Monday evening, 9:45
When I moved to Montreal three years ago from Winnipeg, I chose the South West district of the city because of the George-Vanier sports complex and its amazing pool. I retired from competitive swimming after the London Olympic Games and went back to College to finish my MBA. After that, I went to work for Scotia Bank and ... when the opportunity to transfer to Montreal reared its head, I jumped at the chance.
Anyway, ever since I’m been coming to this pool, I’ve had plenty of eye candy and plenty of frustrating – and sometimes embarrassing – hard-ons, but I’ve seen very little action. Sure a few hot guys have given me great fantasy jerk-off material, but I kept thinking, ‘Wow! Wouldn’t it be great if they had a pool like this in the Gay Village instead of those disgusting bathhouses they call saunas? Shit! If I was straight I’d have so much pussy, my head would spin, but cock? Damn, am I the only gay man West of Peel Street?’
When I spotted Deimos, I literally gasped. I didn’t know his name yet – and maybe I’m giving too much away by revealing it now, but hey, why would I be talking about him if there wasn’t a point, right? – but I certainly knew that he was one of the best looking guys I’d ever seen. And in my previous line of activity, you can bet I’ve seen plenty. I didn’t know where Deimos had come from, but there he was, making his way up the high-dive ladder as I completed a lap at the other end of the pool. I wiped the water out of my eyes a second time to make sure they could drink in his breathtaking beauty. I guessed almost instantly that he was Greek and thought, ‘Oh come on! What a cliché! A Greek god making his way to the summit of Mount Olympus? Sure! His name is probably Adonis, right?’ I chuckled to myself, but still couldn’t take my eyes off that amazing chiseled body, those incredible abs, rugged shoulders, cut biceps and strong legs coming out of a dark purple Speedo that just seemed to be overflowing with manpower.
My heart sped up and butterflies started flying around my taut belly as he reached the plank and walked to the end of it. The only thing I could think about as he got closer to the edge was how much I longed to see his ass in that tight swimsuit ... and how amazing his back muscles would look – and dared I dream, feel – since his front was just mouth-watering perfection. As he reached the end of the board and I saw him curl his toes around the edge, he got up on the balls of his feet and I thought, ‘What are you doing, dude? You’re too close to the edge to do that. You better have a hell of a good sense of balance if you don’t want to fall over into the pool and make a fool of yourself.’ But not only did he maintain perfect balance, he even managed to hook both of his index fingers under the Speedo’s fabric on either sides of his crotch to adjust his swimsuit.
That’s when our eyes met for the first time.
I suddenly felt as if I was staring at him inappropriately, as if I was some kind of sick voyeur prying through the window of his bathroom as he showered. ‘Idiot!’ I told myself. ‘He’s on display! He’s at the top of a diving board at a public pool and there are about... ‘ I looked around quickly, scanning the whole place. ‘ ... two other people here.’ When my eyes went back to his, he gave me a coy smile and slowly came back down on his heels. He took a step back and pulled his Speedo away from his crotch with one hand and reached inside with his other hand, adjusting that generous package without taking his eyes off mine.
I wondered if he was getting hard because that bulge certainly looked impressive from where I was standing but I really couldn’t tell.
My own cock twitched in my red Maple Leaf Speedos which, I thought, were luckily still underwater as I was in the shallow end of the pool.
When he took his hand back out of his swimsuit, even though I was very far away, I could see that he had stretched out his cock and had made it point to his right hip. He was getting hard ... or was already there! He looked at me and I gulped, doing everything in my power not to lick my lips like a cheesy 1980s porn film model.
He stretched a little, maybe just showing off his muscles for me, and then wound up for his dive. It was absolutely perfect. The stuff of Olympic champions. I thought, ‘Hey, maybe he’s just like me. Maybe he was in the Olympics, too, but on the diving side and now he’s retired to Montreal, found a new career in ... porn?’ I laughed aloud. It didn’t matter. Nobody noticed and my Greek hunk hadn’t resurfaced yet.
A few more seconds passed and I started fantasizing that he was swimming over to me, underwater, and would go straight for my hardening dick, pushing against the stretchy fabric of my Speedos. My cock grew even more and I slipped my right hand into my swimsuit, squeezing my growing pole, helping it along. I scanned the whole pool, looking for him to surface, actually becoming more and more worried that something might have happened to him. Had he hit his head at the bottom of the pool and been rendered unconscious? Was he still swimming toward me, holding his breath like the athletic champion that he was? Had he died of a heart attack from falling in lust at first sight?
I took my hand out of my Speedos and off my hard cock, really starting to worry. I frantically looked around as I started walking toward the deep-end of the pool. One elderly woman with a flowery swim cap – do those things really still exist? Well, I guess so – was doing breast-stroke side laps and a nonchalant city employee was sitting on the side of the pool, reading a gossip magazine. I started to think I might have just dreamt Deimos up. That he was all in my head ... but how could that be since he also seemed to have made his way to my COCK HEAD???
I dove under and scanned the bottom of the pool. He was nowhere in sight. I went back down a couple of times to make sure. No sign of my Greek god. I came back up again. Tried to make eye contact with the old lady and with the lazy employee, but they were completely oblivious to me or anything else that might be going on.
I quickly swam to the side ladder and got out of the pool, grabbing my towel and heading to the locker room, determined to find Deimos to confirm that I was not going out of my mind.
He just looked like he had vanished ... or had never existed.
I dried off, got dressed and went home. That night, I jacked-off fantasizing about Deimos, replaying his walk up the ladder, his naughty little game on the diving board he turned into a stripper’s stage and his amazing dive into the crystal-clear water.
I thought the powerful orgasm I had given myself would help me sleep like a baby, but I ended up having a crazy-hard time falling asleep, my mind working overtime trying to make sense of the mysterious Greek god’s disappearance into thin air.
Tuesday evening, 7:15
The following night, I went back to the pool and decided to get there early in hopes of spotting Deimos again. There was no way I could have made it up. There had to be a logical explanation.
As I hit the locker room to slip on my steel-blue Speedos, I scanned the place like a mad man, desperately searching for any sign of Deimos. He didn’t seem to be there. I went to the showers and rinsed myself off before going to the pool. There, I only saw two silver-haired guys who argued non-stop about politics as if I wasn’t even there. I was fine with that as I really didn’t want to get involved – not to mention the fact that, with my rotten level of French, I definitely wouldn’t have been able to keep up.
When I got to the pool, there were so many people – families with young screaming children, older people swimming laps, a half-dozen pregnant ladies doing some kind of aquatic aerobics – that I thought to myself, ‘Maybe he’s here and I can’t even see him.’ I walked around the pool twice, looking for him everywhere, feeling really ridiculous because what were the chances that he would be back the next night – some 22 hours later –, right?
‘Are you here to swim or to look for a figment of your imagination?’ I scolded myself.
I decided to follow in Deimos’s footsteps and went up the ladder to the diving board thinking, ‘From up there, you’ll be able to see everybody.’ And just as I got ready to dive, jumping up on the spring board, I thought I caught a glimpse of my Greek god coming out of the locker room. As I came back down, I lost my footing and slipped off the board, free-falling toward the water and hitting the surface like a sack of potatoes.
The pain in my foot – brought on by my ankle hitting the side of the board – and the pain in my back from slamming against the water were nothing compared to the pain I was feeling in the area of my EGO!
As I came back to the surface of the water, I felt somebody grab me under my knees and under my back as if I’d been some kind of damsel in distress being saved from drowning, like a Disney princess being rescued by her Speedo-clad Prince Charming.
When the strong arms put me down on the floor on the side of the pool, I realized I’d been saved by ... my Greek god.
“Ça va?” he asked with a peculiar accent, his right hand now holding the back of my head and his left hand resting on my chest as though he was making sure my heart was still beating in there.
“I’m fine. Je suis okay.”
He smiled down at me and I felt my cock start growing in my Speedos.
“Thanks for helping me, I said, hoping to keep his attention on my upper body so he wouldn’t notice what was going on down there. I felt really stupid.”
.... There is more of this story ...