From: c0sm0s@aol.com (C0SM0S)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: <0 0>  Speedo2
Date: 21 Sep 1994 14:09:04 -0400
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
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                  SPEEDO SUMMER - PART TWO
                        **The Tryouts**

[Editor's note - the following is a fictional account of a
young boy's awareness of his body, and that of his friends.]



Brandon awoke the next morning with a panicked start - the
sun was flooding his room - Tom was gone, and he was late for
school.  Just as suddenly, he remembered today was Saturday,
and he dropped back down in his bed, content to lie quietly
a few more minutes.  Last night's episode with brother Tom
came back to him vividly and his heart began to pound, was it
a dream?  No, it couldn't be mused Brandon.

He was still naked, covered by only a sheet, and would the
good thing Tom had shown him last night, still work this
morning. . . slowly Brandon pulled back the sheet, and his
heart sank when his saw the shriveled little penis drawn up
almost inside his sack.  He'd hoped to see a pink cockhead
glistening in the warm spring sunlight.  Instead, the lengthy
foreskin completely covered his cock, like it had every day
of his life.

What if it wouldn't go back again?  Would the kids at the
tryouts laugh if they saw THAT thing?  Brandon got up, went
into his bathroom, stood before the toilet and started to
pee.  The warm urine rushing through the skin funnel of his
foreskin felt good, but he stripped the last drops from the
loose skin and went to get dressed.  Mom was standing
directly by his bed and Brandon jumped with embarrassment.
"Jeez, Mom, can't a guy have some privacy?" shouted Brandon
as he searched frantically for his underwear.  Brandon's mom
told him that all his underwear was in the dirty laundry and
she wouldn't be able to get it washed until afternoon.  She
and her mother were heading into the Galleria to do some
shopping, did he want anything?  "Well, I do need some swim
trunks, I'm going to try out for the swim team, and my old
ones probably don't fit so good anymore" said Brandon.

"You'd better try them on before I go buy some - we're not
made of money, you know" said Mom.

By now Brandon was thoroughly exasperated, standing before
his mother stark naked, his cock flopping freely for her to
see, and now they had to search for his old swim suit!
Fortunately, Brandon had seen it just the other day on the
floor of his closet and quickly retrieved it.  It was an old
boxer style, and trying to wriggle into proved to be a lost
cause.  The trunks stopped at his hips, and his little balls
and penis simply couldn't be pushed down into the trunks.
Mom gave a tug on the trunks but it was no use.

"We'll pick you up some trunks at the Mall, do you want ones
like these?"  Brandon said he guessed so.  As his Mom turned
to leave she said, almost absentmindedly, "Honey, I never
told you much about keeping your penis clean, but now that
you're getting older, we probably should have a talk."  There
was an embarrassed silence as Brandon blushed hotly.  "That's
okay" he said "Tom told me all about it, I can take care of
it, Mom." Almost relievedly, his Mom smiled and walked out
the door.

Brandon had an immediate problem of NO UNDERWEAR!  Maybe he'd
be able to get a pair of Tom's.  .  . but alas, getting a
slim 11-year old body to hold up Tom's white jockeys proved a
hopeless task, they might have just been tight enough had the
elastic not been stretched beyond its useful life; the shorts
simply wouldn't stay on.  With no other choice, Brandon would
go without underwear today; he slipped on a bright blue
Cowboys tee shirt, then a snug fitting pair of jogging
shorts.  He didn't like the feel of his little cock flopping
around in his shorts, but it was too small to stick out
noticeably in front. . . thank God, he thought.  What if some
"girl" type saw him with his thingy wiggling around?

Since it was late Brandon skipped breakfast and raced into
the garage, hopped on his 18-speed, and headed off down Marsh
Lane toward the YMCA.  The parking lot was full when he
arrived, and he chained his bike to the rack and went inside.
Jeez, he thought, what a crowd. . .

The lady at the desk directed him to a side office where the
tryout sheet sitting on a desk.  When he looked at the sheet,
he found to his dismay all of the spaces in the 11-13 year
old section were filled.  In a quandary, he looked back out
to the lobby just as a coach-looking type guy came heading
his way.  He was young - not more than 22, if that, with dark
hair, muscular build, and a friendly smile.  "Can I help you,
son?" he asked, taking the clipboard from Brandon.  "Ah, yeah
I wanted to sign up for the swim team, but all the spaces are
filled up on the sheet" stammered Brandon.

"That's because we closed signups last night, and tryouts
start in about 20 minutes - where have you been, buddy?"
asked the coach.  Brandon issued a general statement about
not knowing about the signup cutoff, and his crestfallen
expression did nothing to mask his disappointment.

"What's your name, guy?" asked the coach.  "Brandon Hubbard"
came the quick reply.  "I'm Coach Fischer and if you hurry
down to the locker room I'll make an exception and let you
try out" he said.  Brandon was stunned, "I didn't bring any
swim trunks" came his quick reply.  "That's okay" said Coach
Fischer "it's a closed practice in the indoor pool, everybody
tries out in the buff so there won't be any swim trunks to
slow you down.  Don't worry, nobody else is allowed in, no
girls, no parents, just us guys.  Now get on down there and
get stripped if you want to try out."

His mind racing, Brandon raced down the hall to the mens'
locker room, took a deep breath, and opened the door.  Inside
there were at least 30 boys, in various stages of undress,
and the chattering sounded like birds in an aviary.  He
looked for the farthest, darkest corner, and sat on a bench
and opened a locker.  With nude boys all around him, Brandon
figured he had nothing to lose, and quickly stripped to just
his shorts.  Remembering what Tom had taught him the night
before, he quickly reached down into his shorts, grabbed his
little penis, and pulled hard on the lengthy foreskin.  With
only a slight sting of pain, the foreskin slipped back and
Brandon felt it lock behind the head of his little cock.  He
then pulled down the shorts and kicked them into the open
locker.  Almost afraid to look down, he did anyway,  but
aside from a wet, shiny appearance on the head, Brandon
looked like all the other boys milling around him -
circumcised!

Coach Fischer's whistle pierced the locker room, and the boys
all trooped toward the door to the pool.  Brandon was at the
back of the line, but he was in good position to categorize
the cocks parading past. . . all shapes, sizes, to be sure,
only a few had any pubic hair at all, and those that did had
only a little.  Most all were circumcised, like Tom, but
there were at least four boys who had penises like his was--
or used to be!  The indoor pool smelled strongly of chlorine,
and the air was cool, instead of warm, and instantly Brandon
could feel the chilly air on the moist glans of his dick.
Sure enough, he felt an uncomfortable stirring "down there"
as his penis began developing a hardon.  His little two
inches was rapidly growing, and Brandon had no choice but to
quickly reach down and tug forward on his retracted foreskin,
which came forward with an almost audible snap.  Just like
that, the pointy tube of skin was hanging off the end of his
penis, but at least he wasn't alone in his embarrassment,
there were other kids in the same boat, he was glad to see.

While the other boys probably would have given Brandon "the
business" during that practice, any such thoughts of teasing
quickly vanished when the tryouts began.  Brandon bested
every other kid in the butterfly, backstroke and freestyle,
and almost saved the makeshift relay team with his last
minute spurt at anchor.  Coach Fischer was effusive in his
praise, and in less than an hour Brandon not only had made
the team, he'd been named captain.  At the age of 11,
physical prowess was far more an equalizer among boys than
the size or shape of ones penis.  And Brandon had gone, in a
short period of time, from modest embarrassment to swim team
captain.



All but the fifteen boys selected were sent to the locker
room to dress; Brandon and the members of his new team milled
around while Coach Fischer went into his office to get the
team's uniforms.  Almost subconsciously, Brandon checked out
the kids on his team.  He only knew a couple from school, and
not very well at that.  One boy, Kyle, had a light stand of
pubic hair, all the others were hairless as eggs.  Kyle
sported a short foreskin which just covered the head of his
penis, which was much larger than any of his teammates.  The
other "skin" in the group belonged to a blond boy whom
Brandon had not seen before in school, whose pale features
and whispy build belied a powerful backstroke; Brandon had
barely bested him in their only heat together.  Brandon felt
an instant kinship:  this kid had a foreskin which looked
like a snake, and the head of his penis was sharply
accentuated through the almost translucent skin.  His name
was Hans, Brandon would learn, and he'd escaped the knife in
infancy because he'd been born of Austrian parentage,
although he'd come with his folks to the United States in
infancy.  Right now, Brandon just recognized Hans as
excellent swimmer, maybe a rival, and someone in whom he
shared a similar heritage. .  .

Coach Fischer was back now, and the boys gathered around to
get their uniforms.  Each was given a warmup uniform, a tee
shirt, and lastly, two pairs of white Speedo swim trunks,
which even to Brandon looked too small to fit anyone there.
Some of the boys who'd been on the team before had been
expecting this kind of swimwear, but Brandon, accustomed to
the baggy shorts worn in Bismarck's short summer season, was
shocked.  "Coach Fischer" he complained, "this stuff looks
like underwear." His teammates stifled a nervous giggle -
Brandon had said what the rest of them had not had the nerve
to.

"Every year I have to give my little speech to you guys" said
Coach Fischer, "and I'll only say it once so listen up."

The Coach walked to the front of the group, held up the
Speedos, and began:  "Speed, gentlemen, is everything in
swimming.  Nothing can slow you down, Olympic medals are won
by mere fractions of seconds.  If you guys think you can
compete in this league in some homeboy skateboard shorts, you
got another think coming.  If you were older, you'd be
shaving all your body hair to lessen the drag through the
water. . . from the looks of most of you, that's not
necessary yet.  Also, I've taken the liberty of cutting out
the front protective panel from these Speedos, so you'll have
that much less to slow you down.  That's the program here,
guys, and you'll thank me before the season's over."

The explanation was reasonable and each of the youths then
struggled into their trunks, which, predictably, looked like
they'd been painted on.  To assure a proper fit, everyone
took a quick lap in the pool then lined up for inspection.

Although the tight white Speedos had become almost
transparent, few of the boys thought about complaining, with
visions of faster times clearly on the horizon.  The only boy
in obvious distress was Kyle, whose light brown pubic hair
shown through the wet suit, framing his uncircumcised penis
like it was on display, as if his larger organ was not
already showcased by the tightness of the fabric.

"Ugh, Coach Fischer, I think my suit's too small" stammered a
clearly embarrassed Kyle.  "The smaller the better son" said
the coach, "don't worry about what's sticking out there, the
girls will really give you a cheer."

With that, Brandon and the other boys were dismissed to the
showers.  Basking in the glow of this morning's triumph,
Brandon gave no thought to his "difference" and soaped and
showered with no attempt to hide his penis from view.  He
once considered retracting his foreskin but, remembering his
sudden erection earlier that day, decided against it.  Across
the shower room, he saw Hans shyly glancing at him.  And Hans
had no reluctance, it seemed, to retract his skin!  A bright
red head gleamed in front of a collar of retracted foreskin,
Hans was, at least for the moment, "one of the boys."

Brandon dried quickly and slipped into his shorts. . . thank
goodness none of the other kids seemed to notice his lack of
underwear.  It was approaching lunch time, and Brandon was
famished from swimming.  He'd probably be the only one home,
but he had a few dollars saved he could use for lunch at
McDonalds.  He and Hans and another boy, Eric, agreed to meet
there for burgers in half an hour.  Brandon raced toward home
with the nagging sense of one who has forgotten something. .
his uniform!  Almost home, he turned his bike quickly and
headed back toward the Y, hoping to the locker room would
still be unlocked.  Once inside, he quickly retrieved his
shirt, top and trunks, and on his way out observed someone
was still in the shower.  With a caution occasioned only by
instinct, he peeked into the shower, and saw Kyle under the
shower with his back toward the door.  Kyle was clearly doing
something with his penis, and Brandon's "Hey Kyle!" made the
boy jump and drop a razor on the shower floor.  "Jeez,
Brandon, you scared the shit out of me" Kyle yelled.

"Hey, sorry" said Brandon, "what are you doing with a razor,
anyway?"  Kyle turned around and revealed a completely
denuded pubic area.  And he had a full erection, which
pointed up straight at the ceiling.  The foreskin, once so
prominent, was almost fully retracted.  "Coach said that
shaving your hair could make you go faster, so I snuck his
razor out of the shaving kit in his office.  And this way it
won't show through those trunks" Kyle explained.  He made no
attempt at all to explain the five inch erection, and
Brandon, wanting to spare him further humiliation, pretended
not to notice.
Brandon hung around with Kyle while he towelled off and
dressed, his erection quickly faded and his foreskin slipped
back over the glans long before he got around to pulling on
his white jockey shorts.  Brandon invited him to join the
others for a burger and Kyle readily accepted.  Like Brandon,
he was new in school and had made only a couple of friends.
Physically, he was developing faster than most boys his age
and Kyle was happy to be included in any new group.

He'd stop off at Brandon's house first and they'd scrounge up
some money, then head down to the golden arches to meet Hans
and Eric.  Flush with the excitement of his morning's
conquests, Brandon and his new friends raced away from the Y
about the time Coach Fischer was picking up towels in the
locker room, and discovering his razor on the soap dish, its
twin blades clogged with soft pubic hair.


Next episode:  The coach's dilemma






 This is all I have of this story. <0 0>