Today was the day. If I didn't chicken out, today was the day. I admired myself in the mirror one last time. Everything was ready. Everything was in place. All I needed to do was to do it. I grabbed my towel, my suntan lotion, a book, threw on a light robe and headed out the door.
For weeks, I'd been planning this. I had scoped out the route, the traffic patterns, the visibility, the water temperature, the sun and shade, I left nothing to chance. Today was the day.
Today I would wear a thong to the apartment complex swimming pool.
I've always worn thong underwear. Difficult to find for men, but doable if you don't mind dealing with the general society stigmas. First of all, you can't just walk into Wal-mart and expect to find them. You gotta shop certain establishments. Next is this weird assumption that if you wear thongs you must be gay. I don't see what one has to do with the other. (I'm bi, for the record.) Swimwear is nigh impossible to find unless you shop online, then it's difficult to fit, etc, etc, etc.
Having overcome all those hurdles next is where do you plan on wearing the damn thing? Most pools have restrictions against minimal swimwear, and unless you're fortunate enough to live in South Beach, you have some planning to do.
I want to show off, but I don't want to go to jail.
I knew the pool would be relatively deserted this time of day, I knew maintenance had already cleaned it, and I knew the wooden fence surrounding the pool offered enough privacy that no one would see I didn't want to. I also knew there was a coed who liked to go tanning and wore a tiny bikini herself.
The pool area was empty as I had planned. Quickly I set about moving some chairs so that only two of the loungers were in the sun, and then nervously shucked my robe.
The warm sun beat down on my body, nearly all of it. The thong I'd purchased for this was a very minimal yellow number with tie string sides and a true T-back that hid in the crevice between my cheeks and left my ass fully exposed. The pouch was small, and I was poured into it creating a very sizable bulge up front. I closed my eyes for just a second and listened. A soft summer breeze rustled the leaves of a nearby oak tree, somewhere off in the residential neighborhood behind the apartments, someone was mowing their lawn, and poolside the water lapped invitingly against the steps.
I descended the steps, slowly getting used to the cool water before immersing myself entirely. I swam the full length of the pool underwater, and when I broke the surface on the far end, she had arrived.
I knew her name was Kara from a conversation in the laundry room once when I was fortunate enough to bump into her. I knew she lived in my building, and I knew she attended the same university classes as me, but on different days. Today, I knew was her pool day. Some might call it stalking; I like to think of it as careful planning.
