Afternoon Swim
- 4 years ago
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Copyright© 2006
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It was a real thrill to be invited. The public swimming pools in our district were pretty grotty, the change rooms worse. I was lucky, I guess, to live in that fringe between rich and poor neighbourhoods, where I could pass as belonging to either one or another. I had friends on both sides, our public school still integrating the well-to-do and the failing-to-keep-up. My family falling toward the latter, but not yet so far that my school friends' parents wouldn't let them associate with me. So I was glad to be invited to swim with Tim at The Club.
The Club was very exclusive. Not just an indoor and outdoor swimming pool, but tennis and squash courts, a running track, a curling rink and a bowling alley. There had been a time when my father had been accepted there, when he'd been working so hard to become one of them. His flame-out was so public, though, that my presence at The Club could only be as a tolerated guest.
But, tolerated guest or not, Tim and I had a great afternoon in the pool. The punishing July sun drove us from the outdoor to the indoor pool, then back and forth. We played volleyball, we competed to see who could swim farthest underwater. We 'accidentally' dripped water on the high school cheerleaders who were ostentatiously sunning themselves for the senior football squad. For a couple of 13-year old guys it was a great summer day.
Back in the locker room I was again caught short. I'd come with a bathing suit and nothing else. Tim shared his locker with me — we'd earlier stuffed all our clothes in there. At The Club, the men's change room upstairs had attendants with towels. The boys' change room in the basement had no such amenities — certainly no gratis towels for the heathens. Trying to emulate the behaviour I'd seen in the men's locker room in those days past with my father, I stripped off my speedo and tried to act casual as I waited for Tim to be done with the towel.
How I looked wouldn't have been a surprise to Tim. We'd been at a sleepover a couple of months before. That was the time for surprise. A half-dozen grade six boys. One big-time shit-disturber among them. George showed up with magazines he'd shoplifted — Playboy, Oui, and, surprisingly, Playgirl. After showing off the best parts of his magazines, George orchestrated an exhibition, where we were all to do a nude dance, in teams. George and two others went first, doing a sort of burlesque. In the first flush of puberty George, I'm sure, was wanting to show off his newly enlarged dick. And, of the three who first did the burlesque, George did indeed have the biggest one.
Like the others, I was appalled at the idea of standing naked for inspection. But, peer pressure being what it is, I gave in. Clueless, I had no idea whatever that I was different, even after watching the first show. But when our turn came, the gasps of the others soon told me otherwise. As it turned out, I was the furthest advanced in puberty. Not only had my cock and balls grown, I had a thatch of pubic hair that shocked everyone. I was mortified as they all congregated around, staring at my crotch, utterly amazed that there was hair there. Never in my life have I had that kind of scrutiny.
George tried to save the day for himself by challenging me to get an erection. George wasn't far behind in the puberty game — while hairless, his cock and balls had certainly started to develop, unlike the others. Being mortified, and finding absolutely nothing erotic in the situation, I stayed utterly flaccid. Notwithstanding George's erection, the group agreed that if I had stood to the occasion I would have won. As a group, we were later appalled at what had gone on, and agreed that we'd never invite George to another sleepover.
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