Super

Hi All

This was supposed to be a quick story but the characters in the story took me a bit further than I expected. Perhaps could have been put in romance but it does have a loving wife.

Unlike most of my stories in this category there is no cheating but there are still sex scenes. All participants in the sex scenes are eighteen or over.

Massive thanks to Siren Capts for her hard work polishing my very rough work. I had to re work a couple of bits after the editing so any mistakes are my own.

As always if you enjoy or if you don't please leave a comment.

Sorry the story was withdrawn before because of an editing mistake. I have removed the offending sentence.

Cheers

CharlieB4

Australian slang for the uninitiated.

Ute: a pickup

Swag: Bed roll

Thongs: Flip flops

Super.

Most people look forward to their wedding night. Not me. It would be the moment of truth, and I was dreading it.

"Special night tonight James!" my best man teased me. He knew my bride was a virgin.

Dating a girl saving herself until she was married had been a good idea, it had taken the pressure off. Now, the speeches and the bridal waltz were over. The reception centre staff were clearing the tables. Older guests were sitting down, looking at their watches wondering when we were going to leave.

To understand my panic, you have to go back to when I was younger.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I had always been a good swimmer. Dad taught me early and I just took to it. By the end of primary school I was the state under-12-years 100m champion in freestyle and butterfly. My prowess at swimming got me a scholarship to an exclusive private boarding school in Sydney. They weren't allowed to give sporting scholarships so it was called a disadvantaged child bursary. However, if I hadn't been a good swimmer I don't think I would have been considered disadvantaged.

Leaving home was hard; my parents had fought about me going. Mum said I was too young, Dad said it was a great opportunity. The school had produced three Olympic swimmers. Even with the scholarship it was a stretch for my parents. It paid for the boarding and education costs, close to forty-five thousand dollars. The uniform, books, excursions, etc. were all my parents' responsibility, and I had four other siblings to think about.

Dad had to led mum away crying the day they dropped me off. I enjoyed boarding school at first, being a good sportsman helped. I won every swimming race I went in for the first two years, I was okay at athletics and one of the better rugby players in my age group. However as my time at school continued I ran into problems, well one problems really. Puberty proved elusive for me.

In my fourth year of high school and approaching my sixteenth birthday I had only one pubic hair. If I was living at home it would have been bad enough but in communal showers and bedroom dormitories there was no where to hide. Also due to my peers growing taller and stronger my sporting prowess waned.

The up shot of this was a lot of bullying. The artificial environment of the all boys school can be a lot like the book The Lord of The Flies sometimes. The weaker individual is singled out and ostracized with the hope that they leave. I found myself on the wrong end of some ugly pranks and even physical abuse. I had been part of the mob mentality earlier in my school life and had seen four boys leave our dormitory. Now the boot was on the other foot and I got a taste of the medicine I had helped dish out.

To cope I threw myself into my studies, befriending a couple of other smart guys who had endured this behavior for most of their school life. The school reviewed my scholarship, no doubt because my swimming wasn't progressing as they hoped. However my improved academic record saved me.

Then it finally happened, in the last four months of that year and over the six week summer holidays puberty arrived. It might have been slow coming but it hit like a freight train. I grew up fast, growing taller and filling out. Over the summer holidays I worked for a local builder as a "gofor",' go for this and go for that. I carted a lot of bricks, made up cement mortar and actually developed some muscles. Mum commented on how quick I was growing out of my clothes.

Of course the other thing that grew was my penis, despite my late blooming I hadn't been tiny before but I was a lot bigger now. Back at school in year eleven my swimming picked up to. I got three seconds and one first at the boarding school carnival, my new strength coupled with my knowledge of technique proving successful. The swim coach put me back on the school team and by the time we had the full school carnival I won the senior boy champion.

It was in the change room after a rugby game in the winter of that year that my new nickname was first made up. A player sitting on the bench near where I was toweling off after a shower made a comment.

"Holy shit James, you could be a porn star with a cock like that!"

I went beetroot red, so noticing my discomfort they continued on thinking up new names for me. First it was John, short for John Holmes, then tripod then snake. Finally they settled for the more obvious superdick, which was shortened to super to make it more palatable for general use around the school. I was embarrassed but I was no longer the subject of the malicious intent of the previous years.

For the rest of the year I continued to grow and develop finishing the year a little over six feet. With the aid of a specific weights program designed for swimmers I developed broad shoulders that tapered down narrow waist and muscular legs. My times in the pool continued to improve and I once again was in the top ten for the state. Such was the turn around in my school social life I was elected as one of the prefects in my final year at school.

I confided to my Dad about my increased penis size while training in the summer holidays. When I put my speedo's on it was hard to arrange my bits and pieces so they didn't attract attention. He laughed at first and I got more embarrassed. Seeing I was hurt he asked me to show him. When I did he let out a low whistle.

"That's quite a problem you have there my boy," he had said with a chuckle.

He bought me some of the longer legged swimmers like some of the elite swimmers wear. Then we worked out if I placed my penis against the inside of my leg it didn't make such a big bulge.

Unfortunately, at the carnival the new swimmers made me look different and the boys picked up on my embarrassment. The students announcing the swimmers onto the block began calling me 'Super James in his custom made Super swimmers'. The guys from my boarding house made up a chant.

"Sup...Sup...Sup...Sup...Sup...Sup...Sup...SuperJames. "

It would start quietly and get gradually louder until they yelled the last bit. Every now and then they replaced the James at the end with dick. Even some of the teachers were smirking.

After the carnival, our new swim coach, a woman named Lisa Harmony, finally arrived. She was thirty, had been to two Commonwealth games for individual events and one Olympics in a relay. The other thing about her, she was hot. Tall, blonde, pretty, and fit. Small breasted, but there are not too many elite swimmers with "anchors" on their chests.

I was part of a training squad that did laps every morning and evening. Lisa was in charge of the squad and would be there every morning supervising warm ups, setting tasks for the day, and timing us to evaluate our progress. As I had been teased so much, I started wearing baggy board shorts over my swimmers to hide my toolkit.

After the second week Lisa asked me if she could have a talk after training. I guessed what it might have been about as my times had been a little down over last year. I tried to sneak out but she saw me and called me back.

"James, I just want to see if there is something bothering you. Your times are a little below last year. It's not what I would have expected given the physical assessments we did last week show you are bigger and fitter than last year. Do you think those baggy shorts could be slowing you down?"

"Maybe, I've felt a little off this week. I might be getting a cold," I replied, hoping that excuse would work.

"Perhaps you could just do a lap without the shorts to see."

She didn't fall for it.

I tried a different tack,"I've got an early class this morning. I don't want to be late."

"I'll give you a note. Come on, get them off and get up there!" Lisa wasn't taking no for an answer.

I went to the blocks and, turning away from her, I dropped my shorts and had a quick go at arranging myself. I only had Speedos on, having left my longer swimmers in my locker. Getting up on the blocks I assumed the racing crouch for my start, which hid my bulge.

On Lisa's whistle I hustled down the pool and back. Looking up after I finished, Lisa was smiling.

"That's better!" she said, writing the time down on her clipboard. "That's the boy wonder I've heard so much about. Tomorrow I want you to work on stretching your left arm to its full extent before you pull back. I think you're coming up short."

"Okay," I replied, dawdling in the pool. I was waiting for her to move away before I got out.

"Out you get! I want to show you," she ordered.

I got out reluctantly, turning my body a little to protect my modesty.

"Now, turn to the side and bend at the waist. That's it. Now pretend you are swimming."

She moved closer, reaching out and grabbing my left hand, pulling it until the elbow straightened.

"Wait." She moved to my right side. "Now just work that left arm, something doesn't seem right back at the shoulder."

She was standing very close. Her thighs rubbed against my hip and her hands were on my back. I could smell her perfume and I was starting to get wood.

"No, that's okay, I'll have another look tomorrow. Stand up."

As I did my boner poked out the top of my costume.

"Sweet Mary mother of God!" Lisa gasped. "Damn! I can see why you wear baggy shorts."

My face had gone past red and was heading to puce.

"Quick, hit the showers, and you had better make it a cold one."

I took off and was glad that she was gone when I came out.

The next day I was a very reluctant trainer. I fiddled around in the change area until Lisa sent someone in to get me out. When I got through the door she was waiting for me.

"James, I just want to have a talk to you about yesterday. What I said was not very professional and I apologize. You can continue to train in board shorts, however you can't swim in them for competition. Also, I will ask you to stay behind occasionally to swim without them so I can get a better idea of where you're at."

"Okay, thanks Miss."

"I'll try to help you protect your modesty, but sometimes that will not be possible and you will just have to grin and bear it."

"Yes, Miss."

"Right, into the pool with you. I want one kilometer done before you finish, and remember: stretch that left arm out."

Lisa was as good as her word. She decided we needed a swim team uniform which consisted of baggy shorts, in school colors of course. And a polo shirt with the school crest. I would wear mine out onto the pool deck and strip off just before I got on the blocks. When I finished, Lisa would be close by with a towel.

In return, I swam my best times ever - beating my personal best by three quarters of a second and winning the one-hundred freestyle by a body length at the state titles. Unlike in the earlier age groups I had swum years before, open schoolboys were invited to swim in the national titles. A week after my eighteenth birthday I was selected to represent at the nationals in the 100m freestyle.

I was ecstatic and Lisa wasn't far behind. It was in two weeks and I expected her to work me like a dog. I was wrong. Sure, I still did some laps, practiced some turns and starts, but it wasn't as intense as before. Lisa spent a lot of time with me, watching tapes of my opponents at their respective state championships.

"It's called a taper," she explained. "You are already at peak fitness and really, with one meet left, it's time to freshen up. Also, you're a fast swimmer, but to be successful you have to learn how to race. Sometimes it's not just about being fast. Sometimes you have to know your opponents and their tactics."

As well as footage of my opponents, she showed me tapes of great swimmers. Murray Rose winning the 400m at the Rome Olympics in 1960, and Kieran Perkins winning the 1500m in Atlanta in 1996. Both had been below their best coming into the final, but with guts and determination, they had got gold.

"Sometimes being the best isn't enough. Sometimes you have just got to want it more."

The nationals were incredible. The best junior swimmers in Australia all together. That meant there were also the best coaches - the guy in charge of the Olympic team was there as well. The night before the competition started we all had dinner together. The Olympic coach was the guest speaker. We were told that the best ten swimmers would be invited to train with the Olympic team at the institute of sport at the end of the year. Now that's incentive.

I won my heat, but only just scraped through the quarter finals to make the semi's. Lisa admonished me for taking it too easy. I was up against the three fastest swimmers in the age group and I was just touched out into fourth place. The top three from each of the two semi finals were automatically into the final, then it was the next two fastest times. I got into the final as the seventh fastest qualifier.

The final was the next day, so we went back to our accommodation to rest. Most of the swimmers were staying at Canberra University student residences as the students were on holidays. At dinner in the cafeteria that night, I noticed some girls pointing at me and giggling. I tried to ignore it, but I had a fair idea what they were giggling about. Especially when they started speculating with their hands about my member's size. Going to an all boy school meant dealing with girls was new to me. I ate and ran.

The next day I was a bundle of nerves. It wasn't helped when I arrived at the pool and had to walk past the same girls. Lisa noticed how tense I was and took me back outside.

"Do a couple of laps in the outside pool, we need to loosen you up."

I did but it didn't get rid of the butterflies. Lisa took me back inside and found an unoccupied training room.

"Get up on the table."

I did and she began to massage my legs. I'm sure that was the best thing to do for an elite athlete, but not for an adolescent boy.

"Roll over and I'll do your quads."

"That's probably not a good idea." I replied.

"Come on, the race is in twenty minutes."

I rolled over and my shorts seams were straining to hold my rampant cock.

"Oh shit! I didn't think of that." Lisa checked her watch. "It's actually more like fifteen. Damn! Oh well."

Lisa went and locked the door, then put some more lotion on her hands. Extracting my cock from my pants, she began stroking it. I groaned.

"This is just between you and me, okay?"

"Yes, oh yes."

It didn't take long. According to my memory it was five minutes, but I'm sure in reality it was more like thirty seconds. Lisa had a spare towel over her shoulder to clean up the mess but I went off like a fire extinguisher. Some of it even hit her in the face.

"That ought to make it smaller for a bit. Get up and loosen up your arms and shoulders while I clean up."

I began windmilling my arms and stretching my shoulders. I looked across as Lisa checked the floor and the table for any cum spots she had missed. There was a glob on the collar of her shirt. She wiped it off with her finger. I looked away as she turned towards me and when I looked back that finger was in her mouth.

There was a knock on the door.

"Lisa? Are you in there?" It was the state team manager.

"Yes, just giving last minute instructions."

"Quickly, they are marshaling your race!"

We left the room and followed the manager to where the other swimmers were waiting. He shook my hand and wished me luck. Lisa put her arm around my shoulders and said quietly in my ear.

"Remember your tactics, you're in lane seven next to the third fastest qualifier. Stay on his shoulder, his wake will let you coast a little. With fifteen to go, give them hell!"

On the pool deck behind the blocks I forgot all about my modesty. I just wanted to get in that water and swim as fast as I could. On the blocks, I got into the zone, the starting beep sounded, and we were away. The simple race plan really helped. I wasn't straining to see what my other opponents were doing across the pool. I stayed on my neighbor's shoulder; he no doubt felt he had my measure. I was just waiting and hoping that he was up on the pace.

Half way down the second lap I felt great. I was tempted to go early but waited, concentrating on my stoke and kick, trying to keep them smooth. I knew how many strokes it took me to swim the fifty metres, so I had counted since the turn to know when to go with my finishing sprint. I sucked in a huge breath and went for it - increasing my stroke rate and urging my tired legs to give me some more. With seven metres to go I was just ahead of the guy in lane six and hoping for the best.

I hit the wall hard, coming up and looking up at the scoreboard above me to see where I had come in. My name wasn't on top, but I was next.

I looked around and spotted Lisa going nuts, jumping up and down.

"Look at the time! Look at the time!" she yelled.

I did, it was a personal best by one second. I got out whooping it up, jumped, skipped, and ran over to her to give her a hug. If someone hadn't seen the race they would have thought I'd won. She gave me her phone and I rang my parents; they had to work so couldn't be there to see it. As I was speaking to them I turned to the crowd of onlookers and saw they were laughing at something. Looking back towards the pool deck one of the competitors from the race was jumping around parodying my celebration. Except he had one arm hanging down between his legs and he flopped it about as he jumped. I had probably been disrespectful to my fellow swimmers in my celebration but his retribution was cruel.

I went really red and grabbed a towel from the seat next to Lisa's, wrapping it around my waist. Scurrying away to the change room, I locked myself in a toilet cubicle. After composing myself I went and had a shower. While I was getting changed, the guy who won the race came over and congratulated me on my swim. He also apologized for the other competitor's behavior. I said I was sorry for being a goose after I had finished.

I had got some of my confidence back and was hoping to slip out of the venue unnoticed but there was a medal presentation. The first three place takers walked out to a little podium where we were given medallions. It went well until we were doing a lap of honour around the pool and we came to the group of girls who had laughed at me the night before. They were standing in a loose semi circle with their backs to us, but as we got closer they turned around. They must have rolled up towels and placed them inside the legs of their track pants. They were killing themselves laughing! Bitches!

I rushed the remaining twenty metres around the pool then went straight back to the change rooms. Grabbing my bag, I left the stadium, telling Lisa on the way past I would wait in the car park.

"Don't you want to see the rest of the meet?" she asked.

"No! Please...can we just go?"

I don't think she wanted to, but she began gathering her things. Ten minutes later we were on the road back to school. It was two and a half hours to get back to Sydney from Canberra. As we zoomed up the Hume highway Lisa asked if I was hungry. I had been so worked up about things I hadn't eaten since breakfast six hours before. We stopped for fuel and grabbed some burgers and chips from a diner attached to the service station.