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7. ASHER
I knew what I was doing, and I was doing it well. I always got what I wanted, even if that was something I didn’t even know I wanted until it was right in front of me. I wish I knew what I needed before it happened because then I could’ve planned for it.
Instead, I was left thirsting over a teacher whose cock tasted like soap, but his cum was sweet, almost like frosting. He was cute too, in a sort of teacher way. Since he was older, I didn’t know if there was anything illegal against what we were going to be doing, but what I knew was that it would happen. We were going to fuck, and we were going to play.
Knowing it was going to happen sent a trill of pleasure down my back. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long since Spencer was quick to annoy me as I entered the swimming locker room.
“You’re late,” he said.
I approached my locker, trying to avoid him. I thought I’d made it obvious to him. We weren’t going to happen, and I didn’t want him to watch me get naked anymore. Before, when we were secret about it everything, it was fun, but now, it made me feel a little dirty, almost against my will.
“It’s practice,” I grumbled back. “And why are you bugging me?” Looking him up and down. His slender build and tight Speedos would’ve usually been a sexual trigger in me. But now, there was nothing more than a twinge of a memory when I looked at him. Plus, I had also masturbated this morning, and then got my thrills by giving Professor—Master a blow job under his desk. It would’ve been nicer if I were in my cute clothes and my ears, but we were in the first step, physical contact. I knew little about the bases, but this was probably the first base for us.
“We still have a swim meet at the end of this month,” he said. “Practice is important.”
“Hey,” I said in a hushed voice, looking around to see other students pulling up their Speedos and some others leaving. He was right. I was late, but I was rarely early, so this was on-time for me. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Spencer gulped. “Anything. What do you need?”
“You to leave me alone.”
I’d tried being nice, I’d tried being obvious. Nothing worked. He just wanted to bug me, and I was over being bugged right now. I wanted to focus on the things that made me happy. One was pranking people and making them look stupid, but the second, third, and fourth things that made me happy were dressing up, the professor, and using my tongue. Not in any order, but they were on the list of happiness.
Spencer left me alone to get changed, and while he did, I couldn’t resist the urge to scour around in my locker for some pranks I hadn’t used yet. Popping candy. It was perfect. And right now, the most perfect place that popping candy could go was in his underwear, just a sprinkle, right on the crotch.
A banging came at the metal lockers. “C’mon Colson,” Coach Simon Monroe called out. “If you’re not in that water in the next sixty seconds, I—”
I’d just finished pulling my Speedos up over my ass, but seconds before it, I’d been touching it. Since I’d basically told Professor Stirling to fuck me, I was more curious about it. “Coming Coach,” I said, jogging towards him in a warmup.
Palmdale University had several large swimming pools. There was one pool used by the campus, but swimmers had control of the pools. It wasn’t safe for regular swimmers. We were athletes, powerful men in our sporting profession.
The smell of chlorine welcomed me. I hadn’t come in at all over the weekend. I’d been so preoccupied with the Manor, and hoping the professor would turn up again yesterday, that I flaked on the optional training sessions.
Coach cleared his throat. “We’re going to start off with some warmup laps,” he said before blowing his whistle. “Seniors in first. Everyone else stretch out.”
The pool today was separated by pool lane dividers. Each of them standard lane sizes with a total of ten lanes.
I’d already stretched myself while under the table earlier, but this was the second-best work out of the day. Some days I wished it was the ocean and I could just keep on swimming and swimming, but eventually here, you would bump your head on something. It was probably best I didn’t go into the sea or ocean; I didn’t know what was in the water around here, all I knew was that everyone talked about Florida man in every news article.
“Colson, in the water,” Coach said as everyone else was in there.
I’d been preoccupied recently, but it was all for a good reason, I was trying to get myself laid. “On it.” I jumped in, making a splash.
Coach blew his whistle. “Do it again and I had penalties to your time,” he said. “Then you won’t be going to the meet at the end of the month.”
The meet was a big deal, it was a friendly race between two rival colleges in Florida. Palmdale and Tampa. They usually lost, but last year they won, and that didn’t go over well with coach. He was furious at everyone, and for once, I wasn’t to blame for that. Ricky banged his head and didn’t tell anyone but still raced anyway.
“I’m timing, once there, once back,” he said. “Ready.”
I put my goggles over my eyes and positioned my feet against the pool wall, ready to push off at the blow of his whistle.
”Marks.” He blew his whistle.
Forcing forward, I propelled myself before gliding through the water as my hands and arms sliced through it, one after the other, picking up momentum. Looking to the side, I was ahead of one person, and behind of another. Almost at the end of the pool, I rolled forward in the water and kicked my feet back off the wall, pushing back.
I was forth, out of ten. That wasn’t bad.
“This is why we practice,” Coach said, sighing.
“It’s still the morning,” I spoke back, pulling the goggled up over my head. “You can’t always expect us to be on point.”
Holding back a grin, Coach shook his head. “Yes, I can. And I do expect you, each and every one of you to work on this. If you’re not actively getting better, then you’re falling behind, and you’re getting worse,” he said. “That’s mainly a note to the rest of you.” He nodded around the pool at the freshmen, sophomores, and juniors as they stretched.
I climbed out of the pool, seeing Spencer staring at me, I wasn’t sure if they were daggers or whether he was saving up material of my wet body and the suction of the wet Speedos outlining my cock.
“Juniors,” Coach called out. “In the pool.”
