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#51
05-22-2017, 01:59 AM
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Great story s t s ! Joy of spandex makes us all feel so good!
Wish I had coach like you. 
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#52
05-24-2017, 04:28 PM
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STS, another great set of chapters. Thx for continuing the story!!!
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#54
06-03-2017, 02:49 PM
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19: Stormy Showdown
By the end of the warm up set, Stormy had increased his lead to a half length, a substantial distance in the world of competitive swimming. He hit the wall far more winded than he should have, the damage done for the intense workout Coach had planned. Stormy was smug, his arrogance ready to boil over. Jake finished several seconds behind, never pushing the pace, knowing when Coach said nice and easy it would be the only set of the day where the muscles would not burn. Allen and most of the rest of the team were well back, some just coming off their last flip turn.
"That the best you can do?" Stormy asked sarcastically. Jake had hardly stood up. "What?" Jake replied, surely he had heard him wrong. "You heard me," Stormy snapped back. Jake was not sure how to respond. "It was a warm up, not a race," Jake replied. "If you were a serious swimmer, you would be racing all the time," Stormy snapped back in a caustic sting. The hair on Jake's neck bristled at the comment, his youthful masculine rage telling him to just give Stormy a swift punch in the face. Jake stood firm, glaring, letting himself gain control. There was no way he was going to fall into Stormy's trap. Instead Jake did the most annoying thing he could, he ignored Stormy's outburst. Allen could tell Jake was boiling inside as he stood at the wall of the adjoining lane, but he finished just as Stormy's taunts ended. He had no idea of the rivalry that was building between Stormy and Jake. "Jake, you okay?" Allen whispered over the lane line. " Yeah, fine," Jake replied. "I will tell you later." Allen knew he was not fine. Coach Ryan set angular white boards at the end of each lane. Each board had the practice routine listed, tailored to the skill level of each group. "Okay folks," Coach got their attention. "Tough day planned. We will cover lots of yardage, focus on speed and form. Work your way as a group through the workout. No skips, no cruising." Ryan explained. Jake and Stormy's lane had the longest and hardest workout at just over 8000 yards. "That ain't squat," Stormy boasted, lying. He did not dare admit that he was shocked at the intensity Ryan had planned. Maybe the slow and easy was starting to make sense. "Well, since your such a hot swimmer, why don't you lead," Jake offered. "On this team, I plan to always lead," Stormy replied. "Don't you ever forget that." Chris heard the exchange. "This new punk needs to be knocked down a few pegs," Chris said as told Ryan what he heard. Chris watched the first several sets, clearly Jake was holding back. Chris watched as Jake would swim just back of Stormy's wake, close enough to be haunting him on his turns. As Stormy increased his speed, Jake did too. As Stormy faded, Jake used it to rest. Normally, Chris would yell at Jake to swim to his level, but he let it go. He knew Jake was up to something. “Let’s see how this plays out,” Chris thought to himself. The guys kept swimming through their drills. Jake hanging back, building Stormy’s confidence and his cockiness. At the break between the fourth set, Stormy looked over at Jake and said “maybe they should add a group for good swimmers,” he then paused and added “Oh, except for me there are none.” Jake let it go. Chris heard it, too. "Smart kid," Chris said to himself. "And we aren't even at the fly or IM" he mumbled to himself. By the mid point 4000 yards in, Jake's plan was working perfectly. At 5000 yards, the plan called for a rest. Two minutes. The first signs of how the rest of the workout would go were starting to show. "Getting tired yet?" Stormy asked as Jake leaned against the wall. "Yeah, pretty much burnt up," Jake replied, a total mislead. "Not me," Stormy said pompously. "We did drills way beyond this." Jake knew he was lying. The fly set came late, 5500 yards in. Stormy was winded, his legs burned. He could feel the pings of cramping. Even the fit of his suit had shrunk to reflect the shrinkage of his anatomy. Jake, on the other hand was still swimming strong. Even the guys in Allen's lane were holding up better than self proclaimed super swimmer Stormy. "This is gonna be a tough set," Stormy actually admitted with no acidic undertone. "Maybe you should go first," he added. "Our team rule, the strongest swimmer always leads," Jake replied as straight faced as he could, but a slight smirk unable to be hidden. Allen heard the comment and knew Jake was setting the new kid up, big time. So did Chris. Jake held back an extra second and stayed back through the first turn. On the second length he closed the gap, but sill kept his distance. By the final leg, he was close but about a second back. For each of the next four sets he played Stormy's ego like a fiddle. "Showtime," Jake thought to himself as Stormy led off the next set. Jake watched as the brightly printed jammer suit radiated color in the water. Unlike past sets, Jake pushed off at exactly the right spacing. He powered down the first 25 and by the turn he was almost on top of Stormy, so close he could see the detail of Stormy's suit. On length two, as soon as he knew the last swimmer was past, Jake moved to the wrong side of the lane and surged. He hit the wall almost half a body ahead. Stormy only saw the blur as Jake took total dominance. By the end of the set, Jake was standing at the wall waiting for Stormy's arrival. "Tough set," Jake said as a very winded Stormy stood, almost unstable on his pulsating legs. Jake dominated the rest of the yardage. By the end of the session, Stormy was third in the lane. As the guys finished the warm down, Jake stood at the wall. One by one the rest of the team finished. Stormy said nothing. The guys got out of the pool, some more gracefully than others. "Welcome to the team," Jake said, putting out his hand. Stormy ignored him. "At least I tried," Jake said to Allen. "You did pound him into the ground," Allen replied. "Yes, I did." Jake answered with a grin. The two best friends walked together to the locker, looking hot and handsome in their tight, clingy swimsuits. Mission accomplished, maybe.
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#56
06-04-2017, 04:11 AM
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20: Haystack
Coach Ryan's annual team party at the lake was always a blast. After the long swim practice, the team bantered about the upcoming afternoon at the lake. Everything was discussed from what swimsuits each of them were going to wear, to what hot girl was going to be the biggest turn on. Even talk of hot guys filled the locker room. Jake took some teasing about whether Lizzie and he were going to be off in the woods frolicking in poison ivy. It was not much past 9 and the party did not start until the afternoon. Most of the guys were going to head over to the local diner for breakfast and more sometimes raunchy banter.
Stormy listened but did not participate, his wounded self esteem showing in his pity party for one. Jake and Allen glanced over a few times. Stormy just sat on the bench, still in his colorful jammer suit. Jake and Allen had not changed, either. "Hey, Stormy, " Jake opened as he walked over. Stormy looked up. "You are coming to the lake, right?" Stormy looked back in silence for a minute. He rubbed the Lycra encased upper legs that were still reeling from the ass licking he just took. "No, I got things to do," he replied as he stood up. "Well, it is a really good time, and a great way to meet the team," Allen chimed in. "If you change your mind..." "I said I wasn't coming," Stormy cut them both off. With that, he walked out of the locker room, bare chested and still wearing the wet jammers. "He's still adjusting to the change," Chris came over. Chris looked so hot in his tight fitting Turbo swimsuit, Allen started getting aroused. "That was really nice you guys tried to include him." Chris added, putting his hands on both their shoulders. "He's a good swimmer. He'll come around." "Yeah, we'll keep trying," Jake replied as he grabbed his stuff. Allen agreed. The guys left still wearing their suits, heading for breakfast. Most of the rest of the team had already headed out, even Lizzie took off. Some in shorts, some dressed just as Jake and Allen were. Stormy left the pool and headed west out state route 163 toward Mapleton. The Mazda Miata was a gift from his parents for making him move his Senior year, part bribe and part 18th birthday. It was the perfect day for a joy ride in a convertible as he rolled past fields of potato crop in full bloom. He was still naked but for the form fit jammer, which was getting dryer by the second. It was 6 am back home, his friends would be just starting swim practice at the awesome pool complex just east of Phoenix. Free of the humiliation he took at the pool, Stormy gained his esteem back. His left hand on the wheel, he rubbed his bulge with his right, growing aroused. Thankfully, Northern Maine is not well patrolled, as Stormy teased himself in the hot red Miata, he blew through Mapleton's center at 50, ignoring the posted 25 speed limit. The Raceway Diner was use to the swim team guys crashing the place for breakfast, many wearing their skimpy swimsuits with shirts over, teasing the cute girls who served the home cooked food. The owners overlooked the attire because the team came in hungry, ate and spent a lot, and they were a fun group to watch and listen to. "Wholesome boys," said the owner, an older lady who called anyone under 30 as boys or girls. The only rule was no foul language, but that even slipped out in their youthful exuberance. Lizzie sat close to Jake, her hand strategically placed on his inner leg, she could feel parts of him that turned him on. She was still in her one piece competition suit with short nylon shorts over. Many of the girls on the team were far less revealed than the guys. "So then he says he needs his own lane because there are no good swimmers on the team," Jake said as he related the story, somewhat embellished. "What a jack ass," said Ricky, violating the language rule. Ricky was in a hot red print Tyr, two inch sides. He had the cutest bulge, which was well outlined by the soft Lycra material. He had caught the eye of one of the cute wait staff. "I think he is just lost," Allen said insightfully. "It has to be hard...". He trailed off. "I agree, we need to give him a break,". Jake chimed in. "We are a team," Ricky added. Ricky had an idea, and he found Stormy pretty cute. Lizzie gave Jake an approving rub that about made him pop out of his suit. Good he was sitting, his erection strained against the suit, a release of moisture creating a west spot between his legs. The hot red Miata climbed the hill west of Mapleton and made a quick right into the gravel lot of Haystack Mountain. Stormy smiled when he saw no other cars, he had the place to himself. He grabbed his hiking shoes off the floor of the passenger seat and slipped them on. He slipped a cropped Lycra shirt on, one that matched a color in his jammers. He carelessly tossed his keys in the center console and set off up the single trail that would lead him to the top of the small, but mighty little mountain. More of a big hill really. His cell phone tucked in the waist of his suit and a big bottle of water in hand. He was still horny, but the hiking returned his bulge to normal. Stormy also felt so alone. Allen left breakfast and rode the old green bike west, also along route 163 heading toward Ashland and directly through Mapleton. He swapped the t shirt he borrowed from Jake for the more brightly colored spandex top, not exactly a real cycling jersey, but close enough. At least he was highly visible. He wore his swimsuit rather than his only pair of cycling shorts. He had a thirty mile ride ahead of him. Jake, Ricky and two other swimmers passed in Jake's truck, honking and carrying on as they passed the swimsuit wearing cyclist. "Cute shorts," Ricky yelled out. Allen gave him a teasing hand jester in return. For the next 25 miles it was Allen, the bike, and the open road. Stormy sat atop the mountain. To the east he could see all the way to Presque Isle and beyond, actually into Canada. To the south a view of Scopan lake, formerly called Squa Pan, until the whole political correctness thing ended its original Indian name. To the west and north the town of Ashland and the abundant north Maine Woods. It was a fantastic view, but for Stormy it was a place to think. He looked at his cell phone and imagined he was back with his team, half way through practice. Arvid, called AJ, his best and closest friend would be looking all hot and sexy in his jammers, driving Stormy wild. Stormy began to massage the arousal he felt thinking about AJ. He quickly became fully hard, enjoying the feel of his expanding bulge. Stormy's tough guy shell started to melt away as he looked across the expanse of rural in all directions. "Oh man, this just sucks," Stormy thought to himself. His mind wandered from his arousal to the conflict he was feeling. "No one here is going to accept me," Stormy thought to himself. "At least not like my team did." His eyes became wet and filled with tears. His hand stopped as his emotions poured out. He had never told his parents of his attraction to AJ or that he was sure he was gay. "And now here I am in podunkville where they would never accept me," he said to no one atop the mountain. As Stormy sat alone, he missed the sight of Allen making the tough climb on the highway below. The swimsuit clad cyclist was coated in salty sweat as he crested the top and rode right past the gravel entrance to Haystack. Allen and Stormy were so much alike, but neither knew it. In fact, across his new team, Stormy had more in common than he realized. Stormy sat alone, tears streaming down his face. When his phone chimed a text message, he brightened, sure it was AJ sending him a selfie in his swimsuit. "Hey Stormy, please come to the team party, I can pick you up," read the text. It was from Ricky, who got Stormy's number off the team roster. Stormy did not reply, at least not yet.
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#57
06-05-2017, 10:18 PM
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Really loved this chapter. Stormy was a complete ass - yet I was feeling sorry for him, knowing how alone and out-of-place he must feel, so he tried to compensate for that with his 'tough-guy' act. I'm glad Jake, Allen and the others will be patient with him. And I think he will be surprised to find others 'like him' in rural Maine!
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#58
06-18-2017, 12:59 PM
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STS,
We eagerly await your next chapter of this great story.
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#59
06-19-2017, 03:05 AM
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21: The Challenge
Allen knew exactly the suit he wanted to wear to the club picnic. He stood in the outdoor shower washing the salty sweat from his body, letting the cool water rinse over him. As he imagined the new swimsuit, he grew hard, really hard inside the swimsuit he had worn at practice and rode home in. He rubbed along and over his bulge, enjoying the sensation of making himself more excited. He was amazed that even after all the athletic endeavors so far he actually had any energy left. It didn't tale long before he brought himself all the way, a small but intense thrust of release as he shot across the small stall of the outdoor shower. He let the water calm him as he slipped himself back into the swimsuit.
"Hey Jake, want to ride over to the lake together?" Allen texted as he got ready for the afternoon of fun. He ripped open the package holding his brand new Funky Trunks Stroke Rate brief, a crazy colorful two inch side cut that he had just received, along with two other new suits. "Cool, I will be over shortly," came Jake's reply. "Ricky is coming with us." He added. Jake and Ricky were still wearing the suits they had on at practice, which would stay on them for the festivities at Coach's house. Jake's Sporti Flags brief was still tight and small, but Jake felt great in it, and it showed him well. Ricky was in a colorful print water polo style suit from Q swim, with narrow sides and a low cut that barely covered him. It was one of his new favorites. Stormy hiked back down Haystack. He was still all alone. His face brightened when the selfie from AJ came through. AJ was 5'10", muscular, dark spiked hair and deep eyes. He was rocking a red and blue Speedo print jammer, showing an impressive bulge of masculinity. The image stirred the arousal Stormy had suppressed with his emotional breakdown. Stormy shot back his own selfie. Back to his Miata, Stormy raced off. Ashland, an older golden retriever, was in his glory. Coach Ryan's dog loved when the swim team came over. He got lots of attention, ate hand outs galore, and played ball nonstop. Ashland was also a hit with the ladies on the team, and naturally attracted the guys interested in chatting with the ladies. About half the guys wore swim briefs, while the rest were in boardies or shorts, some over briefs and some commando, it was not hard to figure out who was what way. The girls were like minded, about half in the full piece swimsuits, while others, including Lizzie wore more revealing suits. In Lizzie's case a white string bikini that would test the tightness of Jake's suit. Coach Ryan wore a CaRioCa Ventania low cut brief, his usual very colorful look. The suit fit him well and gave a nice masculine display. The entire team, a few past alumni, and some family and friends were at the annual picnic, except for Stormy and on other member. The lake was warm for northern Maine, about 68 degrees. A light breeze created some gentle ripples on the water. The lake presented its own enticement. The testosterone in the guys took over as they looked at the swim out to the island and back. "So how fat out is the island?" Devon asked, a handsome blonde haired guy in board shorts. A really good swimmer, albeit not fast. Devon tried hard and loved being on the team. "Half mile," guessed Ricky. He rubbed his bulge as he said it. The masculine challenge battling his fear of open water. "Coach says a mile or so," Allen chimed in. "Plus a half mile around the back side of the island." "That is a long swim," said Lizzie, her hand rubbed Jake's nice, tight butt. Jake was semi hard, as his bulge showed. He grew harder. By the end of the banter, six guys and two girls were in. The plan was in place to swim to a sandy beach on the far side of the island, regroup and swim back. Time was on the honor system. "Winner gets a date with anyone on the team," one of the Speedo wearing guys called out, creating quite a laugh. Ricky bowed out, under the guise of being the one willing to sacrifice and follow in a kayak. "Just in case," Ricky said, hiding his fear of open water. Keith, a cute guy in board shorts, offered to follow in a second Kayak. Coach was going to stay further back in the 26 foot pontoon boat, just in case they all needed help. The swimmers launched from the dock, diving into the cool water of the lake, already ten feet deep. The depth would reach 125 feet, their kicks churning up colder water as they swam. The bottom would disappear once the depth passed 25 or so feet. They were on their own. ---- AJ had moved on. He loved Stormy, but knew that it was over the day that big moving van pulled away. He would never forget Stormy, but as the pragmatic one, AJ also knew life was always moving forward. He had already met Donnie, a cute runner who could rock AJ as much or better than he rocked his silky running shorts. What Donnie's runner frame lacked in bulk, he made up for in the packaging between his legs. Donnie was an uncut jewel, a sexual machine, with a kind heart. He was Stormy's replacement. It was time AJ put Stormy in the right perspective, gently but firmly. Young love was that way. Hours ago, swim suit erotic pictures turned to life lessons. At 18, things moved fast. "You need to give your new team a chance," AJ said in reply to Stormy's ranting text of how much his new team and new life sucked. "They sound like they are trying." "What are you saying?" Stormy asked. "You gotta stop being a hard ass, make friends, move on." Stormy stared at the text. It was not what he was expecting. Was AJ saying it was over? Stormy sat in the drivers seat of the flashy red sports car in a parking lot overlooking Eagle Lake, a long expansive lake just south of Fort Kent. "I am moving on," came the next note from AJ. A jolt that rocked Stormy to the core. Stormy did not reply. He started the car and sped out of the lot, leaving a cloud of gravel dust. He held his jammer covered crotch with his right hand as he raced south on Route 11, tears streaming down his face, anger raged in his body. He was gay, alone and lost in a world he so badly wanted to reject.
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