The older lifeguard....

[raymcc]

There were two sets of lifeguards at our summer job at the public pool. The local high school guys (and girls) - of which I was one...and the 4 or 5 college swimmers on scholarship at a big state university who needed a summer job while staying in training.

Being a lifeguard had lots of social status. You got to be outside in the sun and water all day. Got to just wear a speedo all day (or a speedo under the loose navy blue boxer style nylon trunks with a 'guard' stripe down the side). Younger kids always looked up to you...and there was the inevitable sexual tension of being essentially naked all day. As an 18 yr old (competitive swimmer), I was pretty comfortable in my body - and certainly in a speedo. These were the 'nylon speedo days'. You'd buy it and have to 'break it in'. Nylon suits are 'elastic' like today's lycra. On the plus side, they were paper thin, and unlike Lycra, you could see the outlines. We learned pretty quickly that solid colors (particularly light colors) were more 'telling' than any suit with a pattern. On the 'modest days', I'd wear stripes - or maybe a pattern.

I always found nylon speedos to be erotic. Enough to be covered - but barely - and once you 'broke them in' (wear them enough so they conform to your body), they just slide on and feel like a 'barely there' second skin.

We reported for the beginning of summer season. 12 local high school kids...and joined by 5 guys from the University of Wisconsin varsity swimming team. They arrived in tattered jeans, t shirts, and two had the chlorine bleached hair from hours in the pool.

Two stood out. Brent. 6'3" shaggy blonde hair. Broad shoulders and perfect chest, narrowing down to a 30" waist. He rode a Honda motorcycle, and walked with the lanky loping ease of someone who was super confident. Crystal blue eyes which were usually behind Ray Bans - and his occasional geeky rectangular dark rimmed glasses.

Colin was about the same height, loosly curled black hair, and perfectly green eyes, with more than a few freckles. Colin was quiet - shy actually. and rumor had it he had a 'hometown honey'.

At first, the high school guards didn't interact with the college guys (intimidated mostly), but over time, we'd interact a bit. Guards had a small alcove in the general locker room - no more than 4' x 4' where we could change. Each of us had a locker where we kept our speedos at night, and no one ever bothered to lock their lockers.

Brent had two suits. A very well worn solid maroon, that had faded to a light purple - and fabric that had clearly thinned over time with use. This was his suit of choice. Often worn under his jeans. Occasionally though, he'd wear a black nylon suit. Obviously a size smaller. With a an incredibly small tight ass, coverage wasn't a problem in back, but he had a package that matched his size 12 feet and long fingers. Where as most of us 'tucked' our dicks downward in our speedos, this wasn't an option for Brent in that suit. So up and sideways (and long) it was. He seemed oblivious to what that suit - both suits actually - did to people. Girls couldn't stop checking him out. And guys looked at him with either admiration or wonder. I could only imagine - and fantasized about - the great sex he must be having.

Over time, we got to know each other. Brent was a great swimmer, and during lunch and dinner breaks, (and after his practice), he'd let me jump in the pool and work out with him...and he'd help with my technique. This is when it started. He'd stand close beside me in the waist deep water and take my arms to perfect my stroke. I can remember the electric feeling when his chest, abs or legs would rub against mine. Knowing he was straight (and I had my own girlfriend and with great sex), couldn't quite figure how to understand all that was happening. What I did know was that Brent would thoughtfully offer to coach me a few times a week.

I was intrigued by his motorcycle (and him on the motorcycle). Long legs thrown over that huge seat. Jeans so old that you could see his speedo between the tears, and a t shirt that was almost useless. One day I gut up the courage and asked for a ride. That night after the pool closed, we jumped on his Honda at 9:30. Actually, he jumped on first, and I stupidly stood there until he encouraged me to hop on behind him. 'Ok, so what do I hold on to?'
"Give me your arms" He took both, put them around his torso and said 'lock your fingers to keep yourself steady an sit farther forward in the seat.' I was now against his body. My chest firmly against his back. My hips tightly behind his butt, and my legs squeezed tightly against is thighs and legs.