Late last week I was sitting in a brewery/bar that I had never been to before with my mother who assured me that the food was great there. I was really getting into the place and the dark, rustic mood when I glanced at a passing body and a set of eyes that made me stop. The recognition took time and I finally remembered him right as the host lead him and the girl he was with through a door and onto the patio. He looked much older, but roughly the same as I remembered. His face was shaped the same and his eyes were still bright, brown lamps.
His eyes had first swept across me as I stepped out onto the deck in just a small suit for swim practice in 8th grade. He was the assistant coach, which, at my school system, simply meant that he was one of the better high school swimmers who had just graduated college and was now living back at home and didn't have a job. My school tended to hire on old champions to help keep a sense of continuity with the younger boys. Yes, I said boys. As much as my school system liked to pretend, our teams were around for the boys. If the girls did good, that was fine, but the boys were who we cheered for at every game/match/tournament.
Being on the swim team got me a lot of sex over the years from men and women, but the assistant coach was the first. It took a while for us to build up to anything serious. Back in 8th grade the most I had done with a man was make out and a few sessions of mutual masturbation (stories for another post) and I had been through a bad experience the previous summer that made me put my sexual explorations on hold. For a while he and I were just very good friends. We were close in a way that I never thought I could be close with an older guy. He was like an idol to me, someone who had been swimming much longer and was much faster than I was. He was someone to look up to. But he also watched out for me and took care of me. He made sure I learned proper stroke technique and got a lot of attention at practice.
Once the middle school swim season was over, he and I still would hang out every so often. I was involved with a year-round swim club and I also did some lap swimming of my own on the side. About once a week I would see him at lap swim and we would share a lane. His speed usually helped keep our lane free of other swimmers so we would split a lane. I would try to keep pace with him, but back then, there was no way.
Because I was seeing him out of the school zone, I also was able to see him out of his clothes in the shower. It wasn't a hugely erotic situation for me. At least, not at first. I had already seen him in his speedo anyway, and those don't leave much to the imagination. And guys on swim teams don't worry about nudity that much. It was a bonding thing between us. We were a man and a boy showering together after a hard workout. We were just two guys relaxing together. It was nothing.
But it became something my freshman year of high school. He was still the assistant coach and we had been having our once a week (sometimes more) lap swims for almost a year. I don't know what changed in our relationship. Maybe I was growing into more of a man, and he started to see me as more than just the scrawny kid who idolized him. Maybe it was the added confidence I had gained from overcoming a bad situation. Maybe it was my new experience with male sexuality. Or a combination of all three. Whatever the cause, he started to notice me.
It started out in small ways. Earlier, if I had sprung a boner in the shower (as a thirteen year old is bound to do), he would just act as if nothing was happening. But at age fourteen I noticed that he was staring at my hard cock. I could tell that he was trying to hide his glances, but in the gang shower that was a difficult thing to do. At the time I was growing more bold in my sexual advances to others and I began showing off for him. I would soap my body slower, spending extra time on my genitals, coaxing my slightly chubbed cock even harder in front of him. He was always looking too. I think I would have just left it alone if his eyes had not wandered so much. But I started yearning for his attention, and for some play.
It took me a while to coax him into action. I finally was able to get him to play with me a bit when one day in the shower I was finishing my usual show for him and I saw him looking. I turned, pretending I didn't see him staring, and said, "Hey, let me scrub your back down. You look like you have some really dry skin there." It may sound like a strange come-on, but swimmers get really dry skin, especially on their backs where they can't reach.
He hesitated for a moment, but relented with what looked like relief. I knew I had him. He turned his back on me and I began to scrub him down with soap. As I scrubbed, I moved closer and closer, pretending that I was shifting to get a better angle. He was enjoying my attentions enough to not notice me. When my hard cock brushed against him, however, he noticed. His breathing skipped but he didn't say anything. I kept moving closer, pressing my cock to him. Finally I was pressing my chest to his soapy back and wrapping my arms around him.
Then the door to the locker room opened and we pulled apart quicker than taking off a band-aid. But as we rinsed off he said to me, "Meet me at my car." That wasn't going to be an issue. My mom was still about twnety minutes away from picking me up.
Our horseplay in the locker area was a bit more sexually charged than usual. It was also much shorter as we were both in a hurry to get out. He was quicker than me because was wearing clothes more appropriate for the winter. When I got to his car, he was in it, with the heat on, and his cock hard in his sweat pants.
"Do you like this?" he asked in a voice that was somewhat unsure. He was nervous of how to proceed.
"Do you want to touch it?" Instead of answering I reached over and grabbed. I felt his hard cock through his pants and I began to rub it.
"Kiss me," he said quietly.
"What?" I said. I had heard him, but I wanted him to be more forceful with me. Or at least be louder with what he wanted.
"Kiss me quick before somebody comes!"
I kissed him and kept rubbing him in his pants. Finally I just pulled his cock out and said to him, "Let me show you something fun that I can do," before sucking him into my mouth.
He moaned and grabbed my head, pushing me down while his hips bucked up into my mouth. He was rough, and not the good rough that I was used to with experienced men. He didn't know when to fuck my throat and when to let me recover from his pounding. But that didn't matter to me. At that point I just wanted his cum. He gave it to me soon, flooding my mouth and throat with his sperm. I swallowed as best as I could, but he was still pushing roughly in and out of my throat, causing me to gag on his cum.
When he stopped and settled back into the car I finished slurping down the cum I could find and then pulled off his dick. I looked around to make sure no one was in the parking lot before lifting up and settling back in the passenger seat. "That was amazing," he said to me, "Do you do that often?"
"I've only done it a couple of times with some friends," I lied.
"I used to have friends like that," he said. Then he paused. "Do you want to be friends like that with me?"
"Yes," I replied, "That would be cool." A part of me was happy to be getting more dick, but there was another part of me that was amazed that I had just sucked down the cum of a man I idolized. His sperm was in my stomach, inside of me. At the time I was sure that it would help me be a better swimmer. Even if I knew there was no way for him to transfer his swimming power to me, there are a lot of things athletes do that are simple superstition. For me, taking my assistant coach's cum was one of those things.
Soon my mom had arrived to pick me up. She thanked him profusely for letting me stay warm in his car while I waited and then drove me home. My throat was sore and raw from his face fucking, and my mom was worried that I was coming down with a cold. I laughed a bit on the inside, knowing the real reason was my assistant coach's overexcited hips. It was my first time hooking up with someone through swimming, but not the last time by far, and certainly not the last time I hooked up with him.