Chapter 1

// Oh-oh say can you see ... by the dawn's early light? What so PROUD-ly we hailed ... at the twilight's last gleaming...

Even though the anthem was an instrumental version, I could still hear the lyrics in my head. With my right hand over my heart, I felt moisture forming in my eyes as I looked left to see my country's flag held aloft, ever so much higher than the two flags flanking it to either side.

You'd think I wouldn't be emotional at a time like this. After all, this wasn't my first rodeo or anything. I'd been swimming competitively since I was four years old, blowing away first boys in the 6-and-under division and then even the 8-and-unders. I won nearly every swim meet I entered at the local level, and most every one at the state level too. Only when I hit the international circuit did I start to find competition that could keep up with me, but even that only drove me to compete harder and train even more to lower my times.

I won a Grand Prix or two. I medaled at the Pan Pacific Championships. And in the run up to these Games, I'd even won a World Championship. But that was just the World Championships. This ... THIS ... was the Olympics.

And I was now a member of a VERY elite club ... I was an Olympic Gold Medalist.

This was Fuck-TASTIC!

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I bent my head down and looked at my shiny new hardware. I knew what to expect, of course; every athlete knew the look of the medals well before ever showing up. I liked the design, the Olympic Logo centered in the middle of the circular disc with scattered lines behind it. I was especially pleased that the organizers hadn't fucked things up like the past Winter Olympics, with that wavy, lopsided piece of shit that looked like someone had left the medal inside their car on a hot day and had the thing melt halfway before re-hardening.

Flipping my disc over, I smirked as I checked out the reverse of the medal. I knew full well that the figure on the back represented Nike, the Greek Goddess of Victory. But at the moment, I couldn't help but notice that Nike was half-naked, with her unfettered breasts hanging out for the world to see. And as I belatedly remembered that the world's television cameras were on me at this moment, I wiped the smirk off my face and stood up straighter, thankful that my baggy warm-ups would hide the growing bulge at my crotch.

Shit, man ... Just hold it together until you get back. Just a little bit longer ... a little bit longer ... and THEN man ... you are SO gonna get fucking LAID.

I hadn't had sex in weeks already, not an easy thing to do when half the women's swim team wants you to nail them (again). Breaststroke? I'll show you a breast stroke.

But rules are rules. Not that there were any laws against getting laid. No, my rules were part of my training, part of my discipline. My entire life had been building to this point, to this singular moment at the end of a grueling series of laps back and forth across a short fifty-meter expanse of water. In one, solitary effort I had challenged myself against the best the world had to offer ... and I'd come away victorious.

I'd kept my eye on the prize, and it had all been worth it. Sex would have been unnecessary exercise right at the time when I was tapering, carefully controlling my energy expenditure to ensure maximum endurance and optimal performance when it really mattered. Not only that, but sex (or even masturbation) would have drained my balls of needed testosterone.

Who needs performance enhancing drugs? Not me, my balls make all that juice for me. Excess testosterone at the right time means more power, more energy. That little bit may have been the reason why I swam 0.12 seconds faster than the silver medalist. That little bit may have been the reason why I now had this golden hardware around my neck. And for that, I should really thank the women's swim team for doing their level best to flaunt their nearly-naked (and sometimes fully naked) bodies for my viewing pleasure, knowing full well that it would help me build up my own natural, non-doping steroids.

But all that was over now. I'd finished my last event. There were no more competitions on my immediate horizon. No more tapering, no more ABSTINENCE. All that was left to do now ... was PARTY.

// O say does tha-at Star Spangled BA-nner yet waaave...

Oops, time to wrap this up. Stand straight. Chest out. Smile for the cameras, fucker. After this, it's just a short press conference, a pep-talk from coach, and then you're onto the shuttle to take you back to those high-rise condos they call an Athlete's Village. You're an Olympic Gold Medalist, man ... and now it's time to reap the rewards.

"Härter, härter! Ahh, scheisse! Fuck me du hurensohn!"

I grinned and slapped Anneke's ass before crooking my fingers to get a better grip on her hip bones and then started to REALLY lay some wood on the gorgeous dirty-blonde German swimmer. Her English was much better when she wasn't mid-orgasm, and we'd been flirting for more than a week both at the Aquatics Centre and around the Village since before the Olympics had even officially begun. It was clear from the beginning that we were destined to fuck, and having finished her only event two days ago, she'd been itching to get into my pants ever since.

Win or lose, Anneke had promised me I'd get to nail her. In fact, she'd been so eager to jump my bones that she'd tried to talk me into fucking her right away, even before I was done with the competition. But I hadn't spent all this time and come all this way to fuck up my Olympic dreams, so I'd sent her away to focus on my swimming.

I held no illusions that she'd kept herself pure for me over the past two days; this was the Olympics after all. Relationships weren't part of the deal, and when you put thousands of young, physically fit people into a confined area, shit is gonna happen. There's a reason a hundred thousand condoms disappear in two weeks, but this place is a little like Vegas: What happens in the Athlete's Village, STAYS in the Athlete's Village.

I didn't know who Anneke had been with, and I didn't much care. All that mattered was that she'd cared enough to come watch my event, meeting me in the locker room before my event and parting her robe to show me she wasn't wearing a thing beneath it. She'd rubbed her firm little B-cups against my naked chest while telling me dirty fantasies of the things she wanted me to do to her after I won the Gold Medal, and fuck, that last bit of testosterone four minutes before my event started might have been the reason alone for my 0.12 second victory.

She'd been waiting for me after my press conference, and rode the shuttle back to the Athlete's Village by my side. Her bright green eyes danced with mirth as she wrapped herself around the world's most recent Gold Medalist, and we couldn't RUN to my room fast enough.

My roommate, Tyler, was still at the Aquatics Centre, waiting for his own event. I had no concerns about him dropping by unannounced, and I didn't even bother to lock the door after more or less tackling Anneke through it and onto my bed.

After almost three weeks without an ejaculation, I was more than ready to go. Anneke and I took turns shoving our tongues down each other's throat and tearing at each other's clothes without actually getting them off each other. We'd fooled around a bit without going TOO far, so this wasn't actually my first time getting my paws on her titties. But I still enjoyed their weight in my hands, and especially enjoyed the sensation of her cool hand wrapped around my iron-hard cock.

I am ashamed to say that I popped my cork thirty seconds after she took me into her mouth. What, like YOU wouldn't after having been teased and prodded and sexually stimulated for three weeks straight to build up your testosterone without being allowed to cum? But thankfully, Anneke didn't seem to mind, swallowing every drop like a pro before taking my shaft in hand and using both her fingers and mouth to bring me back up. It certainly helped that while she did so, I had my tongue buried in Marika's cunt.

Oh, did I not mention Marika? Funny story about Anneke and Marika: the world thought they HATED each other. Both girls were eighteen, and had spent the last couple of years competing in the same events each year. Some of the press tried to make it into a kind of Cold War between blonde German Anneke and raven-haired Dutch Marika; but then, the last time the Dutch were a military superpower was like in the 1600s.

At the pool, the girls made it a point not to even look at each other, let alone speak. This was of course, quite awkward every time they were put in lanes 4 and 5 together, but that was just their competitive spirit. In the water, each of them wanted to be the best; but out of the water, they had actually become the best of friends. That sort of thing happens when you compete against the same person at meet after meet after meet.

The two girls were together when Tyler and I met them in one of the communal lounges. Though Anneke and I immediately hit it off, Marika and Tyler just didn't seem to find that spark. After a few minutes, Tyler wandered away to get a drink ... and then never came back. About an hour later I saw him chatting up an Argentinean cyclist. In the meantime, I'd enjoyed the pleasant company of two beautiful teenage swimmers in the prime of their sexual desirability.

Marika hadn't been around every other time I'd met up with Anneke. Anything and everything goes in the Athlete's Village, and I knew she was hunting on her own. Fuck, -I- was hunting others rather frequently in my down time, no matter what chemistry I'd been building with Anneke, and I was sure she was doing the same as well. But Marika had been around quite a bit, especially on one particular occasion when I'd met the girls in Anneke's room and they'd proceeded to team up and give me a full-body rubdown with their tits, purely for the sake of improving my testosterone buildup, you see. So it really wasn't much of a surprise when two minutes after Anneke and I burst into my room, the sultry Dutch 18-year-old sashayed through my unlocked door.