Dude, Where’s My Speedo?

seriousaboutspeedos:

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Stories From the Swimmers Who Stole Your Speedos.

The more you’re missing, the hotter they think you are. 

Says One Thief: “I don’t think gold bars would have made me any happier.”

First up, the Speedo authority at meninnylon.blogspot.com (who figures he swiped 70 suits in his career):

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’d 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.

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Touching What Was Touched. If you can’t have what’s in the Speedo, have the Speedo. (Or the Turbo, in this case.)

By the time I got to college and had ventured into being a lifeguard, water-safety instructor

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 two 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 work out 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 dick head 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 seven or eight nylon suits hanging there—all of them looking really silky and waiting for a big and frequent load from me. Of course, while people left their houses unlocked, 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 of 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 (and need) more. So I went back a few days later and sure enough, there were a few more suits hanging that way. He probably hadn’t missed it or figured it had been dropped 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. To rationalize my guilt for stealing I believed 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.

But soon they must have noticed that someone was taking suits because towels stuck into the mesh from the inside now protected the view and there were more no more suits accessible by simply grabbing. They were on to me. Damn.

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The Nerve: Fishing this Speedo out of somebody else’s locker and taking a selfie with it on.

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 often, 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 coach’s 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 figure out who he was 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.

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Help — My Speedo was Stolen. Need to borrow yours.

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 two and three 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.

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Some of those suits were (some still are) of exceptional silkiness and the thought they were only being enjoyed a few hours a day on their way to the trash can never gave my conscience a pause for guilt. I’m sure my total “rescued” suits was more than 70. Most of my stolen, I mean rescued, nylon suits are still working today long after those hunky swimmers got their beer bellies and dork shorts.

Maybe likening silky nylon tricot to lube is something that guys might be willing to try. I really believe that when done right, silky, sliding nylon tricot produces the absolute best ejaculations ever. And if you don’t believe me, then you’re not doing it right!

Story from here.

————

There are other Speedo-theft recollections strewn throughout the Interwebs, but the SeriousAboutSpeedos staff couldn’t find any as well written as MenInNylon’s. For instance:

Every day at the end of my lifeguarding shift I shower before I head home. I go into the showers and hang my towel over the half wall then strip off my Speedo and hang it over the wall too. Then I’ll go into the shower stall and soap then rinse off under the nozzle. When I came back to get my towel everything was gone. I thought maybe one of the guys was playing a joke and looked around the lockeroom but nobody was there. Lucky for me I keep a spare Speedo in my guard locker or I would have been stuck there naked until the next guy came in. Either that or streak to my car for a pair of shorts. Now I’m wondering if I’m being watched when I whack off in the shower. Whoever stole my Speedo is probably enjoying himself in it. Maybe it’s a prize to steal a lifeguard’s Speedo. 

Story from here.

Have I stolen underwear? No. … I have, however, purposefully stolen Speedos from the pool locker room in my swim-team days. I might even still have one of the ones I nabbed off with. That one I took when I was 14 from a guy I very, very badly wanted to have sex with, and I knew he was gay. There just was never a time when we were alone in the shower or locker area, so I made do with swiping his Speedo instead. And yes, I jerked off with it and in it that same day.

Story from here.

Re: Stolen jockstrap, singlets, speedos

I must confess that I have definitely stolen jocks, cups, and Speedos from the locker room. This happened when I was in high school in the mid ’90s. I attended a boarding school in New England—a very athletic school where everyone was required to play a sport all three trimesters.

I would sneak into the locker room late at night and roam around the rows and rows of lockers. The lockers all had locks on them, but sometimes a few would be left open by accident.

The best “finds” were jocks that I could directly identify with a specific person, whether it was a football, baseball, or lacrosse player, or wrestler whom I knew (or knew of). I would also steal Speedos from swimmers and water-polo players.

Story from here

Re: Stolen jockstrap, singlets, speedos

The local high-school swim and dive team uses the pool I belong to. I always scope out the lockers during practice. Mostly boxers, some boxer-briefs and one dude who wears bikinis. I’ll grab them for a sniff and put them back. Always wondering who belongs to what underwear.

I started to pay attention to what backpack or gym bag they carry. I got up the nerve recently and took a pair of boxers from a diver. Great looking and hot body. They smelled so sweet. I’d love one of his Speedos!

Story from here

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