious director said to the group.

“You play really well,” Chris offered to Len as they closed up their trumpet cases.

“I know,” replied Len. Nothing else.

“Okay then,” Chris whispered under his breath as Len turned and walked away. If nothing else, Len was certainly arrogant.

Chris tugged at the front of his shorts, pulling the tight Speedo underneath from its grip on his package. He loved wearing his swimsuits, but after a while they started to feel really tight.