Your Fly is Open

Authors Note: ***** I had penned this story several years ago and posted it in this forum where it received from many of the readers at Writing.com, an array of delightfully entertaining and interesting feedback. Please enjoy it. I hope I can provide you with a smile*****



When The East Bay Racquetball Club opened a decade ago, a group of my fellow boat owners from the Harborview Marina, decided that a paid membership there would be an excellent way to shed some of those unsightly and unwelcoming cellulite pounds. These minor dimpled canyons along the back of our aging thighs were reminders that our days of muscle shirts and tight fitting shorts were long gone. However, I grew suspicious that there was an underlying theme to their "madness". In reality, I felt it was to be just another place to park their chubby bums atop a bar stool and watch the ice cubes melt in their bourbon and water.

At the time of their insisting that I participate in their quasi-Richard Simmons exercise class, I was already engaged and committed to playing second base for the City Softball League. I didn''t see where I would have the time to join and participate in both groups. As my luck would have it, I sustained a minor injury on the softball diamond which left me an open target for their persistant hounding. Their pressure continued unabated until I finally became frustrated and I became weary of their badgering, I ultimately relented and completed an application to become a member.


Being a rather shy individual, some may say even quite bashful, and thusly, I did not find great pleasure in showering with a group of naked, singing, and hairy ass men in an porcelain echo chamber where their intoxicated caterwauling and laughter reverberated throughout a mens locker room. One of the tongue in cheek consequences of these sweat stained locker rooms in the midst of these "shower-alls", is that each one of us was provided with the opportunity to view anothers personal endowment. Not that you would just do a rather obvious bee line and train your eyes in on it, but it's there. Oh yes indeed. It's there. Hanging rather limply down right next to you as you desperately try not to notice and have a normal conversation with its rightful owner. Your mind wanders for a moment from the subject discussion. You can't help but wonder just for that one second. Then curiosity just seems to just overwhelm you and then without warning, you steal a glance downward. You swallow into a frozen throat and breathe a sigh of relief. Now, pretending that you didn't steal a glance downward if he just so had happened to catch you is the tough part, Well that's another story for another day. It also raises another line of questioning that we will not explore at this time either.


I must admit that after a year of playing racquetball together, the four of us were playing quite well as a team. So well in fact, we decided to sign up for a doubles tournament where we would compete with other clubs from the neighboring communities. We were far exceeding all prior predictions, performing well above all expectations and as one of our bragging rights, we dealt a crushing defeat to one of the favorites to win it all.....Barnstable. Well for a group of Barnstable's well conditioned athletes, of which no one member of their team was over the age of 25, to get soundly beaten by a group of past our prime "old farts" as they called us, was totally unacceptable. It was a travesty in sports competition! The heated discussion escalated as to who was the better team. From courtside to the locker room until it finally reached the pinnacle of debate while sipping their imported micro-brews at the bar.

I had taken my usual bar seat in the corner nook, but not far enough away from the boisterous discussion as to which team was superior. Somehow the controversy wavered on the quality of skill in the game of Racquetball and drew to a sudden halt on the size of the male impediment used as a vital part of reproduction.


As luck would have it, the team from Barnstable unanimously selected their champion in that genre whose named just happened to be "Dick" stating he was particularly blessed in that arena. ( Quite an appropriate name for a penis champion don't you think?")


Ralph, one of the members of our group nearly choked on a sip of his scotch and swung around on his bar stool. He nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to speak to me.

"Chuck! Did you hear that? Come on you can beat this guy," he whispered with an arm draped across my shoulders.

"Forget it Ralph! There is no way I am taking my penis out of my pants for these people to take a look at," I said shaking my head while gently removing his arm from across my shoulders.

"Chuck, Don;'t be crazy! This is for a round of drinks and we've got a hundred dollars on you.You can beat this guy! All of us have seen it in the shower. You're our best shot at beating this guy. You'll have him beat hands down! " Ralph was grinning like the cat in Alice in Wonderland and tightly gripping my forearm, anxiously awaiting my agreement to accept the challenge.

"Absolutely not, Ralph. No way, Jose. It's staying right where it is parked in the harbor and there will be no hands going down. Especially in my pants by some guy,"I cried.

Ralph clicked his tongue. "Chuckie, please. Reconsider this thing. Who is gonna know?" Don't be shy now. That guy says he's got Godzilla behind the "Zippa". Think of our reputation too. Let's send these young studs back to their mother's apron strings," begged Ralph once again.

As I shook my head emphaticallty refusing, Ralph finally walked away like someone who had just lost their best friend and announced my rejection to accept the challenge. Upon our opponents learning of this news, their spontaneous laughter erupted and caustic jeering flowed freely until Ralph could no longer withstand the ridicule and humiliation.

He slowly sauntered his way back toward me and looked at me rather sheepishly. He cleared his throat and tilted his head to one side.

"Chuckie?" he said apprehensively. "Okay.I can understand your point how you don't want to take the whole thing out, but can you just take enough out for us to win?"