======== Message-ID: <014326Z23041996@anon.penet.fi> Path: news.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!news.texas.net!cdc2.cdc.net!imci4!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in1.uu.net!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories From: an146810@anon.penet.fi X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories Organization: Anonymous forwarding service Reply-To: an146810@anon.penet.fi Date: Tue, 23 Apr 1996 01:39:25 UTC Subject: In The Swim by Studs Manly [M/F] Lines: 189 Xref: news.primenet.com alt.sex.stories:147772 (C) 1992 by Studs Manly In The Swim Last fall, when I started my freshman year at a Midwestern college, I was lucky to get a job maintaining the pool, oops, the "natatorium." With the combined cost of tuition, a dorm room, the dining hall, and loads of books (I'm majoring in Drama), I needed the extra income. Besides that, the work had benefits that I didn't realize until this summer. I was always careful that the locker and shower rooms were clear of people before I went in to wash them down. Sometimes my warning was answered by a giggle and a friendly "Just a minute," but I never risked my job by being pushy. The girls had plenty of time to slip out of their suits, shower, towel off, and get dressed. The guys were no problem at all; they changed quicker, and often seemed to be hurrying out for another hot date. I didn't mind being a rookie in the college dating pool; there were enough pressures in my life. You might think that I never noticed the skimpiness of racing swimsuits, since I was surrounded by wet, athletic, powerful bodies every day. My working uniform was a pair of gym shorts and a tank top, so I didn't have to wear a "wienie-hugger" like the guys on the team. I did notice the variety of male appendag- es (nothing there to threaten my own masculinity), but I was much more curious and amazed at the various shapes that a female breast could develop into. Sometimes I just sat in the bleach- ers, watching the divers enter the water and climb out of the pool, with their bodies outlined in shimmering translucent fabric. My favorite pose is the crouch before the racing start, when breasts and balls hang lower and suits strain to keep private parts concealed. It's not anything like a perversion, is it, to enjoy the sight of fit bodies achieving what the rest of us can only imitate? I will admit, though, that often those fit, shimmering female bodies made my shorts tighter and I'd seek out a secluded closet or corner to relieve the pressure in my balls. Tricia was a junior that year. She was also my first cousin, though, since she was a couple of years older than me, we didn't pal around or anything. With almost three years of college behind her, she was a regular competitor on the swim team. She had graduated from high school in our home town back in Virginia with some experience in gymnastics and swimming, though I didn't recognize her the first time I saw her at the pool. Hey, I didn't say more than a dozen words to her during the couple of years we were in high school together. She didn't have knockout cheerleader good looks, but she was pleasant to watch, coming and going, and her eyes seemed bright when she smiled. Even if it went beyond my job, I saw all the meets and too many practices þ maybe I should train to be a swimmer, myself. I followed Tricia's performances through the swimming season without seeing her much away from the pool.Her mother was my dad's sister, but they weren't all that close, y'know? I was surprised and delighted when she offered me a ride home in June. With my experience in the college natatorium, it was easy to snag the same job at the town pool when I got home. I didn't get a guard spot, since the training would take too much time, but there was an unadvertised benefit to managing the facility. Tricia trained at the pool, three times a week. She often came a little before dusk, after the family crowd had moved on to their patios and suppers, to do her two-hour-long workout. She usually wore a pale yellow swimsuit that fit like a glove, though it seemed a bit smaller than a glove when she wasn't wearing it. On the days that I didn't open up, I had to stay till closing time to lock the gates. I would watch her while I circled the pool, rearranging the chairs, turning down the umbrellas, and gathering the trash. A couple times, we went to the diner for a cup of coffee before saying good night and going home. I was surprised to find myself caught up in the anticipation of two weeks of Olympic Games. Maybe it was overheard conversa- tions around the club that got to me, or watching Tricia work out, or the realization that she liked to talk about the USA swim team and the swimming events. Someone brought a TV for the lobby to catch the morning broadcast of the Games during breaks from lessons, and I was hooked. I started closing up while Tricia was swimming, and was planted in front of the set when she went to the locker room to change. The lobby of the swim club held a few straight-back chairs and an old couch that was probably a castoff from the living room of one of the members. I was wearing my usual blue Izod t-shirt (the club logo was on the left side) with my work shorts. Tricia had changed to comfortable summer clothes: a white tube top under a loose blue tank shirt, with cut-off jeans that were frayed and ripped from lots of wear. The swimming and diving events claimed our total attention. The womens' gymnastics were dramatic, but the little girls didn't interest me the way Tricia did. I noticed a faint, clean pool smell on her skin. During the news break, I locked the gates and checked the grounds, while Tricia had a piece of the pizza I'd ordered for my supper. We settled back for the second round of the broadcast, which soon focused on wrestling and boxing. Tricia made a curious remark about the wrestling uniforms, and I got cute by demonstrating a leg hold that pinned her knees between my crossed legs. In the half-pretend, just beginning to be exciting struggle to get free, I managed to wrap my arm around her head, forcing her face into my side, just below my armpit. I know, it's a great move toward a pin, but I slipped into it without thinking that Tricia wasn't just a guy in my gym class. I think we noticed at the same time that our clinch was a bit awkward. I started to move away, but she slid her face up my chest and met my lips with hers. After a wonderful moment, gravity overcame my ability to hold her up, and we tumbled onto the floor with several thumps. We climbed back up to the couch, sitting a bit closer this time. I tried to recover my cool. "Heh, heh, that was not the way I practiced...uh...the hold, I mean." "How did you practice kissing?" "Like this." I put my hand on the back of her neck as she leaned toward me, and her hand found my other hand, squeezing lightly as we kissed again. This time we didn't fall. I suppose the earth was moving and the room got blurry but all I noticed was Tricia's face. And her lips. Sweet, panting breath. And our noses, finding room to be close without getting in the way. For a while, certainly from one TV ad cycle to the next, we tried different ways of putting our lips together. Sometimes my lips wandered around her face. Kissing is really interesting, even without much practice. I was thinking about the rest of Tricia's body when she lifted my hand and placed it on the under- side of her breast. Just when I felt like melting, she lowered her head and began licking my neck. She dropped my hand to reach for my shirt, but I continued to hold her with my thumb circling an erect nipple that I could feel through both cloth layers. It didn't take any struggle at all for her to lift my shirt over my head, and I put my hand back, under her shirt this time. Her ribbed tube had a fascinating texture over firm, round breasts. I was exploring the contours of both breasts by this time, my other hand still on the back of her neck, when I got a double jolt. I guess I had been making quiet, appreciative noises, but I let out an explosive gasp when Tricia nipped my chest and slid her hand into my pants at the same time. "No, yes, no, it doesn't hurt, yes, I want you to touch me!" I babbled. Tricia turned her head for a grin, then leaned against me steadily. I got the idea to lie back, without any other hints. As my neck settled low into the couch, she pushed my shorts down to my thighs. Elastic waistbands are great! Gently, carefully, bringing a gasp from me whenever her nails traced a vein, Tricia began to stroke my pink, hard cock. I couldn't think of anything to say, but I could hear her making a rumbling, purring sound. It was very pleasant. I trusted her, she seemed to know what she was doing, so I concentrated on watching her, waiting for the next move. There was room on the couch for Tricia to move over me, placing her knees on either side of my head. Since my arms weren't pinned, I pulled the tube top down around her waist (odd, that was up toward me). I moved her breasts so the nipples brushed against mine. My fingers went in slow circles fully around those wonder- ful, pendulous breasts, now pressing down on my belly. I could clearly see the line where her tanned ribs became white globes held in taut skin. For a moment I was awed by the intimacy of seeing hidden places, touching with fingers that had never been so alive, and smelling what could only be her sex. Then Tricia took the purplish head of my cock in her mouth, and the universe shrank around me. It really did. After the first shock, something like falling off a rope swing into a cool river on a hot day, I knew what I had to do. I tugged at the snap, pulled the zipper, and slid Tricia's shorts down (up?) her legs, over her ankles, and onto the floor. With my hands pressing on her back and butt, I let her relax her breasts onto my chest and position her wet cunt over my searching tongue. Her tongue was washing my quivering cock between nips and sucks. She tasted fresh and warm as I probed for sensitive spots. With the joy and luck and abandon of young lovers who have just learned more about each other than they never imagined they could ever know, we came together, grunting and moaning and slurping and hugging through the wild spasms that shook us both. There was a moment of quiet panting, then Tricia, up on elbows and knees, switched her position. She gave me a short, fragrant kiss, then walked away, with a glance back to see that I was following. We slipped into the pool in the shallow end, and swam to the diving end. Tricia floated on her back, breasts and bush wet and shiny, waiting for me to come close. I tread water easily, my head near hers. "Thank you, Tricia." She turned her head a little so I could see her smile. "You're not a rookie any more, are you?" I grinned and she pushed my head under water. I liked the view from there, too. Tricia began a long, lazy stroke that took her along the length of the pool. I was just able to keep up with her comfortably. That night that I decided to train for the swim team. And we've been working out every day. --****ATTENTION****--****ATTENTION****--****ATTENTION****--***ATTENTION*** Your e-mail reply to this message WILL be *automatically* ANONYMIZED. Please, report inappropriate use to abuse@anon.penet.fi For information (incl. non-anon reply) write to help@anon.penet.fi If you have any problems, address them to admin@anon.penet.fi