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Mike hated the way his suit stuck to his body, the wet material hugging his package and holding it tightly. At least the material was jet black, dark enough to hide noticeable detail. It wasn't uncomfortable necessarily, just awkward, and Mike didn't feel like rearranging it because that would only draw attention. His package was pretty big, and Mike often wondered about how to fit it all in his suit, whether it should go to the side, straight up, or some other way that he hadn't yet thought of. His suit only had so much room. Mike didn't like to think about this for too long because if he did, his heart might start beating and send blood right to his groin, where his meat rested, and Mike just couldn't afford for it to lengthen.
"Hurry up in there man!" coach shouted, as Mike walked to the locker room, his mind on other things than practice.
"You got it," he said mindlessly.
"Nice practice today," coach mumbled back, before turning and making his way out. Mike was the only one in the building.
Mike thought about coach's shoulders, how big and square they were, wondering what coach possibly did to stay in shape. Mike knew that coach was a swimmer, but that was so long ago, and didn't he spend all his time coaching now? The form never left coach, he still had the big shoulders, strong but lean legs, a tight waist. It wasn't hard to tell, too, because coach always wore his old t shirts, that was just about all he wore, and in the bad lighting of the pool, Mike found he could make out the contours of coach's body pretty fucking well. The curve of his pecs, his muscular shoulders, all neatly highlighted by whatever old t shirt coach chose to wear.
Pressed onto his right leg by the soaking material of his suit, Mike's package moved back and forth as he walked to the locker room door. His suit was rather tight, stretched over his hips and around his ass, and the material was small, forming a dark, thin band over his otherwise glowing body, wet from practice still. Somehow, everything fit inside.
The building was humid and warm, and Mike was feeling relaxed from practice.
His abs flexed for a second as he carelessly pulled open the door, stepped inside and felt the drier air, adjusting to the brighter lights. The walls were narrow as he walked in towards his locker, setting down his towel and his water. Dragging his towel across his chest and his arms, not entirely looking to get dry, just dry enough that it wasn't uncomfortable, Mike thought to himself, let's get the fuck out. It was just him in the locker room. He pulled his shirt over his head and undid the knot in his suit, pulling it down.
"Why did I choose this sport?" Mike said to himself, stepping out of his small suit, trying to unroll the small, wet material.
He crushed the thing in his hand, forcing the pool water out of it. In the bright light of the locker room, Mike's bare ass was shiny, probably all of the water still coating his skin. Mike wasn't especially hairy, but he did have a little in places, and his hair was wet too. If it wasn't wet, it was damp. He found his towel, pressed hard into his hard muscles, and ran the thing up and down a few times. Reaching into his bag, Mike's big hands found his underwear, an old pair he had chosen randomly this morning, the gray material stretched by use and his big muscles. Mike found his black shorts and his shoes, put them on, and walked slowly out of the locker room. What a good start to his day.