Sheer Thrills

This short story (750 words WTF) was entered in last years GLBTQ Short Story Competition. I didn’t win anything, nor did I expect to. I am not really a story writer, but entered purely for the discipline of constraining my writing – usually 2,500-odd word articles and opinion pieces – to such a small word count. Needless to say, I did about 20 edits to get it right. I liked the end result, and was rather pleased with myself, even if the judges weren’t. The words “After the summer” had to be used somewhere in the story.

After the summer of suntans, surf and sand, it’s time to pack my “aussieBum” swimmers away for a few months. My hot, sexy “aussieBums” – called “Loose” because…well…they’re loose and let it all…hang out. Silky white nylon with black and grey side inserts. Double panel at the front… okay, nobody warned me that they became transparent when wet. Very transparent!

I guess it wouldn’t have taken much imagination on my part to assume that silky white flowing nylon, even with a double modesty panel, would be see-through when wet. Either I lack said imagination, or I’m a secret exhibitionist! Or maybe I should have listened to my friends, who without elaboration told me that it was very daring to wear them to the beach. I guess I also misinterpreted daring.

So here’s the scene. Beautiful, warm, late summer day. The cool blue waters – relatively calm for a change – at Tamarama beach. Me swimming – okay, thrashing about – in the crystal clear surf, ducking and weaving through waves and around legs. Standing up in waist deep water, feeling refreshed and invigorated, I headed for the beach.

It took me a minute to realise that everybody was staring at me as I walked from the surf and up the beach towards my towel. Was that a wolf whistle? Following the line-of-view of those closest to me, I glanced down. OMG whose cock was that! For a second, I was taken aback! Taking a second look down, I was confronted by the sight of my fully exposed, wet-nylon-clad cock and balls parading themselves for all to see. Aiding the spectacle, the long nylon cords, left dangling outside the briefs, spread themselves over each side of the shaft, framing it in a way that any porn mag would have been proud of, leading the eye down to my balls. The final hard-core porn moment involved gravity and the weight of dripping water, which was pulling the waist down just low enough to expose a tradie arse-crack at the rear, and a hint of my pride and joys – copper red pubes at the front!

Hands flapped! I mean what do you do with your fucking hands under these circumstances? Clutch them over my privates and pretend nothing was happening? A bit melodramatic and prudish, even for me! Put them on my hips and flaunt it? A quick hip gyration? Oh, that is just sick! Do a bit of I’m-a-little-teapot? I settled for the big girly quean swish, then flounced my way towards my towel. Nothing like flaunting the obvious! I noted a few sly smiles amongst the observers; others wanting to look but trying to be discreet about it; some tongue-tip poking and lip-licking; the sudden deafening roar of a thousand whispers…pssst pssst, titter titter! And yes, that was a wolf whistle! From my peer group I sort of found it flattering; however from the group of older guys en-route it was a bit creepy.

Yet, despite the mix of glances, the snickers and my total embarrassment at being so totally exposed, I found it all quite…erotic and exciting! A public display of not just cock – but my cock! I don’t need to remind you that these swim briefs are not discreet at the best of times, so getting an erection in them is putting on quite a show for everyone, especially when wet. It started erecting about half way back to my towel – was that another wolf whistle? – and by the time I reached it and threw myself on my stomach, it was in full, manly bloom. The looks I got from the older brigade at that stage were nothing short of drooling lasciviousness. Any hope of retaining dignity was out the window at the speed of light. Lying on my stomach, I suddenly realised that now my butt – pert, so I had been told – was on full display through wet moulded nylon for all to gaze upon – jealously, I hoped. The older brigade would be having conniptions by now! That image killed it. if my pert butt was to be gazed upon, it had to be by pert-butt-looking young men, not overweight perverts! Jumping up, I gathered the remains of my dignity, pulled my shorts on, grabbed my bag and towel, and to the sound of heartfelt applause – fled!
But there always has to be one last comment doesn’t there, and it had to come from the wizened ancients. “Nice arse, sweetie!”, folliwed by – you guessed it – a wolf whistle.

The next summer, they went public under a pair of boardshorts.