College Nylon Speedo Locker Room Days

Not sure if anyone is reading this except me....I guess this is good therapy or something so I might as well keep rambling on incase somebody does eventually look at it.

     So, moving on with my teenage nylon interest, I had discovered that guys could legitimately wear nylon tricot (2 layers that even slid together) and not get the crap beaten out of them!  Wow!  Wear 2 nylon tricot panties in private and you're a fucking pansy pervert and wear a double nylon Ocean Champion suit in public and you're a swimmer.  Well, I kind of liked both so I became a panty pansy public swimmer--but always in nylon.  A teenager with raging hormones and nylon tricot and forget the every other day former jerk off rule, more like 3 times a day when I was wearing nylon--which stared to be more and more.

     My first major crush was in 10th grade and he was only on the swim team a short while.  Of course I had snagged his suit before he left.  He also wore JCP blue dash briefs (later the blue/gold ones) that always drove me crazy when he bent over.  He was a MAJOR prick tease and knew how to drive me crazy.  We were also in band together and he's sit next to me on bus trips and lean over a lot and push his elbow into my crotch.  I'd be hard in about 30 seconds and no one could see under our baggy uniforms.  He'd push and rub my hard on all the time and sometimes I'd do it to him.  One time we were camping and I was rubbing my hard on against him through our nylon sleeping bags.  When I took my hand out to feel his ass directly through his sleeping bag while we pretended to be asleep, he punched me in the face.  The next day he was rubbing his knee into my hard crotch but I was afraid to say or do anything.  It's like he wanted to be in control of driving me crazy, but I wasn't allowed to follow through or escalate anything.  Fucker.  So I had my own way of getting even.  When his family would go to church on Sunday mornings (and no one locked their back doors), I would sneak into his house.  Both he and his brother wore JCP briefs, but his brother's were much larger so I always knew which ones were his.  I got into a rotation where I would take his worn briefs out of the hamper and sometimes replace them with mine.  I'd even make a little mark on the back elastic seam.  When he'd bend over to flash his briefs at me,  sometimes I'd see my mark and know that I had shot my load into them at some point or they were my briefs.  I know, kind of pathetic, but at 15 it was a big deal.  He moved away by my senior year and I never heard from him again.  Just as well or I might have been driven crazy by him.  Oh yeah, his mom missed a couple of good panties once in awhile, too.

     By the time I got to college and had ventured into being a lifeguard, W.S.I. and even played intramural water polo, I had discovered the sacred holy land of the swim team locker room.  It was more of an alcove area off  a side lobby area of the main, huge locker room.  There were even 2 large pools that shared this same locker room.  EVERY guy wore a nylon Speedo.  There were still a few other brands like Gulbenkian, Adolph Kiefer, Hart, and Ocean Champion, but all of them were 100% nylon tricot and all of them turned me on.  Guys would wear them to workout in or hang out in or lifeguard in.  Just watching the way that nylon moved over their asses when they walked or the way it cupped their balls with their dickhead showing above was amazing.  Anyway, the first time I just happened to walk into the swim team locker area (with my heart beating super fast again), I saw dozens and dozens of nylon suits in their lockers.  The average swimmer must have had 7 or 8 nylon suits hanging there--all of them looking really silky and waiting for a big and frequent load from me.  Of course, people left their houses unlocked, but their Speedos all had a combination lock on them.  The lockers were all made from that diamond shaped expanded steel mesh.  I could see all those silkies hanging there but I couldn't touch them--or could I?  I noticed that a few of the guys had hung their suits by sticking a little of the thin nylon into the metal mesh from the inside.  I thought even if I could get a little feel off them I'd be happy.  So I pulled hard on a suit and I was able to pull the whole suit right through the mesh and into my hand!  It was so silky and had just a hint of chlorine smell.  My heart (and cock) were about to explode so I took the suit home----and you know...

     Well, like with any drug, once tasted you want/need more.  So I went back a few days later and sure enough, there were a few more suits hanging that way.  Probably hadn't missed it or maybe dropped it somewhere?  No I'm the one who dropped it--several loads worth into that silky nylon rubbing on my cock.  So I pulled a few more suits that were available the same way. I don't think gold bars would have made me any happier.  The fear of being caught, the thrill of grabbing a nylon suit, and the excitement of being able to smell, taste, and feel their silky nylon was amazing at age 19 or 20.  Part of my guilt for stealing was that I was "rescuing" them from a sure,  slow death by chlorine, I obviously appreciated them more than they did, and they mostly got them for free anyway.  Well, they must have noticed that someone was taking their suits because towels stuck into the mesh from the inside now protected the view and there more no more suits accessible by simply grabbing.  They were on to me.  Damn

     Not sure how long it took me to figure out my way around this, but I did.  Taking a wire hanger apart and making a small hook at the end of it worked really well!  I could keep it hidden in my towel, check to make sure no one was around, and enter their area.  Keep in mind that the team was large, a couple of times a guy came in and I tried to act natural (while my heart stopped beating) and said hi and walked out instead of running for the door.  Anyway, I never did get caught, but I did learn to use the hanger to push the towel aside and snag a speedo right off the hook inside, pull it towards the mesh, and pull it through.  It took a little more time, but it was always worth the wait.  I didn't do this as much, however, because I was afraid they would take more drastic measures like putting on a door over the room or putting in solid lockers.  I still managed several dozen suits over the years--even the coaches huge double nylon suit from his office.  I was b-a-d!

     Sometimes I knew who the suit belonged to, sometimes they had their name on their locker and I could find out later.  I would always try for the larger suits--what the hell was I going to do with a size 26 or 28 speedo anyway?  I wanted a man sized Speedo to wear, jerk off in, or cover up with a couple of nylon panties and blast away into them all.

     Ultimately I did graduate, left, and moved away.  Visits later I discovered the dreaded lycra plague had spread to their locker room speedos.  I'd still manage to find an occasional 100% nylon suit, but mostly the glory days were gone.  Eventually they built a new swim stadium that required a student ID for entry and I figured the swim team probably had their own locked up area by now.  Their latest security measure was to lock their suits over the combination lock--but OUTSIDE their locker.  By now guys had started wearing 2 and 3 suits at the same time.  Hey, just like me when I'm rubbing them on my cock!  So rather than use a bolt cutter (more on that skill later), I did cut the suits off right at a seam for later repair and tie them together so I'd know which ones were worn together.  It also allowed me to skip those with lycra, or size 28, or ones that were too far gone from the chlorine.  Anyway, that was the very end of my speedo acquisitions from that college.  I'll tell you about graduate school and that swim team later.  Here are some nylon speedo pictures.  I never understood how a guy could wear nylon on his dick all day and then go back to the locker room and put on his cotton briefs?  Well, most on my stolen, I mean rescued, nylon suits are still working today long after those hunky swimmers got their beer bellies and dork shorts and forgotten all about their silky college nylon speedos.