The Swim Team

Author's Note

: The first ten chapters of this story were written four years ago. That's why some details may seem dated. 2018 was a different time, you kids wouldn't get it.

===================================

CHAPTER 1

THE GOOSE IS LOOSE

===================================

She was confessing her love to Ryan Gosling tonight.

Gabrielle had decided. It would be a first. After all, everything was safe and slow. He was standing there, listening, handsome, dashing. She was lying in her bed, eyes closed. She could rewind and rephrase whenever it would sound too silly, not quite right. The Gosling of her dreams wouldn't mind.

She had no idea how to do it. She didn't know how to segue from the more traditional conversation with Ryan the old friend, which she had started half an hour ago, a straight lane of casual chitchat with its array of stock replies collected over the years, situations without a need for a beginning or an end.

But she had decided. She would venture aside, away from the usual pull; she would try branches of pickup lines, body language, hints, anything she could think of; let them spawn in excitement, die in confusion while overlapping like only thoughts could.

So, as she was running out of reasons to just hang out with him, Gabrielle focused...and launched a rambling.

Hi

So far so good.

Ryan did not react.

She went a little farer to see if it was still good.

One first timeline forked to another, wider, slower; parts crumbled back to friendship, or hit the wall of lust and she crossed a third, unless it was a slightly better version of the first. Wherever she was, she had still no behavior to imprint on his face, no words to put in his mouth. Gabrielle couldn't put much thought into that, embroiled in convoluted speech.

She didn't know. What people would say to her feelings tested for the first time. Except a "Bitch, calm down" that she'd heard once before (in school) and would rather die than hear again.

That Gabrielle was a virgin was a given. 19-year-old virgin is something people can almost read on your forehead. It was only natural that her fantasies were at ground level. Unknowing. Ryan could just stand there, this vague image waiting on loop. One which had been dancing in her head and burning in her loins since she had finished watching

Lost River

with her sister.

Despite gradually realizing, to their gradual outrage and disappointment, that he wouldn't appear at all in the movie, being only the writer/director, Gabrielle and Sophia had swooned in duet for two hours in front of the TV.

"We've been duped!" they had said.

"Bamboozlement!"

"Chicanery!"

"You misread IMDb, you idiot!"

"I always thought he was in it."

"He did a whole movie on his own though, he's like so crafty..."

"Yeah. Is there anything he can't do?"

"Good movies apparently. This is even worse than

The Gods Forgive

, Jesus Christ..."

"Shut your mouth, philistine."

"So dreamy."

"So dreamy..."

They loved watching movies and series together just for this: the couch, a blanket, pretty boys and popcorn; with a side of dangerous excitement, remote in hand, sweating bullets, as they had noticed how parents had a definite tendency to show up right in the middle of a sex scene. Because of course, everything they watched was R and TV-MA, almost a seal of quality. This even before any of them were of age. And those moments they shared were worth the risk of being grounded for six months (then), or being super awkward (now).

It was going nowhere fast. Gabrielle couldn't resolve herself to ask him on a date. As it would have indeed sounded like

Would you go on a date with me?

Too blunt to be realistic. Like all the possibilities she came up with. And just telling him

I love you

was out of the question. Instinctively she knew it was to be sneaked into.

Into what?

Creating romance was a subtle ritual she didn't have the key for.

"I love you," she whispered like an actress rehearsing.

I love you

, Ryan replied exactly as her, exactly as she had planned out. No surprise there. Mirror image. Nothing interesting.

It's been okay for a first try

, she thought. And Ryan would still show up tomorrow.

Time for the usual pull that bypassed the seduction phase. She rolled over under the covers. She took her oversized shirt off. And things kicked off.

Gabrielle really liked the

The Notebook

version of Ryan. His appearance adapted accordingly.

Her hard-beating heart switched to another thrill, easier, but same rhythm it turned out. Her words gathered to another straight lane she this time knew just well. The declaration of love cooled back to a declaration of lust, a part she was definitely skilled at.

But unnerved by her little experiment, she decided to rush it. Not complicated when it's a pull.

A bulge in Ryan's pants ballooned cartoonishly, made her feel powerful, desirable, noticeable. To her it was as important as the neatly defined muscles under his shirt. And then she let her own horniness take over, she created this world where being horny was a gift you gave to the boy you liked.

Ryan took it as elegantly as gladly.

And thus arrived the logical conclusion, so unrealistic but so good for that very reason:

The words, "Please take me," and the pulling aside of the sheets in a very theatrical movement, exposing her naked body to the cool air, offering it whole to her imaginary lover.

It felt electrifying on her skin. Her nipples hardened so fast it almost hurt, and sent weird tingles through her chest.

Her penis twitched in response.

Now free of all layers of fabric and with no one to see it except her dreams, the cock towered over her in the darkness of the bedroom.

Uncut, straight, stiff as a flexed muscle, pointing way past her navel, the fourteen perfect inches, carrying half a pound of balls, had been hard all evening. As soon as the film had started. Gabrielle had to hide it under a blanket--which Sophia did not notice or pretended not to, she was classy like that.

She could feel its musky heat close to her face. It was difficult to find a reason not to kiss it.

With two fingers, she delicately pulled her foreskin back. The flared head popped out, greedily embraced by a soft breeze which always made her sigh. When the most intimate part of her body was laid bare for any of the stares she could imagine, sticking out in its oversensitivity, Gabrielle felt naked, obscenely naked. And it was the deepest sensation reached in her nights.

She basked in it.

But her little scenario was only halfway done. She reached for her cock. She was ready to be seen in the throes of sexual pleasure.

Gabrielle masturbated everyday now that she had a penis. Two or three times in a row. Sometimes five. Or six. She realized it was a lot and sometimes wasn't sure whether it's because she loved it or needed it. So pretty boys were a good excuse not to think about it. Ryan most of the time, although daydream could also bring Timothée Chalamet, or Hugh Jackman, Michael B. Jordan, or even the full lineup of BTS when she felt greedy.

But tonight, before she grabbed herself--half of a split second before--she saw something. An appearance. Gosling beside her bed and...someone. Someone from the film. This blond actress. Well, usually she's a blonde. Gabrielle did not stop in her momentum. She wrapped her hand around her throbbing shaft grotesquely jutting out from her hips and started pumping away. The flows inside her body turned everything, Ryan or this girl, into blurry shapes.

Sasha Rohan her name was. Weird. Girls never made her swoon. Pretty boys did. Sure, girls sometimes made her stare but... stare casually. Like girls do with other girls.

Still unable to precum, Gabrielle spat in her free hand and smeared it on her glans. She swiped the strands of her long jet-black hair off her chest and smeared the rest of her spit on her nipples. Her face beamed with delight. The cold was licking her.

Gosling left, cropped out by the pleasure. But pretty Sasha Ronan stayed there, greatly enjoying the view. And Gabrielle was already too lost in herself to keep on finding it weird. That word didn't mean anything anymore.

Her hand stroked, with patience and art, at times stopping to go take care of her apple-sized testicles and let her cock flex in the air. But never fast enough would it go back to what it was best at: stroking. Every time a little tighter, every time a little harder.

And the girl who had hijacked her nightly fantasy somehow was still here. Even as Gabrielle's alertness faded out into moans and shivers, Sasha persisted in. She could feel her presence, even eyes fixed on her own penis.

She closed them. And braced for orgasm. The whole minute of it. Sixty seconds. Sometimes less, sometimes more. But still so long she could live it rather than squander it. She could blush during it, blush or gloat about men and their ten meager seconds, she could come to terms, then unbelieve, then whatever, or not. A whole minute.

She unclenched some muscles inside herself and let others clench by themselves. One last look at her unusual spectator. (She could so specifically recollect how pretty this actress was.) Gabrielle exhaled sensually. It was her exhibitionism renewed. A woman felt so out of place, and wasn't it the whole point?

Shame and freedom diluted into sameness and for the first time in a long time, it felt like the first time. Gabrielle whispered a groan, because this was it: She started to cum.

Higher pleasure flooded her shaft and her tip, compressing itself into an explosion soon indistinguishable from the flesh containing it, radiating into her balls, her taint, her anus. She tensed and welcomed it all. The formless beam made love to Gabrielle for uncounted seconds and then the muscles that were begging to clench again collapsed under their own pressure: her cock started contracting, dry-cumming in her hand, flexing uncontrollably, over and over, on and on.

Because she didn't have sperm yet, Gabrielle could enjoy any position she wanted. No need to aim. And she had a full minute for it.

She liked to roll around, to twitch and turn, she liked to cum on all fours, on her knees, to even cum while walking around the room sometimes and that's also why she loved masturbating: looking weird, acting weird had no meaning on her own.

Tonight, still recovering from her recon into romance territory and still under unexpected female gaze, Gabrielle chose to go the traditional way, on her back, endlessly finishing that dick at a regular thirty-degree angle. Traditional and efficient.

But suddenly the night reclaimed the weirdness for the second time. She heard a noise behind her.

A noise she had never heard before and yet had always been ready in her mind.

With a loud gasp of surprise, she let go of her cock. It kept on orgasming hands-free, and despite that pleasure still at full blast inside of it, despite the stream of spasms hitting her lower body, she turned the bedside lamp on and shifted her attention to looking around her bed. The noise was more important. It could be everything that matters.

It didn't take her long to spot the source. She gasped again--not in surprise but in confirmation--at the goo on the headboard.

It had happened, it had finally happened.

Heart pounding, a smile on her face, Gabrielle leaned closer to examine the strange substance, a single drop of semen, as big as a quarter, thick and white. So thick her peehole was clean. She must have shot that first load so hard, she thought.

This time the cast & crew of

Lost River

had vanished, there was only her balls full of sperm now. Even her orgasm, which would have fried the brain of any man, had been reduced to background noise. She got on all fours to admire the wonder she had just produced. The more she looked, the more impatient she got, the more resolute she got: the moment her climax would start to subside, she would start working on a second one.

She put the lamp on the mattress and, as soon as the fruitless blows of her penis ceased, she started jerking again, never losing even one degree of erection. She wanted to cum as quickly as possible, she knew how to, flexing her ass, rubbing her tip ruthlessly, her breasts...

It still took her several minutes, which she filled with giddy exhilaration. And when she felt the delicious heat pinch her taint, she rolled to her flank. And came for the second time, eyes locked on her cockhead.

A first contraction turned it purple. Nothing but pleasure.

Her hand tightened, accelerated, forced the second clench. A jet spurted out with a cute squelching noise and crashed on the mattress with a quiet thud.

"Oh my God it's so beautiful!" Gabrielle mumbled, in awe.

She tried to milk more out of her penis but her balls were already empty. A burst of joy completely outshined the frustration and the rest of her dry-orgasm. She couldn't believe she finally saw it for real, coming out of her own penis. She was speechless, shocked almost by the suddenness of it all. Being able to ejaculate, like you acquire some superpower. Just like that. Overnight. Tonight. Finally.

*****

After her second orgasm stopped, Gabrielle lay for a while trying to catch her breath. She was looking at the wet spot on the mattress through tears of emotion, replaying the moment in her head, gloating over a thin layer of dried semen on her thumb and some droplets in the fuzzy patch of hair left on her pubic bone. The color was indescribable, somewhere between white and pearl and cream; the smell was indescribable, strong, wild; the outpouring of words in her head was indescribable. Among them a sudden idea unleashed butterflies in her stomach:

The first step was putting the lamp back on the nightstand.

An unexpected step was spotting her face in the mirror across the room. It was twisted by a savage mix of lewdness and fearful agitation. She could forget about catching her breath.

The girl turned back to step three, which was masturbating for the third time.

Not rushing things, she let her semi grow hard again, she let the pleasure build up and used that time to find the best position on the bed.

Years of googled yoga finally came in handy.

She lifted her legs up against the wall, so high she was soon resting upside down on her shoulders and neck, pushing gracefully on the tip of her toes.

Her right hand was working wonders; left hand gently preparing her balls for another release.

Step four arrived fast. Gabrielle aimed her penis at her face, opened her mouth and closed her eyes.

Here we go

, she managed to think although she had started to cum.

She never did in this position. The climax swelled down the tip of her dick, suddenly going much heavier than the shaft, weighed down the pleasure, made her push on the wall so hard it was like it bent.

This rush of shooting ecstasy inside her hanging cock had not been a step of her idea but she drank it as eagerly as she would drink the semen that was on its way up her shaft.

Her taint contracted. One first rope of cum spurted right down her tongue with a wet gurgling noise--the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.

Another one filled her mouth and then a few droplets sprayed down her lips and her upper chest. When she understood no more would come out, she let herself fall on the bed, still tugging at her cock now dry-cumming.

She swished her first taste of semen inside her mouth. It was beyond her wildest expectations. Salty, bitter, warm, unctuous would have been the obvious words to describe it, but to Gabrielle and her hazed brain,

sexual

was the one. Pure 'sex' was coating her tongue and palate.

She swallowed all in one gulp and the sensual red heat slowly spread down to her stomach and increased the orgasm she had disregarded for a moment.

It went on long enough for her horny mind to come up with a next experiment. Ideas were rushing actually.

But a knock on her door decided otherwise. The very naked (and still cumming) girl had no choice: the light was on. And so she had only so much time to cover herself, wipe her lips and let her sister in before it would seem suspicious, as if she was caught in the middle of something. Something which she

was

precisely doing, but that's not the point.

"Yes," she said, voice raspy and wavering.

Sophia opened the door a crack and craned her head in. "Gab, I have something to tell you."

Gabrielle pretended to squint awake, eye rub and everything. "I fell asleep with the light on."

"Yeah sure. How's Lily?" She sat on the bed and poked around on the covers to feel where the phone was hidden.

Only...something was wrong. Something in the air. Sophia frowned, without thinking said, "Ugh...smells like--"

And it was too late, she blushed.

And Gabrielle blushed too. And then blushed another layer of red because she realized 21-year-old Sophia was a virgin too and virgins are not supposed to know what cum smells like.

The big sister jolted away and stammered, "I... just... um...nothing, I--" turning around to stride out of there, shut the door without slamming it. All in one motion.

Gabrielle's first reflex was to put her nightclothes back on, as if she could get up and run after her, and maybe when she catches up with her in the hallway, they could prolong the awkward silence Sophia had taken with her. Anything would be better than the void left here, where already her inner voice was doubling down, flow and volume.

Instead Gabrielle got crushed in place, unable to move. Thoughts filled the emptied room. They were plain and simple and changed the tone of the insomnia promised by her penis, from exhilaration to guilt, from exhibition to exposition, and no celebrity crush would come and dispute them.

Sophia had looked so shocked, so embarrassed... Getting caught was the situation Gabrielle and thoughts could never make light of. No one would want to hear what she had to say, not even herself. Why would Sophia have to deal with what's on the mind of a girl with a penis? If Gabrielle ran to her right now, what would she say besides that she was a girl with a penis?

What do boys say?

she thought.

After staring at a wall until it had completely blurred behind tears, she turned the light off.

Taking her phone from under the covers where it was hidden all along, she saw it was too late to speak to Lily too, her friend was offline, sleeping.

And there she was again, like way too often, a girl cut in half. Ruining everything from the waist down. Now that she had done it again, she would be all night reminded, just a torso full of sleepless thoughts and the rest pitch blackness.

Gabrielle pulled the covers tighter. Her absurd testicles swelled and ached, but it was the weight of embarrassment that made her lower body--the part where a dick shouldn't be--drift away from her in the dark, damned tenfold by the image of Sophia's face, by the memory of all that ejaculating joy cut clean by the sound of her sister's footsteps.

With no other choice, she let her self-loathing mind race on, deluded herself into its bitter logic, that somehow this was her own doing, when she allowed herself to think her penis was a part of herself, feeding her spirit the same way as her hands or her legs, it was actually this self-indulgence that helped fate put more weight, tear at her neck, drag the ones she loved down with it in the end.

Yes, it didn't make much sense. The inner voice went on. Gabrielle didn't know how to react, didn't move an inch until she could fall asleep.