Bad Taste in Swimwear
During my first year of college, I met this really good looking guy in the lobby of my dorm. He started flirting with me and, although he was a bit of an odd character, he was incredibly charming. He said he'd like to spend more time getting to know me and suggested we go swimming. The dorm was on a lake and had a dock the students could use for swimming. He seemed really nice so I readily agreed, went to my room to change into my suit, and proceeded to the dock to meet him. He showed up wearing a very small, tight Speedo that left nothing to the imagination. Immediately, my brain started to send a danger signal, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he just had bad taste in swimwear. So we proceeded to swim for awhile, and then went back to the dock to sit in the sun. That's when I realized I should have listened to my brain's earlier warning. As he climbed up the ladder on the dock, he turned to face me and posed so I could get a good look. I almost choked on lake water when I realized he was fully aroused and totally hanging out of his swimsuit. I guess he thought he could entice me into bed faster if he showed me what he had to offer. That was a little too weird for me, so when I got out of the water, I informed him that I had to go. He suggested he come up to my room with me and I quickly vetoed that proposal. I told him I was meeting some friends for lunch and had to get going. So he suggested we meet again later that afternoon. I told him I was busy and walked away. Fortunately, I never saw him or any parts of him again.
— Fran, 37