Diving Deep

by Edward Raines

  Diving Deep

  Straight to Gay First Time MM

  Edward Raines

  Contents

  Mailing List

  Synopsis

  Diving Deep

  Also by Edward Raines

  Also by Edward Raines

  Also by Edward Raines

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Copyright 2021 Edward Raines. All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of art / fiction. Names, places, business, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or places is purely coincidental.

  Mailing List

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  Synopsis

  When Caleb joins the college freshman swim team, he realizes that he's in over his head. The closeted 18 year-old has inadvertently put himself in the middle of temptation, surrounded by taut, muscular college guys wearing nothing but tiny swim trunks.

  Hotshot swim captain Blake notices Caleb's bashfulness and decides to take the Freshman under his wing. Soon enough, Caleb will learn the ins and outs of "swim life." But the most important lesson of all that Caleb needs to learn, Blake decides, is how to release tension before each swim meet. It's only fitting that Blake be the one to teach him properly since, as Caleb will learn, he and the new recruit have much more in common than meets the eye.

  And soon enough, Caleb might just get to see more of his sexy new swim captain than he ever thought possible...

  Diving Deep

  I’ve always had a habit of biting my bottom lip when I’m nervous. And by the time I stepped into the freshman locker room for the Arvine University swim team on my very first day of college, I wondered how I’d had any lip left to chew.

  I ran a hand through my short blonde hair and just tried to ‘play it cool,’ really.

  As I passed by a few guys in the cramped concrete corridor that led to the locker rooms, I couldn’t help but wonder whether my inexperience and scared-shitless disposition had been as obvious to them as it felt. I’d finally made it into the locker room and immediately noted that the scent of chlorine from the pools somewhere nearby had permeated throughout the dressing area, which was actually more spacious than I’d expected.

  I took a deep breath and wandered toward a dimly-lit corner of the room. I set my big duffel bag down and thought, so this is it, this is college, and tried to relax myself from the ‘first day’ jitters that had plagued me since I’d left my dorm room that morning.

  Somehow I’d survived the day, at least up until this point. I’d survived the orientation classes and the massive, labyrinthine campus. And I’d even survived the seemingly judgmental glares and gazes of the older girls and guys who walked all around me on campus.

  I was a long way from my hometown; from the farmland-laden edges of Jefferson County.

  Sure, I was technically five-hundred miles away from home. But, more than that, the University itself was probably bigger than my entire city, if it could even be called that.

  I saw a large, robust statue in the center of the crowded campus green and I could only picture the dinky little grocery store back home; the statue was probably bigger than the grocery store. If not, it was certainly bigger than Larson’s tavern or Billy’s gas n’ go.

  And all day around campus, I could only fixate on just how in over my head I was there in the “big city.” I was just a country boy—a closeted country boy, at that. I knew I was in over my head. Sure, I had every right to be there on campus; I was even at Arvine thanks to a swim scholarship. Still, I wondered whether I’d make it through my first week alive; let alone my first semester.

  Matching the grandiosity of just about everything on campus, the swim team’s building was probably as big as my entire high school back home—an ode to the fact that everything in college was going to be much more epic than anything I was used to.

  And as I took a seat on the wooden bench in front of my locker, I reflected on the fact that being the best swimmer back home in Smithson, amounted to pretty much zilch now that I was in a big city and a big school. I was worried that everything I’d learned about swimming at Smithson High was going to prove completely useless when my new Coach got a hold of me.

  The Smithson swim team didn’t even have its own locker rooms or showers. It’s a fact that, in all honesty, always kind of relieved me. Because the truth is, I don’t know if I could have joined the swim team if it weren’t for the lack of ceremony and tradition in the swim program. I was never much for that. And, since our school didn’t have much of a budget for anything, we only had these cheap, awkwardly baggy swim-shorts to wear during our tournaments. Again, that relieved me more than anything.

  Why? Because, not only was I as horny as any other guy in school. But I had a wandering eye for my male teammates. And back in Smithson, it’s not the sort of thing you broadcast to everybody. So, the last thing I’d needed was a pair of those tiny, tight briefs you usually saw the swimmers wearing during meets. The other teams wore them during tournaments, but I did my best to avoid ever looking at them. That’s how I’d made it through those four years of school—that’s how I’d become the best swimmer in town, too. I didn’t have to worry about distractions much, thanks to the unorthodox, or maybe more better put ‘indifferent’ culture of our swim program.

  But then I went and did something majorly stupid. I found I had a talent for swimming; so much so, that I ended up best in the county. Sure, that’s not saying much in a county as sparsely populated as Jefferson. But it proved enough to land me a modest scholarship. And though I was reluctant to cash-in on the opportunity—far too afraid of what came with it—I knew I wanted to go to college. And more than anything, I wanted to get the hell out of Smithson. I wanted to see the city and I knew that sooner or later, my wandering eye was going to catch up with me. I didn’t want to be caught glancing at one of the farm boys’ bulges back home when it happened, either.

  And so, that’s how I found myself at college—taking the dive, so to speak. I sat down on the wooden bench in front of my new locker, there in the locker room that smelled of musk and chlorine; a product of four years of work, grit, and abstinence.

  And now, much to my misfortune, I was horny as fuck.

  Every guy that came into the locker room after me was attractive—all of them. And the more of them that came in, the more I spotted guys who weren’t just cute, but downright sexy; sexier than anybody I’d ever seen.

  I knew it was going to be a problem. And if I hadn’t known, the aching, stirring knots in the pit of my gut certainly would have given it away.

  I knew it was going to be this way, though. I’d planned for it. In fact, I’d try to consider just about every possibility, from passing out in front of the Coach to having some sort of wardrobe malfunction and my jeans and briefs being yanked off in front of the entire time.

  What I hadn’t considered, however, was the teensy-tiny pair of swim briefs that I found hanging in my locker, and hanging in every other swimmer’s opened lockers, as well. It was our uniform. Of course, I don’t know that there was even enough fabric to earn the term ‘uniform.’

  I hadn’t even noticed mine until a scorching-hot college boy with auburn hair that I’d been following with my eyes, reached into his locker and grabbed his trunks. My mind immediately drifted to an image of him wearing the skimpy, stretchy little yellow thing. I bit my lip as hard as I could and hoped to stifle the growing tension in my jeans.


  One by one, they all entered the locker room as I sat clutching the briefs in my hand and wondered how I was going to make it on the swim team, knowing that, not only would I have to wear such skimpy, tight and utterly revealing briefs, but I’d have to watch all these hot guys wearing the very same revealing briefs. One boner in these tight trunks and it was going to be painfully obvious which team I was “swimming” for.

  There was a few times where some of the other swimmers would look at me with a glance or even a lingering eye. I would blush slightly and feel on display, but deep down, I sort of liked the attention. Of course, I knew the attention was likely a product of my being new to the team, and not because all these hot college boys wanted to bone me as much as I’d wanted them to do so.

  “Hey,” one of them said, setting his bag down in the cubby beside mine. Instantly, my stomach turned to knots and my nerves kicked up a few gears.

  “How’s it going?” I returned, and turned my eyes up at the boy.

  He was tall and slender, as most everybody in that locker room had been. But he had wide shoulders and a towering physique that seemed obvious even in his t-shirt and athletic pants. He had neatly styled, short maple-brown hair that matched his eyes and seemed fitting for his slightly tanned complexion.

  “Blake,” he said, with a nod.

  “Oh, um, I’m Caleb,” I returned clumsily.

  “New meat, right?” He then said, with a tight and professional tone. With that, he pulled out his phone and began to scroll through it.

  “Um, sorry?” I said, confused.

  “You’re one of the new Freshmen on the team this year, yeah?” He reiterated, without looking at me.

  “Um, yeah, that’s right—how’d you know?” I asked. “Is it that painfully obvious?” I said, a touch insecure.

  “We only have two new guys on the team this year,” he said, turning his eye up towards me. “And, well, lucky guess,” he said.

  “Yo, Blake, what’s up?” One of the swimmers said. He was a tall, slender African-American who gave Blake a handshake and a warm, welcoming grin. Blake returned the gesture and turned to me. “Caleb, this is Roy; he’s the best on the team.” Blake’s lip rose with a cocky and playful smile.

  “He’s fucking with you,” Roy said. “He’s the best on the team; no wonder why he’s captain,” he continued.

  “New meat, huh?” Roy then said, turning his smoky-brown eyes toward me.

  “Um, yeah, I guess,” I shrugged. “Good to meet you,” I said. “I’m Caleb,” I added, almost forgetting to offer my name.

  “Well, Caleb, welcome to the team. You let me know if this one gives you any trouble; he’s been known to ride the freshman’s asses,” Roy grinned.

  I barely managed an affirming nod; I was far too busy picturing the Greek god who’d just taken a seat on the bench next to me.

  Roy then moseyed away. I watched him chat with and greet the other swimmers. He was just as handsome and charming as anybody else inside the locker room, and I couldn’t stop wondering whether he was hung or not by the way his athletic pants seemed to bulge in the front.

  “Heard a lot about you,” Blake said.

  “You have?” I said, turning my surprised eyes toward him.

  He nodded. “Coach said you were the best in your county. We’re all pretty decent here, but nobody else was ‘best in the county.’”

  “Oh, that,” I said. “It’s a small county,” I shrugged.

  “Jefferson County?” Blake said. “Nah, it’s pretty big,” he continued.

  How does he know what county it was? I thought, before assuring myself that he must’ve simply looked at my home address. It was probably listed on some roster sheet that the coaches and the captain had had access to.

  “Um, that’s right, Jefferson,” I said. I cocked my head and squinted, unable to help myself from prodding. “How exactly… did you know that?”

  “Because I’m from Jefferson County, too,” Blake said.

  My jaw would have fallen to the floor just then, if I hadn’t been so careful to practice perfect self-control from the moment I stepped foot on campus that week. I was wound tighter than a roll of tape but I knew at any moment it call all be undone.

  I must’ve broke character just a bit and cracked an incredulous grin, though, because Blake had a smile on his lips, too.

  “You’re messing with me,” I then said, fearing to be the butt of some Freshman prank.

  “No way,” Blake grinned. “I went to Ridgley High, in Mooresville,” he said.

  “Holy shit,” I blurted. “Wh—what year?” I asked, still in shock.

  “17’” he said.

  “Oh, well that makes a bit more sense,” I said. “Being class of ’21, and all, I was wondering why I’d never seen you at any of the tournaments.”

  “You wouldn’t have noticed me even if I’d been at any of them—I didn’t stand out too much back in High School,” Blake confessed.

  “I doubt that,” I muttered, nearly unable to keep myself from biting my lip and looking him up and down.

  I would have noticed you the moment I saw you in your tight little swim trunks and I wouldn’t have been able to take my eyes off your… Ok, stop it, Caleb, come on… I’m straight, as far as they’re concerned, I thought.

  My eyes continued locked with Blake’s, and every dirty thought in my mind left a tremor of fear that I might accidentally start saying what I was thinking. So, I quickly turned my eyes away and gave a quick, albeit nervous, chuckle.

  “Small world, huh?” Blake said.

  “So, you’re a senior?” I asked.

  Blake nodded. “I’ve been on the team for three years, now. This is my second as captain, though,” he explained.

  “So, you’re not really going to ride my ass, are you?” I said, with an awkward, silly smirk on my lips. It dissolved quickly it and I nervously chewed my lip when I realized that I’d said such a ridiculous thing.

  Blake stood like he was about to leave, but eyes remained downward, locked on mine. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” He said quietly, before starting toward the center of the locker room.

  “Ok, guys,” he shouted, trying to raise his voice above the noisy conversations and laughter. “Guys, let’s get seated and quiet for a minute,” he said, immediately commanding the attention and quiet respect of the rest of the swimmers.

  “Welcome to the new year of Arvine University Swim. As most of you already know, I’m the captain, Blake Samuels. If you have any issues or problems on the team, you come and speak to me, all right? Coach Thomas is going to be in shortly and then we’ll start our first practice of the new year,” Blake continued.

  This last revelation evoked a series of moans and scoffs from the lazy college boys. Blake laughed and shook his head. “I hope you’ve got more fight in you by the time we face Larson State next week,” he said, before clasping his hands together and turning his cool, brown eyes back toward me. They might as well have been pinwheels, mesmerizing me into them, as they zeroed-in on my inner-most thoughts and fantasies and seemingly saw straight into my deepest secrets.

  “We’ve got two new members to the team. I want you all to welcome Caleb Best,” Blake continued, motioning toward me. I blushed slightly and gave a nervous little wave to the dozens of boys who were jeering and launching their individual greetings towards me.

  “And we’ve got Eric Bonny,” he said, and motioned toward a teen with fiery red hair and freckles peppering his forehead and cheeks.

  The team, myself included, welcomed Eric just the same, and I was happy to have the attention taken off of me for a moment.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Blake’s confidence and poise. As he spoke, everybody in the locker room seemed to pay close attention; the banter and jocular restlessness that had pervaded the area had completely faded in the midst of Blake taking center stage. I felt myself in a sort of daze as he spoke. And it was only when the locker room gave a round of applause and a middle-aged
man with greyish-brown hair and a salt-and-pepper goatee took the floor, did I realize that Blake had left the room and our new Coach had replaced him.

  “I want to welcome Bonny and Best; I’ve heard a lot of good things about these two swimmers, and I’ll bet you both fit right in around here. Now, as you know…”

  As Coach Thompson began to speak, I admittedly zoned out, still far-too entrenched in thoughts and fantasies about Blake, the tall swimmer with the rock-hard body and cool, maple-brown gaze.

  I looked about for him but no luck. And by the time I was finished looking, Coach was already dismissing us.

  “Let’s hit the water and get ready to win against Larson!” he charged. The team applauded him, and I clumsily joined in, slapping my hands together a few times as he flashed a quick and disaffected grin toward me and started toward the exit.

  “I’ll see you all out there; Bonny and Best, you’re going to be working under Samuels to get a good feel for the routines around here. He’ll meet you out by the pool.”

  “Thanks,” I said, though I wasn’t sure whether he could hear me. And by the time I’d stopped replaying the encounter in my mind, I realized that the team was changing out of their clothes and into their swim shorts.

  I’d been caught completely off-guard by this. But I’d no excuse. I knew exactly what swimming was all about. And when I’d seen the skimpy little shorts in each of the locker spaces, I knew that the moment would happen sooner or later. I guess I hadn’t expected it to be so soon, though.

  I still had a half-hard cock in my jeans as I’d only just a moment ago stopped thinking about Blake ‘riding my ass.’ How was I supposed to fit inside the tight, stretchy swim-trunks? More importantly, how was I supposed to get naked in front of all these sexy college boys?