Olympic Dreams

[SwimTeamSpeedo]

Randy and Jimmy joined the rest of the swimmers on the bleachers, a collection of wet guys, suits clinging to them like cellophane wrap. Randy was on Jimmy’s right, their bodies almost touching as they sat on the tightly packed first row of bleachers. Randy’s hand was nestled right up against Jimmy’s leg. Jimmy felt it there, but with the tight seating, he gave it no attention. For Randy, the placement was more strategic. The guys all watched as the second and third waves of the free took place. Randy felt himself getting worked up. It happened fast, so fast Randy couldn’t stop it. Within a few seconds, he was rock hard inside his swimsuit.. He wiggled his legs a bit, hoping to ease the sensation between his legs. It didn’t help.

“I can’t believe this,” Randy thought to himself. He had found guys at swimming cute, but never to the point the got like this. His swimsuit was bulging tremendously. Randy bent over, trying desperately to calm himself down. He had heard some guys talk about getting boners in their swimsuits, but this was new to him. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Despite all his efforts, he was getting harder and more aroused. Jimmy was driving him wild.

“Watch the guy in lane three,” Randy said to Jimmy, trying to divert his mind, and hopefully his arousal.

“The guy in the blue and green swimsuit?” Jimmy questioned.

“Yeah, he’s probably the fastest guy here,” Randy answered. “His name is Kent.” Randy squeezed his legs together, trying to stop the urges he was feeling between his legs, but the more his body touched Jimmy’s in the close seating, the worse the urges got.

The whistle blew and the race was on. Kent quickly established his dominance and was well ahead of the rest of the swimmers, easily a full body out by the end of the first 50. His turn was fast and tight, a solid push and he was on his way back before some of the other swimmers had hit the wall.

“Wow, he is good,” Jimmy turned and said to Randy. Randy’s hand was on his own suit trying to adjust himself, he had positioned up and was about to pop out of the suit. He pushed his rock solid anatomy to the side. He quickly grew into the extra room, no longer held back by the tight drawstring.

“Told you,” Randy said.

Kent had pushed out a great time. He was solidly in the top spot, and it was unlikely anyone would beat him. In fact, his time rivaled some of the juniors and seniors. If he kept up, he would be the best swimmer the program had ever seen by the time he was a senior. He was clearly varsity team bound.
When it was all over, Randy was in the top five at fourth place. Jimmy missed the top ten by one slot, coming in at 11th.

“Time for breast stroke,” the coach called out. Everyone line up along the wall.

“Oh man,” Randy said to himself. “I can’t stand up like this,” he added to his thoughts as he contemplated his situation. He was franticly trying to make himself relax, but he was staying rock hard and the urges were getting stronger. It was all new territory for Randy, being trapped in public this way. His anatomy now looked like a steel rod inside his tight and tiny swimsuit, barely contained within the lycra material.

As he stood, Jimmy could not help but notice that Randy was having a problem. It was that obvious. “Hate when that happens,” Jimmy said. “At least there are not girls around,” he added. Jimmy felt bad for Randy, having been there with Abby. He knew how awkward it was.

“Yeah, I guess, but there sure are a lot of cute guys,” Randy answered without thinking. Jimmy never gave the comment a thought, at least not then. Randy finally stood, his erect anatomy showing. He walked close behind Jimmy, hoping to hide his situation, his left hand held in front of his swimsuit. Jimmy went ahead of him. As they stood on along the all, Randy wiggled his legs. He knew he was not only erect, but he was feeling himself close to the next level. He tugged at the front of his swimsuit, which was probably not the best choice, the sensation only acted to prolong the situation. If anyone other than Jimmy noticed, no one said anything. It was not the first time a guy had ever gotten aroused in his swimsuit at an inopportune time, and it would certainly not be the last. Luckily, Randy’s body finally retreated.

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The tryouts consisted of sets of 100 in each of the four core strokes to start out, followed by some other events. Every swimmer had to do the four sets, then it was by option for the rest. Free was Jimmy’s strongest stroke, so his out of top ten finish did not bode well for his chances. Despite Randy’s assurance that Jimmy had done well, Jimmy knew otherwise. Both Greg and he hoped for a finish in the top quarter, maybe top third.

“Don’t give up, even if it is not going well,” Greg had advised Jimmy in their last text session. “Show you got heart!” Greg had also advised.

The breast stroke was next. Same order as before, Aiden and Randy flanked Jimmy. Jimmy got on the block, positioning himself for a great start. Randy was to his left, Aiden to his right. This was Aiden’s top stroke, so Aiden had high expectations. Randy untied his suit, and put his hand down to readjust, now that he was back to normal. For swimmers, every detail has to be right, right down to the placement of parts inside the suit. Satisfied, Randy tied himself back up.

The whistle blew and Jimmy got a great start, off the blocks exactly as in line with the rest of the field. His dive was long and graceful, he hit the water slightly ahead of the rest of the field. “Great launch,” wrote one of the coaches. On her pad Jimmy was known as New Guy/Blue Nike Print, reflecting that most of the other swimmers the coaches knew from their rise through other swim teams.

Aiden was way ahead at 25 meters. He was powerful, but with amazing grace. His body flowed with the water, hardly making a splash. Jimmy was in last place and struggling, but staying close to the swimmer in lane one. By the turn, Aiden had commanded to the top spot. Randy was second. As they turned, Jimmy was still almost two bodies out from the wall. The swim was not going well.

“Damn it,” Jimmy thought to himself. “Swim your race,” Greg’s mantra entered his mind. Jimmy pushed hard.

“Way too slow,” wrote the coach, right under the great launch comment. Jimmy was several seconds late at the turn, but he nailed the flip. Tight, fast and a great push, which lead to another positive comment. The female coach watched as Jimmy swam back, checking his technique. Jimmy felt great off the wall, knowing he nailed the turn. He was determined to not be last. He pushed hard.

At 25 to go, Jimmy was solidly past the swimmer in lane one, a guy in Nike shorts. But then a stunning turn of events. Jimmy caught the guy in lane six, also, at ten meters to go. Jimmy pushed harder. It was not a fast swim, but somehow he pulled out a fifth place finish. Really not bad for a guy who was dead last at the turn. “Great comeback, technique is solid,” wrote the coach.

Randy waited for Jimmy to finish. He saw the last ten meters, and the conquer of fifth. “Great job,” Randy said to Jimmy. “You were swimming really hard those last ten,” he added.

“Thanks, how did you do?” Jimmy asked.

“Second, Aiden was first, always is,” Randy replied.

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The final set of the required four was the fly. Being Greg’s favorite, the guys had worked really hard on the fly over the Summer. “It’s a race of technique, power and speed,” Greg had always said to Jimmy. “If you can nail fly, the rest are easy,” Greg also used to say, a little bias in his opinion, he was, after all, a fly guy. Fly was Randy’s weakest stroke, and Aiden admitted he was average in it. By this point, Randy and Jimmy were fast friends, and Aiden had really warmed up to Jimmy, who absorbed everything either of them said. If they all made the team, they were clearly going to be a trio.

Jimmy had no idea how he would do. He blew the back stroke, coming in last in his heat and 15th overall. That race was Randy’s breakout swim, which he solidly won, both heat and overall. No surprise there. Despite the bad back stroke set, Jimmy forced himself to rebound, Greg’s other advice. “Don’t let a bad race ruin the meet,” he would be telling Jimmy right now, if he were there.