We'd been lying next to each other by my girlfriend's pool. You see her parents are rich, able to spend the horrendous amounts that the water company charges each year for its use; together with the muscle-bound cliché of a pool attendant who spends each day fruitlessly skimming flies off before a new plague arrive the next day. She had given me a key to the side gate and told us we were welcome any time to come and swim, whether she was there or not, and today was one of those 'not' days.
My friend had resisted lying in the hot sun and done some lengths. I'd sat up from my heat-induced laziness to see him finishing his exertions. I had to admire his tenacity and willpower to break from the power of the sun.
Justin (or Just as we sixth-formers called him) had been in that clear cool water a long time and was climbing out via one of the chrome ladders at the deepest end. His Speedos were sucked tight against him by the water as he came out slowly, water dripping from his firm pectorals and iron hard stomach. I'd always admired his firm physique, carefully sculpted by hours in the gym and at aerobics which he said he did so he could watch the firm butt of the instructress and the folds where her sweating crotch moulded around her pussy. He came across as such a macho man, always loudly talking about cunts and tits when in the changing room at college. He never referred to them as vaginas and breasts, which at first had shocked a poor country lad like me who until my present girl, Siobhan, had never touched or seen a naked breast close up. Well, even now I still had not seen her tits or cunt.
I was looking at him from behind my mirrored sunglasses, realising after a while that had he been able to see the direction of my eyes he would have thought me queer. I was drawn to stare at the impressive bulge in his Speedos, emphasised even more by the cling of the wet fabric. He was flaccid but large, with a pair of balls that even though not fully defined looked more like a bull's than a man's. I knew I was well hung, from the secret comparisons I'd made in the showers and when measured during my masturbatory teens. However, he outshone even me with that beast of a snake! What was even more surprising was I found my own cock had become rock-hard merely from this voyeuristic episode of staring at his cock.
'Hey, you're straight, man,' I told myself, 'and so is he, isn't he?'
I tried to hide the bulge, turning quickly onto my side, which didn't help at all. My brain was whirring with sexual confusion. I was finding myself attracted, at least sexually, to my best friend Just. Why on earth should this be, and so suddenly when we had known each other for over 10 years, since high school?
"That's an impressive lolly you have in your lap, Francis," he said loudly, "Why it looks good enough to eat!" He added, laughing, then came over to me and playfully grabbed at my crotch.
"Hey, stop it! I must have dozed off and woke with a stiffy," I lied, quickly thinking of an excuse.
"Yeah, sure," he said quietly, sounding unconvinced. "I thought it was because you had just seen a real man's dick coming out of the pool."
I knew I was blushing, but how could I lie? He was right, I had been looking and was aroused by the sight and if truth be known wanted to see it naked and hard. This was new territory but given he had been such a macho individual at school; it felt somehow safe to have this conversation.
"Ok, I admit it; I was intrigued by the size of your pecker. Geez, I've known you years but never knew you had such a monster."
I stopped, careful to not say too much. Anyhow, it was just curiosity, wasn't it?
"You had a growth spurt?" I added, wondering why I had never noticed in the school showers.
"Well funny you should say that. It has been in the last year since Trainer Jones put me on a new diet he has been experimenting with for sprinters. You have to promise not to tell anyone," he whispered, as if confidentially, getting close to my ear, "but Jones got me some sponsorship from the Pfizacorp Sportsfood Company. In exchange I test their dietary products under strict conditions. Don't you remember I asked you to do the same for your cross country running? You were ill and missed the briefing. Siobhan came and she is testing the diet for women long distance runners."
"Yes, I remember now," secretly cursing that I had had to miss the programme, especially now I could see its results. Then a doubt crept in, "but isn't it dangerous?"
"Nah," he said, dismissively, "Since the programme I have never felt better, and my sex life has improved ten-fold. I have become willing to do and try new things. I am much better for it."
There was a silence between us. It wasn't uncomfortable, more like that moment before two people kiss when there is anticipation yet hesitation.
"Touch it," he said simply, standing over me with the water still dripping over his rippling muscles.
