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I never told anyone that my high school swim team coach molested me. I grew up in a midsized city that felt very small town. The kind of place where it doesn't take long for rumers to spread.
I joined the team when i was a freshman. During practice one day i got a really bad cramp. A couple of girls had to help me stay above the water and get me to the side of the pool. The muscles on the back of my left thigh locked up and I couldn't straighten my leg.
The coach and asst coach got me out and carried me into the locker. There was a room to one side that had a padded table in it. My coach closed the door and stayed with me. I remember it hurt so bad i was crying.
She massaged my leg and it started to feel better. I didn't notice until most of the pain was gone that she was running her fingers under the bottom of my swimsuit and she would brush her hand between my legs as she was massaging me.
When I could mostly move my leg she had me turn over. I was shivering from being on the cold table. She said something about getting me out of my cold wet swimsuit. Before i could react she was pulling it down my shoulders and off. I didn't know what to do. I just laid there. It felt like forever before she coverd me with a towel.
She started massaging my leg again and brushing up aginst me between my legs. She asked me if it felt good. I don't think I said anything.
I had never been touched there by someone. I remember her talking as she moved her hand between my legs. She put her other hand under the towel and touched my breasts. I'd masterbated before but this was different. I had an orgasim unlike anything I had ever given myself.
By the time there was a knock at the door she had given me another one and had her finger inside of me and knew i was still a virgin. She covered me back up and opened the door. She told the asst-coach that she must have locked it by mistake.
When we were alone again she helped me off the table she squeezed my butt and told me to keep this our little secret. Sometimes she had me do things to her. She was my first kiss. The older i got the more i hated her for taking those first experiences.
I started to notice others girls ended up in that room with her and the way we look at each other like we knew what was going on we just didnt say it.
A few years later she got fired and left town. No one really knew what happened but there were rumors. Small town USA loves a good gossip story.
I guess i had just blocked all this out. I knew it was real I just ignored it. Then about a month ago I got a friend request on Facebook. It was her, and everything flooded back in. I felt like that scared exposed 14 year old little girl. This all happened in 1983. Far too late to do anything about. Part of me wants to tell her actions effected my life. The other part of me is terrified to say anything at all.
#teacher #student #molestation #fear #silence
It was 1978, and I was ten years old. I was what used to be known as a 'poindexter'...a small, bookish boy who knew more about the inside of a public library than I did a public park. This fact was not pleasing to my father who wanted a strong, manly man to carry on the family name.
So it was that summer that my dad tried to 'man me up'. He enrolled me in every junior sports league available in our small town... and I failed miserably at all of them. Finally, in desperation, he signed me up for swimming lessons at the YMCA. He told me stories of his days swimming at the'Y', naked men and boys cavorting together in the pool. I think he hoped that my seeing other males with masculine physiques would inspire me to utilize the gym facilities there and 'bulk up' before I hit puberty.
I think it actually disappointed him that they no longer allowed nude swimming, but he still had hopes that I'd somehow blossom into the manly child he longed for.
That first session was truly an eye opener for me. It was the first time I'd ever been naked in any way that might have been considered public and it was the first time I'd ever seen anyone else naked... EVER! I was actually startled with how quickly and easily my burly father stripped down in front of total strangers when he'd never even gone around in his boxers at home. And I was equally shocked at the wide range of males casually strolling through the locker room naked... even some of the younger kids engaged in horseplay in the nude inside the shower room.
I slowly undressed, hiding as best I could behind my now totally naked father and quickly pulled my thin swimming trunks up while drinking in this smorgasbord of naked man-flesh. I felt something stirring in me alright, but it was not a passion for working out or sports of any kind!
I followed my father out to the pool and he arranged for a lifeguard to help teach me to swim. Is actually surprised that the teacher who came to me was none other than Mr. Anderson, my quiet, still single piano teacher.
The first thing I noticed about Mr. Anderson was how much younger he looked out of his usual frumpy white shirt and bow tie. Also, he was thin, but muscular. The last thing I noticed was that unlike everyone else's swim trunks... he wore bright red underwear-style swim briefs. I'd never seen anything like it before! And since he'd already been in the pool, he was soaking wet which made those small briefs cling to the gentle curve of his crotch, which in my newly discovered sexual awakening, seemed to bulge out to enormous proportions!
"Hi, Greg!" Mr. Anderson smiled and waved at me, noticing how I shyly ducked behind my father like a shield.
My father pushed me out front like an eagle forcing it's young from the nest, "He's never been swimming before. I think he's just scared." The adults shared a good natured chuckle at my expense while I struggled to breathe passed the lump that had formed in my throat.
Mr. Anderson bent over and patted my shoulder, "Nothing to be scared of, Greg. You conquered Chopin, you'll conquer this!"
Evidently, I had little choice. But under Mr. Anderson's tutaledge I soon mastered my fear of swimming and even learned to dog paddle...in the shallow end. That first hour seemed to fly by, and I found myself loving the intimate touches of Mr. Anderson's hands on my stomach, thighs, and buttocks. I was actually sorry that our session ended and we headed back to the locker room together.
My father was already in the shower room... naked... and was rinsing out his trunks when we walked in. Mr. Anderson paused under one of the open shower heads and peeled out of his tight, wet suit. "Hey, champ. You need to rinse the chlorine out of your hair and suit!" He turned around and grabbed my arm before I could duck out into the main changing area.
I stopped, frozen in my tracks! There in front of me was my piano teacher and swim instructor in all his glory!! The sight of his shaved body, heavy balls and long cock tucked under a thick bush of curly black hair seared itself into my prepubescent mind! I couldn't move! I felt sure I stood there gawking at his naked tool for what seemed an eternity, but when he turned back and started the shower head next to his, I realized it had only been a few seconds.
"Here, use the shower next to mine. I'll show you how to rinse your suit real good." I gulped... probably too loudly, and timidly untied the drawstrings of my nylon swim trunks. It must have been the slowest disrobing in the history of man. It felt like forever as I pulled this clinging shorts down and stepped out them. I felt mesmerized by the slow swinging of Mr. Anderson's crotch as he finished rinsing his briefs and began to lather up with soap from the wall dispenser.
I stood like a naked statue under the water spray holding my trunks in front of me like a shield. I'd never had an erection before. It sort of hurt, but it felt good at the same time. But whatever it was, it wasn't normal, and I was very embarrassed about it.
When Mr. Anderson reached fit my trunks, I know he saw my very stiff pecker, but he never said a word. Instead, he launched patiently into instructing me on how to rinse my shorts and wring them out before hanging them on the washcloth hook. Then he helped me wash my hair, making sure I scrubbed that chlorine out so my hair didn't turn green.
After that we washed our bodies while we talked about swimming, the fall piano recital, and the new school year. I guess sometimes during that casual conversation, my reading erecting subsided and I relaxed considerably around Mr. Anderson.
My father has already finished showering and was half dressed as he talked with some older men about business... or golf... or whatever older men talked about. I noticed many men not seeming to be in any hurry to dress and leave. In fact some served to be lounging on the benches in the nude charging with whomever came by.
I left Mr. Anderson at his locker, nearer the showers and headed back to my father's locker and my clothes. Dad asked me how the lesson went, but I was only half listening. I was watching Mr. Anderson as he dried himself, especially his crotch, and talked with some of the men who were hanging out nude at the shower end of the locker room. With all the bodies milling around, I couldn't be sure, but it looked like one of the men near Mr. Anderson actually touched his cock and fondled his balls. Could I be jealous about that? I'd never been jealous like this before.
I sulked about it all the way home in the back jump seat of the family station wagon. I fumed and seethed internally through supper, and while I brushed my teeth. After watching the Rockford Files, I headed to bed and felt very rebellious. I decided I wouldn't wear my pyjamas and would sleep in my white y front briefs instead.
But I couldn't sleep. The more I tried to be angry at Mr. Anderson for something I didn't even know had happened, the more I thought about his naked body, and his long cock and heavy balls. And soon, that strange feeling can't over me again, and I felt another erection coming on.
Gingerly, I reached under the chenille covers and inside my underwear. I touched my small, aching cock for the first time and felt the electric shock as it twitched wildly with a mind of its own! I was so scared! I knew nothing of masturbating, but I felt like I had done something so bad, I immediately pulled my hand clear and turned over to cry in my pillow. I swore as I drifted asleep that I'd never touch my penis again. But sleepy promises are soon broken. But that may be a take for another confession.
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