My first effort, but surely not my last. Any and all comment gratefully received at northernlight1@hotmail.com
The Shallow End
If there's a better exercise than swimming, please tell me what it is.
Every morning at 5:30 that summer, I was in the local pool. The early-bird swim, they called it, so early that the lifeguard no longer bothered to answer her alarm. Good thing I knew the pool manager, who slipped me a key to open the gate and let myself in.
I'd been alone five mornings a week, stroking through 45 minutes of non-world-class freestyle, getting the heart-rate up and doing what I could to tighten the muscles.
Alone, that is, until two weeks ago. I knew him only as Gord, a guy with the same average fitness goals. He was about 25, a couple years my junior, and we were the same 6 feet, within a pound or two of 185.
I'd be lying if I suggested I hadn't taken a good look at his form in the water, and out of it. He was nicely muscled, but not overly so. Here was a guy much like me, battling the excesses of life that challenge the wardrobe, and he was succeeding rather nicely. He had the broad back of a man who swam and lifted a few weights, the narrow waist of someone waging war with the calories and winning most of the battles.
But our paths separated with our choice of suits. I was in baggy navy trunks; Gord wore a blood-red Speedo that left precious little to the vivid imagination of the curious, male or female. Not that I paid much attention, but he was circumsized. OK, so I paid a LOT of attention.
We'd exchanged nothing but small talk, joking that today was the day a dozen or two people were going to swarm through the gate and hit the deep end.
We were still waiting for the mob on this magnificent, steamy summer morning, the sun burnishing a dull orange on the eastern horizon at 5:40 a.m., as we slipped into the pool, adjusting our goggles.
"One of these days..." Gord said, his words trailing off.
"One of these days what?" I replied.
"Nah... it's nothing."
"C'mon. One of these days what? You're going to try swimming butterfly?"
Gord was reaching to the drawstring of his generously filled Speedo, pulling the suit taut. He paused, then studied me for a long moment.
"More outrageous than that," he said. "One of these days ... I want to swim naked."
If he was looking for shock, he'd best have looked elsewhere.
"I've swum like that half the summer and was enjoying the hell out of it, until you showed up," I said. "There's no feeling more free."
"Really?"
I nodded. "Really." And then I slipped underwater and pushed off the wall, my freestyle taking me out across the pool.
For 30 minutes we swam almost stroke for stroke. That seemed to be our routine: a half-hour, building to an intense pace, then a short break and a 15-minute cooldown. I didn't know about Gord, but my mind was racing a whole lot faster than I was swimming.
We pulled into the wall almost together, breathing heavily as we shook the water out of our hair and peeled off our goggles. We were in the shallow end, and as we stood, the water came not quite to our waists.
"You lie like a cheap rug," were the first words out of his mouth. Obviously his thoughts were racing, too. "You expect me to believe you've swum naked at a public pool?"
"You've been wondering that for 30 minutes?" I laughed. "What's not to believe? There's been not a soul around at this hour, ever."
There was a look in his eyes I hadn't seen before. A little daring, a little lusty.
"It's no big deal," I told him. "Look."
I motioned around the enclosure of the pool, which was almost secluded in the local park, surrounded by thick bushes and tall trees. Even the birds had a ways to go to find the place, and the first swimming lessons of the day didn't begin for nearly two hours.
"You're right," Gord said.
"So? Go for it."
He looked at me and shook his head.
"Sure as hell not alone," he said.
I was feeling a wonderful discomfort in my trunks, which I had neither expected nor necessarily invited.
"Yeah, why not?" I heard myself say.
Gord paused to make sure I was serious. I was, deadly so, and I felt a flush that had me burning.
He reached slowly to the drawstring of his Speedo, looking left, then right. With a firm, smooth motion, he popped the bowed string free, then looked to me. He surely wasn't about to solo.
I followed his lead, untying my trunks.
"Here goes nothing," he said. And with that, Gord wriggled the Speedo down his hips; his cockhead peeked into view. Then he pushed the suit into the water, stepping out of it and tossing it onto the deck.
In fact, here went plenty. The thought of swimming naked was having quite the effect on him. His cock clearly loved the idea, engorging with blood, bobbing to a distended fullness, cresting above the water line.
"Jesus... this wasn't supposed to happen," he muttered, half turning his back on me.
"I wouldn't worry about it," I replied, pushing my trunks to my knees, then lower.
"No, I guess not," he said, turning back, looking at my condition, laughing. It was lost on neither of us that I too was swollen, my arousal plainly obvious.
The situation stirred us both. Naked, growing quickly erect... two suddenly very curious guys in a very interesting spot.
"Nice," he said, nodding as he looked below my waist.
"I could say the same," I said, ridiculously parched as I stood in a pool.
We pushed off the wall. The feeling of a naked body slipping through the water was indescribably good, the sensation magnified with another naked body swimming beside me.
"Wow... amazing," Gord said as we pulled in at the end of three lengths.
I nodded in agreement as I leaned back into the wall.
Gord's hand slipped to his groin.
"You were right, the freedom is great. But cool water doesn't do a lot for these," he said, laughing again. He dipped his hand deeper into the water, pulling at his balls to loosen the tight skin.
"I've noticed," I said, again following his lead.
I think neither of us had any interest in swimming now. But still, I felt a sudden need to grab my suit, which was nowhere to be found on this side of the pool. Three lengths... it was at the far end.
I pulled myself out of the water and sat on the edge of the pool deck, ready to get to my feet. Then the thought occurred: why was I going to walk naked to retrieve my suit when I could swim to it?
But I seemed in no hurry to go anywhere. Gord had moved between my thighs, studying me. I was now as erect as I'd been in my life, and instead of bolting for the change-room to hide the fact, I just sat there.
And then I felt his hand, cool on my molten shaft.
He said nothing as he stroked me tenderly with his left hand, up to the ridge of my cut cockhead, down till the heel of his hand pushed into my balls, taut from both cool water and sizzling arousal. My head was spinning.
"Glad to see you finally dispensed with those baggy trunks," he said, almost under his breath. "Look what they've been hiding."
Now Gord was also handling his own cock, at the level of the water, with equal skill. He stroked us both in perfect unison.
"So this is synchronized swimming?" I joked lamely.
He laughed as his pace quickened, inexorably, the water sloshing around his right hand that flashed up and down his cock, nearly a purple in colour now. I looked from my cock to his, the sensation building at an alarming rate. His mushroom head was bloated and full, his balls bouncing with each stroke.
"I want to see you come," Gord said. "I want to see it."
"Keep that up and you won't be waiting long," I managed, fighting for breath, staring at his cock, dangerously erect.
His hand barely fit around his swollen shaft, and he was getting very, very close.
"Come for me first," I implored him, pushing him back by the shoulders. "Come for me now."
Gord took a half step back and rose onto his toes. He seemed ready to burst, and as he focused on his own pleasure while watching me, he was there. The first shot exploded like it had been fired from a cannon, and it hit me just below the navel.
I gasped and looked down to the thick, white river dripping into my pubic hair as a second, then third spurt splashed onto me. Gord's knees buckled and he slumped forward, his cock still drooling. Apparently he had a single goal: he needed my cock in his mouth.
He denied himself nothing, devouring me like I was his last meal. His own yield clung to his bottom lip in a sticky strand as he thrust his head down and pulled back, slurping greedily up and down.
But he wanted to see this, too, and he sensed my climax an instant before it was upon me, lifting away and fisting me furiously. The first generous spurt coursed onto his cheek, and he changed the aim to catch two, three more on his tongue, gobbling it down.
I needed him at that moment more than anyone on earth, and I slid off the deck down into the pool and pressed my lips to his, pushing my tongue into his mouth, savoring a cocktail of chlorine and come.
We embraced, and we felt our cocks press together in the shallow water, gradually softening, the last traces of orgasm oozing into the pool as my fingernails dug sharply into his ass.
"Where have you been the whole bloody summer?" I moaned to him, our hands kneading each other's spent balls.
"There," he said, licking my earlobe, then nodding outside the chain-link fence toward a thicket of bushes. "Watching you swim naked."
END