Prologue to Swim Team
©2011-2012 Sheep. All rights reserved. Copyright protected. It is illegal to copy, post or publish without the written consent of the author. This story is NOT in the public domain
Swim Team is an original novel about a men’s college swim team with the polyamorous gay love and sexual relations of some of its members narrated in the first person. The protagonist is a twenty year old only child who is gay, living in residence, and struggling with his sexual orientation. He is petrified his parents, of some social standing, will find out. As he prepared for finals in his Junior year, his parents were involved in a horrific car crash. They were killed instantly. He applied himself, studying hard, while planning his parents’ funerals, meeting with estates’ officers, and the family’s lawyer. He immersed himself in studies and maintained his grades in spite of the overwhelming odds.
The story delves into his unhappiness living alone at the family’s professionally designed, antique laden home while driving his mother’s big SUV. Thankfully, his father had been meticulous with estate planning. Since Scott was the only beneficiary, he automatically now had possession of all of their assets which were, by no means, small.
The story guides you through the practical decisions he had to make, taking the reader with him to the college’s pool where he coincidentally ran into his favourite teammate and had sexual relations with him, for his first time, in the locker room!
Swim Team lets you experience the comfortable life created by Scott with the help of his new “family” of team members and other friends, some old, some new. You will experience his highs and lows as he gradually deals with his loss. You will also see him utilize his father’s weekly lessons out of necessity as he puts all the stock market analysis tools his dad taught him, an area he hated with a passion, to his advantage.
Life is a roller roaster because Scott is bi-polar. Hang on, because it’s going to be a rough ride. The road has many twists and turns. You won’t know until the very end if his love will conquer all.
…now on to the story
This story is pure fiction. Any resemblance to persons known to you is a figment of your imagination. This story contains explicit homosexual encounters between guys of legal age and if you are offended by this you are in the wrong place. Also if you are under legal age you really shouldn’t be here so just go away. Practice safe sex. Always use condoms.
Swim Team is a novel about a men’s college swim team with the polyamorous gay love and sexual relations of some of its members
Special thanks to my editor DonQuixote for making this story readable
©2011-2012 Sheep. All rights reserved. Copyright registered and protected. It is illegal to copy, post or publish without the written consent of the author. This story is NOT in the public domain
My name is Scott. I take pictures for a living. It all started in university, where I majored in journalism and joined the photography club for something to do because, other than the swim team and some working out in the gym to occupy my free time there wasn’t much on my social calendar. I knew I was gay, but I had locked myself in the closet and was scared to death someone might find out my dirty little secret like my parents. That situation took care of itself in a most gut wrenching way.
While I was in my Junior year, my parents were heading up to our cottage and were passing a tractor-trailer when the rig lost a wheel which collided with their car, sending them out of control, through a row of posts tied together with heavy steel cable, down a steep embankment, and killed them instantly. I will spare you the graphic details; Jayne Mansfield came to the same ending in the ’60’s.
Dad wasn’t really filthy rich, but lived comfortably as a valued management team member of one of the big banks. The other half of the equation is he insisted on being paid with money that had handles on it so he could hold on to it. Joke. Yeah, he was thrifty, in spite of having been left a sizable portfolio which he managed carefully and grew nicely through good investments.
So, here I was, twenty years old, living in residence because my parent’s house was too far from the downtown campus. That’s when I received the phone call that changed my world. Finals were coming up, and here I am, all alone in the world, having to do things like plan a double funeral, meet with the lawyer and estates officer of the bank’s Trust Department and many other things which have thankfully been numbed out of my memory.
I now had a week to prepare for finals. Looking back at it, I guess it was a blessing in disguise that I had to concentrate on studying which put the horror show to the back of my mind. I maintained a pretty respectable average in spite of my loss. It was consistent with my grades before the accident.
Now being finished with school for the summer, I had 4 months to get my life under control. Thankfully, dad had been meticulous with estate planning, and as I was the only beneficiary, coupled with a brilliant plan mom and dad had to shield their estates from probate costs, all of their assets were held as ‘Joint Tenants with Right of Survivorship’ and I was one of the ‘joint tenants’ which meant that when they died, all their stuff: house, cottage, portfolios, car (what was left of it) was legally mine and tax free, and didn’t trigger capital gains tax.
I did what any kid would do; I moved back into the family ‘museum’ after a quick stop at the local Ford dealer to buy me a brand new Mustang GT Convertible which was parked in the showroom, cordoned off, and screaming ‘BUY ME’. That was an easy decision. The insurance company picked up the tab because it cost about the same as the book value on dad’s now topless Lincoln Town Car that I disrespectfully called ‘The Boat’. Hey, it did look good on him as a banker -- conservative as hell, the perfect dad car, dark grey metallic, fabric seats so he wouldn’t get hemorrhoids from sitting on the cold leather... oops, sorry dad, another $900 would have given you heated leather! I can still see him driving around with the AM radio babbling stock quotations ad nauseam.
I’m trying to be happy with my screamin’ yellow ‘Stang drop top. The weather was starting to be perfect top down time too. But the big cloud on the horizon was living in that fucking museum. I mean the house was beautifully done, and full of expensive antiques -- it just wasn’t my style. I had been intrigued with lofts since watching a popular queer TV series, so I called a buddy whose dad had a successful real estate brokerage. He gave me his dads number so I called him. We set up an appointment at my place where he appraised the house and showed me some downtown lofts on the computer. An old warehouse was nearing transformation as a luxury loft building and the location was perfect so we jumped in my car and went down to see what was available. The poor realtor damned near crapped himself with my high performance driving style.
I couldn’t believe how incredible it would be, and I still had time to make some changes to the two storey penthouse unit, which hadn’t been sold due to its high cost. We saw a couple of other lofts in the area but they didn’t pique my interest in the slightest. Our next stop was his realty office, where we discussed a plan of attack. It was a unit on the south end of the building, over 5000 square feet, having south, east and west exposure with a very private area on the west terrace overlooking the city. The unit was about 1/3rd the length of the building and had a new second story on top of it. The balance of that floor was divided into two lofts; one with west and north exposure and one with east and north exposure.
One of the main considerations I was looking for was a hot tub on one of the three large terraces. Other things included wiring the loft for a home theater setup and a commercial looking stainless steel kitchen including an Aga range and a commercial refrigerator with double glass doors. A dedicated ice maker would be essential as well as an upright freezer. A doorway would be cut from the upper level of the unit which would walk out to the roof which contained the elevator penthouse and adjoining sauna, a swimming pool and deck area. Having the ‘gay gene’ meant I had a flair for interior design.
It was decided to make an offer at the asking price and have them include all the goodies including the hot tub with an allowance of $30,000 towards the kitchen. I was to pay for kitchen construction in excess of that figure. To make it hard for them to refuse, we decided to include a deposit cheque for $250,000 to show them we were serious. The offer of purchase was printed up and signed. I decided to send it off to my solicitor to make sure I wasn’t going to get screwed. He added a completion clause, which made them liable for all costs associated with storing the house contents, and the hotel bill for two adjoining suites in a luxury hotel near the campus. The purchase offer now included a storage locker in the garage level for my mountain bike and a second parking spot.
I called my financial planner and told him what I had planned, being sure to mention that when the house was sold the portfolio’s value would increase by over a million dollars even after the loft purchase. I guess these planners get paid on the amount of money under management so this was a big carrot for him. I told him I wanted the certified cheque delivered to me in 2 hours. “No problem Scott.”
And it was.
We presented the offer, giving them 4 hours to accept it or the offer was null and void. Watching the developer squirm in his chair was akin to watching your mother-in law drive off a cliff -- in your brand new Mercedes! Naturally he accepted the offer and the cheque but with much hand wringing. I told him we would have the plans ready within a week. WIN!
Now the house needed to be staged and cleaned and put on the market. I gathered up all family photos, some little things my grandparents had left me and other keepsakes. The sale went smoothly, ending in a bidding war which brought in $90,000 more than the listing price. I honestly believe my planner creamed his shorts when I told him. Those suit types are so fucking predictable. He wanted to put some of the house sale proceeds in Dell stock. I opined if he does he should short it but that he would be better off buying Apple stock as the price had just dropped when CEO Steve Jobs left on sick leave. I’m happy to report he agreed with my assessment and ultimately bought several thousand shares and some other securities to balance out the portfolio, when the sale closed.
My life was getting back to normal. I had some stress trying to keep ahead of the builders on the loft project. I had a tension headache and decided to go to the university pool and do some laps and maybe have a soak or hang out in the steam room. An hour later I pulled into a parking space thinking how great it’s going to be when I have the loft. It’ll be at most a 15 minute walk. I felt better just walking into the locker room and getting a whiff of chlorine again. My mind associates that smell with nicely toned swimmers bodies--broad shoulders, powerful quads, strong pecs and tiny waists. Damn, I was almost getting boned thinking about it. I think the real attraction to swimming was being in the locker room with these beautiful young studs.
Let’s face it, swimming had to be the gayest sport in existence. Everyone on the team appeared to be gay or bi with all of the ass grabbing and crotch cupping plus we helped each other shave in pretty intimate areas. We were, how should I say this, ‘familiar with each other’s equipment’. One bi member was banging his girlfriend very regularly but she was very understanding of his needs and didn’t mind too much when he needed to get his ass fucked by a guy.
Although I hadn’t really shown my sexual orientation, I was determined to have someone drag me out of the closet now. Or perhaps I could drag myself out. One thing was for sure. Status quo wasn’t going to be an option. Sure, I’m the same as all the guys out there. I enjoyed frequent dates with Mr. Right-Hand but I wanted something more. I didn’t know what but even if it was someone else’s right hand it would be an improvement. I’ve been told I’m hot. I work out lifting weights and have a nice smooth chest, biceps and triceps, lats and traps. I work hard on my legs and abs but they aren’t my best feature. I am dishwater blond and have green eyes, 5’ 10”, a 32” waist, 7 1/2” X 6 1/2” around and cut, with a big head. Even being a grower, I got plenty of glances in the showers.
I was getting ready to stuff my junk into my Speedo when Robb, another boy on our swim team about to enter his Sophomore year, took the locker next to mine, gave me a hi 5, and whipped his clothes off. I really liked the guy. I felt closer to him than any of the others on our team. Previously, I had taken a great picture of him just finishing a race with his hands just touching the wall with the other two swimmers behind him in hot pursuit. He was the team’s best asset. He had been swimming all his life and competitively for 7 years, whereas I had specialized in diving even though I had 4 years of competitive swimming experience.
My photo was published in the Varsity News and Robb was really happy with the picture. I made him a blowup of it, put it in an inexpensive black document frame, and gave it to him. Hell, you would have thought I gave him a solid gold Cadillac. He gave me a big hug and kissed me. Whoaa! I kind of knew he was gay and I really liked him as a person and a “shave buddy” on the team. We all shaved our bodies before big meets. Robb was a touchy type of person with a great body and looked aces in or out of his Speedo. He was a cute guy with white teeth, probably from the chlorine in the pool; big, doe-like, soft amber-brown eyes; soft mousey brown hair, and always a smile. If you Googled ‘non-threatening’ I’m sure you would see a picture of him. His voice wasn’t what you would call manly, but it suited him, and I thought it made him even cuter.
So, fast forward. We are both standing there talking and he is boning up. I could feel that tingling sensation down there. I knew what was going to happen. It’s something I worried about since I was a kid. I couldn’t keep my eyes off his hard cock. I was short of breath. My mouth was dry. I felt like I was having an anxiety attack when the silence was broken.
“Scott, are you ever hung!”
I looked down and sure enough I was rock hard; so was Robb.
“You are like huge yourself dude, but then your Speedo never concealed it. Nicely cut, too.”
I looked at myself again and noticed a drop of honey dew on my piss slit. I stared at Robb’s unit and and a string of pre-cum started sagging its way to the floor. Fuck! What to do? I grabbed his shaft near his nuts, slid my hand toward the tip and with my other hand I scooped up his now copious pre-cum on my finger, raising it to my mouth, and sucked my finger. Sweet. He crouched down in front of me and attempted to swallow my hard penis. I thought I was going to cum. What a sensation!
Luckily, it was Summer and there was nobody in the pool or the locker room. We were at the far end in an alcove that wasn’t in a sight line with anything, so if someone came in we would have plenty of time to cover up. My mouth was watering from the taste of him. I knew I wanted to suck his cock.
“I have a better idea Robb.”
He got off my cock and hugged me tightly and gave me a kiss but this time he used his tongue. Wow! I think my tongue nerve endings must extend all the way to my cock. I could feel a copious amount of pre forming a bubble on my cock-head, so I reached down with my finger, scooped it up and put my finger in his mouth. I thought he was going to gnaw my finger off. To say that we were a little bit horny was like saying the Pope was a little bit Catholic. I wasted no time dropping to my knees and sucked his fat cock into my mouth. My senses where totally overwhelmed -- the feel of his cock sliding in and out of my mouth, the musky aroma of his well trimmed pubes, the feel of his big, smooth, shaved balls, the sound of his soft sighs of pleasure from his alto voice, the feel of his smooth skin on his bubble butt, and that sexy wet saliva sound my mouth made as I sucked his beautiful thick 6 1/2” cut cock. Man, it just doesn't get any better than this I told myself.
Somehow I didn’t even hear him when he said “I’m going to cum,” I was in such a trance. His cock got really thick, his head expanded and his spherical balls drew up tight, and then he exploded into my mouth. I gulped it down as fast as I could, but he shot it faster than I could swallow it. I had cum all over my face and still had a mouthful. Without even thinking, I kissed him deeply as his tongue hungrily devoured the batter that I hadn’t swallowed. He licked my face then kissed again, back and forth until all the evidence had vanished. I was so horny I could only hear a rushing pulsing sound in my ears. My heart wanted to jump out of my chest. I knew if I touched my cock it would make a big mess. Pre-cum was running down my leg.
Robb bent over, wiped his middle finger in all my pre-cum, and then dropped to his knees behind me. What the fuck? He started running his tongue up and down my ass crack. Up and down. In and out. Up and down and then he stopped, crouched in front of me swallowed my cock and then it happened. He stuffed his wet slippery finger up my hole and touched something. It was like electricity and it felt amazing. I shot my load, but he quickly got my dick out of his mouth and aimed it at his face. It was unbelievably hot watching my big, thick, cut cock paint his face white. I thought the spasms would never stop. He was jerking his, too, and stood up, looked into my green eyes with his big amber-brown eyes, smiled and blew a second load all over my cock. This boy sure knew how to get me going. It was my first, but it couldn’t have been his. I licked off his face, sharing his thick cum with his hot mouth, and then I cleaned his cock off. He finished by cleaning his second load of cum off my cock, stood up, and said, “Man, you have no clue how much I’ve wanted something to happen between us!”
“Robb, until today I was a virgin. I’ve never touched a guy, but I’ve slept with buddies at the cottage and woke up with blue balls. I’ve never even thought of a girl or wanted to for that matter, ever since having a humiliating experience where little Scott refused to stand up. I really think cunts have teeth. You answered a question that I thought I had the answer to, namely that I’m gay. You removed all doubt. I think I’ll call you Bambi because you are my ‘dear’ deer.” This time I gave him a kiss on the lips as I held him in my arms. And it felt so natural. It felt good. Amazing is what it was! Being touched must be the most wonderful, simple pleasure of life.
We had a hot soapy shower together and managed to get the cum off each other without getting hard -- no small accomplishment. We got our sexy Speedos on and went to the pool. Robb specialized in the Butterfly stroke, or as we call it, the fly. It was great exercise for his shoulders and quads. I loved watching him swim with his ass popping up and down like he was fucking the pool, while he dolphin kicked up and down his lane. I guess we swam for about an hour then decided it was enough. My headache was gone.
He put his arm around me in a lateral hug, looked in my eyes with a guilty look on his face and said, “Scott, There is something that I should have told you.”
to be continued ...