The whole COVID thing screwed my life up a bit. Like a lot of young Aussie’s, I was doing the London thing. With border closures and lock downs, I ended up back in Australia, as a bit of a nomad. After over a year I finally settled down in a little beach town on the east coast.

Being new to town, I didn’t know anyone so I tried to get out, mingle, and make some friends.

One thing I did was join the local AFL (Australian Rules) footy team. I had played in high school, I wasn’t very good back then, and I haven’t gotten any better with age. I wasn’t that interested in playing any games, just go to training and have some beers with the guys afterwards.

I kept an eye out and when I saw that they had started preseason training, I bought some footy boots, a mouth guard and went along.

It was a pretty good bunch of guys, I’m thirty years old and most of the guys were in their early twenties. There were a handful of new guys, like me, but the core of the team was a group of guys in their early twenties who had grown up together. The captain of the team, who everyone called Macca, was twenty-one years old and just gorgeous, ow sorry, I mean Macca was a great footy player. Dirty blonde shoulder length hair, tall, wiry thin and not an ounce of fat on him. Those short footy shorts made his legs look like they went up forever. Macca’s best mate, and vice captain, is another gorgeous twenty-one year old they call Digger.

I won’t bore you guys with any more team details, but let met just say that being in a locker room with twenty, twenty year old guys in footy gear or less gave me some jerk off material for when I would get home after training.

Yes, I am gay and I am out to my friends but I don’t wear it on my sleeve. When I’m single, nobody would know or have any reason to think I’m gay. My sexuality was not something I had advertised to my new footy team mates.

Our second game of the season was an away game (about an hours drive away) and my car was at the mechanics. It was no big deal, someone gave me a ride to the game and it was the skipper, Macca, who gave me a ride home, since he lived on my side of town (he still lives with his parents). I invited Macca in for a beer or a rumbo to thank him for giving me a ride and he said sure.

Being completely honest, while I had naughty thoughts, in the privacy of my own masturbation sessions, about my team mates, there was no way on the planet I would have the courage to make a move and none of the guys gave off the slightest hint of being gay. At the first two games there was a little entourage of the girlfriends. With that in mind, I purely asked Macca in for a drink to thank him for the ride home, and thanks for being nice, considering I’m one of the worst players in the team and they have made me feel welcome.

While I was getting some beer out of the fridge Macca noticed the spa (hottub/jacuzzi) in on my back patio. He asked if it works, I said hell yeah it does and I’ve been spending some time in it after pulling up sore from footy. Macca asked if he could jump in, hell yeah (my mind did a little cartwheel). I was more composed in my outward approval of letting Macca use the spa. Handing him a beer I told him I’d grab some towels and asked if he need any shorts? He replied that he was wearing DT’s (dick togs aka speedos) which would be fine. Yes, they would be fine Macca (I said in my head).

I have a thing for speedos, more for guys wearing speedos, hence why I’m a fan of the speedo blog. What has surprised me since coming back from London is the number of Aussie guys who are wearing DT’s/speedos. It seems like most of my footy team mates wear them as underwear when playing and there are younger guys wearing them at the beach which wasn’t the case when I was in my twenties.

Walking outside to the spa, Macca was already submerged up to his neck and I saw his team footy shorts and hoodie on the ground. I dropped my footy shorts to reveal my classic black speedo and jumped in.

Just a couple of footy team mates sitting in a spa, each wearing less than a handkerchief.

It wasn’t long until our beers were empty, Macca offered to get refills and I gladly accepted the view of his lithe body, dripping with water getting out of the spa, his ass looked like it was sculptured and just as hard as marble.

After our second beer, I said I was going to swap to rum and Macca asked if it was alright if he had one. It seemed like he might be in for a bit of a session and since he didn’t live far he could leave his car at my house and walk home.

We settled in for a bit of a session. Conversation flowed, every two drinks I got to soak in the eye candy that was Macca’s beautiful body getting out of my spa and the view of him walking in to the house. Nothing naughty was discussed, I was not hitting on Macca at all but knew that I would be picturing him when I jerked off, which I thought would be about two minutes after he left.

Then Macca dropped the hammer. Must have been the drinks that loosened him up and he finally asked me if I was gay.

Not the first person to ever ask me, but I was a little surprised because I thought I hadn’t shown any inkling of being gay. I asked him why he thought that? He replied that his best mate, Digger, thought so. Answering a question, with a question, I asked how did Digger know?