The Meet

Going straight into it, so if you're new to this series, please start at the beginning for your benefit.

***

I wouldn't be surprised if most of you don't believe my history up to this point in the story. You might think the idea that men swimming naked in public pools in 1959 is crazy. I would agree it is crazy, but it doesn't make it less true. Turn on your google, or whatever it is, if you don't trust me and look it up yourself.

Perhaps the hardest pill for you to swallow, is that I had such an intimate sexual experience with the female coach, Dr. Wynn. Well, it happened. I always kept that secret to myself, up until now. There were more events that occurred during this joyous time in my life and I'm happy to share them with you before I go, but I'm warning you: If you haven't believed my story up to this point, you may as well quit reading now. It gets crazier.

**

It was about a week later, following a Friday afternoon practice, when things really took a turn. Coach Andersen had the team line up at the end of the pool. "Gentlemen, in three weeks we start competition. I am more confident in this squad, than any other I have ever coached. You make me all very proud."

It was nice getting the acclaim. We had survived several weeks of practice and conditioning, injury free, and three more weeks of it seemed ever more grueling, even though we were seeing the benefits of the hard work. All nine of us had rippling hard bodies, what many would consider to be "peak" physical condition. Knowing Coach Anderson and Dr. Wynn, they always set the bar higher.

"Unfortunately, boys, we are faced with a challenge. I am offering you the opportunity to make a big decision."

The nine of us, all naked and still wet, began mumbling among each other.

"Settle down, settle down. Here's the issue. The pool at Twin Cambridge has cracked its foundation. They will be rushing to repair it, but in the meantime, our old rivals have no way to practice in a proper 50-meter pool. That is, unless they bus over here daily. They called and asked if we would be willing to give them access to our pool every day at 7 p.m., until the season officially begins."

Seven o'clock is when the girls usually start practice. We're 4 to 6:30, and they're 7 to whenever. The break, between the two squads coming and going, usually prevented any of the girls from accidentally stepping into the pool area while we were there. Although it was allowed and tolerated for girls to be around, I had discovered that it wasn't considered good etiquette, unless one was a coach or a lifeguard.

That first day of school, when I had experienced being naked in front of several girls, had perhaps skewed my reality of the situation. I even noted that when Dr. Wynn did stop in during our afternoon practices, she never over-extended her stays, always doing her best to make the boys feel comfortable. Still, whenever she was there, I popped wood.

Pete Wilkinson on the end spoke up, "If Twin Cambridge can't practice, we'll trounce 'em in competition!"

Buddy Preston raised his arm. "Do we really want to win that way?" Buddy was well-liked by everyone, and if it weren't for me, he would have been the fastest on the team. "You know that's no way to win a meet." The others agreed, me included.

"I thought that's how you would see it," said the coach. "Obviously, this creates problems with how we share our facility. Coach Bradley's squad will have to forfeit their time for Twin Cambridge. She and I discussed it, and feel we can effectively utilize the space by giving her girls the west side of the pool, and we'll take the other. We'll have fewer lanes to practice in, but we can resolve this by coming in at 3:30 and staying until Twin Cambridge arrives at seven."

It sounded to me like they'd already made up their minds. Strangely enough, after more than a month at the school, I had yet to meet Amanda Bradley, the woman who many considered to be Coach Anderson's equal. I knew she'd been the girl's coach for more than a decade, and had a winning record almost impressive as her counterpart's.

Coach Anderson paced as he debriefed us. "I'll call TC and tell them they can start Monday. It will give us enough time to make arrangements over the weekend." Suddenly, he stopped. "Do I have to remind anybody to be on their best behavior in the presence of the girls' squad?"

We all shook our head and mumbled "No," but Scott Thomas raised his hand. I remember it was Scott, because if there was one person who might have been more socially awkward than me, it was him. Also, he was standing right next to me. Still, he didn't get stiffies every time Dr. Tammy Wynn stopped by. It appeared only I suffered that humiliation.

"Um... Coach Anderson?" he asked. "I... uh... know the girls can wear their swimsuits and all, but while they practice with us, it will be mandatory for them, right?"

I jerked my head to him. "Mandatory?" I whispered. "What the heck are you suggesting? They have to wear suits, of course!"

Coach Anderson started laughing, shaking his head. "Oh, Mr. Thomas... and you, Mr. Feller." He slowly walked up to me, standing not two feet away. Thank goodness Dr. Wynn wasn't there. Otherwise, my penis would not have been flaccid. "For as fast as you swim, you really ought to know more about what it is you are swimming in. Without going into the history of this great sport and leisure activity, here are the rules: stay in your lane, don't jump in until you hear the buzzer, and abide by all dress codes."

"I do, sir," I insisted. "I was just saying, so do the girls. They abide by the rules, by always wearing their suits."

The coach sighed, "Apparently, you are still in the dark over our protocols. Boys, why do we not wear suits in the pool?"

One at the end of the line shouted, "Fibers in the pumps and filters. Clogs them up, making us have to replace them."

"I thought it was checking for rashes and wounds," said a boy on the other end.

"Yeah, to ensure we're clean, everybody knows that," said another.

"It's all those things," cried the coach. "There is every practical reason to swim in the nude, Mr. Feller. Not to mention, we have long standing traditions here."

I nodded, not wishing to upset the coach with my ignorance any further.

"Back to your question, Mr. Thomas. Will the girls be required to wear their suits? I'll discuss it with Coach Bradley. I think it is a reasonable request."

Again, my curiosity got the best of me. "But wait, I don't-"

"What is it you don't understand, Mr. Feller? The girls don't HAVE to wear their suits, but should they prefer to protect their modesty, they may. We offer the school sanctioned suits for that reason."

"You mean they can also practice naked?" The thought of it sent blood rushing to my cock, but the look on my coach's face helped to keep me in check.

"You really are from Kansas, aren't you? Most of them wear their suits, I suppose. Sometimes one or two of them go without, so I've known, but it's a girl's privilege to protect her modesty, especially against young men like yourself. We wouldn't want any of you boys getting impractical thoughts." The coach paused again, looking directly at me. "So you all try to control yourselves."

I blushed, looking down. I suspected Dr. Wynn had told him about my problem, that every time we practiced together, I had an erection. It didn't matter if I kept my mind on other things, it just seemed my penis autonomously got hard in the presence of a female. Especially her.

Hopefully, Dr. Wynn hadn't revealed that she had swallowed my cum once. I felt fairly confident she kept that a secret, like I did. How I wished she would let me do that again, but she'd acted very professional ever since. I guess she meant it when she said it was a one-time thing.

Coach Anderson raised his hand before dismissing us. "Mid-morning practice tomorrow, then take the rest of the weekend off, boys. You deserve it, you really do. Even you, Ryan." He winked at me. "I know you've been working hard."

I wasn't sure if that was a double entendre, or just a simple compliment. I headed to the locker room with my teammates, already dreading the coming Monday. We were to arrive early to practice, giving me barely any time between it, and my last class for the day. I had to pack a snack for in between, since it would be three and a half hours of grueling drills, all while the girl's team worked their side of the pool. That was the real beef. I was filled with anxiety thinking about how I would handle myself, naked, in the presence of so many girls.

The temperature was surprisingly cool that Monday morning, but while I meandered from one class to the next, I was sweating buckets. I couldn't stop time. It was bound to come, and the minutes passed far too quickly. 'Please don't get a boner, please don't get a boner,' was all I could think about, repeating over and over in my head. When I got to the locker room to undress, some of the others were whispering to each other, pointing at me. Pete snickered and threw me a thumbs up sign.

"What?" I asked.

"They're making bets on how long before you sport wood."

I went flush. It was so humiliating. I guess it had happened enough times, and was now a well known fact, that I always got hard around girls... just like a dweeb. I was unable to contain myself around girls... at least when I was naked.

Look, it wasn't unheard of to happen to someone when swimming. Strapping, young men pop random wood on occasion. It's understood that it happens, and when it does, the rule of thumb is to ignore it. Still, it's somewhat frowned upon. And people like me - who do it all the time - weren't usually welcome in the pool, I had discovered. I suppose I was lucky that Dr. Wynn had been so forgiving of the issue. Having practiced with her so many times, she could probably pick my hard cock out from a lineup.

I looked at the small group of kids mocking me and stared them down for a second, before throwing my towel to the floor. "Put me in for less than a minute."

It was perhaps the first, genuine bonding moment I had with any of my teammates. Up to this point, they kind of avoided me. My highly competitive spirit set some people off, while others were just jealous of my talent. But self deprecation goes a long way, I guess, and the boys broke into howls when I admitted I had a problem.

Scott slapped me on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad, man. With all those girls swimming nearby, wearing those loose-hanging suits, I'm pretty sure you won't be the only one challenged with the problem."

"No shit," said Pete. "It's been buggin' me all weekend. Damn, can you imagine? When Mary Jenkins comes out of the water? Whoo, I can't wait, but I am gonna have a hard time not popping wood." Others laughed again, when Pete said, "Maybe not like Ragin' Woody Ryan here, but I'll definitely be struggling. I might have to jump in the water periodically."

Others snickered and clapped, nodding their heads. Pete's moniker stuck. From that point forward, I was known as Ragin' Woody Ryan. At least, far more often than by my short name. We finally shuffled to the pool, making our way to our corner of the large, open room. The girls were already on their side, circled around a woman. From my distance, I couldn't really make her out, but she stood almost a foot taller than any of the swimmers.

Coach Anderson snapped us to attention and we lined up in front of him. "OK, boys, we're going to start with laps. Since we only have five lanes available, five of you go now, ten minutes later, the other four."

Always eager to get in the water, I volunteered with four others and made my way to the third lane down. As I was about to get on the block, I noticed the girl's squad was still circled around their coach, who was dressed in one of those school sanctioned suits. With her standing so high above the squad, I finally got a good look at her. Late 30s I would guess and extremely top heavy. She made the redhead I met on my first day here look small in comparison.

A blonde girl who faced the coach, with her back to me, had one knee on the floor. I remember thinking she was so thin, because I could see her spine. It took a second for that to register in my brain, but I suddenly realized she didn't have anything on at all. Not a stitch of clothing! I whipped my head back to the water the moment I realized, desperate to jump into the pool, before my penis responded to the mental stimulation of a girl being naked in the same room with me. I dove in straight away.

By the time I started my stroke, my cock was raging hard. I was so grateful it was under the water, because it took the entire ten-minute run of laps for it to finally go away. I was desperately trying to focus on anything other than the girls. I swam hard, focusing on my form and the fury of my stroke, when just before time was up, it finally went flaccid again. I remember being so relieved when coming out of the pool.

That was, until I realized we had to sit on the bench... which faced the pool. I knew I'd be tempted to look to the girl's side. They weren't close, but close enough to fantasize about, and soon, I would be struggling to save face again. Scott Thomas flagged the coach down, just as we neared the bench. "Coach, I thought all the girls were going to be suited up, and uh.. um... I saw one of th-"

"Oh, yes, about that." The coach stepped closer. The five of us who had just come out of the water huddled around him. "Dr. Wynn and I discussed it with Coach Bradley, and we determined that it was best not to make any extraneous rules during this short matter of inconvenience."

"But-" Scott started.

"No buts. It was actually something Mr. Feller said to Dr. Wynn, I believe, that helped make our decision. 'That men would behave no differently around the women, than they do us.' It's quite forward-thinking, progressive.. and dare I say, debatable, but it was decided. If some of the girls happen to go without their suits, I expect you all to ignore it. Understood?"

We all nodded and made vocal affirmations, though I think we all were rather scared... scared of the prospect of having reactions around naked girls. We weren't superhuman, and though it may have been considered inappropriate to get erections while swimming with others, deeming it "inappropriate" didn't stop them from occurring. I'm guessing I was more worried than most, considering my track record.

The coach continued, "Never mind the girls. The only things you should be focusing on right now are your times. I want to see those relay scores improve. Considering your individual runs, it ought to be better."

We nodded again and grabbed our towels. As I was about to sit down, the coach tapped my shoulder, likely because I was closest to him. I should have kept a distance. "Hey Ryan, run this over to Coach Bradley. We must have swapped clipboards this morning. Ask her if she's got mine."

Coach reached out, handing me a clipboard with a dangling pen, attached to a thread. Several sheets of paper were tightly clipped to it, and it did look a lot like Coach Anderson's. I could see how they may have swapped them, but I wasn't thrilled about returning the item to Coach Amanda Bradley, who was now seated on the opposite end of the pool, on a bench that was against the wall, mirroring ours. I started the long walk over.

For those unfamiliar with the size and scope of a natatorium, allow me to explain. The pool is 25 meters wide (80-ish feet) and 50 meters long. The diving pool, located at the other end of the facility, is deep and also large, though not nearly the same scale as the Olympic pool. Our locker room entrance was situated somewhat between the two pools, on what was now the girls' side of the pool.

The distance between our bench and the girls' was about a hundred feet. Try looking at something from that far away. You can see it, but you can't make out the details. So from this distance, the boys weren't too concerned about being seen naked by the girls. Of course, the boys swimming in the two lanes nearest the girls' lanes knew they were at risk, to some degree. It was bound to happen, and I envied those who could manage it, without getting an erection.

Because now, as I slowly made my way over to the girl's coach, I felt my penis already twitching. I knew I was doomed, but I was trying my damndest to think of anything other than girls, or my nudity. I thought about my math test, the previous week's baseball scores, and anything else I could come up with, but I knew if I caught so much as one girl glancing at my package, it was over. I was already half stiff when I was within twenty feet of Coach Bradley.

I held the clipboard slightly in front of me, trying to cover. How I wish we had the same options as the girls and could wear suits. The women's coach was currently focused on one of the girls in the water, when she turned to a student on her left, an attractive brunette. "Make sure we tell Wendy to bring her arms up more on that forward stroke."

"Excuse me, ma'am? Coach Bradley?" I stiffly kept the clipboard in place while addressing her.

She looked up, pausing at my chest, before darting her eyes to my face. "Yes?"

"Coach Anderson asked me to return this clipboard to you. He thinks he may have swapped his with yours."

"Oh, he did! In my office. I noticed after he left, but I left his there. I figured we'd get them sorted after practice."

"Oh, okay," I said, beginning to turn away, thinking, 'Please let me keep the clipboard, please let me keep th-'

"Do you know where my office is?" she asked. "South Hall, fifth door on the left." That was further down the hall than Dr. Wynn's office, but I knew where it was. "It's open. If he needs his clipboard, just go get it."

_______________

Dear reader. I'd like to pause a moment to at least say, to this point in our exchange, I think I should be commended. Keep in mind, that while walking to the girl's side of the pool, and being in the direct presence of Coach Amanda Bradley and several of the female team members, I had somehow managed to keep my willy from going nilly.

Had it not been for my impeccable effort of maintaining eye contact, I am certain my rod would have stiffened faster than Billy the Kid could ever draw his weapon. This was because, below Coach Bradley's eyes were perhaps the two largest mammaries I'd ever seen. I noticed it the moment I crossed into the girl's area, and looked away to keep my mind on other things.

In that brief glimpse, I noticed how the terrible shape of the school-sanctioned swimsuit made her body looked more "ballooned" than it likely was, because her legs appeared to be thin and tone. I dared not risk taking a closer inspection of her body, and as we engaged our short conversation, I proudly managed to keep my cool.

It was short lived...

__________________

"He probably wants his clipboard, right?" the coach asked, as I kept staring at her contemplating what I should do. "Just give me mine, and go fetch it. Come on. Get going, already." She held out her hand, expecting me to hand over her clipboard.

"Oh. Yeah, okay. Fourth door on the left?"

"No, fifth. Fifth door." She turned to her student again. "Allison, why don't you just take uh..."

I had not yet surrendered the clipboard, but said, "No, no, it's okay, I can find it."

"Don't be silly. Allison just gave her lane up to Mary a few minutes ago. She's got time."

"Oh... well, okay, then," I said, defeated. The coach thrust her hand out again and finally, I handed over my cover, keeping my eyes on the ceiling the entire time. "You ready?" I asked, sort of angling myself to Allison, the girl seated next to the coach, barely looking at her.

But I could barely see it, but she had a shit-eating-grin on her face when she glanced at her coach. "Sure, let's go."