A 7th-grade school swim-team story, from when I was 12 years old:
I was always one of the youngest in my classes, due to an August birthday; and I was (and am) rather small in stature. Consequently, I suffered Small Kid Syndrome. Being small and young seems to affect most kids in one of two ways: The majority seem to become a bit shy and withdrawn; but there's a minority who go to the other extreme and overcompensate. I was an overcompensator. I was not shy in the least, and I was also willing to play anything for a laugh - a fact that plays a key role in this story.
Concerning Speedos: In case anyone doesn't know, competition swimsuits for men are known as Speedos - technically, "Speedo" is the brand name of the major manufacturer of these swimsuits, but it's widely used as a generic term, something like "xerox" or "jello." The swimsuits look something like men's bikini underwear. Back in the 70's they were made of 100% nylon (unlike spandex of today) and they were cut with a little more coverage than nowadays - but they still left nothing to the imagination. The wearer's (ahem) equipment is very much revealed in a Speedo.
Incidentally, I don't know how this issue plays out nowadays, but back then for us, there was a big question - do you point it up, or down? This applied to underwear (briefs), and to Speedos. I recall that the majority of boys were down; the rest were up; and both categories were consistent - no switching off. I had to be different, and switch off :). I did it both ways, depending on my whim of the moment when I put my Speedo on, or my underwear when I wore briefs (usually I wore boxers from age 11 on). Actually, in my case it didn't much matter which way I pointed it. When you're small down there, as I was/am, it always ends up pointed out after a while, no matter how you start off. My penis size has never been an issue for me. I have no problem admitting that I'm hung like a hamster :). (Okay, maybe it's not quite that small... :))
The story itself: Our swim team practiced every afternoon during the season (winter for boys's swimming), and we would, of course, wear our Speedos. One day in practice, we were all sitting around on the benches waiting for our turns. The coach had gone out of the natatorium for some reason, and whenever the cat was away, the mice played.
I was sitting with Scott, a good friend of mine that year. If you've read the narrative about my overall experiences on the swim team, then you know Scott. If you haven't read that piece, then go read it! What's wrong with you?!? (oops! sorry, got carried away there... :))
I meant to say: If you haven't read that piece, then it's enough for now to say that Scott and I knew each other well enough to play off each other's talents - and weaknesses. We had that mind-reading type of relationship I discussed back in the narrative about playing soccer at 7 y/o. Scott knew how to push my buttons - not sexually so much (our experience in that area was fun but limited), but more in the arena of teasing. Scott knew how to get me to "embarrass" myself. Or more accurately, how to get me to do stuff that would've embarrassed anyone else, except that it's literally impossible to embarrass me. You cannot shame a kid with no sense of shame :).
Back to the day. Scott and I were sitting there, doing the usual 12 y/o stuff like poking each other and trying to grab each other in full-nelson holds. On this particular occasion, he had gotten behind me and had me in a full-nelson. I arched my back and that weakened his hold, so he had to let go. He decided to retaliate by pulling another favorite swim-team trick on me - the Speedo Wedgie.
Now, back then, as I said, the Speedos were made of nylon. Nylon doesn't have much give in the fabric. So if you yank someone's swimsuit up by the waist from directly behind, you get a classic wedgie - really better than a wedgie with underwear (if you're the giver), or worse (if you're the receiver). This process was always amusing to watch, for two reasons: (a) To 12 y/o boys, wedgies are just plain funny; and (b) sometimes you could give the boy a nice- sized boner if you yanked properly. Wedgies alone are embarrassing to the typical boy-recipient; wedgies that give you a stiffie are downright mortifying.
None of that embarrassed me, of course. But I suspect part of the fun for Scott in this case was knowing that I'd do something spectacular. Hey, who am I to disappoint a friend? :)
On this occasion, Scott yanked my swimsuit up, and a fairly large proportion of it vanished into my butt crack. I had what others have described as a bubble-butt, so there was a depth to this wedgie that made extrication difficult. I immediately reached back and tried to de-wedge myself with one hand, and punch Scott in the stomach with the other, but I was unsuccessful at both. Scott was a veteran wedgie-inflictor, and he knew my reaction, so he danced just out of reach, taunting me: "Hey Danny! What's the matter, you got a wedgie?..."
Chasing someone at swim practice was a tortuous affair. We had a strictly enforced "no running" policy (for good reason - it's easy to slip on those wet tiles.) So I got up and went after Scott, but it was one of those slow-motion chases, like when the Coyote and the Roadrunner are both hot and tired.
Well... let's see... how to put this politely? My erogenous zones happen to include the area where this wedgie was lodged...:) So, as I chased Scott in slo-mo, I felt this very agreeable rubbing in between my buttocks. And the natural, expected physical reaction began to occur. It was made more pronounced by the fact that I happened to be in the "up" position that time, and the slow chase caused the fabric in front to rub against me right where it counted. The fabric was tighter to begin with, due to the wedgie, and every step rubbed the underside in a quite-distracting fashion :).
The chase ended with Scott, who was about 12-14 steps ahead of me (longer legs have their advantages) plunging into the diving pool to escape. By the time I got up to the pool, another friend, Barry, had joined the chase and was already in the water after Scott. I perceived that my revenge would be more efficient if I went around to the other side of the pool, and met Scott coming out.
So I stopped short, about a foot from the edge of the diving pool, and made a quick left. My wedgie had mostly been worked out of my butt by then, from the chase and from my yanking on it. But the effect on my front was still noticeable. In fact, by that point I was fully stiff.
Most boys likely would've jumped into the pool immediately to hide the evidence, so to speak, and to let the cold water do its work. But I wasn't most boys :). I just didn't care about whether anyone saw me with a boner; and in any case I was intent on getting Scott. So, I just started speed-walking around to the other side of the diving pool.
Did I mention that this took me past the bench again? And that about 6-8 other guys on the team were sitting there, about three feet from where I was walking past? And that I was still walk-running in slo-mo? So that they could easily see what was right at their eye level - which, at the moment, happened to be my pelvic region, and protrusions therefrom? :)
Okay, so it was obvious. A ripple of laughter began moving down the bench as I went past, something like progress of The Wave in a stadium. I still wasn't paying much attention, since I was determined to catch Scott and inflict bodily harm upon his person. But I caught on when Brady, a guy I didn't know very well at that point, said, "Hey Danny! Tie a string around it!!" (This string joke was an old, old chestnut in our school, and the phrase showed up regularly whenever an erection was in the works, real or imagined.)
That got my attention. So I stopped short. I turned and faced the bench. And (I told you I had no shame), I started doing this extremely suggestive thrusting, undulating movement with my pelvis, and at the same time I said to Brady, "What the hell do I need a string for? Why don't you come over here and grab it?... Why don't you BEND OVER??") :)
The end of this story was rather sudden. I had been doing my bump and grind routine for about 3-4 seconds, when Fred, one of my other friends, got up and grabbed me around the legs with one arm and the ribs with the other, and picked me up in a fireman's carry. Before I even figured out what was happening, I had been unceremoniously heaved into the diving pool.
Not only was this a shock in general, but it had the effect of wilting me almost instantly. Cold water didn't always do that to me, but this time it did.
Well, not much to report after that. Scott was already out, but by that time I had a new revenge target - Fred. I got out and went after Fred, but he got up onto the high diving-board ladder. I was beginning to climb, was about two steps off the ground, when Coach came back in and blew his whistle. And, back to practice we went.
Just a day in the life... :)
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