The College Swim Team: Part 1
College swim teams sometimes went nude, in the '50s. I joined one.
Based on a post by AnonymousPerv. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.
The old College Journal.
It was a different time, a different generation. Hell, two generations. But as the years draw closer to my final days, my memories only become clearer. Besides, what much else did I have to do other than to reflect on better times? Edna passed on eight years ago, and we never had children. I'm retired and have a woman come by to clean the house once a week. That's about all the socializing I do. Mostly, I just sit my ass on the front porch and either bitch to myself about the news, or think on old times. I'm a stereotype old fart, now.
The memories keep me going, though. From the last vacation that Edna and I shared together in Vancouver, to the first time I broke the Kansas state record in a freestyle 100-meter swim match. I often thought about the short stint I had on the Olympic team, before my knee problems, and other notable events like my wedding, and the fishing trips my best friend Lyle and I used to go on.
But there was one moment in time that I reflect on more than others. We probably all have that one favorite slice of time in our lives that we would like to repeat. This was mine.
It was the Fall of 1958. I'd earned a full scholarship to Penn, for their university swim team in eastern Pennsylvania. Technically it was an academic scholarship, but all the Ivy league schools somehow happened upon star athletes when looking for intelligent students.
I moved into my athletic hall dorm room with only one day to spare before classes officially began. It was a single bed dorm and a perk of the scholarship, as most students roomed together. I'd acquired enough trophies back in Wichita to merit the interest of several colleges, and high enough GPA for a full ride and the perks (they definitely incentivized me to come here), but I was about to discover things operated much differently at the school pool and the local YMCA, in this part of the country
"Naked?" I gasped, as I was changing into my swim trunks in the natatorium's locker room after just meeting a few of the other team members.
"Yeah, buddy," said the sophomore teammate, talking to me, a short guy with dirty blonde hair. "Where are you from again? Penn requires proper swim guidelines. You shoulda known that."
The guy speaking to me didn't really know me, but I had mentioned I was from out of state.
"Health and cleanliness of the pool. Everyone knows that," he said. “Besides, the original Greek Olympians all competed in the nude. It's also mandatory at the YMCA, ya know.”
I later found out that the YMCA, which was for men and boys only; did keep that same policy for another 10 years.
This may have not been so jarring for me, if it wasn't only the second day I was there. I hadn't even met anyone yet, and certainly wasn't prepared for this. We, the incoming freshmen swimmers, were to meet the coaches and then be timed on distances, and assessed on our performances and styles. But naked?
Again, I hadn't even met the coach at this point. Back then, we handled things by local scouts and the mail. My folks didn't even own a phone. I was scouted, correspondences were made, and I accepted their offer. Now I was here, a bit lost.
Not knowing what else to do, or with whom to argue, especially since all the other young fellas were striding out the door, starkers. I followed suit; without my Lasstex swimsuit. To my utter horror and shock, as I trailed behind my teammates, three girls walked past, giggling as they checked out our dangling packages.
“What the hell?” my chin dropped and my hands cupped my package.”
Unlike us, these 3 coeds had the old Lasstex Rubber bathing suits on, though they were school-sanctioned, come to find out. They were thick one-piece numbers, all of the same dull color, that draped over their bodies and fit rather loosely. One of the girls had light red hair and a large enough bosom that you could see her tits bouncing firmly under the material as she moved. Lasstex was a rubberized fiber that allowed some stretch and reset, but not a lot of either. These thick women's fabricated maillots would be phased out in the sixties, by a new swimwear company called 'Speedo' . They pitched a line of very thin nylon knit suits. Very form-hugging and tight. Years later they introduced Lie craw blends and very form-fitting silhouettes.
"Why aren't they naked?" I whispered to the sophomore teammate in front of me.
"Huh? What is wrong with you, man? Modesty. They're virtuous ladies. Who cares if we guys swim naked? We've always done that."
"Well, what about my modesty? I don't get it. We always wore suits back home."
"Hmm. I don't know any college athletes with modesty or virtue; and I bet you had to change the water in the pool every damn week. But then, you live in sod houses, too; right?"
I shook my head. "Just every season, along with regular maintenance. I think you're being fed a load of bullshit."
The boy ignored me, shaking his head, too.
I followed him to the end of the pool where we all formed into a line. Nine of us, total. A few minutes passed while some of the teammates tried to engage in conversation, but it was apparent most of us were strangers. A moment later, two adults entered the natatorium through a side door nearest our side of the pool. The one was reserved for staff. They stopped directly in front of us. The oldest had a whistle around his neck and a clipboard in his hand, while the younger one carried the same kind of whistle in his left hand, and a stopwatch in his right.
The older one began barking at us. "Boys! You're in college now and joining one of the most elite swim teams in the Ivy League. I'm sure you're all honored to be here." Coach Robertson barked out.
Already, I thought the coach was a bit full of himself; and come to find out, he was. But he had passion in his tone. "Things change for you, starting today. You will be exposed to the finest training, and newest techniques in the field, to improve your minds, your competitiveness; and your bodies, your speed and endurance.
It is going to require a dedication unlike you ever experienced, I guarantee; no matter how much your daddies pushed you when you were babies."
My parents were never around, and I pushed myself pretty hard. Swimming was all I had. It distracted me from problems at home. I was grateful and lucky such programs existed back in those days. Most poor Kansas kids like me don't get these kinds of programs offered in their schools anymore, and it's shameful.
I remember the coach rattling on, pacing back and forth as he explained what he expected of the new recruits. He explained we would be at practice five times a week, At least 2 hours at a time, and were expected to work on our own, in addition to that. No problem for me, I thought.
Finally, the coach stopped in front of the middle of our group and turned, facing all of us. "I intended to wait until another member of our staff arrived before officially making introductions. It appears her meeting with the Dean must have gone over."
'Her? Did he just say her? He wanted to wait to introduce us to a woman coach, while we were naked?'
Just as those anxiety-ridden thoughts were passing through my brain, the staff door burst open again and out walked a beauty; an utter goddess. She was tall, yet wore heels. Her dress was conservative, yet form fitting, and her frame was lithe, but firm. She had the figure of an elite female athlete. Her tits were a bit bigger than average, maybe a C cup (but I didn't know that back then), and her shoulder-length, brunette hair had the slightest hint of curl. She wore little or no make-up. She didn't need it. Being so smartly dressed and so well-poised, the woman radiated a presence that was both practical and professional, while also embracing her beauty.
"Oh, good. Men, I would like to introduce you to Dr. Tammy Wynn. While she was finishing her doctorate at UCLA, she ran the strength and aerobics camps for both their male and their new female swim teams. Those teams went on to win back-to-back national championships during her short time with them."
I knew about the UCLA wins, but not much else.
A bit of historic background;
Very few colleges had female competition teams, but the women's intramural teams at several area colleges, including the 'seven sisters' college group, began holding unsanctioned swim meets, in conjunction with the men's teams. Byrn Mawr college, here in the Philadelphia area, is one of those legendary 'seven sisters' colleges. It was the female counterpart to the Ivy league men's colleges, a century ago. They also used the natatorium at Penn, for their practices and a few competitive events. Penn had a coed policy for several years, but other Ivy League schools were just catching up. Prior to that, Bryn Mawr College ladies used to host the Penn male students for several social events and 'mixers'.
The coach continued, "UCLA is renown for their advanced physical training program. We've brought Dr. Wynn here to implement the same here, so you will be seeing a lot of her. Mostly in the gym, but sometimes she will come here, our natatorium; to evaluate your progress and improvements. Is everyone clear?"
We all nodded and grumbled.
"Is everyone okay with a women coaching you?"
We all nodded again, but one guy snorted near the end of the line. The coach squinted his eyes, trying to discern who had made the offending sound. He spoke slower, "We don't typically allow women to hang around the pool while the men use it, I'm sure you all know that. Dr. Wynn is the exception to the rule. I expect you to be as respectful to her, as you are to me and Coach Adam. Is that clear? If I discover any of you are disrespectful, in any way, or don't do exactly as she says, you will be ejected from this team immediately."
Again, all the boys nodded and mumbled their affirmations.
"So now that you have been introduced to Dr. Wynn, let's get to the rest of us. If you don't already know me, I am Coach Roger Peterson. Under the seven years I have been here, we have earned two Ivy League championships and won four regionals, among many other achievements. I expect our winning tradition to continue, and to continue improving."
Coach Peterson then went on to introduce his skinny assistant, Adam Bell, who used to be a student at the school. Finally, Dr. Wynn approached the coach, standing next to him. She slowly evaluated us, checking out every muscle and body part on every individual. She made sure it was obvious she was judging us that very moment. Sizing us up.
Her voice was firm, yet had a soft undertone. "As Coach Peterson said, my name is Dr. Tammy Wynn. You may call me Tammy, if you like."
I was surprised she would allow her informal name to be used. It didn't match her professional, no-nonsense look, especially during a time when women were just beginning to demand more respect in the workplace. Tammy began pacing now, in between the line-up of boys and the two coaches.
"I'll thank you all in advance for following Coach Peterson's instruction. I know, for some boys, taking direction from a woman may seem degrading or pointless. But if you ignore my instructions, you'd only be hurting yourselves. I absolutely guarantee every one of you will become the best version of yourselves, within one year of this program. That is, assuming you follow the demands. You will have a rigorous workout routine, and a strict diet. You will be strong and fit, with endurance as well as strength. You'll be fast, with sharper reflexes."
To be honest, the challenge felt exciting. I was already in the top one percent of speed swimmers my age. If I could get into the top tenth of a percent, I had a shot at being the fastest swimmer in the world. Who doesn't want that kind of title?
The guy standing to my left seemed more nervous about displaying his package than I was, and I wasn't even used to it. Maybe he wasn't, either, I don't know. He tried using his hands to obstruct the view of his penis. Dr. Wynn smiled when she passed him, perhaps amused or empathetic. She stopped at me, narrowing her eyes.
"You're Ryan Feller, aren't you?"
"Uh; yes, ma'am," I said, shocked she knew who I was. None of us on the team had yet identified or introduced ourselves. How could she know me?
"I saw some of your film, from back home."
"Film?" I asked. Remember, this was 1958 and I came from a poor family.
"I saw film footage of you competing at the '56 Eastern Districts, and then at your state championship later that year. Didn't you win both?"
"That's right," I said, blushing.
It's a surreal experience talking to a stranger while you're naked, especially when it is the first time meeting them. Even more so (I think) when that stranger is such an attractive member of the opposite sex. It is also one of the curses of youth that a libido can be very easily triggered. As Dr. Wynn spoke to me, my cock began rising. Being naked in her presence was having an obvious effect. The boy to my right began giggling and whispered to the guy next to him.
Dr. Wynn glanced down and saw my predicament, now half erect. She grinned and slowly moved her eyes back to mine. "I expect a lot out of you, Mr. Feller; Ryan. Do you want to break some more records?"
"Yeah. yes, ma'am," I said. It was three quarters up now. All the boys were taking notice, giggling and murmuring.
"That's enough!" yelled Coach Peterson, addressing the issue directly; to my horror. "It happens to all of you, so shut it down now! Feller, get that shit under control."
I muttered something about trying to do just that, but the more I tried not thinking about it, the more I actually thought about it. Having this incredibly gorgeous woman ogling my hard cock, if even for a second, only made it harder. And she tended to glance down at it every few seconds. The rest of the team finally hushed down and formed back into a straight line. I was near the center, but definitely stood out. My johnson was fully raised and parallel to the ground.
If I had to guess, my penis was maybe seven inches long. What made it unique was its girth. It was likely as big around as it was in length. I used to be embarrassed about showering after gym class back home, because I got ribbed on a lot, but I came to the conclusion that most of the guys just jealous. It didn't matter. I suppose growing up with my folks gave me a thicker skin than most.
I remember once, in my second year, a guy named Victor Thompson stopped by my dorm and asked if he could touch my penis. He said he wanted to know how such a fat cock felt in his hands. I thought the request was weird and asked him to leave. Again, it was a different time. I reason now that this was maybe Victor's way of trying to experiment, sexually. He was definitely confused, because he struggled to bring up the subject. It took him forever to get to the point about why he had stopped by, but he was nervous. Last I heard, he married some older lady and had a miserable life with her.
Anyway, back to the present memory at hand. I was trembling while in that line, with my cock sticking out hard as stone. Dr. Wynn had finally rejoined the coach and his assistant. They had each of us state our names and where we were from, and to also mention our favorite hobbies, or any notable skills. Sometimes, they would ask more probing questions. I prayed that wouldn't happen to me. My cock was still hard.
When they got to the guy to the left of me, he said, "Tyler Dudson. I grew up in the Philly. Swam at Westside."
So he should have been used to the nudity, I thought.
"That's a good team and outfit over there, we know that," said Adam, nodding at the boy and then the head coach.
Tyler continued, "I'm really good with woodworking and archery, too."
"Oh yeah?" asked Coach Peterson. "You hunt?"
"No, sir. Targets only."
"Well, you don't know how good you really are until you hunt, right?"
"I don't like killing things, sir," said the swimmer. He still covered his package as he answered, yet he spoke with assured confidence. He wasn't ashamed that he did not like hunting, which was considered a manly thing to do at the time. A rite of passage for many. Maybe it was religious reasons, or something else, but it was obvious the guy was prepared to be challenged on the issue.
Instead, the coach shrugged and said, "Hmm." He then pointed to me. "You next, Woody." Several of the students broke up in laughter. Hadn't he mentioned something about respect earlier?
Maybe I was a little too confident and full of myself, too, but I answered, "Ryan Feller. Wichita, Kansas. I have two hobbies. Swimming and winning meets. It's all I do. It's all I think about."
A voice on the further end of the line mumbled, "I don't think it's all he thinks about."
I blushed as the crowd erupted in laughter again, but I kept my head straight, as if trying not to take any notice of the raging boner myself. The elephant in the room. It was evident Dr. Wynn took some degree of pleasure in my discomfort. She gazed on my package, more than me or the other teammates. And I don't mean just glances. Nope, it was an unabashed, unfiltered, eyes-on-the-business, kind of confidence she had going on with it.
Coach Peterson spoke softer to me now, "Some folks say you have the potential to be the fastest freestyler in the country. Do you think that's true?"
At the time, I lived, ate, breathed and fucked swimming. It really was all I thought about. Winning had become an addiction. "Yes, sir," I said, standing taller. "My butterfly stroke is also hard to beat."
The coach smiled, "Very well. We hope to bring out your best. Good luck, son."
He moved on to the next three individuals before finally wrapping it up. Adam had us jump into the pool and soon, he and the other two were timing us and softly criticizing our performances amongst themselves. I did the fifty meters and the hundred, outpacing everyone in the group dramatically. Coach Peterson seemed impressed with the numbers as he wrote them on his clipboard. "And we haven't even started training yet," he said to Tammy, who gave me a wink.
At least now my cock was not like her thumb; up in the air. It had dropped back to its normal resting place. Penises tend to shrink in water, and along with doing exercise, nature does its thing of protecting the balls and all.
As I was getting out of the pool after my last run, Tammy stopped me. "Ryan, I would like to see you personally in my office tomorrow morning. Are you available?"
"I have class at nine," I said.
"Meet me at eight. It's in the Pilner Building, room 206."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, repeating it in my head over and over so not to forget it.
I think the mental exercise helped keep me distracted, as I didn't get hard again in front of her as she talked. "I'd like to put you through a slightly different program than the rest of the boys," she said. "It may require a couple extra hours out of your week. You okay with that?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said. Anything that would give me an edge I would take. Sacrificing free time is what separates champions from the rest.
By this time, we had been in the pool for over an hour. Coach Adam whistled and called us to form a line again, just as the door to the women's locker opened on the far side of the pool. Three girls came out, and even from the distance I could tell they were the ones who had crossed our paths earlier, when we first came into the large pool room.
"Hey, we thought you would be done by now," shouted one of the girls. It must have been at least 25 yards from them to us, but the voice reverberated across the room.
The coach held his arm up and yelled back. "We're leaving soon." He shifted back. "Boys, you're to be here tomorrow at 4 pm. We're here until 7, then another hour this time Thursday. Gym schedules will be handed out after that. Lots of work to do, so get ready for it! You are all dismissed,"
The coach didn't make the three girls leave the natatorium before we walked back to our locker room. Instead, they just waited at the side of the pool to watch us walk by to reach our destination. Once again, I was going to be subjected to being seen naked by attractive girls. Already, my cock was throbbing at the thought of it. I tried to change the thoughts in my head, to my last swim times, my class schedule, or anything for the distraction, but it wasn't working. I was half chubby by the time I was upon them, hoping they wouldn't mention anything.
As I was almost past the last girl, the redhead with the tits, she perked up and screamed, "Hey, I know you!"
Another one, I thought?
"You're Quincy Thomas. You went to St. Andrews!"
I wasn't sure what to do, but I had to stop and address her. I couldn't be rude. "Uh, no," I said. "My name is Ryan Feller. I'm actually from Kansas."
I am positive, thinking back on it, that I could have held my shit together if those three girls would have looked me in the face, instead of gawking at my half-hard penis. The two brunettes were shoving each other and giggling. The big-busted redhead just flat out stared.
"Uh, I need to be getting in the shower," I said.
Her eyes popped back up to me. "Oh, well I'm Mary, and this is Sheila and Betty." She waved in their general direction, but I had no idea who was which. They were still blushing and smiling, yet also constantly soaking in the spectacle of my cock.
'Maybe they don't see this kind of thing very often, after all?' I thought. "Even if they are swimmers." I said my goodbye and hurried to the showers with them giggling behind. I was thinking how grateful I was that the next time I was to see Dr. Wynn, in her office, I would at least be wearing clothes.
Private swim lessons with Dr. Tammy Wynn are problematic.
I made it to the Pilner building the following morning early, waiting outside Dr. Tammy Wynn's office door for almost twenty minutes before she arrived. Her heels were clacking across the floor as she walked the hall, and I remember how it drew attention to her legs. Gams, as we liked to call them back then.
"Early bird gets the worm, huh?" she said, approaching. "No need to be early, Mr. Feller; Ryan. Just be prompt. On time."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, as she unlocked the door and invited me inside. I made my way to a chair in front of her desk and stood, waiting for her direction.
"You may sit. You're probably wondering why I asked you here, right?"
"Yes, ma'am." The chair was comfortable enough, though I wasn't.
This memory may be more than five decades old, but I clearly recall how nervous I was in the presence of that beautiful instructor. I'd never seen such beauty back in Kansas, and I don't mean that to sound dismissive of my home town. There were lots of pretty girls back home. Dr. Wynn was just unique.
She gazed at me, I think taking some amusement in my discomfort. Maybe it was because she was a woman in a position of authority over me, maybe it was because she'd seen me stark naked yesterday (with an erection!), or maybe it was just her beauty, but I was sweating bullets and shaking.
"It's okay, Ryan, you can relax. I told you yesterday I wanted you to take on additional training, remember? Allow me to explain why."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, stiff. Not in my pants (yet), just feeling awkward in front of the female authority figure.
"This training will improve upon your greatness weakness."
"My weakness?" I asked. I was young and didn't like being insulted, and it was easy to construe her words as such. My nerves prevented me from challenging her, though.
"The film footage I saw. Both times, you were the last one off the block at the start of the race. I also examined all of your times that are on record. Do you realize, Ryan, that after your freshman year, you didn't finish less than third in any event?"
I smiled, bowing my head. "Yeah, my times kept getting better."
"Ryan, the worst you lost your senior year was by tenths of a second. Had you come off the block as well as you swim, you would have won those, too."
She had a point.
"Take a look at this." Dr. Wynn opened the large drawer at the bottom of her desk, lifting a heavy and boxy object out of it, placing it on top of her desk. "Just a moment, I'll plug it in." She then got up, wrestled with some cords and found an outlet. The box lit up.
"What's that?" I gasped.
"See the cord to the button I'm holding?"
"Yes," I said.
Dr. Wynn pushed the button and a red light blinked on the box, followed by a yellow one and then green. She allowed a brief moment to pass, before pushing the button again. A number on a screen next to the lights popped up reading '3.174'.
"Three point one seven four seconds from the time the light turned green to the time I pressed the button. It is accurate to one thousandth of a second. With this training device we are going to practice the time it takes from when the light turns green, to when your body enters the water and begins kicking."
My eyes lit up. I had never seen such high-tech equipment before. "I get it," I said. "We get to actually measure improvements in my reaction time. I had drills before, but this is actually useful!"
"We start now, what do you say? You don't have class until nine, right? That gives us what; fifty minutes at least? Enough starts to get an accurate measure of your timing right now."
"Oh, I uh; uh;" I stuttered. "I didn't bring a suit." I could barely get the words out.
"A suit? Mr. Feller, I am not sure what experiences you had in Kansas, but just because I am a woman does not mean you get to break the rules of;"
"In Kansas, we wore suits, always, with everyone."
Tammy stopped. "Oh, I see. Of course, I've forgotten some places do work differently, don't they? A shame. Look, Ryan, you're just going to have to get used to our guidelines. All the meets in the tri-state area have specific no-clothing clauses at their pools, including this one.
"But the girls;"
"The girls, of course, have different rules. You know boys cannot be trusted to behave like gentlemen if the girls went naked. Rules are rules."
"What does that even mean?" asked Ryan. "If the girls went naked, why would the boys act differently to the girls, than they do to the boys, when the boys have to go naked?"
"Enough, Ryan. I personally wouldn't care if you wore a tutu, but it's not allowed in the pool. Rules are rules. You follow the guidelines, so neither of gets in trouble. Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said, hanging my head.
"This office is right off the south hall to the pool. You can take it to the locker room, or change here."
"So long as we stop by 8:50. It will give me time to get to class."
"Will this time be good for you on Mondays and Thursdays? We're going to work this thing until we cut your speed down by at least twenty percent."
"Twenty percent?" I cried.
"Seeing a number will drive you to beat it. I will also be asking you to try different behaviors off the block. Different ones than the coach will be using for the rest of the team. You're pilot testing this program. If it works well for you, the coach will allow me to introduce it as a regular part of training. Regardless, the strength and conditioning program, that I'll be having you and your teammates go through, will certainly aid in everyone's improvement off the block, too."
"I look forward to it," I said, unbuttoning my shirt. Knowing we didn't have much time, I stripped down fast and offered to carry the heavy electronic device to the diving blocks. Once there, we found a nearby outlet and stretched the cord to get the machine as close as possible to the nearest block. Tammy pulled a chair up and sat next to the machine.
"I'll warn you when I click the button, you get in position and watch the lights. The moment it turns green, make your dive. I push the button when you start your kick. We'll get as many attempts in as possible. I really do believe this will significantly help your block and flight times. You have kicking down pat, by the way, from what I have seen."
I wanted to believe that this training would help. As I walked the twenty or so paces to the closest block, my cock bounced left and right on my inner thighs. I was still nervous and uncomfortable about being in front of the instructor naked, but at least I wasn't hard. I stepped up on the block and leaned into position.
"Ready?" she asked.
I nodded. She clicked the button and the first light went off, I immediately recognized the one second interval to the next light and on green, I sprinted off. At a half meter down, I arched up and began kicking, before bailing out of the exercise, coming up. I instinctively paddled toward Dr. Wynn's side of the pool, to see my score.
"One point zero eight one seconds, Ryan. Do it again, let's see if you can beat that."
I pulled myself up, out of the water and not six feet from Dr. Wynn. I couldn't help but notice her eyes follow my cock for a brief moment as I turned to make my way back to the block again. It was reacting again, just beginning to thicken up, reaching a half-hard state. I quickly stepped to the block and bent over, hoping to shield it from view. "Okay, ready," I said.
The light turned red, then yellow, then green. I repeated the jump, this time attempting to push off faster, but I blew the jump. I knew it the moment I hit the air and cursed myself as I came up from the water.
"Yep, that was worse," I heard her say.
"Another," I said, determined, swimming over. Realizing I may have set a pattern, I once again pulled myself up in front my teacher. She stayed silent as she took yet another long gaze.
A young man can only be exposed to something so erotic before reacting. I wanted to run and hide, but couldn't, and my penis just grew longer and thicker, rising in the process. When I stepped to the block this time, it was fully erect.
"You ready?" she asked.
I nodded. Again the light flashed, and when it went green, I snapped off the block. A moment later as I came up to the air, I heard Tammy screaming. "That was point nine four six seconds, Ryan! Holy cow!"
I was almost blushing from excitement, and even more pumped to beat the new number. I pulled myself out of the water and my cock was now parallel to the ground. I tried to shift left, but there was no way to hide it, unless I dropped my hands entirely. I think Tammy noticed my discomfort.
"Okay, that gives you a number to beat on Monday. Why don't we let you get dressed and off to class?" Perhaps she was being merciful, but we had time for another jump or two. Still, I didn't argue.
It took everything in my power not to jerk off to the image in my mind, of me being naked in front of Tammy Wynn, perhaps the most beautiful woman I'd ever met. For some reason; and maybe it was just the prudishness of my upbringing; I felt that would be disrespectful to her, if I masturbated to that image.
How I wished I would have at least gotten off an ANY image prior to showing up the following Monday morning, though. I was ten minutes early (again) and the door was cracked open. I was dressed in my school clothes, but knew that wouldn't be for long. What surprised me was my instructor's state of dress.
She was in a swim suit, one exactly like the girls I had met on my first visit to the natatorium. She immediately noticed how my eyes were drawn to it, with her cone-shaped tits pushing against the loose material.
"I'm not a fan of these swimsuits," she said. "The ones out west are better, but this is what the school sanctions. Very antiquated, in my opinion."
"And you don't think the boys having to go naked isn't antiquated?" I asked. I suppose I was very modern for 1958, but going naked felt like Roman-Empire-era-rules to me, considering we didn't do it back in Kansas.
Dr. Wynn scoffed and waved me off. "Anyway, I'll be showing you some positions on the block, and the way you enter the water today."
I shouldn't have to detail how easy it was for me to get an erection, working so closely to the beautiful woman. As I stood a few paces behind the block, I watched her bend over, her tits lightly jiggling with her motions, as she turned her head to speak to me. "I want you to roll your back a bit more, while angling higher. Like this. Push off with the thighs, angling to minimize wind resistance, and lower the distance in the air. You'll get what I mean after a few tries, I think. Watch me first."
The tutor turned back and positioned herself. My cock was high in the air when she launched herself off the block. I had been too busy watching her ass to notice much else. When she came up to air, she hollered, "Did you see that? I hit the water further out, at a slightly lower angle?"
"I think so," I responded nervously.
"Step up to the block," she said, while paddling toward me. I did, getting closer to her upward gaze. She made it to the edge and said, "Okay, get in position. Round your back at the rear a bit more." I followed her instructions until she was satisfied. "Right there," she said.
Finally, Tammy lifted herself out of the pool and I caught a glimpse of something amazing. The loose material clung tightly against her firm, but jiggly tits. When she was on her feet, she turned to me. "Uh; Ryan, arch that back up like it was."
I had shifted a bit watching her come up. I quickly got back to position and soon made my dive. She stood above me as I swam to the edge to get out. I looked up to her, clearly seeing the outline of her curves. The material, though a pale green, was light enough that her dark nipples showed through when just the right angle of light shined on them.
My cock was raging erect when I got up. Dr. Wynn sighed and stopped me. "Ryan, look, we're going to have to address this at some point, but you are going to have to stop acting so uncomfortable around me. When That; " she pointed at my erection; "occurs, you're going to have to act like a gentleman and ignore it. I believe you will find that you will have much more; control; over it, if you wouldn't be so nervous around me."
"I; I; I'm so sorry," I murmured, my eyes darting to the floor. "I; I try; I try to make it go away. To just think about the dive. I; I don't know whah;"
"Ryan, just calm down. Stand up straight. Look me in the eyes."
I did, but my cock was also pointing right at her.
"Now just ignore it, and go do your thing. Work your drills. You'll find it won't become an issue soon, if you don't focus on it so much."
"Yes, ma'am ," I said as I brushed past her to get back to the block. Her tits were distracting me from taking control of the situation, but I tried to take her advice.
'Just stop fretting it, Ryan,' I thought to myself. 'She probably thinks I am such a dweeb.'
I made three or four more jumps and no matter how much time passed, my cock stayed erect. Hard as stone. By the end, I was getting better at ignoring it, but that wasn't making it go away. Dr. Wynn had pulled her chair up and motioned to me when I got out of the water for the last time. She was writing notes in her book.
"Come here. Take a look at this spreadsheet I made."
I stepped toward her and bent down. My cock was maybe a foot or so from her face. It was hard, yet somehow this predicament seemed to make it harder. I caught her glance at it on at least two occasions. I'm not sure she could pretend it wasn't happening, any better than I could.
"We'll mark days and times here. Here, we track what is happening in your conditioning exercises and your meal plans. We see if patterns emerge on your best times."
"You really do have this all thought out."
"It's the newest methods," she said, looking up. I had lifted back up, and as I turned toward her, she leaned in, her eyes coming within four inches of my penis. It was only for a brief moment, but my cock twitched, bouncing it up and down. She noticed and immediately shot her eye up to mine. Instead of scolding me, she awkwardly smiled. "Look, maybe this is just new to you. You'll be fine. Don't worry about that. It just means you're a healthy, young man. Why don't you get on to class?"
She didn't follow me back to her office where I kept my clothes. I heard her lean back in her chair, breathing in deep. I hoped I hadn't offended her too much. My face was red with embarrassment
By this time in our training, I was actively engaged in swim practice with the head coach, as well as the afternoon conditioning programs. If women weren't around, or we were in the gym with clothes on, I could abstain from getting erections, but it was becoming more apparent that I had a problem.
Once, while we were working our drills, the girl's swim team passed through the natatorium. Once again, I reacted the same when I did when I was around Dr. Wynn. Any females in general appeared to set me off.
Dr. Wynn and I met for another morning session a few days later. I had been anxious, hoping it wouldn't be a repeat of the last time, where she wore a swimsuit. With the way her flesh clung to the wet suit, there was no way I would be able to hold back from getting hard if I saw it again. I so desperately wanted to get through this practice without getting hard. I even beat off prior to coming, something I tried not to do to often back then (it was considered deviant behavior).
"How you feeling today? You only eat fish this week as advised?" she asked. I nodded, while she wrote in her journal, logging the date and what we had been doing in the gym, as well as my diet. I began to undress, as she asked a few more questions.
I kept my mind focused on the task, and surprisingly, my cock stayed soft, but hanging. Tammy glanced at it, pausing, raising a brow. Perhaps she was shocked it wasn't hard. Well, that did it. Just her quick gaze and reaction sent it on its mission. In a second or so, it was once again parallel to the floor.
Tammy sighed and said, "Yeah, about that;" Then she stood up, pulling back her shirt. Nothing was underneath. In a fluid motion, she dropped her skirt and underwear, kicking them off to the side.
"I've been thinking about it. You need to get comfortable around me. I think me, being in a position of such authority over you, may contribute to your problem. I'm a forward-thinking and progressive educator, Mr. Feller. I think you, seeing me naked, will help remove your anxiety. We're equals now, and;"
"No, that's not it at all!" I yelled, as my cock rose high in the air. "I mean, yeah, you're my teacher and all, but that isn't the problem. You're gorgeous! I can't help, but get; but;"
"Mr. Feller!" she screamed. "Young man, you better keep those thoughts in check." She stepped forward, inches from me, naked as I was. She could tell I was embarrassed, my face once again beet red.
There was a lengthy, awkward pause between us. Then, her face burrowed. "Fine, it seems all this time, you have been sporting an erection, because you have been lusting after me."
I wasn't entirely sure how accurate that was, but remained silent.
"Get to it, then, young man. I know you're no virgin to masturbation. I think the humiliation would do you good. You can't go thinking of me in inappropriate ways, Mr. Feller, then we will discipline you. I am your instructor."
"Yes, ma'am," i said.
"So this is it. Your one chance to get it out of your system. Clearly, me going naked is not going to help your situation, so I will have to be dressed during our sessions. But until you beat your cock off, and rid yourself of these grossly, inappropriate hormonal thoughts, I will stay naked. Just this once. Get it over with. Look at me all you want, but this will be the last time."
It was surreal. Looking back on it, in my mature years, I now realize that Dr. Wynn had played me into one of her sexual fantasies. I may not have viewed it that way back then, but I wasn't going to deny myself the opportunity to experience jerking my cock in front of such a beautiful woman. She thrust her naked body towards me as I took my hand and wrapped it around my shaft, slowly pumping. For several minutes, I just stared at her, saying nothing. Finally, she said, "Faster, Mr. Feller. We don't have all day."
"I wish we did," I whispered, as I picked up the pace.
She laughed, tweaking a nipple. "Better get your eyeful, Ryan. Store it in the memory bank, too. You'll need it, as you should masturbate before every morning session, is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said, nervously.
I watched as Tammy lifted up, on the bottom of her left tit, while tilting her head down. It allowed her tongue to reach, circling her nipple. She then let it go, giggling. "Consider this a gift, Mr. Feller. Now that I know you have had inappropriate thoughts about me, I should Not be naked in front of you."
"I understand, ma'am," I said.
"Yet I will give you this one time. Beat faster. I don't have all day."
I followed her instruction as she stepped closer to me again.
She scanned the room. "Where are you going to cum, Mr. Feller?"
"I don't know, ma'am. Do you have some tissue?"
"No, I'm sorry. I can go to the restroom and get toilet tissue, or I can continue to stand here naked in front of you. What's it going to be?"
"But where will I cum?" I trembled, saying.
"I see no better than option than in my mouth." Did she just say mouth?! My heart stopped. "But only this one time, Mr. Feller. It's nothing, but a matter of convenience."
"Are you sure? I'm not going to be very long?"
"How soon, Mr. Fell;"
"Now!" I cried, trying to hold back from busting a nut on the carpet.
Tammy Wynn ducked down to my cock and opened wide, forcing her mouth over the head. Immediately, a rope of cum ejected from the tip, striking the back of her throat. She opened wider as more streams shot out, filling her mouth. She swallowed when necessary, careful not to close her mouth off to the incoming payload. Finally, it slowed.
"Are you finished, Mr. Feller?"
I pulled back, nodding, but my cock remained stiff. Tammy swallowed again, finishing off the rest of it.
"Okay then, may we get to work?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
"If you'll excuse me, I need to get dressed."
Funny, she sounded so modest while she had remnants of my cum in her mouth, but I remember it acting modest and practical in that moment. When she met me at the block, my cock was still hard and she was once again dressed in her normal, if not very attractive, attire.
"Ryan, must we?"
"I'm sorry, I can't help it," I pleaded.
"Do it twice then, before you come to sessions. Whatever, but this is getting annoying and distracting."
I nodded, agreeing, but it didn't change things. I spent the next twenty minutes running drills with a stiff cock while my teacher watched. I had no control over my physiological reaction. Little did I know, this was going to create much bigger problems for me soon.