Saving Santa (MxM)

1 Steamy New Friend

The moment my divorce from Brad was finalized, I quit my job in the city and fled to a sleepy little mountain town to become the local high school's newest English teacher. I was excited to revisit my undergrad creative writing degree as the biggest way to separate myself from my old life and my ex-husband. I needed to find myself again. I had to be sure the Ryan from ten years ago still existed or at least his dreams did.

Besides the easy access to nature trails, mountain biking, and farm-to-table everything, the village of Airy Gap had a surprisingly great aquatics center. The pool and diving center was brand new–an add-on to the old gym which houses a decent weight room and cardio department. Equal to its prestigious pool, it has the trifecta of relaxation needs: steam room, sauna, and hot tub. The cramped locker area and four head communal showers of the locker room were a tradeoff for a well-maintained and men-only spa setup.

Though I hadn't really swum much since college, I found doing laps at the pool, reenergizing in the steam room, and releasing all my stress in the hot tub was a perfect way to start most mornings. Even though I have no work this week for Thanksgiving Break, I woke up yesterday and today to head to the pool at my normal before school time. I was only one of three cars in the parking lot when I arrived. Usually, Tuesdays are the busiest day of the week with before-work pick-up basketball games. Betsy, the front desk lady, told me that holidays are very slow here at the gym. She explained that many people leave town to visit family and a large percentage of older townspeople are snowbirds, so they head south for the winter this week.

"You'll probably have the place to yourself, Ryan," she said with a smile.

"I like the sounds of that. King of the gym!" I reply and head toward the pool.

"Oh, Ryan. We limit our energy use during holiday weeks because of or small patronage, so the hot water is limited and only some of the lights and fans will turn on throughout the building," Betsy warns.

"Roger that," I say as I bebop into the locker room.

I change quickly into my jammers, grab my towel and slide my goggles onto my head. When I make it to the pool deck, it is just me and the lifeguard, Danielle. I wave and plop into the water, wanting to get my exercise started.

Before I push off, my attention is overtaken by a fellow swimmer who has ented the pool area. Definitely not from around here. I would have noticed him in town by now. The lumberjack of a man is massive. Easily six-four and pushing 280. He grins at me as he stands by the lane next to me. He points at it to ask if it's free. I nod, realizing I am staring. But it's hard not to.

This mature hunk has white-cropped hair and a tight snowy beard. His boulderous pecs are covered with a generous layer of fuzz. An ivory diamond of fur between his big nipples trails into light brown the further down it goes. It covers his belly, too. He doesn't have a six-pack, but you can tell his stomach is as hard as stone, even if it hangs just a bit over his fire engine red speedo. I have to resist the urge to rub it.

The polar bear of a man is crammed in a small faded speedo. The thin lycra isn't leaving much to the imagination. As he hops in the water, the cloth suctions to his package and a bit of his luscious crack hangs out of the top of his briefs.

"Fuck," I whisper, pushing off the wall. I try my best to get my head on straight as I come out of my streamline and start my stroke. I have to push the hot yeti out of my mind, or I am going to be swimming with a boner.

I finish up in record time. I made the mistake in my last set of sprints to look over into the hot stranger's lane. He was doing a steady backstroke and giving me a nice show of his thick package bobbing up and down as he kicked. I pictured myself swimming under the rope and sliding right on top of him. That's when I knew I had to get my cool down going and GTFO.