A Swimmer’s Tale

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Every girl’s magazine will tell you that masturbation is normal. They are aimed at young girls, but for me it was all a lot of words. I am now 24 and I only masturbated for the first time when I was 20. Not many people believe me, but it is entirely true.

Perhaps it was because I lived in a small city, about an hour by train from Sydney, which was just large enough to have its own full-size swimming pool. Perhaps it was because my folks were very keen for me to do all the right things. I did music and sciences and art and ballet, but the only thing I really, really loved was swimming.

From the age of 11 onwards I started going to the pool every week and it became my second home. At that age it is almost impossible to swim properly, muscles are not developed well enough. But soon I got older and got bigger muscles and before long I was in school competitions and then state finals.

It was when I turned 18 that I thought of actually making a career from swimming. This essentially means that you aim for national and (pray to God) international stardom, such as in the Commonwealth games or the Olympics. That goes on throughout your 20s and then when you get too ‘old,’ you go into sport promotions or coaching.

I was 18 that I had to make the big decision, because I had to decide between college or full-time swimming. Full-time swimming means 4, 5, 6 hours a day in the pool plus working out in a gym. There is no time for that as well as College.

I chose swimming, partly because I felt I wasn’t smart enough for College and also because I was socially under-confident. To be honest, I have always been shy, and being by myself in the pool was one way to feel good about myself. The other swimmers were great friends, very close friends, and there was none of that bitchiness that you get when girls sometimes get together.

The other thing that put me off going to College too was the whole mixing-with-boys bit. Now that I am 24, and my hair has grown out, boys find me attractive. But at the time I had very short hair. It was dark blonde and very short, sometimes so short that it was spiky. It’s the only practical thing to do when you swim every day, as swimming caps never work all the time.

My shoulders were also broader than most guys, and my breasts were (and are) small. From the chest up, the broad shoulders and flat chest makes me look a bit boyish, so most guys felt I was some sort of butch lesbian anyway. I am bisexual, actually, but a feminine bi.

During my 18th and 19th years, I swam almost every day. There were four of us at the pool, sometimes five or six, and we swam every day together. I am now a swimmer for my country in international competitions which I am very proud of but I know you really want to hear about my first masturbation!

During those two years I showered almost every day with four women with beautiful bodies. We would get to the pool at 5.30am and swim till 7.00am. This was the central core training, the absolute minimum we had to do to look at being competitive swimmers. Sometimes one of the girls would swim and go to work afterwards, but if they did it was to earn the minimum amount necessary to support themselves, then become unemployed and swim full-time.

We showered at the end of each swim, on the tick of 7.00am we would leave the pool and make our way for the showers. It was something to look forward to, and also the pool started filling up with ‘amateurs’ who only swam for 30 minutes or so before work.

As we were the first in the showers, the water was sometimes cold. The four of us would scream at the top of our voices as the cold water in our bodies! I don’t know why, but it actually doesn’t feel as bad if you scream. It never occurred to me at the time but, thinking back, we had really hot bodies. We were slim, of course, although some of us (like me) had very broad shoulders. Our legs were slim as there was little fat, not like most girls’ thighs. But although they were slim, the muscles would move underneath our thighs.

There are three ways to tell a swimmer’s thighs. If it is side-on, the front of her thigh will be pronounced, and there will be that line down the thigh between the front of the thigh and the back. The second way is that she will have big calf muscles, although girls who cycle have that as well. The third way is that if you see a girl’s body full on and she is naked or wearing very short shorts, there is the line of muscle inside her thighs, so there is almost a dip when her thighs meet her pelvis.

Each of the girls in the shower, even when there were 6 of us, shaved our pubes. I have no idea why. Partly, of course, it was easy to avoid bikini line, but as we all wore one-piece suits it wasn’t a major problem. Perhaps there was bahis firmaları some sort of superstition about not wanting body hair to act as a ‘drag’ in the water and slow us down! Even some guys shave their legs and chest before a major swim so that their body hair doesn’t slow them down – I feel it is nonsense, of course, but it’s a pool superstition.

Amazing, isn’t it, how a (now) horny bi girl like me could shower with those beautiful girls for two years and, I swear to God, I never had a horny thought.

Perhaps it was just physical exhaustion. After swimming 90 minutes in the morning, I would go home and have breakfast. The 90 minutes was a regular swim, just to wake up. The exercise and the adrenaline and the endorphins were addictive. If I didn’t swim for two days in a row I would become extremely edgy. Breakfast would be followed by helping mum around the house or just watching tv, and then I would be back, but this time at the gym.

Swimmers need to work out in the gym because there are muscles which need particular attention. When you can swim for more than an hour, you can go on for ever. But that wont help in competition. Even if it is a long race, such as the 1500 meters, you have to swim fast, and that can only help by building up muscles in addition to the swimming.

The gym at the YWCA meant a fast, hard work-out. Sometimes I would do a cycle of weights or exercises and finish completely in an hour. Two or three of the girls I saw in the morning I would see in the gym just before lunch. By this time we would be starving, but we would work out anyway, looking forward to lunch.

Working out in the gym with these sexy girls wasn’t sexual for me either. Perhaps this was due in part to the way we dressed. To work-our properly, you have to wear long jogging bottoms, and preferably a long-sleeved sports’ top. A proper work-out means lots of sweat, and its impolite to sweat on machines that another person will use in a few minutes after you have finished.

In the gym there are a few muscle groups that you have to pay attention to.

The main ones I guess are the inner thighs. The legs are what does most of the work, and the muscles at the back and front of the thighs get worked out enough in the pool. The best machine for the inner things, therefore, is that machine where you sit with your legs wide apart, with a press on the inside of each thigh, and then you press your legs together.

You would have thought that if anything would draw my attention to that part of my body, it would be this exercise. I was a serious athlete, so I would sit there for 10 or 15 minutes, pressing my legs together so that the metal presses clinked each other, and then let the weights force my legs apart, but in a slow, controlled manner. I loved the feeling of the stretching of the muscles of my inner thighs.

Sooner, my things would begin to ache, but I would push on. I would begin to perspire, first between my legs, and then this would roll down so that I would feel it as a little pool underneath my bum.

As body heat built up, my feet would sweat, and that was followed by my underarms. Apart from religiously shaving our pubes, we also kept our underarms completely free of hair. Exposing your pits is pretty essential for a swimmer, so we become use to keeping that area hair free.

Having hair-free pits means, however, that when even the smallest bit of sweat builds up there is no hair to absorb it, so it ran down the insiders of our bodies, sometimes tickling slightly as it reached the side of my breasts.

At last the thigh presses would be over, and then the next major groups of muscles is the pecs. Most girls have pecs (chest muscles) so well developed that they wear a bra size larger (sometimes two) than they would have to if they had normal muscles. As I had small breasts, you can imagine that without my swimmer’s muscles I would have been completely flat!

You probably know the machine used for this. Its where you sit with the back very straight, and you put your arms out at the side, with the arms at right angles. You then bring them together so that your forearms meet together.

I don’t want you to get the idea that all of this exercise was hard boring work. We spent a lot of time just getting out of heads on exercise and laughing. So it was with the pec deck that we would sit around using the machines at the same time, challenging each other to see how many times we could bring our forearms together.

‘One! Two! Three! Four!’ We would say aloud, each trying to shout louder than the other. We would do the first 10 or so really quickly, to see who could reach 10 first. Totally, totally, a bad idea, as that is how injuries happen, but hey, it was fun!

Coming up to 20 we would kaçak iddaa slow down. 21….22….23…..muscles were straining and sweat would poor down my underarms. I would see my own breasts, as well as the breasts of the girls opposite, push out and withdraw with each repetition on the machine. My nipples, too, would become erect. The moistness between my legs caused by the sweat, as well as my swollen nipples would be the closest that my body would come to being sexually excited. Swollen nipples are just a reaction to hard exertion, and although all of our nipples were erect, it didn’t mean we were excited. It happens after every swim as well, and guys get erections immediately after a hard swim.

After our work-out, it was into the showers again. This time it was more along the lines of a quick wash with water. This is because having used a lot of soap in the morning to get rid of the chemicals from the pool, we didn’t want to completely ruin our skin by using even more soap. As we went into the showers covered in sweat, and we didn’t use soap, I hate to think how we sometimes smelt afterwards. Wearing lots of deodorant is always a good idea.

Rushing for lunch was a must! By this time our bodies were SO hungry. We would eat enormous amounts of food at lunchtime. When we were working out and swimming really hard, it wouldn’t be unusual for me to have a plate of baked potatoes (a whole plate) before a regular lunch.

It’s funny how we feel that we are sophisticated human beings with sophisticated minds, but our bodies have real, powerful drives that demand to be satisfied. At lunch time my eyes would glance across the cafeteria at the YWCA, selecting what my body needed. It was totally intuitive. Mostly it would be pure carbs, potatoes and more potatoes, but sometimes it would be carrots, or greens or lots of yoghurt.

We would sit and ache, the four of us usually, shoveling down the food. No wonder none of us had boyfriends! We would chat for ages, stand up slowly from the table (bodies aching) and then go our separate ways.

For me, at least, this meant getting home at 3.00pm-ish, and then my body would collapse on my bed – if I got that far – or on the sofa in front of the tv. Body would demand sleep, and sleep is what it got. A slow wake-up and another swim at the pool, a meal at home, 60 minutes of tv and that was the end of my day.

Perhaps that is why I never thought of masturbating, or even had sexual feelings. Did I mention – perhaps it is really not necessary – but I was still a virgin at 20. Yep, it was late for me.

The routine of swimming, gym, sleep, swimming, meant that my body was almost constantly sore. I perhaps over did it, as it is a little bit more enlightened to let the body rest at least a day in between workouts. I guess it was the social thing of the four of us doing it together that kept up the pace. And we would only not work-out when the four of us traveled to go to a swimming competition.

It was at such a competition (just the Sydney Olympics, actually!) when I was 20, that my first masturbation happened.

The four of us got tickets through contacts, and arranged to stay at a hotel. It was a fantastic hotel, double beds for each of us with en suite bathrooms, with showers that never ran out of hot water. It was arranged for us by the Sydney Olympic Committee. I can’t tell you how excited we were. To see all those swimming greats, people we knew the names of but had never seen them in the flesh. To see them swim was fantastic. It was the best time ever. And to fantasize that one day we might be actually competing!

The first day, the second day, the third day, went in a flash. We were just so spaced out it was unbelievable.

It was the night of the fourth day that I was incredibly restless. There was nothing on (swimming-wise) that morning, so we slept in. We were pretty tired anyway with all the excitement so we caught up on lack of sleep and met at lunch. We then saw some swimming, had an early dinner, and we all went back to our rooms.

I sat on the large, comfy arm-chair, wearing fairly practical black panties and a nightdress. The nightdress (dare I say it?) was pretty short and had the Sydney Olympic logo across the front. I was half slumped down the comfy chair, watching my legs open and close rapidly in nervous energy, and almost between my knees I watched tv.

Not being a great watcher of tv, I got bored. My body screamed out for some sort of exercise, it had now been four days without it! My finger flicked the remote, which flicked the channels, and nothing much was on.

I saw a channel that I never saw at home. It was a porn channel. There was a warning on the screen that said that if you go past this point, then the viewer might see material kaçak bahis which could offend.

The first thing I saw was pretty in-your-face. It was a woman who was being taken from behind. There were no close up, except for her face and then his face and back to her face. There was no penis-in-pussy shots, but it was pretty obvious that is what was happening. I had literally never seen anything like that before.

I watched it for about two minutes and switched off the tv. I was horny. Pretty much the first time in my life, but because it was the first time I didn’t really know what the feeling was. It didn’t feel as if there was sexual excitement between my legs, it was more like a general excitement all over my body. Almost as if I had been exercising. I decided to go to bed and took a shower.

I was having a long shower. If it were only the images, then I wouldn’t have masturbated. The image of the woman’s face came back to be again and again: the way her neck was stretched, how her mouth was open, the movement of her breasts each time the man behind her thrust forward. Her long thighs, not muscled, but slim and soft. Then there was his body, the tightness of his stomach as he forced himself into her, the muscles on his arms as he held her still, and the moans of both of them. The images were more real than the bathroom as I continued with the shower.

As there was an endless supply of hot water, I washed my hair, and spent ages and ages rubbing my scalp. Even still, that is a favorite feeling of mine. I showered normally, but for some reason felt that I had to wash between my legs again. That horny meant that I had to wash it perhaps says something about sexual guilt!

I sat on the side of the bath, with my legs apart. I had taken the shower head down from the wall, and turn the power up high. On reflection, I was obviously going to masturbate, but I didn’t know it at the time. I soaped the almost non-existent pubic hair, and then the inside of my thighs. Then I soaped between my legs.

I rubbed my hand over myself. I wanted to make sure that I was clean. Wanted to make sure that I would be clean for bed. It was important to make sure I was clean. And I rubbed and rubbed. I hadn’t yet quite worked out the difference between touching my clitoris, or touching to the side, or on my lips with my fingers or on my lips with the flat of my hand. I just washed and washed.

The force of the shower was the strongest now, and I used it to wash the soap away. It felt fantastic, of course, but I didn’t tell myself that it was a sexual feeling at the time because I didn’t know what sexual feelings were.

My mouth opened. My God it was so hot. I opened my legs wider and wider, stretching the muscles along the insides of my thighs. I changed hands, and with one hand I held the shower head on myself, while with the other I started touching and feeling. I fumbled on top of, to the side of, my clitoris. I didn’t know what to do, but the touching fingers felt fantastic.

The thoughts that ran through my mind was that it was important to make sure that I was clean. I pushed the shower head closer and closer, moving it quickly, so that it stimulated me more.

The feeling, whatever it was, became more and more intense. I have read that it is unusual for a girl to orgasm the first time she masturbates, such that some girls aren’t quite sure what an orgasm is. But with me there was no doubt. The feeling became more and more intense, the tension building in my pelvis, around my bottom inside me and outside me, around my vagina and inside it.

The orgasm came when my eyes were closed and my mouth was open, imagining the woman being taken on the porn channel. The orgasm was so intense that I almost slipped from the side of the bath, and I was a little scared that I had hurt myself, simply from having such a strong orgasm.

I reacted the same way that I have done every since. The moment I climax I just flop, like a guy, and the idea of sex seems almost repulsive. Then two or three minutes later I am getting horny again, often on the way to another orgasm. That night, I moved myself to chair in front of the tv. I placed a towel underneath myself, and masturbated again more normally. I learnt that I love to climax with a finger, or something else, inside of me. The way that my finger is gripped and squeezed as I climax is very hot.

That night I also discovered that I give out a lot of moisture when I become aroused, and also when I climax. I also discovered the importance of using quite a lot of pressure on my nipples: soft butterfly kisses do little for me, but I need much firm nipple touching. I also discovered that unlike a lot of girls, it seems, I have more of a visionary imagination, and seeing sex or imagining seeing sex is very erotic for me.

Since then, of course, I have masturbated a lot over the last four years, as well as had sexual partners. As the girls’ magazines would say, I have a lot of lost time to make up for.

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