[SwimTeamSpeedo]

It was close to midnight, the beach was empty but for two young lovers. Peter wore a translucent white Aussiebum suit, a perfect match to Alaina's white string bikini. The second bottle of wine filled their two red solo cups. They were well past the beach curfew, but they did not know nor did they care. They had just finished amazing sex, a double climax for Alaina, amazing staying power for Peter. She could still feel his thrustful release. They held hands walking alone in the gentle surf. Despite the rules, they were not alone in their midnight stroll, although they were the most scantily dressed. A near full moon shimmered off the ocean, providing a romantic glow.

Peter was still fully erect, he had not gone down despite his volcanic orgasm. In the darkness he rubbed his hard anatomy. The silky nylon was clinging to him, he was very sensitive. He had never been so hard for so long, it was as if his manhood was frozen in a state of constant arousal. He rubbed himself, feeling his long shaft wrapped in the nylon of the Aussiebum suit. The moonlight reflected off the water, his white suit absorbing the light. Peter looked like a handsome specimen of erotic male desire. Alaina reached over and took his hand. Even in the darkness she could see his bulge was massive.

"You look scrumptious," she said as she held his hand. The ankle deep surf swirled around their feet. The tide was out, opening up a wide flat beach. Two guys in Speedos, walking arm and arm passed, heading the other way. The beach was again all theirs. They were alone, far enough north of the main beach, well south of the homes, and secluded by the dunes. Just the sand, surf, moonlight, and sensual desire. Alaina pulled Peter to her, the two embraced. His aroused anatomy rubbed against her.

"Somebody is aroused," Alaina whispered as they embraced. She pulled his mid section into her, feeling all of him against her. "Does it hurt when you get this hard?" She asked as she let Peter rub against her.

"Hurt?" Peter replied. "No, I mean you feel it, but it is more like.... I don't know,". Peter pulled her tight. Alaina slipped her hand down and gently slid it onto his bulging suit. She gently massaged him, feeling every detail of his erect anatomy. "That feels awesome,". Peter whispered between deep kisses.

"Let's go up here," Alaina suggested, leading Peter to a guard stand pulled close to the dunes. They climbed up on the stand, both now sitting five feet above the beach. Alaina arousingly untied Peter's suit, freeing him of the confines of the nylon material. As she climbed on his lap, facing him, she guided him into her, pulling her tiny bikini bottom aside. "I've always wanted to do this," she whispered. She gently worked herself, taking full advantage of his youthful stamina. Peter moaned as her warmness slid against him. Alaina did not take long before she wrapped around him and let her body pulsate with orgasmic release. He remained very erect, not close to reaching the same point.

"Oh man, please," Peter moaned as Alaina did her best to bring him all the way. "I am so hard, and it won't....". Peter trailed off. He wanted to, needed to explode, but despite her efforts and his, he wasn't getting there.

"What's wrong, baby?" Alaina asked.

"Oh gawd, I don't know," Peter replied, desperation in his voice. As he said that, Alaina noticed the two flashlights down the beach.

"Peter, we gotta go," Alaina said as quickly she slid off of him.

"I can't go like this," Peter replied.

"We have to,". Alaina said as she pulled him from the chair. Peter struggled to get himself back inside the suit. He would have to let her finish him later. They made it over the dunes, just as the beach patrol shined their lights on the abandoned guard stand.

"That was close," Alaina said. The two made there way back to the hotel. Peter still rock hard and barely covered by the tiny swimsuit.

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Kelly woke and slid the covers off. The house was quiet, I had already headed out for my morning swim. Kelly was still wearing the Funky Trunks he had on the night before. He laid on the bed and glanced down at his feet, the outline of his body before him, including the colorful bulge of maleness. He was not hard, but slightly aroused. He slid his hand down his abdomen and teased himself through the swimsuit material. His arousal grew. He thought about finishing what he started, but instead got up from the bed. Kelly glanced out the window, the sky was a colllection of puffy clouds against a perfect blue. The lake was being gently rippled by the westerly breeze. Ashland was laying in the sun on the edge of the dock, waiting for his master to return.

Kelly looked through the colllection of swimsuits still laying out from their modeling session last night. He picked out one he had worn the night before, he really liked. He held it up, smiled at the thought of it on. He tossed it onto his unmade bed, saving it for later. For now, the colorful Funky classic squarecut was just fine, actually it felt great. He slipped on a cropped Lycra blend muscle shirt that ended just above the swimsuit, but then opted not to wear it. He liked the coolness of his bare, hairless chest in the morning air.

All freshened up, Kelly ventured into the kitchen. By his own calculations, I had about an hour of swimming left. He was close to right. The coffee was already brewed, two pots. One my usual decaffeinated with a hint of hazelnut, a second full bodied Hawaiian blend, freshly ground. The aroma saturated the first floor. I had thought to put out a cup, cream and sugar for Kelly. He smiled when he saw it. Kelly poured himself a cup, walked out onto the deck. The air was refreshing, a crisp 59 degrees heading to 78. Kelly stood there, bare chested, in fact bare everything, but for the splash colors of the five inches of swimsuit. He looked stunning, except I was not there to see it. Ashland jumped from his relaxed position and trotted to greet Kelly, picking up a ball on the way.

"Hey, Ashland, good morning," Kelly said. Ash dropped the ball at Kelly's feet, always ready to play. Kelly picked up the ball and gave it a modest toss. Ashland chased after it, happy to have someone to play with. Kelly made his way, stopping to throw the ball, to the 40 foot dock. He walked to the end and scanned the lake. "How far do you go, I couldn't see you anywhere," he would later ask me. A couple in their Kayaks paddled by. Kelly did not hear them at first, but turned around to find them about 50 feet out from the dock. Kelly froze momentarily, feeling a bit naked in just the tiny, at least to him, swimsuit.

"Gorgeous morning," the husband called out. Neither seemed at all alarmed by Kelly's attire.

"Yes it sure is," Kelly replied.

"Hey, are you the swimmer?" she asked. "We see you every day, just a little while ago, in fact."

"No, that's my friend, he is out there now," Kelly replied.

"You look like a swimmer, great shape, better than me," the husband replied. The trio chatted for several minutes, Ashland waited patiently. By the end of it, he was Roger and she was Cheryl, both up for two weeks from Portland. They even invited Kelly and I down for a beer, and a chance to meet "the crazy guy who swims all morning."

"Well, Ashland, time to make breakfast,". Kelly explained to the dog, as if he understood. The two headed back into the kitchen. Just in time for a refill of coffee. Kelly was way more confident about the swimsuit, too.

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Allen woke up early after a fitful night of sleep. The old farmhouse was warmer than the 58 degree outside temp, a reality of 1890 uninsulated construction that trapped heat on the second floor. Allen wrestled between being too hot, too cold, and too horny. It was not quite five when he woke, the early sunrise lighting up the room, the hum of the window fan fighting to cool him, and his old blue print Tyr swimsuit damp with sweat and bulging with his youthful sexual urges. Summer swim team practice was at 8, but what had kept the handsome young man awake all night was thoughts of triathlons. The short conversation at the ice cream shop stirred an interest, actually a desire. He flipped the single white cotton sheet off, laid uncovered on the bed, letting the fan blow on him. His legs were spread about shoulder width, the stretched out suit slightly loose, clinging only to the parts of him rising the highest. He rubbed himself with his right hand, feeling his private areas. As much as he wanted to just lay there and think about what it must be like to be a triathlete, there were chores to do before heading off to practice.

"Time to get moving," Allen said to the silent room, rising out of bed. He shook his lean body and manually adjusted the fit of his swimsuit, positioning his cut anatomy up and to the right. He loosely tied the dangling strings, just as he exited his room for the lone full bath in the old, white frame house. Allen had started wearing old swimsuits around the house at a much younger age, a habit he would carry for the rest of his life. He was the youngest of three sons and two daughters, the last of each still at home.

"All yours," his very cute sister said as she exited the still steamy bath with its dated Formica counters and vintage fixtures. She didn't react to her younger brother and his fading morning wood bulge in the tiny swimsuit. It was just another day, she had seen it all before. Secretly, she thought he was cute, although she would never let him know that.

"Cool, thanks" Allen replied as he slipped by her into warmth of the lingering steam. The bath had a perfume aroma, feminine remnants of his sister's morning prep. Allen turned on the shower, jumping in suit on. (Continued next post)