This is a fictional story about a young adult who joins a Master's Swim team full of older men.
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THE SWIM TEAM, PART III - WELCOME TO THE TEAM
Dennis had no idea where they were going and John wouldn't tell him anything. The only thing he had said, after much pestering from Dennis, was that he had taken care of everything that was needed for Dennis to be on the team: he had filled out the paperwork, paid the fee, Dennis had signed the waiver, but there was still one thing that was needed before he would be an official member. What that was, John wasn't saying. He would find out soon enough.
They had been driving for 20 minutes and had left town entirely. Bob had decided to drive separately, so he was following close behind. It was just John and Dennis, zipping along down the country road. Dennis' mind was running wild. Was it some sort of tryout? Would he have to swim a mile in under a certain time? He was pretty sure he could do that, as long as it wasn't a race against his teammates. That would likely cause him to get distracted and lose focus. Was it a hazing ritual, like what fraternities did at school? He hadn't joined a fraternity as a freshman, but his friend had. He told him how the pledges had to drink unknown substances without asking questions; or run stark naked through public places; or even, and this was one that had always turned Dennis on, give the big brother a helping hand. After all, it wasn't gay if they were being forced to do it; it just proved the pledge's loyalty to the fraternity. Or would it just be as simple as having a drink with the guys so they could get to know each other better? That would be nice, Dennis thought, but hardly exciting.
The country road ended at a subdivision called Seaside Estates. Dennis had never been out this way before, so he hadn't actually known the place existed. The houses were rather large-mansions even-and were spaced very far apart. Each had a unique design to it: one looked like a medieval castle, just a little more homely; another looked like a replica of Frank Lloyd Wright's Falling Water, complete with the rocks and waterfall; and another was a grand Victorian home that appeared to be the oldest home of the lot. It was an odd mix, and made the neighborhood appear a bit random, but it was easy to forget the haphazardness of it all when taking in the sheer size and spectacle of the houses. They snaked their way along until they reached a fork. John veered his jet black 1959 Studebaker Lark to the left and continued up the way. Before long, they pulled up to a modernist house that was tucked in amongst the trees. It was mostly glass, with a stone foundation and supports providing some character. You could see everything happening inside, as night was beginning to fall and the lights were on. John pulled into the round about and parked. They got out, and Dennis took it all in. It was smaller than the other homes they had passed, but still bigger and nicer than any he had ever been in.
"Who lives here?" Dennis asked, though he should have already known the answer. "You remember Geoff from this morning?" John asked. "He and his wife live here."
Of course Dennis remembered Geoff. How could he forget him? Even if he was a little small in his nether region, he still had that fantastic belly. He probably had a magnificent ass to match. Hopefully, one day Dennis would get to see it. But his wife? That was a bummer.
"Wait till you see the inside," John added.
They walked up the sidewalk and knocked on the front door. Bob walked up beside them as they were waiting. After a few moments, Geoff opened the door, carrying a bottle of wine and a few wine glasses. He had regular glasses on now that made him appear really intelligent, rather than simply the too-cool-for-school look he had sported in the locker room that morning. Dennis found glasses hot, so he had no complaints about this change. He also didn't have any complaints about Geoff's attire. His eyes grew wide, for Geoff had greeted them at the door wearing nothing more than a royal blue Hawaiian shirt and a hot pink Joe Snyder thong. Dennis wasn't usually into pink, but oh boy was this hot. His first thought was that he was dreaming. Then he thought he had died and gone to heaven. The third was that Geoff wore something like that with his wife? And she was ok with it? And then he finally came around to the realization that he was staring and should probably return his eyes to Geoff's face. But the spandex of the thong was just so perfectly round around Geoff's bulge, he just couldn't pull his eyes away.
"Kid's got quite the appetite," John said, giving Dennis a smirk.
"I can see that," Geoff replied. "You've outdone yourself this time, John. Come in, come in."
The three men followed Geoff into his home. On the walls were pictures of all the trips Geoff and his wife had taken together. They were sailing on the Mediterranean, atop the Great Wall of China, even scaling mountains in Europe. In others they were almost entirely naked at a street party in the Florida Keys. Some of their friends from the swim team were there, too. Dennis recognized John and Chuck; their hands were wrapped around the front of the women, covering their exposed breasts. What am I getting myself in to? Dennis thought. A few hours ago he was getting fucked by John and sucking Bob's dick, and here they were with their hands on a couple of ladies' boobs. These guys must really live. Dennis stopped looking at the walls and watched as Geoff led them through his home. The pink spandex split his beefy ass cheeks so perfectly. They were totally smooth and bounced with each step he took. Dennis lost track of where he was going and bumped into a table.
"Careful, kid," John said, steadying him. "You'll get your chance. Just give it time."
Dennis gave him a nod. They walked out onto the back porch and saw a very inviting scene. There was a rectangular pool that ran sideways along the house. Just above it, in the back corner, was a hot tub that had water running like a waterfall down into the pool. Next to that, an all glass fireplace roared with life, the flames dancing every which way, casting reflections across the surface of the pool. A light jazz soundtrack played over the sound system. In the hot tub sat Chuck and a man Dennis didn't recognize. He was short and hairy all over, with a full head of bushy salt-and-pepper hair. Circular glasses sat upon his nose, which he pushed up closer to his eyes to get a good look as Dennis walked in. Chuck had been talking to the man, but stopped when he saw Dennis. He lowered his eyes and looked down into the water.
"What's his deal?" Dennis asked John as they walked over to the table.
"Who? Chuck?" John replied. "Nothing. The bastard gets a combination of shyness, nerves, and extreme horniness around young bucks like you. He's probably sporting a woody right now that's harder than any teenager you've ever met. Lucky bastard. He just can't control the thing. But for his age, that's less of a problem and more of a virtue, if you know what I mean."
Dennis did know what he meant. And it sounded great. He remembered how bushy Chuck was down below. If he played his cards right, he planned to bury his face in that bush before the night was through.
"Who's the other guy?" Dennis asked.
"That's Jim," John replied. "He's Scottish and a little firecracker, if you ask me. He's dynamite in the sack, but beware, his load will burn no matter what end he shoots it in."
