Im not going to tell you about Durex Play � even tho it most certainly IS worth telling you about. Instead, Im going to tell you what I did today.
Had to get up at middle-of-the-night o clock, had to sneak about so no one would find out, nearly chickened out a couple of times but I did it.
I
Went
Swimming
Yep. I did.
I haven�t had much luck finding suitable lessons. The public ones are at stupid times of the day � it appears it�s not possible to want to learn to swim AND to hold down a full-time job, and the private ones are just way out of my price-league (and also Im not really able to commit to a week-long residential course right now!). Im going to keep looking for some kind of structured learning programme but in the meantime�.
Treac has swimming lessons on Sunday mornings and I think I mentioned before that there is lane swimming in the main pool at the same time. I thought it might be an idea (as I haven�t even been in a pool for three or four years) just to have a little go, by myself, and see how I got on. At least then I can explain to any prospective instructor, my level of ability (or lack of!).
We got to the pool a bit early and even once we�d discussed which locker to use and discussed how far I might be able to swim without dying, we still had about twenty minutes before Treac�s lesson started. She suggested we bide our time in the leisure pool �which isn�t deep or scary, mummy, and its nice and warm�.
I hate public pools. They�re full of shrieking children, fat old people and teenagers trying to feel each other up.
Except early on Sunday mornings.
Early on Sunday mornings they are full of middle-class toddlers with water wings on.
And their daddies.
Their young daddies. Their young, middle class, healthy lifestyle, wholesome daddies. Their young, NEARLY NAKED DADDIES.
Everywhere I looked there were daddies. They were all young. They all had good muscle definition. Some of them were boyishly handsome. Some had �tribal� tattoos.
As the water is only about three foot deep, quite a lot of them were standing, helping little Tabitha and Josh as they splashed about.
The daddies didn�t crouch or flounder. They stood proud in their (mercifully!) waist high watery splendour. Rivulets of water ran through their chest hair. Each rivulet channelled down their abs and joined another. In slow motion the rivulets became a stream and the stream flowed over and around each daddies navel and snaked its way down their bellies, following the course of the line of hair disappearing into each daddie�s shorts.
I gulped.
I gawped.
I had to sit down.
Men�s bodies excite me. Not the Adonis, the Calendar Boy, the Male-Stripper. Just Men. I love the way they�re put together. The lines and curves that make them up. The smell of them (no aftershave required) is enough to make my knees buckle. Even if a man�s out of shape, his muscles soft, his skin no longer taut � I find beauty in them all. The level of fetid decrepitude necessary for me to find no redeeming feature in a man�s body is so high as to count out only the very worst specimens; Leo McKern, John McCrirrick, Tom Cruise. I find excitement in the strangest things: the way a forearm muscle tenses when a man makes a fist � even if he�s only gripping the handle of a mug of tea, the tendons and sinews in his neck when he turns his head, a butt-cheek just crying out for a squeeze, a glimpse of my new boss� stomach as he reached up to a high shelf (oh, Im going straight to hell for that one!).
I love Men.
Treac and I went to sit in the Jacuzzi. Just as I was gathering my composure, a pair of muscled legs appeared on the steps at the side of me. I looked away as the shorts followed the legs but when I looked back he was in the water, his baby daughter bobbing by the side of him in a ducky rubber-ring.
It was all I could do to not bite him. His biceps, his shoulders, his nipples. He was smiling and playing with his little girl and I was lusting.
THEN ANOTHER ONE GOT IN!
Darker and stockier than the first � the beginnings of some love handles making me have to sit on my hands to stop me from grabbing � he sat down and chatted amiably to the first one, sitting close enough that I could get an eyeful of TWO chests (FOUR NIPPLES!), four biceps, and shoulders and hands, without even having to turn my head. I couldn�t have turned my head. I was transfixed.
I think I said �fuck�. I hope I said it under my breath.
The level of the jacuzzi went up by two or three inches. Id like to think it was because Love Handle Daddie sat down. But it may have been my drool.
Treac said �Mummie, the big hand�s on the six.� And we had to get out. Its probably just as well.
We went through to the big pools, one for Treacle�s lesson and one set out for lane swimming. I had a quick look along the rows � Fast Lane � Fast lane � Medium Lane�.there didn�t seem to be a lane for �half a dozen strokes in no recognisable style and then retire to the leisure pool to gawp at some more daddie-totty�, so I got in the first lane. It was double width and there were about six people in it (average age 973) so I figured they wouldn�t be going very quick or making too much splash.
Goggles on and a little push away from the side�.my weedy breaststroke, my lack of technique, my fear of drowning/splashes/veruccas�..the water was colder than the leisure pool (or maybe it was my libido making the Jacuzzi boil) but I kept going�.Phew! Im at the other end.
The. Deep. End.
There�s no steps to get out.
Got
To
Swim
Back.
Had a little silent weep to myself as this would surely be my last act on earth. I have never swum more than a length. Ever. In my life. Figured if I stayed fairly close to the side the lifeguard wouldn�t have to lean too far over with the hooky-pole thing to fish out my lifeless blue corpse and so, I started off. Passed a fat old lady going the other way. Not a single hair on her head was wet, not even the bit right at the bottom at the back. Astonishing. Did a few more strokes and passed a barrel chested man doing backstroke � his stomach right out of the water. Did a few more strokes thinking about the kids TV show Noah�s Island�.. dunno what made me think of that. A couple more strokes � passed a mother and daughter combo. I knew they were mother and daughter; same orange peel faces, same turquoise Miss Mary of Sweden cozzies, same lugubrious breaststroke. And they were bickering. Whilst swimming.
I was concentrating on not dying and they were sniping at each other about whether �Our Dave� really should do more instead of leaving it to Tricia and Wendy.
Hold on! Im back in the shallow end! I did another length!
Had a little rest and got my breath back. I could see the learner�s pool and could see Treacle, chatting to her little friends and larking about with the instructor.
I figured I�d just carry on for a bit and see what I could manage � just taking it slow and promising myself Id get out the VERY SECOND I�d had enough.
I DID EIGHT LENGTHS
Never, never, never, ever did I think I could swim eight lengths. That�s 200 metres or about an eighth of a mile! How the FUCK did I do THAT!
After the eighth one I was pretty tired so I got out and went for a shower. Id only been in the pool for 20 minutes.
The shower was astonishingly hot � each drop was like a tiny pinch. That, my success in the pool, the nearly-naked daddies��so full of the joy of it and the stingingly hot water with a shower-head that was so easy to direct�. that I may have stayed in the little cubicle a little longer than strictly necessary. *looks sheepish*
Some bits of me were very VERY clean when I got out. Ahem.
When I got back home, BF and Jooj had got up (fairly recently, I think, as there was still plenty of coffee left!). I looked at BF.
�Ive been swimming�
*smiling* �Fucking hell! Have you?�
�Yes. I did 8 lengths.�
�Fucking Hell! Good for you!�
He came over and put his arms around me. I smelled tobacco and coffee and soap and warm boy-flesh. My hand on his chest tensed slightly. I know every sinew, every muscle, every inch of flesh on this body.
And I love it.
S
X
PS BF just came into the studio. He�s just got out of the shower and is wearing a towel in the King Tut style. There was a waft of Yves St Laurent Jazz. He was holding an apple and a packet of Hula Hoops and he asked me a question about the childrens packed lunches.
I couldn�t answer. Mostly because my mouth was hanging open and drool was coming out. He said �What?� I shook my head. �Nothing�. He�s so gonna get it later.
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