With multiple lockdowns and border closures my wife Cara and I were really looking forward to our upcoming holiday to Italy. We had planned it months ago and now it was less than a week away before we jumped on a plane and left Melbourne's cold winter behind.
"Ben, we need to go shopping and get you some swim shorts for the holiday" Cara announced. It was Saturday morning and the last thing I wanted to do was go to the shops, least of all to buy swim shorts. "What's wrong with my football shorts?" I ask. "There fine and that's what I always wear babe."
Cara had a smirk on her face and says, "well there's something you need to know about Italy babe, you aren't allowed to wear shorts when swimming in public pools or hotel pools."
"What do you mean? Have you booked some nudist adventure or something?" I tease.
"No, in Europe you have to wear speedos or brief swim shorts." She explains. Believing this was some ploy of hers to get me into some skimpy speedo, I reach for my phone and search "men's swimwear in Europe" and to my disbelief, she was fucking right. There are even signs with pictures of shorts with a cross through them. "Alright, let's go now before we waste the weekend at the shops" I tell her.
We head to the local Westfield and into the department store. Straight to the men's section we find the swimwear area. Cara grabs two pairs of speedos, a bright red one and a navy blue one. "Here, go try these one" she tells me. "There's not much of them, babe" I say, looking at these brief things and wondering how my big beefy ass would fit in them. "I like both colours, just work out the size I'm going to have a look in the women's section for a new bikini". I'm presently wearing my usual Saturday morning grey sweatpants and a hoodie and I make my way to find the fitting rooms. Why do they always hide them in the back ass end of the store? Okay so I get there, and this 20 something guy behind the desk says, "how many items you got there Sir?" Shit, being called Sir makes me feel old. He looks at what I'm holding and asks, "are you heading to somewhere warm, you definitely don't need swim trunks like that in Melbourne this time of the year". I blush, already feeling awkward about these bloody speedos.
He hands me a plastic card with a big "2" on it and I notice his name tag which reads "Josh". I head to the first open cubicle and drop my track pants and briefs and then slide on the blue pair. "Fuck" I think, it fits like a G-string. Half of my big hairy ass cheeks are exposed out of the sides and it's riding up trying to crawl into my ass. Let alone how tight my dick and balls feel. I whip them off and look at the size Cara picked. "L" it reads. Now I've got a tidy waist and usually take a 32' pair of jeans, but sure, I am aware that this causes problems when trying to fit my ass and thighs into anything. I look at the red one, standing there naked and just as I try to squeeze if over my junk and ass, there's a knock at the door. "Need any help in there Sir?" Says Josh the attendant.
"Ah, all good mate, just think my wife got the sizes wrong and I'll need to go the next one up" I say.
Josh replies "speedos are supposed to be very fitted, have you worn them before Sir?"
Shit, this dude, doesn't give up. "Ah nope, but I couldn't be seen in public like this" I say to him.
"I can help with that, let's see" he responds.
"Hmm, all good here bud, I reckon I need to try the next size up"
"That's what most guys say, though you don't want them saggy, open the door and I'll see how they fit" he tells me.
I open the door, knowing that this pain in the ass guy isn't going away any time soon.
"Wow, they look perfect" he says, eyes wide open and staring at my junk.
"Seriously?" I ask. Thinking to myself, these things are so tight, and my butt cheeks are bursting out the sides. Let alone my fat dick that you can see very clearly through the outline of these red speedos.
Josh tells me "that's how they are supposed to be worn Sir, tight and contained".
"Ping," I get a text from Cara, "babe I've run into Ashleigh and we're catching up for a coffee at Joe's Place, meet us there."
I turn around and show Josh just how full those red speedos are with my big ass. "Mate, look at the back, it's not containing anything'
"Sir, they look fine from behind, just how they are supposed to look," he tells me.
"Come out and look in the full mirror section where you can see all angles" he encourages.
I open the door more fully and walk out and start checking myself out in the four mirrors that shows all angles. Still not convinced, Josh has now decided to touch the edge of the speedos on my ass and say, "see how it covers quite a lot Sir."
At that point, a mate that I used to play rugby with walks into the fitting rooms.
"Ben, how's it..., fuck mate, you heading to Europe too?
