Old Green Bike

[SwimTeamSpeedo]

Writers note: a teaser of a story to come. I have been working on this one for a while. I hope you like it. As a side note, any sexual acts involve people of legal age.

The Old Green Bike:

Prologue:

“Let's get ice cream,” Sky became alert as the car made the long descent into the tiny town of Patten on the journey up State Highway 11 into the North Maine Woods. It was a remote place, especially once past Baxter State Park, known for logging and Potatoes. And, of course, Moose.

"Sounds like a good plan," Ken replied as he made the left into the summer ice cream stand. "I hope they don't freak out at my attire," Ken laughed. Of the two guys he was the one more revealed. Ken wore a vintage triathlon Speedo, the logo across his backside. Sky was in a tight, form fit one piece skinsuit, it held nothing back.

"You're fine, plus with all the numbers written on you, it is obvious you just did a race." The two guys got out of the car. The shop was busy, mostly with teen age kids hanging out. Ken and Sky walked over to the line to order. A few glances, but nobody seemed to react to what they had on. Despite being in just the swimsuit and short top, Ken was less on display than Sky, who was sporting a very obvious bulge in the one piece kit he was wearing.

"Were you guys in a race or something?" a very polite young guy in line ahead of them turned and asked. He was with a group of four guys, Ken guessed they were 15 or 16.

" A triathlon in Bar Harbor," Ken replied.

"Wow, really?" the teen replied. "Hey, guys, they just did a triathlon," he said to his friends. "I am on swim team at school," he turned back to Ken and Sky. "Do you race in your Speedo?" He asked.

"I do," Ken replied, " but most guys wear trisuits like his," Ken finished, pointing at Sky.

"That would be so cool," came the youthful reply. Ken wasn't sure if he meant racing in a swimsuit or doing a triathlon. He figured best not to ask. After they got their ice cream, Ken and Sky sat at a picnic table eating. The young swimmer came over and joined them, along with a friend. Sky and Ken told them about the race. "One day..." the young man said, a wishful look in his eyes.
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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. He lathered up shampoo and used it to clean his hair and his body. He even lathered up his swimsuit, which felt arousing. He slid the suit down to wash the areas underneath. When he was finished, he pulled the suit back in place and let the water flow over him again while his hands explored his own body. He was swimmer lean, muscular, and his male physique was well developed for his age.

Dried off, Allen stood in front of the mirror admiring himself. He took various poses, Imagining himself having just finished a triathlon. "You look hot," he mumbled to himself. He really did. The wet suit clinging to him, accentuating his attributes.

"Hurry up," his sister yelled through the door. "I need to finish up!" She added with frustration. Allen hurriedly finished. As he opened the dooor, now in the wet blue swimsuit, she pushed by. "What were you doing that took so long," she complained. "Don't answer, I think I can guess," she continued. Allen ignored her, but knew she was right.

Allen traded the wet swimsuit for some tight fit jeans, commando. He had chores to get done, and he wanted to dig out his bicycle from the barn. He was, after all an aspiring triathlete. The beginnings of a longer story.