Mike, My Young Swimmer

Special thanks to SF for sending me the idea for the story.

All characters in this story are at least 18 years old.

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Both my parents used to be famous swimmers in the former Yugoslavia. They chose to leave their native country and emigrate to the USA when the country split into multiple smaller parts, and wars destroyed much of what Marshal Tito helped build. They settled in Los Angeles, with my father becoming an athletic instructor in one of the schools, and my mother initially giving swimming lessons to children. Three years after arriving in America, Mom got pregnant.

A month before I was born, my mother quit swimming and stayed at home. The labor was uneventful, and according to my parents, as I came out, I cried for 10 minutes and then smiled. I never found out if it was really the case or a nice story. Mom nursed me for 6 months, and I was a healthy, happy child.

In school, my average was a B. I don't think I wasn't capable of doing better, but I was not interested in the subjects our teachers offered. I liked swimming. By the age of 3, I was already head diving and swimming better than much older children. My mother, who had plenty of free time, accompanied me to the pool 3 afternoons a week and taught me the principles of the different styles. My favorite one was the free style. At the age of 11, I was one of the top 3 short distance, free style under-12-year swimmers in the state of California.

My swimming results continued improving in high school, but the class requirements took up too much time, and I had to cut down on my time at the pool. I still participated in competitive races, but now I began losing to students whom I had previously won against handily. The trend continued in college as well: I invested less time swimming in order to succeed in class, and my results in the pool deteriorated further.

After graduating college, I realized I was still a good swimmer, but not enough to compete in serious competitions. I decided to become a swim coach in college. I won't bore the reader with the multiple courses I had to go through, but in addition to proving I was proficient in the intricacies of all swimming styles, I had to get the ASCA certification and go through CPR classes. It wasn't easy, but I was successful, and at the age of 28, I became one of the assistant coaches for the men's swimming program at UC San Diego.

Among my duties, I was asked to check on several high schools in the Midwest, which had good swimmers. My boss told me to see if one or more of these youngsters were worthy and interested in joining UC San Diego on a swimming scholarship. In the next 5 years, I recruited 3 guys and was assigned to help them achieve the best possible results.

Either I was fortunate, or I was better than I thought, but all 3 became top swimmers with one of them holding a world record for a short time, winning the world championship twice in a row, another broke the American record 3 times, and the third got a silver medal in the Olympics. After 5 years in the job, my reputation grew, and when the head coach announced his retirement, I was chosen to replace him.

I just turned 35, and was among the youngest head coaches around. The brass trusted me and gave me a free hand to run the show because of my prior achievements. I was happy.

...

Before turning 20, I had a few flings, but nothing serious. Then I had my first serious girlfriend, Linda. She was pretty with a long blonde hair and a model's figure. She was a year older than me and had 2 prior boyfriends. Linda was not interested in swimming but in socializing and brought me to numerous parties, introducing me to many people of both genders. She was an animal in bed, and through her, I learned about all sorts of positions I never heard of. Linda was multiorgasmic, and was ready to do anything to enjoy 3 climaxes in every session. We lasted 2 full years, in which my sexual prowess grew exponentially. She was thrilled with my stamina in bed and admitted she mentioned our happy sex life with a couple of her friends, who later spread the rumor throughout the college campus. As a result, wherever I went, multiple eyes ogled me, and girls 'needed my help' for trivial things. Some of the guys were clearly jealous and snickered when my name was mentioned, but others kept staring at me admiringly. Or at least that's what I thought at the time. However, one evening, after a wild sexual encounter, Linda confided in me that she heard that at least 2 guys found me attractive and wondered whether I might be ready to experience 'something different'. When Linda told me the story, I laughed, but later, I thought that it was one of the few things I hadn't tried yet. I knew I could never be a bottom, but after the bliss I had, fucking Linda anally, I wondered how it would feel to do the same to a guy. In the following weeks, while working at the university's pool, I found myself checking the students' rear ends. I haven't done anything about it, but it became a hidden 'hobby' of mine.

...

Two years into my work as a head coach, one of my assistants approached me. He said he watched a young phenom swimmer from an obscure high school in Iowa compete twice. The guy's best results in 50 meters, 100 meters, and 200 meters freestyle were only fractions off the American records for his age. My assistant claimed that with the proper training, the young student could become the next champion. There was only one issue: His parents tried to convince him to attend the University of Iowa, where they had graduated. I had one question: How convinced was he that the young guy really had a good potential? He blurted, "I'd bet on it." Next, he showed me a video clip of the student winning in one of the 2 competitions the assistant viewed. I was impressed.

The next day, I flew to Iowa to talk to the family. They welcomed me with coffee and a piece of cheesecake. I watched the student, Mike. He was lean, about 5'11", 177 pounds, that spread nicely in all the right places for a swimmer. His face was far from being masculine. I'd say the word 'cute' fits the description. Mike was quite shy, like his mother, and his Dad conducted much of the discussion.

I started, "My name is Scott, and I am the director of the swimming program at the University of California in San Diego. Our program is one of the best in the country, with many who graduated to become among the top American swimmers. You can easily find their names if you google. I can offer your teenager a full scholarship and good training in his favorite sports."

The father smiled, "Representatives from two other programs had similar offers: Indiana University and UW in Madison, Wisconsin."

"Sir, the 2 places have decent swimming programs, but I think that ours is better. In any case..." I turned to Mike, "Wouldn't you rather be in a place with a much better weather all year round, where you can enjoy California's sun and beaches?"

Mike gazed at me and blushed. He mumbled, "I would..."

I looked at the father again, "What will it take to persuade you to let your son join OUR program?"

"Mike is shy and introverted, and I thought that being closer to home would be better for him. However, we are willing to consider your offer. Give us 48 hours, and I'll get back to you."

I gave him my phone number and flew back to San Diego on the next available flight.

Four days later, Mike's father called me, "Scott, the 3 of us reached a conclusion. Mike will join your school, PROVIDED that YOU personally guarantee that he will be accepted and respected by his teammates."

"Sir, you have my word. As a coach, I know that the best results are achieved by team players. If I see one whose attitude does not fit, he is out, and I do not care how gifted he is in swimming. In any case, tell him to let me know when he will come, and I'll make sure he is taken care of."

Within 2 weeks, we recruited 2 more good potentials, and I was happy that the following year we'd have 3 decent newcomers.

...

I assigned each of the new recruits to another assistant and reminded them of my expectations: Treat the newbies well, help them adjust to the new environment, but make sure their motivation stays high, and their swimming results improve steadily. I had to work on the entire program, so for me, monitoring each and every individual was impossible.

In the first 6 months with us, Mike showed wonderful progress. His strokes became cleaner, his speed increased, and at times in training, he reached the American record times. Everything looked very promising.

Then I sent him to compete at the dual meeting we had with UC Santa Barbara. The other school's best freestyle swimmer's results were much inferior to Mike's, so my intention was only to give Mike a boost for the following, more important meetings.

As expected, Mike won both the 100m and 200m, but his results were significantly below the ones he had during training. I congratulated him, but deep down was concerned about his focus during the competition.

The next meeting was the Big West conference championship. Again, during training and on paper, Mike was by far superior in short distances than swimmers from the other schools. I reminded my assistant to ensure Mike was in his best shape and ready for the big moment. His first swim was the 200m. I watched him finish the first 100 first, but ending the 200 in 3rd place. I was puzzled, and the same evening, I met with Mike privately.

I asked him, "What is going on? You start well, but lose in the second half, and your result is MUCH worse than what you get in training."

He lowered his head and mumbled, "I couldn't sleep the night before..."

"Why not?"

"I was too nervous."

"I don't get it; even in high school you did better in competitions. What is the difference?"

He blushed, "Over there, I had a friend who was with me and helped me sleep better."

"Would you like Jerry, my assistant, to watch TV with you the evening before the 100m race?"

"I doubt it will help..."

"Let's try it, and if it doesn't, I'll try to find a solution to your issue myself."

In the 100m, Mike was second with almost a complete second below his usual result. It became apparent that Mike's performance in competitions was not related to his ability, but to a mental problem. I told Jerry that from that moment on, I'd take Mike under MY wings.

Based on Mike's fantastic results in training, he was chosen to participate in the national championship in the 50m, 100m, and 200m.

A month before the meeting, I attempted to talk to Mike about the psychological challenges the swimmers face before every competition. He seemed to understand what I was saying, yet his reaction was subdued, and I got a hunch he was holding back and reluctant to talk. I knew that unless I solved his mental problem, he would never become great, so I devised a plan: During a vacation, I booked for us two adjacent rooms at the same hotel we'd be staying in during the national meeting. I wanted to spend a couple of days with him and learn more about his personality.

We arrived at 11 am. I ordered lunch, chatting with him about his life at home and his other-than-swimming interests. Mike talked slowly in a low voice, clearly thinking too much about what to say rather than being spontaneous. I wanted him to feel more comfortable, and an hour after lunch, I took him to the Olympic pool, where the meeting would take place. Both of us wore swimsuits and entered the water. We swam side by side for a while, and I inquired if he was OK. He grinned, "Yes, sir. In the water, I feel good."

"Let's see. You and I are going to compete for 100m. I bet you I'll win." He didn't react.

I counted, "3, 2, 1, NOW!" I jumped first and swam as fast as I could. He passed me near the wall and completed the 100m about 2 seconds before me.

I chuckled, "How come you were so fast now?"

His face reddened, "I wished to prove to you I was not a fluke..."

"I never thought you were. Let's get out, shower, and go back to the hotel."

Except for the two of us, the shower area was empty.

I removed my swimsuit and stood naked under the pouring water. Mike took much longer to take off his Speedo. He took it off and entered the shower to my right. I pretended to close my eyes, but watched him from the corner of my eye. His face was turned to me, and he ogled my body up and down. I started soaping my chest and saw him focusing on my flaccid dick. OK, so he was one of those shy guys who were jealous of a bigger organ. Whatever.

I continued soaping my 6-pack, slowly moving down. Mike's eyes never shifted from my midriff, and his penis began stiffening and rising. The guy became aroused watching me naked in the shower! Was he just curious or gay?

My hand descended further, and gently soaped my junk. Mike's member jolted upward with his eyes concentrating on my soaped pecker. I turned my face toward Mike, and he hurriedly looked the other way. However, his hard dick was exposed.

I said, "Mike, there is no shame in looking at somebody else's cock. I see you liked what you saw. It's only the two of us here, so you can stare as much as you want. In fact, you can touch it if you are interested."

He swallowed his saliva, but stayed mum. I continued soaping my legs and then my back, now and then peeking at Mike. His eyes continued to glance at my now-washed rod, which dangled down about 5". His was the same length, but pointing up and very hard.

It was apparent that the guy was excited by my organ. I offered again, "Mike, your erection does not subside. Obviously, you really like watching me in the nude. Why don't you overcome your inhibitions and touch it? I think your curiosity will be satisfied and you'll feel better."

His facial expression displayed hesitation. I muttered, "Don't worry, nobody else will ever know what you do here."

He moved gingerly toward me, and our naked bodies were side by side. I was taller than Mike by 4", heavier, with a broader chest and shoulders, and most likely, bigger dick than his when fully engorged. His eyes concentrated on my shriveled penis. I grabbed his hand, placed it on my member, and said, "That's OK, it won't bite."

His fingers trailed lightly along the shaft, and I heard his breathing become labored. I just stood under the pouring water and watched him. A moment later, he wrapped his fingers around the shaft and began bobbing it slowly. His touch was gentle and pleasant, and my cock started hardening. Mike felt it, and his bobbing became more rapid. My prick reacted by extending and expanding. His head was now leaning down slightly, and I watched him licking his lips. I have never witnessed such a behavior up close, but the reason was obvious.

I blurted, "Mikey, we both know what you want to do. Go ahead."

He eyed me pleadingly. Was he too shy to do it, or it was his way of asking permission?

I couldn't care less. I had no objection to him giving me head. I was ready to fulfill his hidden wish.

"Mike, I am here for you, you know that. So if this is what you crave, be my guest."

He whispered, "Somebody may come here to shower..."

"You are right. Let's dress up and go to my room."

He followed me to my room and stood there, not knowing what to do next. I removed my clothes and stood naked before him. "Mike, here is your chance."

Like in a hypnotic trance, he knelt before me, grasped the base of my penis between 2 fingers, bent down, and licked the top. Next, his lips parted and engulfed the spongy head, gradually advancing to cover more of my shaft. The way his mouth was able to accommodate almost the whole length of my pole without gagging told me it wasn't his first time doing it. The guy was definitely gay, and likely a bottom. Within the next 2 minutes, his mouth moved fast up and down on my tumescent organ. His milking ability was very enjoyable and arousing.

I blurted, "You are too good. I am going to shoot soon."

He intensified his BJ. I held the back of his head and flooded his oral cavity with my spunk. Mike hungrily swallowed my abundant sperm without spilling a drop. When I was done, his tongue licked the remaining stains on my shaft and lifted his face to look at me.

I smiled at him, "Good boy. I see that you like giving head. Are you OFFICIALLY gay?"

His face turned red, "Are you asking me if I had a sexual encounter with a guy?"

"Yes."

"Yes, I had. On my 18th birthday, my friend and I drank too much beer. We watched porn on TV, and he undressed and began masturbating. I couldn't take my eyes off him. He caught me and made me play with his dick. Then he pushed my head down to suck him. I pretended to fight, but I think I was ready, and although I choked on it the first time, the overall experience was not traumatic. A week later, we were again in my room. He placed a gay-porn and stared at me. I looked back at him. He removed his pants and boxers, pointed his finger at his member, and said, 'I know you want it. Don't make me wait.'

I sucked him. That time I was doing it better. One evening, before an important swim meeting, he came to my house, and after I blew him, he used me anally. It hurt a little, but not that much. After that, I was so tired that I slept like a log. The following day, I was doing extremely well, and won both distances easily."

His eyes examined mine, attempting to see my reaction to the news.

"Mike, do I understand you correctly that using you anally before a big meeting will tire you, help you sleep better, and consequently, you might do better in the pool?"

"I doubt that your assistant will be my choice for an intimate relationship. But you are very manly, have a great body, and... a terrific cock..."

I smiled, "Are you suggesting that if I want you to perform optimally, I'd better use your back hole on the evening before every meet?"

"...you don't HAVE to do it, but from experience I know that unless I get filled and tired this way, I may not sleep and the results will reflect it."

"Go to your room and let me think it over. We'll talk about it tomorrow. Good night."

...

Lying in my bed, my mind weighed Mike's unexpected suggestion. As a coach, my priority was to care for my team members and do whatever I could to enhance their performance. But having a sexual relationship with one of them?! While the state allows such encounters between 2 adults, the NCAA forbids them due to a power differential, calling them 'abusive'.

I was in a bind: The request to have sex came from Mike, not me. And unless I'd find somebody else to satisfy his needs, Mike's potential would be lost.

On the other hand, his unsolicited trust and finding me attractive made me think twice. While 'forgetting' to mention it earlier, like in my younger days, I ogled his sweet bubble butt a couple of times before...

Eventually, I decided: The important meeting was only days away, and I had no time to look for another candidate to please Mike. I'll do it. Was my decision only as a result of that logic, or I wished to follow my OWN curiosity?... I tried to convince myself it was the former.

At 7:30 am, I freshened up and knocked on Mike's door. He opened it with a strange smile. I said, "Let's go for breakfast. I hope you had a good night's sleep."

He mumbled, "I didn't. Much of the night I thought about what your reaction would be, and if you'd choose to throw me out of your program..."

I hugged his shoulder, "I won't do it. As you probably know, any intimate contact between us is considered illegal by the NCAA. However, we already crossed the line yesterday. I care about you and your future as a world class swimmer, so I decided to give it a one time try and see if your... unusual idea works. If it does, when we return to San Diego, I'll look for a more suitable companion for you."