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.
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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
