Kendra Teaches Swimming

Chet Williams, next to me, still hard, said, "Man, this is going to be hard."

"Did you mean that as a pun," I quipped.

"No, man," he laughed, " I don't know what I'm gonna do once we get in there."

The locker room was typical male locker room of that period, just a big, open area with lockers along the walls and an open shower room with shower heads on the walls. There was an office at one end, with a glass wall through which the teacher could monitor the locker room. Oddly, we rarely saw Miss Anderson there. But Miss Roberts, locker room monitor was always there.

When I would pass either of them on campus, they would smile and say hello, and I would perfunctorily reply, but with my head down, or rigidly ahead. I would also blush, knowing they had, and would, see me naked. The fact that I was a later bloomer, and rather sexually naive meant I didn't have a lot of control over my erections. Most of the other guys had them, too, especially early on. Both the women would look at them, sometimes openly, sometimes surreptitiously, and roll their eyes, smile, sometimes smirk, sometimes shake their heads, but they did keep their word, no one was every humiliated for it, they just carried on as though nothing had happened.

I couldn't delay it any longer. The guy ahead of me approached the door, put up his hands in a mock prayer, and entered the pool. Chet, still stiff, followed behind me.

I didn't realize it at the time, but the memory of that night would be etched in my brain for the rest of my life. Still wet, at half mast, the smell of chlorine hit me first; then the perfectly smooth blue surface of the water, cool, cobalt glass, shimmering beneath the harsh lights that illuminated everything; the little ripples of light blue waves that reflected off the ceiling, undulating like snakes.

My heart was beating faster as I walked down the length of the pool. Fortunately, both women were preoccupied with a clipboard and weren't looking at us. I was acutely aware of my nudity and vulnerability, aware that my cock was wiggling back and forth as I walked, and hoping they wouldn't look up yet.

Chet and I took up positions on the side of the pool, the last two to do so.

So, here it was, the thing I had most dreaded, absolutely naked, prohibited from covering anything, standing up in front of two women! I elbowed Chet, "Keep calm, man; once you get in the water, it'll go down."

"Jesus," he said, "I hope so."

I saw Miss Anderson looking directly at us.

It seemed like I could feel every nerve in my body working overtime. I had put my hands behind me and their contact with my bare ass just served to remind me I was nude. Every faint change in air pressure registered on my skin like an explosion. I kept telling myself I'm a big boy. I can do this!

As she called roll, I tried not to be too obvious looking down the line. In a locker room, you'll see lots of naked bodies, and I learned there and from swim class that cocks come in all sizes and shapes. But, if you're male, the thing you rarely see is another man erect, unless you're gay. I noted there were three guys fully stiff, and with Chet, the count made four of fifteen. The rest, like me, were half hard. That meant we had four full hard ons, and nine near stiffs.

But who's counting.

I had no idea what I would do with that information, but I filed it away in my head, anyway.

She finished roll, then told us to spread out on the deck, we were going to do some warm up calisthenics.

She called for jumping jacks, and I could hear all of us internally groan.

She led the group for twenty reps, and when she'd finished, she looked genuinely shocked and we all looked genuinely lost. Of the fifteen of us, there were thirteen full erections!!

Picture fifteen naked males doing jumping jacks, the whole package flapping up and down, hitting you in the abdomen, then swinging back between your legs. It's a subdued for of masturbation!

Then there was the fact that we had to look at her! At her thighs, opening and closing, muscles reshaping her legs each repetition. And her boobs! God, the boobs—bouncing up and down; concave to convex; tear drop then fully round; squeezing against the straps to bulge out around them. Did she really expect we wouldn't notice?

She told us to turn around.

We were going to do rotating toe touches. These were done with your legs spread out, arms stretched out at the sides. You would then bend over, touching the left foot with the right hand, come back up go down left hand on right foot.

I knew what this looked like from behind-bent over like that, your butt cheeks separated and you looked right up into the crack of the ass; worse, your balls hung down like an inviting target for a pool cue. You just couldn't get more exposed than that.

We did fifteen reps and she told us to turn around for the next exercise.

Most of us were still fully erect, and except for two of the jocks, still looking utterly confused.

She regarded us for a moment, then told us all to get in the water.

Thank God, I thought. Hitting the cold water, I felt it go to work almost immediately.

She then proceeded to show us the basic stroke, hand over head, and the basic leg movement. We then hung on to the side of pool as she went down the line, watching us. We were on our stomachs, so she could only see our butts, and I began to relax a bit.

Mercifully, the rest of the period was spent in the water. She always gave us a ten minute free swim period at the end, and I would spend as much of that time as possible hanging on to the side, ogling her as inconspicuously as possible.

She was a Midwestern farm girl of Scandinavian descent, with fresh face and blue eyes that went with it. Her blonde hair was cut short, in a style that would come to be called a shag. Her legs were curvy, strong, rippled with muscles; her stomach was flat; her breasts, nicely round and on the large size, jutted out above them; her butt was taught and firm, her hips wide enough to make the statement emphatic: this is a girl!

The purist might have said those hips were a tad too wide, speculating that she was the product of peasant stock. Peasant, aristocrat—who cared? We were lost in the fog of awe that an pretty girl can induce in a young man. She must have known she was pretty; she would have had a mirror, after all; and no doubt boys and men both took detailed notice of her. (Although she had a boyfriend.)

We all loved just to see her walk, her boobs delectably bouncing, hips swaying, ass jiggling; or bent over, her boobs on view from the front, her fine butt, exposed even more by the lifting up of her swimsuit, from the rear; or even just standing there, clipboard in hand, leaning slightly sideways, the weight on one hip as she spoke to a nude young man and sometimes favored him with a smile. She had a knockout smile, slightly mischievous; her lips would curl into something outright impish when she smiled broadly. And doing so would show the dimples in her cheeks and make her eyes almost sparkle. We all stared at her, and I'm certain she knew it. Maybe she even liked it. I wasn't certain. But she never upbraided any of us for doing it.

Sometimes we would nearly pass out when she came out of the pool after demonstrating a stroke. The suit was of slight material, and we could see her nipples, often stiff; the outline of her pussy in the front, and the crack of her ass in the rear.

Eventually, we would all develop a crush on Miss Anderson.

On that day, hanging by the side of pool, looking up at her, I saw her dive in from the other side. I hadn't even realized, I'd been so lost in staring at her, that I was stiff again! Dammit, it was like that at that age; given the proper stimulation (she was quite stimulating) you'd get stiff for awhile, then ten minutes later it was gone, only to recur twenty minutes after that. I wished, for the thousandth time, I could learn how to control this...

A wave of pain hit me as something slammed into my balls. It hurt, but it wasn't the crippling pain of a genuinely hard blow. I grabbed my balls.

A second later, the surface of the water broke, and there was Miss Anderson!

Her face was flushed, and she seemed a little frightened.

"Oh my God," she said. "Are you ok? You're Mr. Harris, aren't you? God, I'm so sorry, I just didn't see you there. I was aiming off to the side, but I missed. Please tell me you're ok! Do you want to see the nurse?"

I was the closest to her I had been. Her face was only two feet from mine. The blue eyes registered concern; her head was plastered with wet blonde hair and the water was dripping from her face. Off her nose, down her lips, and cheeks...I had to force myself to speak.

I told her I was ok, it was only a mild blow, I'd been hit worse than that before.

Miss Roberts blew the whistle signaling the end of the class, and I saw bare butts everywhere as the class got out of the pool.

"Can I help you to the locker room? May be the nurse should look at you at least."

No, I thanked her. The last thing I needed was another woman staring at my naked body.

It was odd that I had to put her at ease.

The next week, there were no calisthenics. I think she learned her lesson!

We spent part of the class on deck, gathered around her, watching her demonstrate a stroke. I stood well back, behind everyone else. She had a portable black board on which she was drawing a diagram. She kept telling the guys to back up a bit so they could see better. I thought she's begun to understand that it was a good idea to keep some physical distance between her and us.

The last part of the class was in the water.

At the end of the class, the same bare male asses as last week greeted me as the rest of the class bent over the side of the pool, hauling themselves out of the water. She was last, and I followed right behind her, ogling her butt! I was half hard, and starting to get a bit stiffer. She pulled open the locker room door. It stuck, and she pulled it harder. I hadn't stopped in time to keep the gap between us, so when her hand flew off the door, it came back at me and slapped my cock!! Hard!

I positively shrieked with pain.

Her hands flew to her mouth, then reflexively toward my cock, stopping suddenly half way, when she must have realized where they were going, and flew back. She stood there, hands in front of her for a second, while I was holding my dick and grimacing.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were behind me. Are you alright? Mr. Harris, are you alright?"

"It's a little more painful than the last time, but I'll live."

"God, I'm sorry. I keep assailing you in your most private parts. Please forgive me."

"It's alright, I should have kept farther behind you."

"You're sure you're ok? Let me take a look at it, please.'

"No, no. It's fine. I just need to take a shower now."

She held the door for me, as I kept my hand on my bruised dick.

"You know," she said as I entered the locker room, "I just spent an hour looking at you naked. You don't need to be modest." I couldn't think of anything to say.

If anything, even though we were nude, even though she was the teacher, an authority figure, we almost felt a certain camaraderie with her. Though she couldn't give us any privacy, she did the best she could to encourage us to accept, embrace our nudity. She understood we felt, were, vulnerable, and she did everything she could to encourage us; applauded our efforts, commiserated with our failures, accepted us.

She never made fun of us when we got hard (and God knows there were hard ons, in every one of her classes!) or allowed any one else to. I remember watching her from a distance once, as she talked to one student. He was getting stiff as they talked, and obviously nervous. She had looked down at his hard on, pointed to it, smiled and laughed. He also smiled and laughed. I had no idea what she said, but it put him at ease.

She somehow managed to make us feel almost secure in that insecure environment where we were nude and watched over by two clothed women. Eventually, it almost became easy to be naked in her presence.

Only twice did she ever do anything that could have been considered the least bit sexual, and both seemed to be more playful than erotic.

On one occasion, she and Miss Roberts were in the pool, giving groups of us individual instruction. She was standing in front of me, showing me how to perform a particular stroke. She had me put my arms up, and got too close. My flaccid cock and balls somehow brushed up against her leg. I must have registered some shock. She stopped, looked down at my now stiffening cock and did something that shocked me so badly I nearly jumped three feet out of the water!

She grabbed my cock, rather hard, and pulled me toward her, and whispered in my ear, "Stop worrying about this. I've seen them before. Concentrate on swimming!" Then she let go, threw some water in my face, laughed, and swam away. I can still remember vividly her hair in my face, her soft, smooth cheek touching my face and the warmth of her breath in my ear, the feel of her smooth, female hand on my manhood. We were in stomach deep water, so no one saw what happened.

On another occasion, we were in the water in groups of five or so. Again the water was stomach to chest deep. We were practicing floating. You had to float for 30 seconds on your back and then stomach to pass the test. When it came my turn, she ordered me forward in a group of guys surrounding us. She told me stomach first. So, I started to lay flat, but like everyone else, the mid section of the body tended to sink. She would help each guy lay flat in the water by lifting up his mid section, one hand on the chest, one on the legs, always careful to avoid touching his butt or genitals. In my case, she seems to have screwed up and put her hands so that three of her fingers were right on my balls! She didn't seem to realize this, but I was in such shock, my butt started to go down again, so she reached up once more, and this time touched my cock! She immediately said, "Sorry," and moved her hand down to my thighs. I was now getting stiff, and had 30 seconds to make it go down.

Finally, she told me to roll over on my back. I did so, with the help of her hand on my legs, and almost stuck my erection in her face. My stiff cock was at almost eye level with her, and sticking straight up out of the water!! One of the other guys started to laugh; the others were stone faced, realizing they could be next. Quite calmly, she then took the first two fingers left hand, hooked them around my cock and deftly pushed it down until it lay flat on my stomach. The other guys looked as surprised as I was.

I had been working so hard, a double class load of almost thirty hours, taking courses for college entrance exams, working part time, that the whole routine had become exhausting. I would fall into bed at night, and wake up a zombie the next morning. Hadn't even masturbated for a month and a half. Miss Anderson had changed my routine; it was a centerfold I used to imagine but now it was she.

Of course, I had no idea what that was like. I was behind (way behind!) in sexual development, still a virgin, without a girlfriend. I was shy (no, let's be blunt: terrified) with girls. The result was that I was dead tired, full of unused come, and one morning I looked down at my balls, and was surprised to see them apparently swollen, and with a slightly bluish tint, and a little painful. I had no time to think about it, I was already late.

Late October. Leaves falling, smoke in the air. I was in class, listening to Miss Roberts talk, when Miss Anderson, who was wearing sandals, bent over to straighten one. She made the mistake of bending over full from the waist, exposing those legs, making the swimsuit ride up into her butt, accentuating the triangle of cloth that covered her ass. She must have realized the mistake, and immediately stood up.

But it was too late for me. I felt the sensation with which every male is familiar. My cock started to tingle, swell, stiffen, elongate, coming up in throbs, a bit of swelling, stiffening, throb, and up further. I looked down at it, to confirm it was really happening. My heart was pounding, and I kept telling myself, No, not now. Please God, not now! But it kept coming up, and in a few seconds, I had the stiffest hard on I had ever felt. It was rock hard, and almost pointing up. And it wouldn't stop throbbing, up and down! My balls were trying to crawl back inside my body.

No one had yet noticed this. Coming back to reality, I realized everyone was lining up in front of the diving board. Miss Roberts had been telling them we were going to practice diving off the board. Oh Christ, please no! The board was a foot or two off the deck, and anyone on it was in full view of everyone else.

I was in line with five guys to go, and it wouldn't go down. I moved forward and accidentally poked the guy in front of me, who turned around and regarded me with a smirk. Then, there was no one in front of me. Miss Roberts was standing at the board, a clipboard in hand; Miss Anderson was a few feet away with her whistle. Miss Roberts regarded my erection, and noted dryly, "I see you're glad to be here. Up on the board, please." My legs were weak, but I somehow managed them to propel me onto the board.

I was now on view for all, and while most of the boys seemed to commiserate with me, a couple snickered. There was a roaring in my ears and my face and ears felt like they were burning. I felt a hand on my leg and looked down at Miss Anderson.

"Ken, it's ok; just take your time. When you're ready, make the dive," she said, trying to look reassuring. I stood there a few seconds, aware that all eyes were on my cock, and when I got my legs to work, I ran down the board, trying to ignore my erection as it jangled back and forth, hit the water, bottomed out so that my dick struck the tiles at the bottom, then surfaced. Swimming to the other end of the pool, I could hear Miss Anderson and Miss Roberts congratulating me on a perfectly executed dive.

"Nice one," they both yelled, I presume referring to the dive.

I thought the cold water would kill my erection, but at the other end of the pool, I got out and it was still sticking straight out! I couldn't avoid it, so I walked as slowly and carefully as possible to the other end of the pool, with my dick sticking straight out, wobbling from side to side, up and down, inscribing invisible circles in the air; I felt hot, knowing I was blushing, from head to foot, and almost incapable of breathing. That was the worst humiliation I had ever experienced!

Miss Anderson blew the whistle for free swim. Another 10 minutes in the pool, and I thought it was going down, but when I got out at the end of class, it was still there! It seemed like I was beginning to lose sensation, it had been hard for so long. I felt some minor pain in my balls, too.

Miss Anderson stopped me at the door.

I walked over to her, slowly, intensely aware of my nudity and erection.

"I'm sorry Miss Anderson. I can't control it..."

"I know you can't. That's not the problem. The problem is that I've been watching you naked for two months now, and except for after calisthenics, when every one has one, you've only been hard on a couple of occasions, and they disappeared pretty quickly." She looked at her watch. "This is 50 minutes. It's still not going down. That's too long." I would have been shocked by her blunt tone, but she had a way of putting you at ease.

She squatted down and stared at my genitals.

"Come to my office, now, please."

I asked if I should get dressed. She said no, just come the way I am.

I went through the door and started to follow her upstairs, staring at her adorable butt, just a few feet away.