Rockwell Junior College (post graduate high school, as a friend put it) was next to a small river on a group of hills in northern Illinois. On a brilliant autumn day in September of 1970, I opened the door to the gym building. It was the on the highest hill of the group, and the rays of the setting sun slanted bright red and gold through the floor to ceiling glass walls. I headed for the men's locker room, which was supposed to be at the end of the right hallway.
For some reason, Rockwell required all students to take one semester of swimming, even though we'd all had swimming in high school and junior high. The only class that would fit my schedule was 8:00 pm on Wed, the last class of the day. For us males, it would be nude, of course. I could only hope a college p. e. instructor might be different from a high school swim teacher.
Those were universally loathed. They were all ex drill instructors, or had the mentality of same. Barking orders, screaming at us, humiliating us, all the more excruciating because you were naked. They were only concerned with discipline, and if they managed to teach you something about swimming, it was only because the forgot for a moment to check to see if you were standing at attention! They seemed to see us as their nude teenage boy army ready to take on an enemy in an aquatic version of Gettysburg.
I found the men's locker room, the familiar scent of soap, after shave and sweat assailing me. There were 14 other guys already sitting on benches. I recognized a couple of them and nodded. One guy waved me over to him, and I took a seat.
Then I saw them. Two females standing next to the shower room. One was a slightly plump brunette, pretty, large breasts, wearing glasses. She was in a skirt, one of the shorter ones that had become fashionable, and all of us noted her nice legs. She was followed by a slightly taller blonde girl, about the same age, late twenties or so, wearing a red swimsuit that was skin tight. It showed off her curves, and shapely legs, and even a bit of what I would later learn was called camel toe! This blonde was quite pretty, athletic, short hair, lean, muscled legs and nice full, round boobs. She held a clipboard in her hands.
She addressed us.
"Good evening, gentlemen. I count fifteen of you, so you should all be here. And the first thing we must do is make certain you are all in the right place. Your schedules should say P.E. 101S 70902."
"Ok," she said, "let's take roll. Just respond when I call your name."
Of course, I almost missed it when she called my name.
"Ken Harris? Mr. Harris?"
I finally answered.
Roll call finished, she grasped the clipboard to her chest, faintly elevating her breasts, and forcing me to realized finally that I was getting a bit stiff.
"Very well, to complete the introduction, my name is Kendra Anderson. My assistant is Betty Roberts. You should address me us Miss Anderson and Miss Roberts, and we shall address you as Mr. It's important to maintain decorum even when wet."
"I'm twenty eight years old, I hold degrees in p.e., physiology, and psychology, and am a certified lifeguard. Miss Roberts also has a degree in p.e. I will be your teacher for this semester."
"Ok, first things first. I know what you're asking yourselves. And the answer to your question is yes. You will be required to take swimming in the nude. The same as you were in junior high and high school."
There was absolute silence in that room.
"I can tell some of you are a bit nervous about this, even if you won't admit it. Let me assure you there is no need to be. I spent all my college years teaching part time swimming classes at YMCAs, YWCAs, Boys Clubs and schools. Almost all of those classes have been male, and every class was nude. The college refuses to compromise on this—male students have to swim naked."
"Now, you're all big boys here, old enough to be secure in you manhood, but still I realize some of you have never been nude in front of an adult woman before, at least not for an hour at a time. How about a show of hands? How many have had a female swim teacher?"
No hands went up.
"Well, you have my sympathy, for what it's worth. But the fact of the matter is that you will be naked in that pool, with me as your teacher, and Miss Roberts, for one hour a week. I realize you won't like this at first, but you'll get used to it. I found most males are a bit embarrassed at first, but after a few weeks it works out. So, let's start getting accustomed to the idea right now. I want you all to stand up and turn around."
Reluctantly, we all did so.
"Now, open your lockers."
We opened them.
"Now, strip down, put your clothes in the locker, then turn around and face me."
We all looked at each other, confused.
"Hurry up. We haven't got all day. Everything off and in the locker. When you turn around, all I want to see is thirty nuts staring me in the face!"
The rest of it seemed to happen in slow motion. I did my best to avoid removing my pants until the last. The shirt, the shoes, the socks. Finally, the pants. There was no sound but that of belts unbuckling, clothes sliding over flesh, shoes being thrown in lockers. I looked to the guy next to me and his eyes were as wide as mine. There was no sensation but the air wafting around every inch of my now naked body, and my heart hammering away. No thoughts but that this couldn't be really happening. I finally worked up the will to turn around, barely managing to breath again.
She looked at us, and barked a command, "Ok, now I want you all at attention. Put your legs apart, father, a couple of feet, and lock your hands behind your head."
I remember just barely being able to do it, and how it made me feel even more vulnerable. I was actually starting to shake with fear or embarrassment. I was too confused to know which. This was all too much and happening too quickly.
Then, she went to the front of the line, with Miss Roberts in tow, and started walking slowly down it. She stood close to us, no more than two feet or so, hand on her hip, lips pursed, contemplative. She looked each guy in the face, then slowly down the length of his body, pausing to stare, sometimes almost belligerently, other times thoughtfully, at each one's manhood, occasionally allowing a faint smile to cross her face. Some of them were fully hard, but most of us were just too shocked for an erection. She looked at each one, sometimes mumbling to herself, or whispering to Miss Roberts, who was taking notes on a legal pad.
When she got to me, she looked directly into my eyes. She had gorgeous blue eyes, the color of the sky on bright October day. Her eyes moved slowly down my body. From the face, to chest, to abdomen, pausing at my half hard member to smile quite prettily, then down my legs. She noticed me trembling, and touched my arm, telling to calm down, it'll all be ok. She then walked back to the head of the line, told us all to remain at attention, but to turn around. She went down the line again, and I could feel her eyes on my ass.
I was surprised that I had been shaking. I guess it was the combination of her fresh faced beauty, her forceful demeanor and my nudity. I hadn't experienced these things before.
Finally, she backed up and told us we could stand at ease. We all covered our genitals with our hands.
"Well," she said, "most of you seem perfectly healthy. Some of you, maybe too healthy." She shared a smile with Miss Roberts, and they both looked at one of the ones who had been fully hard as he blushed.
Then she gave us the speech. You know, the rules—no horseplay, no running, we obey her orders, etc. Then she outlined the semester. How the class broke down into sections, what we would be learning, Miss Roberts's role (locker room attendant and assistant teacher.) Then, she said she had one more thing to talk about. That we should listen very carefully to this. These were her rules, ones that she had adapted after teaching swimming to nude young males.
She took a deep breath.
"Ok, you're all legal adults, but you're just past teenage years, which means your hormones are still raging. I think male hormones don't stop raging until the age of 50 or so."
We all laughed.
"You may be legally adults, but you're still essentially adolescent males. When an adolescent male finds himself nude in a group, and especially when there is a female present, certain "physiological reactions" often occur." She paused, considering. Then leaned against the door, arms crossed, apparently loosening up a bit.
"Never mind that. You're probably unfamiliar with the term "involuntary erection" anyway. It's what's commonly called a hard on, or a boner, or getting wood, or what ever slang you want to use. It's very, very common among teen aged boys and young men. In every class, and I mean every class I've ever taught, guys have got them. Even adult men sometimes loose control and get them. I have three brothers, one boyfriend, and thousands of naked males I've instructed over the years who all say the same thing, that at your age, it's close to impossible to control. I have no problem believing this."
She walked forward, to a few feet in front of us, hand on her hips, the thin swimsuit covering stretched across semi hard nipples.
"So, here are Miss Anderson' rules for male swim classes. First, all of you put your hands at your side." No one moved. I thought I hadn't heard her properly. Did she tell us to uncover? My brain was racing. I was getting stiffer by the second. Ogling her beautiful butt hadn't helped. I was almost fully hard. I couldn't take my hands away! She'd see.
I looked down the line, where no one was moving, but you could hear the heavy breathing and the room almost shook with our racing pulses.
We all hesitated, so she repeated the command, more forcefully.
And we did it, most of us slowly, turning beet red as we did! I looked down the line, saw guys with deer in the headlights looks. About half were fully erect, including me! The others were half hard, and some were still coming up.
