Reading Time: 4 minutesHe’s getting older, with only a few years left. The past 55 odd years were wild, calm, anxious, sexy, boring, tedious and action packed all served up in varied amounts and intensity. His “been there done that” list was quite extensive. This often threatened list of what he’d been up to might read as fiction to most, but it would be true. That’s if he ever bothered to write it all down. Ron wondered how the hell he was going to document such a trail of ups and downs. He thought of a title, he’d try awkward swimming trunks.
His memory was fading as fast as his waistline and boobs were expanding. A repetitive regularity was also showing itself in his rambling writing style, the same old same old. Same shit different day.
He sat back in his black executive typing chair that provided such tremendous comfort, aside from the terribly annoying minor rock / pivot motion when he breathed or adjusted his tiny bottom. He pondered the next step. The glaringly clean white page hurt his eyes, so he had to type, two fingers poised and off he went. How could he use a title “awkward swimming trunks?”
A story about awkward swimming trunks
The three bikini clad girls wandered about the pool party on heat, while the two somewhat lonely guys were left sitting by themselves talking to no-one. The party on mass had decided that they were to be avoided and so they were left to their own devices. Well there they sat, a lemon lime and bitters for one, and a light beer to be consumed by the other.
The beer guy was 40 years old, lived in a studio apartment in town and worked at the Post Office. He’d been there for 23 years and never looked like leaving. The bitters guy had no job, lived on the beer guy’s lounge and was a sad 26 year old man with no apparent future, well none that he could see at least.
These less than desirable men had decided that as it was a pool party, they’d wear their swimming trunks. With this choice made, of course it was only about two minutes into the swanky do when they both sported a bulge like a loaf of french bread pocking out of a brown paper bag. Barely contained by their speedos.
Both sat uncomfortably under the shaded clothes line in the middle of the tiny grassed area and both tried desperately trying to conceal their intentions. There was absolutely no room in a pair of speedos to hide an erection. The guys just stared at the girls galavanting about with so much lust – their intentions were becoming a topic of conversation and the odd knob joke. The pool party swung on. The “awkward swimming trunks” were becoming more awkward.
Anne was beside herself
She’d seen a number of hard ons before but never like these two. The speedos were straining their existence. It reminded Anne of an effect in the Rocky Horror Picture Show, “Pleased to meet ya”.
These two large shapes would warm the cockles of any sexually charged young women. Cockles indeed and the charging was electrifying. Anne decided to throw caution to the wind, ignore the thoughts and impressions of the other girls – she’d get one or if she was honest both of these sad yet well packaged men. The presents just needed unwrapping.
Beer man noticed Anne heading his way, he shuffled his proud membership about and gestured to the bitters man.
“Fuck … she’s coming this way. What do we do now?”
“I’d say we try and remain calm, cool and just be what she wants us to be.” Ross the bitters man was the more confident of the two despite living on a lounge, having no job and who like his mate David, was currently sporting a massive erection at the pool party.
Both men and the solidness presented moved with the music. Both were tingling and changing beats per minute as Anne arrived at this extremely wonderful reaction area. Anne was coping very well. Her tanned body oiled up with sunscreen and squeezed into the 70 – 80s hip high sided one piece that screamed “Fuck Me” It was bright neon yellow with light blue edges and the turtle neck style thrust out her shoulders and bountiful breast. It was as high as possible on the sides with a g string fit at the back.
What effect
Just what exactly did the confident wearer seek to achieve and receive. She was masterful in her confidence. She strode like a cat on those triangle wedges, highlighting her calves, hips and the “mighty gap” like a superstar. Both men drowned in her presence as she introduced herself.
“Hi i’m Anne” .. They were lost for breath, speechless and harder than ever.
Anne realised as soon as she started talking to these two guys that the party was right in its impression. She thought about this for half a second and then stared like a blind salesperson at a three story home. She wanted those rock solid things which were stretching the awkward swimming trunks in front of her. Fuck talking.
“Listen David, Ross – I’ve a car outside that we need to get into and leave this rather dull party.”
“I really fancy a three way, that’s me and your bits. You look like you’re up for it already … Ok then – lets go”
David nearly fell over
He stumbled up and Ross just stared at the best looking backside he’d ever seen. Anne was already on her way and so without thinking David and Ross got to their feet properly and followed. Not before spilling their drinks. They strode past everyone in the packed backyard as proud as punch. It looked a treat.
Anne leading the two erections through the crowd as if she was psychically dragging them by their protuberance. Ross nearly got his bit caught in the iron swing gate leading onto the driveway but managed to swerve away just in time. David had no such trouble, he was pointing straight up.
The laughter took some 15 minutes to die down. This was followed by a wide range of conversation, topics from “why didn’t I grab them” to “what the f*ck is she doing with those losers”. Those losers that had just left with the hottest women at the party and were destined to have sex with at an alarmingly great rate. The range of conversation did change after a while. It turned to finding out who might be left and how their swimming trunks were going.
An adjustment required
Ron paused readjusted his own posture. He wondered if he owned any awkward swimming trunks. He also thought his own thoughts in respect to ladies, swimming pools and sex. Ron was forced to take a break, call his reason for swelling and take the day off. No more writing today, it was after all a very hot day. It was said to be near 40 degrees and he need a cool release with warming relief.
The page remained unfinished, the curser blinking … Ron was off.
An increasingly grumpy old fart posting rants, observations and trying to write somewhat twisted short stories for adults. All rights reserved unless otherwise credited © Alan Crawford - 2024
