[SwimTeamSpeedo]

The night was still fairly young, the streets of Paris bustled with pedestrian and vehicular traffic. Len and Grant hooked up with the guys as they headed out of the hotel. Grant was becoming more gregarious and confident as the trip went on. They were all wearing some form of shorts, from board style to Len in a really fashionable pair of Capri length men’s shorts that looked like he walked off a page of GQ. What they had on under was a bit more diverse, from boxer briefs to Alex and Patrick in their thong swimsuits, prepped for play later. Chris was commando in a sleek pair of purple shorts that were a cross between boardies and traditional. The were fairly form fitting, giving him a cute bulge display, albeit muddled by the freedom his anatomy had inside.

“This will be a blast,” Len said as the guys headed out the door. By the end of the first block the gang had grown with the addition of Kyle and Ray. It was now a motley crew of young men out for a fun time in the city of love. As they left, Sarah watched from the lounger in the lobby. She was alone. Alice had left with other friends to go sightsee. They were no longer close friends, in fact not really even friends, anymore.

As the guys wandered the streets, no real mission in mind, a streetscape bar enticed them. “Hey, dudes, let’s go grab a beer,” Len suggested.

“Um, this is Paris, shouldn’t we be drinking wine,” Grant replied.

“I don’t know guys, the rules are pretty clear about us drinking,” Chris threw a wet blanket on the idea.

“Come on, Chris, who is going to know,” Len replied. “I say we go try it.”

“Alright, fine,” Chris relented. “But let’s be careful.” They were easily several blocks from the hotel in a neighborhood full of artists, cozy bars and eateries, and an eclectic collection of shops. They were in the Le Marais section of Paris. The bar was mostly guys and mostly gay. The gang of young men grabbed a table on the edge of the street side seating, taking in the sights and sounds of Paris.

“This is so cool,” said Kyle as the beers were served. Patrick and Alex sat side by side, holding hands under the table.

“Dudes, you should see Chris’s France swimsuit,” Patrick brought focus to the conversation.

“You got a France swimsuit?” Len asked. “What you got one for every country?”

“Well, most of them. I am missing Switzerland.” Chris replied, blushing a bit at the attention.

“Anyway, it is pretty f..king cool,” Patrick continued.

“Okay Chris, you better wear it at the pool tomorrow.” Len ordered.

Patrick nudged Alex as he watched a few couples walk by hand. “Alex, check this out.,” he whispered, pointing.

“Awesome,” Patrick replied as another pair of handsome men walked by, arms wrapped around each other. “I think I like Paris.”

___________________

“Chris, how are you?” Alice asked as the gang of guys collided with the gang of girls near the Notre Dame cathedral.

“I’m great, thanks,” Chris replied, perplexed by her directed interest at his.

“I can’t believe what Sarah did. Is everything okay?”

“Hey, it is fine. Yeah she was being pretty stupid and mean,” Chris replied. “But I am not going to ruin this trip over it. She’ll grown up.”

“You are too nice a guy to have that happen,” Alice answered.

“Thanks,” Chris replied. “But really, don’t let it get to you. I will deal with it, okay?”

“Okay.” Alice smiled.

________________________

Chris was alone in his room, the night had finally come to an end. Patrick and Alex were off in Patrick’s room, his roommate again sleeping over with his girlfriend. Well, maybe not sleeping. Chris had slipped into a red Sporti swimsuit. He texted Sheri a picture of himself, neck down. It didn’t take long for all the earlier urges and unfinished business to display itself in the clingy lycra of the tight red suit. Chris loved the fit of his Sporti, the low cut in the front, the sleek narrow sides, and the way the soft lycra wrapped around him. He seemed to always get aroused when he put it on, more than with any other suit. For that reason, the red Sporti rarely saw the pool, reserved for more intimate times.

“You there?” he texted again. No reply had come. Maybe she is at dinner or something, he thought to himself. He laid back and closed his eyes, enjoying the sounds of the city and the feeling of arousal between his legs. The grip of the lycra was stimulating his senses, as his male parts filed with urge. He was massive in the tight suit.

“Oh wow,” Chris moaned as he gently slid one finger softly along the outline of himself. He pictured Sheri and him on the beach, she having her way with him. He would fight to contain himself, just as he was struggling to contain himself now.

“You look so manly,” Sheri would say to him.

“I love you,” he would say back, his body being taken past the point of control as her soft and rubbed his chest and legs, up between them tightly to his crotch. Her hand would then wander up and hold him tightly.

“You feel strong, masculine,” she whispered into his ear.

Chris would moan and struggle to hold. The tight suit being overcome by his body desire.

Sheri would feel the power as he thrusted, the deep breaths of release as she finally won his battle of control. She would smile and kiss him.

Chris laid on the bed, breathing heavy. He was hot, the sweat beading on his chest. As much as he had imagined Sheri with him, he was still alone. He slid his hand down and felt himself again. These were the nights he missed her most.

_____

The Paris bound red eye lifted off the runway of Boston Logan. The Boeing 777 was full, every seat taken. Back in row 41 Sheri took in the sight of the city as the plane banked hard along the coast. The night was clear. She settled in for the long journey. He uncle was the pilot. She was close to him. He was single, no children, and gay. She was his “pretend daughter” and he gave her everything she wanted. He was a nice guy, he so badly wanted kids of his own, but it was clear that would not happen. She cared for him. When she told him about Chris he quickly came through with a free seat.

She could not wait to see Chris’s face when he saw her. The plane banked east out over the ocean. The captain said it would be a smooth flight. “Thanks, uncle,” Sheri smiled to herself.