Having broken two Olympic records in Colorado Springs, when I got home to Phoenix I discovered I was famous. Local sportswriters and TV news sportscasters wanted interviews. I took Foxy's advice and asked them to wait a week until her article came out so they'd have something on which to base their interviews. As predicted her article in a national sports magazine only made me more famous. A round of local news interviews followed, only this time the sports directors did the job themselves instead of sending a producer or pool reporter, no pun intended. Total Olympic buzz. Would I or would I not make the team in two years? Would I or would I not match or break records before then? Would I keep my commitment to swim for Arizona State or jump to a university with a better swim program? What did it feel like? I fed them Foxy's answers and it worked out beautifully.
Then the most popular female anchor on network morning network news flew in and did an extended sit-down interview along with poolside and piano-side interviews, plus interviews with family, coaches and teammates. It aired over two mornings and the entire interview on their weekly news magazine in prime time. It was the perfect summer feature for a slow news day. The next day Foxy called and congratulated me for handling it so well.
"You're a natural," she said.
"I could not have done it without your advice," I replied.
She had a good laugh when I told her how anchor and director argued right in front of me about whether or not to video me from the waist up at the pool because of the bulge in my speedo. Finally one of the female producers blurted that the morning viewership was 87% female and expected to see me full frontal in my speedo, bulge and all.
"Did you say anything?" Foxy asked.
"I just gave them my best boyish grin," I said.
She laughed. "Every woman in America is masturbating to the ten second clip of you by the pool walking towards the camera with your bulge bouncing."
"Really?"
"Really. It's all over the net. Two million hits already. Didn't you know that?"
"No."
What I didn't tell Foxy is that the personal assistant of the famous morning network anchor phoned me after the interview and said her boss wanted to meet me privately that evening. I wasn't in her suite atop the hotel ten minutes when she straddled me and pushed on my cock, moaning deeply while she bounced her way to orgasm. She thrilled to my young hands squeezing the big breasts she showed off in her magnificent cleavage every morning or hid beneath tight sweaters in winter. She offered no resistance when I rolled her around the bed fucking her in every position I wanted. Then she wrapped her A-list arms and legs around me while I nailed her on her back till I filled my magnum. A great kisser, she kicked me out almost as soon as I was done. As I watched her interview of me a few days later all I could think was that I had sucked those breasts and had had her at her most vulnerable, beautiful naked best. Pen in fingers she gestured effusively with both hands as she bantered with her coanchors about what an impressive young man I was. Those same fingers had wrapped around my teen cock, squeezed my teen butt and dug passionately unto my teen back while I railed her. I wondered if her coanchors knew America's Morning Darling was a hot piece of middle-age ass.
After the media sensation, mom and her best friends threw a welcome home party to celebrate my record swims. I didn't want a party, but they did it anyway. The high school swim team turned out, as did lots of people I didn't know. During the party, Best's daughters paid too much attention and were way too nice to me. I couldn't believe how obvious they were. Their mother even interrupted a few times, but eventually gave up. I took it all in stride, played a little piano, made my rounds and attempted to meet and greet everyone there. They all looked at me differently, like I was some mythical hero. Even my parents looked at me and treated me differently. This was fame and I knew nothing would ever be the same again.
Funny thing was I didn't want anyone to treat me differently. Foxy warned me this would happen, but I didn't like it. For the first time in my life I felt alone. My solace? Piano, of course, and pool. And girls.
They came out of the woodwork. Everywhere I went, women just walked up and flirted with me. I was used to female heads turning to have look, their eyes undressing my swimmer's body. Occasionally I'd get a glance and a smile. Now they all smiled. I was recognized everywhere I went in Phoenix. If a woman didn't recognize me, one of her friends would whisper in her ear and their eyes would invariably run down my body looking for the famous budge. I signed lots of autographs. Autographs sometimes led to conversations, conversations to flirts, flirts to propositions. I could not believe how brazen some of them were. Most were subtle about it, slipping me a phone number or an IM address while I signed an autograph. And dates. Girls, young women--even married women with wedding bands on their fingers--simply asked me out. Marriage proposals came in the mail. I turned them all down.
I could not turn down Mom's Best Friend's eighteen year old daughter—my high school classmate. She pursued me vigorously and with stealth. Six months earlier her mother had warned me off her but now a steady stream of text and phone messages wore me down. As did her beauty. Unlike her mother she was long and slender with smaller C cup breasts. She and her high school beau had broken up after graduation since college would separate them. So one afternoon when she texted that she was home alone and invited me for a swim, I went over. We swam and played in the water, she in a sexy string bikini which barely covered her hot bronzed body and jiggling breasts, me in long, baggy swim trunks which covered much. Rock-hard nipples pushing through her bikini top never went down.
"Too bad you didn't wear your speedo," she teased when I climbed out to dive off the board again.
I stripped off the long trunks right then. Underneath? Speedo. Her jaw fell open in a smile and her eyes went big.
"You tease," she smiled, splashing water at me. I didn't tell her I had teased her mother with the same trick.
She watched me walk around to the diving board, my bulge bouncing all the way. I dove in and came up under her, grabbing her and rolling her in the water. We wrestled and giggled until we were hanging off the side again, too close to mean anything else. Leaning in I kissed her softly, liking that she let go of the side and pressed herself to me wrapping herself around me. Tall enough to stand in the deep end, I let go of the side and put my arms around her as well. A tender, exploratory kiss, it soon became deep and passionate. When we broke she let go and swam to the ladder.
"C'mon," she said, climbing out. "I want to show you something in my room."
We toweled off poolside. She gathered long, straight brown hair and let it fall down her back before I followed her inside.
"You painted," I said, looking around. Her bedroom was at the opposite end of the house from her mother's, and like it, had its own sliding door opening on the patio.
"Yeah, but that's not what I wanted to show you."
Before I could ask what it was, she untied her top and removed it.
"Very nice," I whispered. "No tan lines."
She smiled. "I've been laying out nude all summer at my bff's. Her parents are never home."
"Any tan lines around your butt?" I asked.
She did a little dance, traced a finger over my pecs and smiled. "See for yourself."
I reached out, pulled the ties on both sides of her bikini bottoms and pulled them away. No tan lines.
"Awesome," I said. "You have a tattoo!" A small butterfly spread its wings just above her pubic bone.
"I got it just for you," she said. "To celebrate your records in the butterfly."
"For me? Really? Wow." Kneeling in front of her, I grabbed her hips and turned her towards the light from her window and took a good, close look. "It's beautiful."
"Thanks," she twinkled, then ran fingers into my hair. "See the initials?"
I looked closely. Sure enough, hidden in the lines of the butterfly's wings were initials.
"They're mine!" I said.
