The Master Swim Team Vol. 02 Ch. 01

The Master Swim Team, Volume II

Chapter One: Back to School

For many students, senior year of college is a mixed bag of emotions. They've loved their time at university--they've made the best friends of their young lives, they're passionate about their studies for the first time, and they've finally found their independence--but, as excited as they are about their last year in school, the great big unknown looms larger than ever on the horizon. Where will they be next year? Will they be gainfully employed like the allure of college promised? Will they still be in Bay City? With their friends? Or will all of them scatter like leaves on the wind, blown off to the far corners of the country, alone and truly on their own for the first time in their young lives?

These big questions bounced around in the minds of Dennis's classmates as they returned to campus for their final year of school, but with everything else he had going on, Dennis didn't have any time to really think about any of it. Ever since returning to Bay City University, his days had been filled with two-a-day swim practices, plus weights in the morning, running laps in the evening, and a strict eating regimen that had so far attempted to rectify the indulgences he'd made over the summer. For the two weeks leading up to the start of the semester, Dennis had spent every waking minute of his time worrying about swimming and, unfortunately, nothing was quite the same after his summer on the master swim team.

When Dennis had gone home at the end of the last school year, he had no idea what was waiting for him back in his hometown of Seaside. At best, he had expected a summer full of his dad harping on him for not living up to his full potential, especially in the wake of his sister Maddie's acceptance into grad school. But never in his wildest dreams had he expected someone like John Davies to come waltzing into his life, almost naked in his gratuitously revealing, neon-green speedo. The bear of a man had taken a liking to Dennis and, along with the other members of the master swim team--Bob, Geoff, Chuck, and Coach Hal--he had given Dennis a lesson in sexual education that put to shame anything he had learned in high school. And then, just like that, summer had ended.

The team back at school, the BCU Barracudas, was made up of some really nice guys that Dennis was lucky to call friends; but somehow, in Dennis's eyes, the young, lean, college swim team didn't quite excite him the way the older members of the master swim team had. He missed seeing their bodies, be they hairy, round, smooth, a little bit worn and saggy in all the best places--all of which were a far cry from the hairless, chiseled bodies of his school mates. He missed the jokes, the charm, the being the center of attention that came with being the young, attractive member of an older men's sex group. But, as much as he missed his older teammates, there was no doubt that, without the old men strutting around in their skimpy bathing suits for distraction, his swimming was back in fine form. Well... as much as it could be after two weeks of rigorous training.

Dennis walked out of the recreation center after his morning swim on the first day of class feeling a bit on edge. His body felt both amazing and exhausted from the vigorous exercise he'd been getting on a daily basis. It was a wonderful feeling to be fit in the prime of his life, but now that the first day of classes had arrived, anxiety about the coming semester and his future beyond school--not to mention where John would fit into said future--had crashed into him like waves on the shore.

This last part had been bothering Dennis subconsciously since he had boarded that train and left John behind. Despite what he had told the old man on their last day together, Dennis wasn't certain what the future held for them. He would have loved for their summer together to continue on endlessly, living out one sexual fantasy after another as if ripped directly out of an erotic novel, but now that he was back at school, staring his future in the face, the truth was he didn't know. He didn't know what next week held for him, much less an entire school year away. Going back to Seaside would be a dream come true, but if Dennis had learned anything over the past few months, it was that the universe had unexpected things in store for him--things he could never imagine in his wildest dreams. Only time would tell where his story went; he just hoped John would be there when the universe saw fit to tell him about it.

As he walked through campus, he noticed the university had finally come alive. Students poured out of the matching gothic architecture-styled buildings, passing one another on the way to class; some played frisbee in the quad with friends while others chatted merrily on the steps of a building over a cup of coffee from the campus café. And best of all, there were guys everywhere!

Dennis had never realized over the summer how nice it was to have not just one person, but a whole team of men, willing to have sex with him and take the edge off whenever he needed it. Ever since returning to BCU, he had hardly had time to sleep, much less jerk one out. It was almost getting to be unbearable.

All of the men he passed made him realize that being confined to the little town of Seaside for the past few months had seriously limited the scope of his exposure to the wide world of men; being back in the big city, however, proved to be more enticing than a kid in a candy shop. There was the middle-aged, balding professor in the bulging tweed suit rushing toward him, the weight of his body shifting as he hurried by; the short and squat grandpa leisurely walking his golden retriever through campus, not giving a damn that his sweatpants were pulled so far above his waist that the crown jewels were on full display; the mustached dad-next-door taking a tour of the university with his daughter, who Dennis caught taking more than one glance at a passing co-ed's busty behind. Even the shirtless cross-country team--who Dennis would normally have had no interest in--caught his eye, their floppy dicks bouncing up and down in their incredibly short and revealing shorts.

After a summer discovering himself sexually, Dennis found this new enlightenment both a blessing and a curse. He was torn between wanting to be loyal to John while also wanting to sample a little bit of each guy he passed. It was almost torturous, and with the way it was bottling up inside him, he was almost ready to blow. Given the chance, he would totally fuck the next person he saw!

"Earth to Dennis. Earth to Dennis!" a voice shouted.

Dennis snapped out of his thoughts of John, the swim team, and each and every man he came across, and realized he was already halfway across campus. Sitting on a bench across from the library was a young woman. Her wavy brown hair was longer than it had been when he'd last seen her, passing her shoulders and hanging low over the deep hand-cut V of her vintage Stones tee. She didn't even like The Rolling Stones; she just found the shirt at a thrift shop and dug the giant mouth of a logo. But that was Emily. Cute as a bug, nerdy as all get out, and unapologetically cheap in her fashion choices.

"Emily!" he called out, embracing his friend. His cock jumped at her touch.

"I've been calling you from across the quad. Didn't you hear me?"

"Sorry," he replied, rubbing his head with one hand as he lowered his book over his crotch. "I guess I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Like what?" she asked, cocking her head. "It's the first day of school. What could possibly be wigging you out already?"

Images of John's bulge flashed before his eyes and, for a second, he was lost. "Nothing," he shrugged, saving himself. "How was your summer?"

"Pretty standard, I'd say. My internship at The Complex went well, but it's my third one there. I think I'm a shoo-in for a job come graduation. How were things at your dad's firm?"

Shaking his head, Dennis said, "Not great."

"What?" she asked. "You were so excited for that. What happened?"

"Funding. It didn't come through. My dad's company pulled it at the last second, dropped about a dozen interns, and then I spent the first half of the summer hearing from my dad about how I didn't have an internship. It's almost like he thought his company pulling the rug out from under me was somehow my fault."

Emily looked at him in disbelief, and Dennis knew what was going on in her head. He had needed that internship. Without it, finding a job in accounting after graduation was going to be that much tougher. Places didn't just hire new graduates; everyone needed something to set them apart, something that made them better than the rest of the pool. If he couldn't even swing a summer gig at his dad's firm, what could he possibly hope for come June?

Anxiety about the future washed over him once more.

Lucky for Dennis, Emily was the kind of friend who worried about such things but didn't feel the need to tell him what he already knew. Instead, she pivoted. "Oh... so what did you do then?"

"I got a job at the town pool," he said casually, painfully aware that while that sounded cool, it wasn't at all cool for someone going into their senior year of college. "Spent the whole summer yelling at kids to stop running on the deck and fu--" He stopped himself short. He had almost added that he had spent the summer fucking his teammates. His much older teammates. Visions of John popped back into his head quicker than he could block them. Then more came of Geoff, and Chuck, and Jim, and Hal, and Bruce, and Cindy, and his dad, and everything else he had done during his summer of sexual awakening. "Fun," he continued nervously, pressing his book more firmly into his crotch. "Having fun, you know, swimming laps and keeping in shape." Sensing he was in the clear, he quickly changed the subject. "Have you seen Miguel yet?"

Emily shook her head. "Not yet. You two are rooming together again this year, right?"

"Don't we always?" Dennis asked.

Before Emily could answer, the bell rang from the chapel located in the center of campus. It was half past the hour. Dennis was late.

"Shit," he said, glancing down at his watch. "I've got Wassermann first thing. You know how he hates it when people are late."

"Go, go," she insisted. "I'll see you later. Dinner tonight in The Village?" she called after him.

"I've got swim," he yelled over his shoulder, "but I'll catch up with you after!"

There was a five-minute grace period after the chime before he was truly considered late. Dennis raced up the crisscrossing sidewalks of the quad back in the direction of the recreation center. He had been hoping to get some grub on the front end of campus before class, but his chat with Emily had made that impossible. It was a close call, but thanks in part to all of the laps he'd been running, he was able to slip into his seat just as Professor Wassermann finished writing the second "n" of his name on the chalkboard.

"All right, all right, please be seated," he said sternly, his eagle eyes scanning the classroom. "As the board says, I'm Professor Wassermann and this is Advanced Accounting. If that's not what it says on your schedule, then you're in the wrong place." Everyone looked around to see if anyone moved. Nobody did. "Now," he continued, "some of you have had me before and know that this will not be a fun course. You're expected to hand in your assignments on time, come prepared to learn, and pay attention when I'm talking. If you do those three things, there's no reason we can't learn something this semester."

Dennis had no problem following the first two instructions, but just like when he had had the professor back in his sophomore year for Intro to Accounting, he had a particularly hard time on the third point. Wassermann was in his mid-to-late sixties--most likely approaching retirement--and, despite his less-than-welcoming teaching style, the man was rather attractive. He was an austere man, his brow frequently furrowed, as if he had long since tired of dealing with students. He had piercing baby blue eyes that could see anything and everything that happened in his classroom--some claimed he could even see out the back of his head--and atop his crown was a full head of thinning, gray-white hair that wrapped its way around his wide chin in the form of a bushy beard that contrasted his tan skin. He had a strong, sturdy body with broad shoulders and a thick torso. And, much to Dennis's satisfaction, Wassermann had a proclivity for middle-of-the-road suits, which always had the tendency to part and allow his rounded abdomen to bulge forward, wrapped tightly in whatever sleek dress shirt he was wearing that day.

It was almost enough to wipe John and the future clear from Dennis's mind.

Finished with his introduction, Professor Wassermann turned back to the board and quickly scratched out THE EQUITY METHOD in his all cap handwriting before drawing a line underneath. "The Equity Method," he said, turning back to his students. "Who can tell me what it is?"

Any noise in the room immediately ceased as every student did their best to avoid the question. Only one person in the room dared make eye contact with the professor, and it was entirely by accident. In his lust-filled, zoned-out state, Dennis was caught unaware.

"Mr. Matthews," Professor Wassermann called.

Dennis snapped out of his trance and made concentrated eye contact with the old man for the first time. He could feel the warm blood rush to his cheeks as he began to blush. "Yes?"

"The Equity Method," Wassermann repeated, pointing back at the chalkboard. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Right," Dennis replied. "It's... it's a valuation method."

"For?" Wasserman asked in a drawn-out manner.

"For recording profits of a company when they hold significant stake in another institution. The stakeholder company reports the income proportional to the equity they have in the other."

For the slightest of seconds, Dennis thought he caught the tiniest glimpse of a smile forming in the corner of Wassermann's mouth, but it seemed so unlikely, he wouldn't've doubted if it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. "Well done, Mr. Matthews."

The blood drained from Dennis's face, and he let out a sigh of relief as Wassermann turned back to the board and wrote CONSOLIDATION. "Now, who can tell me what the difference is between what Mr. Matthews just taught us and consolidation?"

Dennis didn't wait for the answer. He was actually a pretty bright kid, but his biggest fear in class was being called on. He had lucked out that he was actually prepared this time; other times, his nerves got the best of him, and he wasn't so lucky. With his participation for the day in the books, he retreated internally once more and lost himself in the droning of Wassermann's deep voice.

Before long, class was dismissed, and Dennis found himself walking out of the building and back onto the quad. After an hour-and-a-half of lusting after Professor Wassermann, Dennis's crotch was now actively aching. He needed some relief. Bad!

Looking down at his watch, he saw that it was 11:10. His stomach gave a mighty growl; skipping breakfast had caught up to him. He decided to make a quick stop at the café in the student center to get a protein smoothie to tide him over, but the line of students also hoping to energize themselves was so long that he had to pass. Instead, he hit up the cafeteria and got the quickest thing possible: a hot dog. It wasn't on Coach Higgins's diet, but it would have to do.

When the food services woman handed him the hot dog, he groaned. It was a full six inches, wonderfully thick and round, and almost the exact shade of John's penis. While he wouldn't normally have wanted a hot dog that color, the erotic image was almost too enticing for his hormones to question. He devoured the beef frank and headed for class.

The rest of the afternoon passed much the same as the morning had. Dennis attended a Spanish class he needed to count toward his minor, and a Statistics requirement for his major. Both classes were taught by graduate students, neither of which piqued Dennis's interest like Wassermann--or even the hot dog--did.

By the time 5:00 pm rolled around, Dennis was tired, hungry, and about ready to explode. He had just enough time to grab a protein bar before heading back up the long path to the recreation center for his evening swim practice, his feet dragging the whole way.

The main floor of the athletic complex at BCU was rather minimal, consisting mainly of a series of walkways that overlook the fitness and weight area below. The place was full mainly with students getting in some evening exercise, but Dennis spotted a few professors and staff members there, as well.

Dennis made his way down two flights of stairs to the locker room level, and then took the winding hallway to the end where the non-sport lockers were. Even though swimming was considered a university sport, the swim team had only a small section in the rec locker room because of their need to be close to the pool. For some reason, the higher ups didn't want a bunch of speedo-clad men wandering the halls to get to the pool.

There were a few other guys there when he arrived, most looking equally as sluggish as he did. Dennis walked over to his locker and said hello to Kai, one of the sophomores on the team, whose locker was nearby. Kai was just removing his underwear. His teammate did nothing for him, but Dennis needed to see another cock. It was not something he had ever had such a strong urge for before John came into his life, but he was a different man now. After getting a good glimpse of Kai's uncut penis, Dennis pulled his shirt over his head, dropped his pants, and slipped into his red practice speedo, before heading for the showers.

It was business as usual at practice, much the same as it had been during their two weeks of intensive training. This time, however, the athletic trainer was there.

"Everybody, listen up," Coach Higgins shouted, holding firmly onto his clipboard.

Like Dennis's swim coach back home, Hal, Coach Higgins was a husky guy. In the body department, he was quite stunning. Maybe a bit more on the stocky side than Hal was, but Dennis didn't have a problem with that. Unlike Hal, however, Coach Higgins was ugly as sin. The man knew very little about swimming, as he was a lifelong hockey player that had grown fat, old, and turned to coaching as a way to keep active in the sport. Too many hits to the face had left him a little swollen in some areas. But what Higgins lacked in swim knowledge, he made up for in strength training, which was why they had been doing so much weightlifting and running.

"Today, we've got the school trainer, Ralf Wexler, here to make sure you're all up-to-date on your physicals. Ralf is going to call you each in one-by-one and give you the once over so that you're cleared to compete in next week's meet. You've all been working hard these past couple weeks, so once you're finished, you're free to go. Anybody have any questions?"

Nobody said anything.

"No? Okay, Cliff, you're up first. The rest of you, your workout is on the board."

A red-headed junior followed Ralf to the trainer's office, while the rest of the team dove into the pool and began practice.

Dennis didn't know how long he had swum before his name was called, but his arms and legs felt like nothing more than pool noodles when he finally heard it. Climbing out of the pool, he looked around and saw that the rest of the team had slowly abandoned him.

"Finally," Coach Higgins said. "You're the last one, Dennis. Here," he said, tossing Dennis a towel. "Go get checked out and then you're free to go. I'll see you first thing in the morning."