Disclaimer: The characters in this story are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The following story involves graphic descriptions of sexual encounters. If such things offend you, please read no further. For everyone else, I hope you enjoy the story.
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"Blind Man's Bluff" Part 1
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Wes wasn't a happy kid. He sat on the bleachers overlooking the now vacant indoor pool at the university he attended. He had taken a part time job at the activity center, so he had keys and access to all the facilities. His first year of college was over, and he was still very much alone.
He thought things might be different for him after his older brother Vic had taken off to college. Vic was smart and had gone all the way across the country to go to school to get away from their overbearing and shallow parents. And Vic was their pride and joy. He had been the high school football team's quarterback, adored by one and all. Vic was six feet, four inches of strapping young man. He had been a legend. Unfortunately for Wes, as history as shown, for every long shadow that was cast, there was someone who was blotted out by it. That person was Wes.
And it wasn't that he and Vic didn't get along. Quite the contrary, they were friends and talked often on the phone. They had looked forward to seeing each other over the holidays, but Vic had decided not to make the trip when their parents made in impromptu voyage to Europe for Christmas vacation. But they were definitely planning on getting together over the summer. And for some reason, Vic was particularly anxious for his brother to meet his friend Jack. Whatever that was about. Wes had tried living up to his brother's legacy, much to his brother's chagrin, but hadn't done it. Instead of being a football player, he was a swimmer. Wes's body was something to behold, at least when he let himself be seen. He had a swimmer's body; smooth, six feet of well toned muscle. He wasn't as broad shouldered as his brother, but he probably had better muscle definition. He had short brown hair that was rarely combed or brushed. He had been told he was handsome by a number of women, but his self-esteem made that a hard pill to swallow. He might not have been so insecure, if it weren't for the glasses.
Wes's vision was horrible. One of the reasons he liked to swim after everyone else had left was because he was mortally afraid of swimming into someone else's lane or worse yet their bodies, and that everyone would laugh at him. He couldn't swim with his glasses on, and he couldn't wear contacts. He had tried, but they had irritated his eyes so much that he had gotten an infection. He had also tried traditional swim goggles, but they tended to fog up so quickly as to be almost useless. He blamed the shape of his nose. He was eligible for laser surgery, but his parents wouldn't dip into their vacation fund to help him out, and he couldn't afford it on his own. They would pay for his brother's apartment, but wouldn't help their "other" son see.
Due to his insecurity caused by not measuring up to his brother and the fact that he had to wear glasses as thick as the lenses on the Hubble Space Telescope, he hadn't had much luck with the ladies. And he was feeling increasingly lonely. Sometimes he would come here towards the end of the day or he would go the mall, and he would watch people who were obviously couples. He wondered what it would be like to be one of them. Sometimes he would masturbate when he got back to his dorm, dreaming about being involved with one of those beautiful women. Just the other day, he had been at a McDonalds watching a couple of young lesbians out on a date. One had been all giggles and blonde pigtails, the other was a redhead with a mohawk, a killer body, and tight leather pants. He had used up many tissues fantasizing about being with either (or both) of those girls.
He took off his thick glasses and climbed down into the water. He did laps for about half an hour, but called his practice off early when he heard thunder outside. He wasn't worried about getting struck by lightning inside, but he wanted to get back to his dorm before the rain hit. He was trying to find his way back to his towel and glasses when the lights went out.
"Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit!" He managed to find his way back up to the bleachers in the dark. Then he heard a ‘crack' noise, and felt something underneath his foot. Sigh. He plopped down on the bleacher and picked his now broken glasses off the floor. Luckily, it just felt like the frame had broken, but the lenses seemed to be intact. He had a spare set by at his room, if he could manage to get back there. He gathered up his belongings and moved slowly towards the hall that led to the lockers.
He was feeling his way along by keeping one hand on the wall when he heard voices coming from the women's locker room.
"Hello?"
"Hey! Hey, who's there?"
"My name's Wes. Who all is in there?"
"My name is Susan and my friend here . . . somewhere around here . . . is Tracy. We were late getting out ‘cause we were planning the swim team's travel arrangements when the fuckin' lights went out."
Susan and Tracy? Wes remembered two girls by those names from watching the team compete. Susan was a hot blonde with full, pouty lips and an ass you could crack eggs on, and Tracy was a gorgeous brunette who ran into problems on speed trials because of the drag caused by her enormous chest. Definitely fantasy material.
A different voice came from out of the locker room. "I actually got out to the hall but the doors are chained shut. Who the hell chains doors shut like that?"
"Unfortunately, there were a lot of break around campus, so our crack campus government thought someone might come in and try and steal all our water." Wes thought some levity might ease the girls, who both had an edge of panic in their voices. It seemed to work, as he heard the two girls giggling. "I work at the activity center, so I've got keys. We can get out the door next to the main office, but I've got to find my locker first. In the dark." He paused and thought about his predicament.
One of the girls echoed his thoughts. "This is really going to take a while, isn't it?" He thought that was Tracy.
"I'll hurry as fast as I can."
"Thanks. Don't worry. We aren't going anywhere."
Luckily, the men's locker room was directly at the end of the hall. He got in, then started trying to find his locker. Unfortunately, he couldn't remember exactly where it was. He thought it was in one of the middle rows, but he couldn't be sure which row. He was working his way down when he heard a voice from the door.
"Hey. Any luck?" It sounded like Susan.
"This could take a while."
"Want some help?"
‘I'd like more than help,' he thought to himself. He had been thinking about the two girls for a few minutes, and was supporting a major stiffy. All eight inches of his dick were straining against the material of his speedos. "Nah. I just have a . . . few hundred more."
"Don't be silly. If everyone else has gone home, yours should be the only locker with a lock on it. I'll help you look. Where are you? Marco!"
"Polo!" he shouted back without thinking about it. "Wait, you're supposed to be in the water for that game."
"What's the other one? The one where you just wander around in the dark and try and find people?" Her voice sounded a little closer.
"I can't remember." He had worked his way all the way down one row. He was sure his locker was on top, so he had been checking the upper deck. He moved down and reached forward. Apparently, he was now past the end of that row, but his hands encountered something warm and round.
